The first three months at site are known as the “community
integration period,” or more affectionately called “lock-down” by the PCVs. It
means we are bound to stay in our sites and get to know our communities without
distractions of traveling and visiting other PCVs. It’s not a time when we are
supposed to start any projects or programs. We are just supposed to become
orientated to our villages and identify where we can be of the most use. The
theory is that if you jump in too fast you won’t make the impact that is most
needed or sustainable for your community.
So a typical day goes something like this (I included extra info to give you an idea of how some things work at the clinic too):
6:00am: Wake up and do yoga (most days). Sometimes I just get up early to walk down to the river. Enjoy the cool
breeze before things heat up too much.
Delta view from one of my morning walks.
6:40am: Eat breakfast, usually outside and with a cup of
tea. Get ready for work.
7:12am: Realize the time and rush to get ready. Don’t
forget to feed Tsala.
7:15am on-the-dot: Seth calls. Sometimes I tell him to
call back if I’m not ready yet… But in theory I leave the house and walk to
work around now.
7:30am: In Botswana, working hours start at 7:30 and last
until 4:30. The clinic is always incredibly busy in the morning and usually a
ghost town by the afternoon. I still haven’t completely figured out why, but I
think people just like to avoid the heat. On Mondays and Wednesdays we have
report at the clinic, where the staff gets together and debriefs about any
updates/issues they have run into.
8:00am-10:30ish am: I help run the Child Welfare Clinic
(CWC). Each month, mothers bring their children under the age of 5 in to be
weighed. The monthly weights are recorded in a government-issued card so that
their growth progress can be monitored. The Health Education Assistant (HEA) and
myself also record whether or not the child has been sick in the past month,
what their HIV status is, what their feeding method is (i.e. exclusive breast
feeding, mixed feeding, etc.), and whether or not their immunizations are up to
date. The HEA advises the mothers if anything is off or she instructs them to
go and get injections (“mokento”) if necessary.
Some months are designated as annual supplementation months. That means that all children brought into CWC receive, in Nov and May for example, Vitamin A and Albendazole (the latter is for deworming). Trust me, no kid or adult wants some sort of vaguely foul-tasting, milky substance poured down their throat. Ever. Sometimes the mothers would take turns holding down each others kids, one pinching the nose, another bracing the head and keeping the mouth open while the other holds the body still. And the number of times the child would spit that stuff right out like Old Faithful was more than I could count. Only once was I in the splash zone. I swear these kids are like dogs...their screams inside the CWC would alert the ones outside that something unsavory was coming...thus setting them off in a similar preemptive tantrum. So by the time the next set of kids came in to get their supplements they would already be crying, but they wouldn't even know what for yet. Let me just say Dec. 1 was one of the happiest days of my short CWC life so far.
In August or so, the some of
the clinics in the district started using a computer program where clinic
visits are recorded electronically. Everything at the clinic up until this
point has been on paper (with multiple carbon copies), so this is a huge change
for everyone, especially people who don’t have any computer skills. I have been
helping register all of the CWC patients into the system. This means assigning each
child a unique ID number which can be used to access information such as
immunization records, supplement and other immunization campaigns (i.e. measles
campaigns, OPV campaigns, etc.), PMTCT records, HIV status, growth history,
illness history, and more. It was a very tedious first 6 weeks or so, but now
about 95% of the children who come in have ID numbers.
10:30-11:00am: Every day we distribute rations to the
mothers. They receive a different ration depending on how old their child is. Children
aged 6 months-3 years get oil and “Tsabana,” a dry porridge powder made of
ground sorghum and soy beans. Children over 3 years up to 6 years get oil,
beans, and “Malutu,” a different dry porridge made of a similar but slightly different
combination. These government rations are distributed for free and mothers can
receive them once a month. Sounds great in theory, but it sounds like the
clinic never has all of these things in
stock. Currently, for example, we only have beans. Two months ago there was
only oil and Tsabana. The problem isn’t that there are no rations, it’s that
they are stored in a warehouse on the other side of the village and there is no
transport to move the massive amounts of heavy bags to the clinic (transport
issues are probably 65% of why things don’t get done here….or at least the
excuse for 65% of why things don’t get done here).
11:00am-12:00pm: Computer lesson for my counterpart. The
Health Education Assistant who I work with is trying to get better at the
computer. While she gained basic knowledge from lessons with the last PCV that
was here, I am helping her master typing. We spend about an hour each day with
a typing program that teaches her proper hand placement, speed, accuracy, etc.
12:00pm: Tend to the garden. I helped cultivate a garden
in the back of the clinic to grow vegetables for the Home Based Care patients
(sort of like for hospice patients, but also for disabled individuals, those
with TB and AIDS). I spend some time watering and weeding before lunch.
12:45pm: Lunch. People here seem to either not eat lunch or go home for it. I am lucky enough to live about a 10 minute walk from the clinic, so I go home every day. Lunch lasts until 2:00pm…which I find breaks up the day in a very strange way. I guess they know that Batswana rarely get anything done after lunch, so they make the morning shift extra long. But for someone who has to eat every couple hours, it sure can be a long morning.
2:00ish pm: After lunch what I do can vary. Sometimes I
go back to the clinic and spend time there, but generally there is nothing
going on. Occasionally I will help count out pills at the dispensary and chat
with the nurses. I also use this time to visit with different community members
and organizations, such as school guidance counselors, the village social
worker, NGOs, etc. I usually introduce myself and find out a bit about what their
role in the community is and then spend some time brainstorming how I could
partner with them potentially in the future.
3:00pm: Most days at this time I go to a home based care
patient’s house to teach her basic computer skills. She is in her late 20s and
wheel-chair bound, but has a burning desire to learn computer skills. The hope
is that she could use those skills to get a job, start a business, or do
something more. Her days currently are empty and filled with a lot of idle
time. It has been a bit of a slow process and we had to start completely from
scratch, but she is starting to pick it up. It’s especially hard because she
has no way to practice when I’m not there. It’s like trying to learn an
instrument but only getting to play when your teacher comes for a lesson. And
to add on to that she is a self-described slow learner. But we are taking it
slow and doing what we can.
4:30pm: The official end to the work day. There are still
a couple of hours of daylight left, so sometimes I go for a walk or just sit by
the river with my newly-acquired camping chair (as I’m doing right now). Tsala
is always ridiculously happy to see me when I get home, which is usually exactly
what I need.
7:00ish pm: I usually stay outside as long as possible
and retreat inside only when the sun has gone down. I spend some time making
dinner, watching some TV, bathing, etc.
9:30ish pm: I usually crawl into bed around this time and
read for a bit before falling asleep.
And that’s a typical day during the lockdown period. Once
I get back from the last bit of training and start on my projects, my schedule
will (hopefully) look nothing like this. But for now it’s just fine.
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