The past two months or so have been some of the busiest I’ve had thus far here in Botswana, so I apologize for the lack of updates! I was in Gaborone, the capital city, for two weeks of training, then I was in Senegal for two weeks of another training, followed by three days at home before traveling back to the capital for a week of another training. I then travelled to India for a week before FINALLY returning to Shakawe. Being away from my village was incredibly difficult, especially because I wanted to be home and starting to work on projects, but had to attend so many mandatory trainings. I was extremely worn out and over-saturated by the time I took my first vacation in about seven months. Below are some retrospective blog updates about these crazy few weeks away from site.

Malaria is a buzz kill! -- A visit to Senegal

Thies, Senegal 

Following two weeks in Gaborone for our in-service training, I was lucky enough to be one of three Botswana volunteers to travel to Senegal for an in-depth training on malaria interventions. The training was a Peace Corps training, held at the PC Senegal training center. There were volunteers from all over Africa, including Cameroon, Benin, Ghana, Malawi, Uganda, Burkina Faso, The Gambia, as well as PC staff members from countries who currently don’t have volunteers for various reasons (Kenya, Liberia, Guinea).

It was really interesting to hear bits and pieces about other volunteers’ experiences. But at times it was definitely frustrating. More and more I am realizing there is a competitive culture among Peace Corps volunteers to make it known how difficult your own experience is. While we were in Senegal, I noticed this dynamic was extremely present…almost in a passive aggressive way. I witnessed some volunteers putting down the service of others in order to make their own seem more legitimate, maybe because they have to suffer more or handle more hardships on a daily basis. However I also realized early on how ridiculous this is…not having electricity or running water does not make an individual a better Peace Corps volunteer. In fact, I think a good argument could be made for the contrary. Hearing these undermining comments being tossed around while with these other volunteers also made me question individuals’ reasons and intentions as volunteers. Sure, I think it is safe to say we are all hoping to get some sort of personal growth out of our experiences, but it seemed to me that for some people, this was more of a priority than helping their community grow. Regardless, after two weeks of this dynamic and four weeks of being away from site, I was ready to return to Botswana.
 

But aside from this competitive spirit that was exhausting, the training was really fantastic. We were able to Skype with individuals from incredibly important offices in the global fight against malaria such as the CDC, PMI (President’s Malaria Initiative), Johns Hopkins, and more. As you can guess, I was public health geeking out pretty much for the entire two weeks. The training shed a lot of light for me on how PC trainings should and could be conducted, as well as highlighting the ways in which our training in Peace Corps Botswana could be improved (tips which we shared with our own training staff). We also learned a lot about technical tools like survey initiatives, doer/non-doer analysis and logical frameworks—all tools for behavior change that can be applied in so many ways to the work we do in our respective countries.

We also were able to spend a day at a beach while there, which was glorious. It was the Atlantic Ocean, and if I turned my back on the buildings along the beach and just looked out at the water, I swear it could have been Delaware. It brought me so much comfort, more than I was expecting and more than I thought I needed.

I only saw a very small part of Senegal, but I realized how much I love Botswana. It was incredibly frustrating not having any way to communicate with the people there. I don’t speak any French, and obviously know nothing of the local language, so I had to rely on others I was with who could communicate. I found it really debilitating not being able to communicate with people directly, especially when trying to haggle down a price. Senegal also has millions and millions more people living in it than Botswana, and it showed in a lot of ways that was at times overwhelming. Returning to Botswana was relieving. Being away had made me realize, without my knowing, that Botswana has become familiar and comfortable. It has become my home.
 

India--Sugar, Spice, and Everything Chai

 Street food was the best (yep, that's a gigantic pat of butter in the middle)

 We got used to getting around on "tuk-tuks," or glorified motorized tricycles

For the first week in March, I traveled to India with eight other Peace Corps volunteers. After not being allowed to travel for six months, a few volunteers were looking up plane tickets to different places to travel for cheap. They decided on Mumbai, and soon several others decided to go as well. India has long been a place I have wanted to travel to, but never got to until recently. And, let me tell you, I will be going back.

