Star light, star bright

Site placement was last Saturday. I will be living in Moshupa, Botswana for the next two years. It is only about 20-30 km from our training site in Kanye, but it is even closer to the capital, Gaborone. It is only about 12.50 Pula or $2.25 for me to catch a bus to Gabs. I either wanted to go really far North in the delta region or stay in the far South. Seeing as though I got the latter of the two, I’m content. I’m also relatively near one of my good friends from training. Because of her site placement in a small, remote village grocery shopping validates a weekend excursion to my site! I’m accessible to other volunteers in my training group, in addition to volunteers that have already been here for a year. I am excited to eventually see some new Peace Corps faces.

It’s funny to think about my placement here. The whole Peace Corps process has been me figuring out how “flexible” I can really be. Botswana wasn’t my first choice (I’m very glad to be here now, but there was no initial burning desire to get to sub-Saharan Africa, much less Botswana), but I didn’t even have much say on where I will live within Botswana. If I were in the states, deciding on a place to reside is like a free-for-all in the sense that I can pick up a map and decide to live there if only out of pure curiosity, and no one really dictates otherwise. This dynamic of having my home decided for me is new, and I must say it’s nice. I have a particular organization already lined up for me to work with (I get to do many other secondary/personal projects alongside this primary position). My house is already assigned to me and apparently it is about an hour walk from there to my place of work. There is no bus system in my village of about 18,000 people, only taxis. Apparently, the idea is to establish a relationship with a driver and they can drive you on a regularly scheduled system. For instance, my counterpart/mentor has a taxi driver that takes her to and from work everyday at the same time. I plan on walking a good bit, because I don’t have many other means of exercise and it’s a good way to get acquainted with the people around me. There is no bus rank in Moshupa, for which I am grateful. The bus ranks stress me out just because it a social loitering spot and has too much commotion for the likes of me. There is something like 10 stops within my village, so it will be interesting figuring out which one is closest to my house and how to get home from the bus stop. Mind you, there is no such thing as street signs here. Larger highways aren’t even really labeled with established names other than the particular cities along the road. If I were going from Kanye to Tsabong, I would trave along “Jwaneng road,” which is really the road that takes you from Kanye and Tsabong, and you are just supposed to know that the road goes eventually gets to one of these cities by way of Jwaneng. So-no street signs, no hand held gps, you can imagine lil’ ol’ me wandering my way along the dirt roads trying to get my bearings by differentiating the curvature of a dirt path, noteworthy plant life and the potential animal remains that reside at a particular intersection. Oftentimes when I’m with other volunteers and we happen to take a wrong turn on a leisurely Sunday afternoon, someone (me) inevitably says something like, “yeah I totally recognize that striped fabric hanging outside that house.” Not that this is any indication of where you are, just verifying that you have in fact been there before. If you know anything about my sense of direction (or lack thereof), you know that this is a huge feat for me. Maybe it’s just what I need to channel my brain to become directionally competent. I’ll keep you posted on those progresses.

We visit our sites this week and my house ready to go. I am lucky to have this opportunity to see my house and get a brief preview of my life in the village for the next couple of years. I was anticipating this visit a couple of weeks ago, but there has been an ongoing strike of government employees here. It’s non-violent in nature and it seems like the most nonchalant, on-going strike I’ve seen (I haven’t seen many in my day, but even still). They are protesting their wages, and it started with teachers demanding a 16% pay increase. The students have continued going to school for about a month without teachers, and just a week ago they closed the schools indefinitely as the students were getting restless. As of now, the schools are opening again on Monday (today), but I do not know if that means the teachers will be present or not. The last I heard the President was only agreeing to a 3% pay increase because of insubstantial funds. So…not that you needed the 411, but this has postponed our site visits because many volunteers will be working in government offices with governmental organizations and when no one is present at the office to show you the ropes, there’s no point in venturing across the country to visit.

There are a couple of things that I’ve wanted to share on here, just to give you a sense of the minute details of my day that I’ve noted along my walks and day to day activities. For one, walking to and from training entails a lot of poop dodging. I’m pretty sure I can accurately identify chicken, donkey, cow, and various poops. Not that I need this skill for any functional purpose here, but it’s just such a common part of my visual repertoire that is unavoidable…and sometimes recreational. Enough about poop. The point of my story is that there is mint that grows wild here. Amidst the various droppings in my path, I oftentimes come across an overwhelming and distinct whiff of mint. It’s such a surprising and pleasing scent that you can stop and take it in for a few seconds until the smell is not such a novelty. Then, I continue walking until I cross another patch of mint. I don’t know how to distinguish the plant being that there are many variations of mint here. Also, it’s often dispersed in a mess of brush that I don’t really care to deal with, so I don’t ever pick it, but what a great treat to enjoy along my walks.
I know I’ve mentioned this before, but the stars here…yeah, nothing new, but dear lord, they are all so visible here. Every night when I got to brush my teeth in the outhouse I stop to stand in the middle of the yard and look up. I’m always afraid my family will look out the window and see me staring up to nothing…and it will just confirm their speculations on my quirkiness. I already obsess about the sunsets, and I’ve tried to get them to take note of the stars, but it’s nothing new to them and so I enjoy them all the more.
One thing I’ve noticed that isn’t such a good thing…or maybe it will become a good thing…is my approach to Fridays. I mean in the states we live for Friday: happy hour, plans with friends, dining out, weekend getaway, what have