 

 

It was an intense week which I won’t give all of the details for here, but I’ll describe some of my favorite moments and parts of the trip:

Crawford Market: There was a huge market inside of an old warehouse building that sold everything from toilet paper to spices to puppies (see picture to the right). It was incredibly crowded, but it didn’t phase me. There was so much to take in at each stall that I could have spent the whole day there. One of my favorite moments was seeing a tour group of white people with headphones paused at one of the stalls as their tour guide led them in an audio tour.

 Temples: During the course of the week, we went to a Hindu temple, a mosque, a Jain temple, and a Buddhist temple. They were each uniquely beautiful. At the Hindu temple, people brought strings of flower heads to the temple (see below), where they were rubbed against holy statues, thereby blessing them. I think people then took those blessed flowers home to their own shrines, but I’m not certain.

 

The mosque was located out in the water ad was only accessible via a long causeway. We went there just after the sun set, and the lighting was beautiful. For a while we just sat on the outer wall and watched the retreating tide. There were also men there playing some kind of devotional music as Muslin families sat around listening.

 

The mosque at the end of a causeway

 



I think the Jain temple was my favorite. It took us a while to find the temple, and we almost gave up. When we arrived, there was a group of about 10 women sitting cross-legged in the middle of the temple singing, playing tambourines, and hitting sticks together. Three of us went in together and observed the goings-on from the outskirts of the adorned main room. We didn’t want to be in the way, but we also wanted to take it all in. After a few minutes, a couple of the women beckoned us over to sit with them. They trusted us with a couple of tambourines, and we did our best to keep the beat as they continued singing. After ten minutes or so, they were finished praying, and we stood up to leave. The woman I was sitting next to motioned for us to wait a moment, as she and another women were fumbling with some Rupees. We figured they were going to ask us for money we didn’t have to spend, so we thanked them and started to leave. One of the women came running down the steps of the temple to catch us, and gave us each a 50 Rupee note (about 1USD). She told us it was a sign of gratitude for coming for coming to visit their temple, and that it was something they do for everyone. It wasn’t meant to be materialistic, just a symbol of inner gratitude. After at first starting to refuse the money, we realized this was a non-negotiable donation which would have been rude to refuse outright or give back. So we took the money and instead decided to pay it forward somehow.

 

The Buddhist temple (above) was also incredible. It was built only within the last few years, but the enormous gold-domed structure was created entirely with interlocking stones and without any structural supports. It is the biggest of its kind. We were not allowed into the large structure because we have not completed the 10-day Dhama mediation course required to enter. So instead, we were allowed into a smaller adjacent temple where 20-minute long mediation sessions were led for visitors. But we ended up in there with about 100 school kids who were there on a field trip. It was hard to find the peace we were seeking, but was definitely still an experience.

 

 

 

We also visited an island off of the coast of Mumbai with what is known at the Elephanta Caves (see pictures on right)—Hindu caves carved out of the rock face with Hindu deities gracing the walls. In Mumbai there is also Asia’s largest laundromat, which we obviously had to take time to see. It was a pretty incredible operation! We also spent a day outside of Mumbai in a little town called Matheran that has been dubbed a UNESCO World Heritage Site. There are no cars or even bicycles allowed in the town, which is perched on top of the hillside. You can only access it on foot, by horse, or by train. There is a toy train which takes two hours to reach the town from a station on the outskirts of Mumbai. It snakes around the hills next to incredible drop offs that wouldn’t have bothered me if it weren’t for a sign in the train car that warned passengers not to crowd one side of the train because the weight imbalance was extremely dangerous. Even in the dry season when things weren’t green, the views were truly incredible.

 

 

 

 Photos from the trip to Matheran:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I also was able to meet up with my friend Giovanna, who I worked with at Joseph’s House last year. I hadn’t seen her since last May, and spending even three days with her put me so much at ease. There has been a lot going on recently with some of the residents we worked with at the house, and being able to process all of that with her gave me so much peace. Somehow, the time I spent with her and hearing about her own adventures, helped recenter me with the work I am doing back in Botswana—she helped remind me why I decided to do Peace Corps. It’s so easy to get lost in yourself and your life and your loneliness here that it’s not hard to forget your purpose. She helped me to come back to Botswana with new focus, excitement, and meaning for life here. If that’s not a good friend, I don’t know what is. I’ve always said she’s my soul sister, and seeing her in India, of all places, was just what I needed.

 And, of course, we were in India for the annual festival called “Holi.” It started the night before

with huge bonfires in the streets. People built pyres in the streets that were maybe eight or more feet tall out of wood and straw. The next day people throw colored powder at each other in a playful way. Random people would just come up to us with a handful of color and smear it over the side of your face with a resounding “Happy Holi!” There were a couple instances where people came from behind and cracked eggs over other people’s heads. I was lucky enough to avoid it, but about four others in the group I was in weren’t. And, of course, we were targets as a group of eleven white foreigners walking around Mumbai together. At one point, we were ushered into a Holi party at a secondary school where there was music and sprinklers dousing the crowd as well as a bubble machine. We were in there for about ten minutes while the “press” took lots of pictures and videos of the white people dancing around, but then they asked us to leave seeing as it was a members-only party. It was fun while it lasted though! By the end of the day, we were pretty disgusting and exhausted, but it was entirely worth it.

 Somehow, we managed to survive a week in Mumbai with a group of about ten Americans with no robberies, assaults of any kind, theft, etc. It was a week I will never forget, and it ignited something major within me. I don’t know how to describe it other than an appetite. An appetite to see and experience as much as I can. Going to India was pretty impulsive, which is part of why I decided to go. And going there and following through made me realize that I can travel—I can go to all of those places I have seen on maps and on TV, at least in this time in my life.  Travelling there was both invigorating and thrilling.  Some people seek the adrenaline rush from rollercoasters and bungee jumping, but for me, I'm realizing that I seek out cultural experiences. I love to be pushed outside of my comfort zone. I love the feeling of observing a place for the first time, wide-eyed and soaking it all in. For me, there is really nothing quite like it. 
 

 

 We visited the largest laundromat in Asia (and forgot to bring our laundry...)

 A couple of friends at the Gateway to India

Cricket players



Malaria is a buzz kill! -- A visit to Senegal

Thies, Senegal 

Following two weeks in Gaborone for our in-service training, I was lucky enough to be one of three Botswana volunteers to travel to Senegal for an in-depth training on malaria interventions. The training was a Peace Corps training, held at the PC Senegal training center. There were volunteers from all over Africa, including Cameroon, Benin, Ghana, Malawi, Uganda, Burkina Faso, The Gambia, as well as PC staff members from countries who currently don’t have volunteers for various reasons (Kenya, Liberia, Guinea).

It was really interesting to hear bits and pieces about other volunteers’ experiences. But at times it was definitely frustrating. More and more I am realizing there is a competitive culture among Peace Corps volunteers to make it known how difficult your own experience is. While we were in Senegal, I noticed this dynamic was extremely present…almost in a passive aggressive way. I witnessed some volunteers putting down the service of others in order to make their own seem more legitimate, maybe because they have to suffer more or handle more hardships on a daily basis. However I also realized early on how ridiculous this is…not having electricity or running water does not make an individual a better Peace Corps volunteer. In fact, I think a good argument could be made for the contrary. Hearing these undermining comments being tossed around while with these other volunteers also made me question individuals’ reasons and intentions as volunteers. Sure, I think it is safe to say we are all hoping to get some sort of personal growth out of our experiences, but it seemed to me that for some people, this was more of a priority than helping their community grow. Regardless, after two weeks of this dynamic and four weeks of being away from site, I was ready to return to Botswana.
 

But aside from this competitive spirit that was exhausting, the training was really fantastic. We were able to Skype with individuals from incredibly important offices in the global fight against malaria such as the CDC, PMI (President’s Malaria Initiative), Johns Hopkins, and more. As you can guess, I was public health geeking out pretty much for the entire two weeks. The training shed a lot of light for me on how PC trainings should and could be conducted, as well as highlighting the ways in which our training in Peace Corps Botswana could be improved (tips which we shared with our own training staff). We also learned a lot about technical tools like survey initiatives, doer/non-doer analysis and logical frameworks—all tools for behavior change that can be applied in so many ways to the work we do in our respective countries.

We also were able to spend a day at a beach while there, which was glorious. It was the Atlantic Ocean, and if I turned my back on the buildings along the beach and just looked out at the water, I swear it could have been Delaware. It brought me so much comfort, more than I was expecting and more than I thought I needed.

I only saw a very small part of Senegal, but I realized how much I love Botswana. It was incredibly frustrating not having any way to communicate with the people there. I don’t speak any French, and obviously know nothing of the local language, so I had to rely on others I was with who could communicate. I found it really debilitating not being able to communicate with people directly, especially when trying to haggle down a price. Senegal also has millions and millions more people living in it than Botswana, and it showed in a lot of ways that was at times overwhelming. Returning to Botswana was relieving. Being away had made me realize, without my knowing, that Botswana has become familiar and comfortable. It has become my home.
 

A photo update from the last several weeks

For those of you more visually-inclined, here are some miscellaneous photos and side stories to give you an idea of some of the highlights from my first few months at site. Spoiler alert: cat photos at the bottom of this post!

This is my new house! I recently moved from one that is just outside of this picture. It is super old, has cracks running down the walls, no running water, a tin roof that heats up like a hot plate during the day, tons of termite damage, but its just what I needed. 

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 We went to a small village called Nxamasere to watch the sun set one evening and found a group of mokoros (traditional canoes made out of a single hollowed tree). Naturally I had to hop in one. Sorry about the little girl in the background...she's having almost as much fun as me, clearly.

A local bringing a mokoro back in.

 They are often used for fishing because they glide nicely through small, shallow channels. 

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I went for a walk one morning and literally almost bumped into this guy in  the bushes outside of my back gate. By the time I took this picture he was retreating to the river. 

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Crocodile Hatching (yep, you read that right). There is a crocodile farm about 10k from my village where another PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) is living. They breed Okavango crocs for skin, meat and also for educational/conservation purposes. We have visited it a couple times--the first time to take a tour and collect eggs, and the second time to help a nest collected back in September hatch!

We collected these eggs from a nest in one of the enclosures. They will stay in an incubator for 90 days until they are pulled out to hatch (which we helped with!)

Literally peeling off the shells. Some of them had already broken through, while others needed some help. They were super slippery!

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I helped out at a holiday party for OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children) on a farm in Mohembo, the village right near the Namibian border. Even though my face painting skills are mediocre at best, for a crowd of kids who had never had their faces painted before, I might as well have been Monet.

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Who let the adorable cat out of the bag?? That would be me.
Meet Tsala (Setswana word for "friend"). She was 8 weeks old when I first got her from an old Hambukushu lady. I carried her home in the sack you see below, and the first night, which she spent in my bathroom, she was terrified. But by the next morning she purred right before I left for work, and she hasn't stopped since. I knew we'd be buds. :)

Tiny Tsala in a big sack.

Tsala on her favorite perch in my new house. She likes to keep an eye on the birds in the tree outside from here. And she can look down on the dogs, too. 

That's all for now, more to come soon :)

A girl and her goat: A love story.

A while ago I was walking in a busy part of the village around 5pm when I passed a tiny goat all by itself. It was a strange place to see a goat and it wasn’t crying out as they usually do when they are separated from their herd. I approached him(?) tentatively, glanced around, and then scooped him up. I wasn’t really thinking through what I was doing, and I quickly walked home with him. Unfortunately I was on my way somewhere (and was now late), so as soon as I got home I put the goat in my bathroom and ran back out again.

When I got home later that night I panicked a little bit. How on earth do you take care of a baby goat that is probably less than a week old? I did some quick research and found that it’s not uncommon for mother goats to abandon their kids, meaning they reject them and don’t let them nurse. I found a recipe for kid milk (believe it or not) and tried to feed him. I didn’t have a bottle, but with the suggestion of my friend Hannah (who conveniently called at that moment and provided goat-rearing moral support), I soaked a washcloth in the milk mixture and let him suck on it. It wasn’t great, but it did the trick.

I soon realized, however, that I couldn’t keep this adorable little goat. The next morning I took the goat with me to work, because I always pass a herd of goats on my way. When I ran into them as expected, I put him with the herd and walked away. It was heartbreaking to see him try to drink from many of the mother goats, all of whom rejected him. I had to just walk away at that point, I had done everything I could, so I walked the rest of the way of the clinic and tried not to think about the little guy anymore.

About five hours later, I left the clinic for lunch. Directly outside of the gate was the tiny goat, all by himself. I swear it was like he was waiting for me. I don’t believe in coincidences, so of course I scooped him up again and walked home. Yep, I was that random white girl in the village walking around carrying a baby goat. As if I needed that extra attention.

I spent the afternoon collecting old cinderblocks from around the yard and creating a small corral for him. I also bought a baby bottle to feed him with. He had a huge appetite! Clearly I was in this. For about a week, I put him in the corral during the day and let him out to graze whenever I was home. This proved difficult because one of the dogs that hangs out in my yard was a little too interested in the goat. The kids who come over to color sometimes loved feeding him and playing with him. Maybe they thought it was strange that I was treating him like a small child, but I think they found it funny more than anything else.

The goat kept nibbling on the ends of their markers.

One of the dogs (Buddy) a little too interested in the baby goat.

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 My frustration from having to hold him back from chasing down the goat...

But there were a couple different people at work who told me the owner of the goat was probably looking for him. Livestock is property and a means to income, and as much as I really loved that goat, I knew I couldn’t keep him. So that Friday, just like before, I put him back with the herd I passed on my way to work. This time though, I didn’t watch what happened. I made sure he was with the herd, and then I walked away.

Even though there are hundreds of goats in this village, I look for the little guy every day. 

On Loneliness.

So it has been a while since I’ve posted anything. I wish I could say it is because I have been insanely busy with projects and exciting new programs. But that’s just not the case. The truth is I’ve been a slug. A lonely, it’s-too-hot-to-move, lazy slug.  You’d be surprised how impossible it is to do anything when you feel this way. Even though we were allowed to visit fellow volunteers in our shopping village over one of the holidays, it proved harder than expected to be so alone during a time of year where I’m usually surrounded by family. I’ve never missed a Christmas or Thanksgiving with my family, and I really felt that here.

I’m an introverted person with some extroverted tendencies, and I really relish time to myself. I thought that this level of isolation and aloneless would give way to lots of reflection and creative uses of my time. But, honestly, more often than not I pass the time by watching TV shows or movies that I hoarded on my hard drive during training back in Serowe. Because it feels easier to lose myself in some crappy TV show that I would never have watched in the States rather than let myself dwell on my new found loneliness. I have bursts of alternative uses of time though. Like when I spent a Sunday sewing new curtains for my house, or the week when I spent every evening after work digging my garden. But those things sometimes take effort, and just existing here can be truly exhausting.

But I’ve realized that my discomfort with being alone is in direct proportion to the number of hours I spend in my house and by myself, naturally. There are some days when I realize that I haven’t had a real conversation (esp in English) in over 24 hours. And those are the hard days. The difficult part comes when you find yourself in a rut, feeling sorry for isolated self, but knowing that you need to go out and walk around the village. You know it will make you feel better, but if you’re at that point of recognition, it can be incredibly difficult to change out of your unwashed, minimal clothing (who wants to do laundry when it’s so incredibly hot outside….who even wants to move?) and leave the house. But it is always a good decision. Always.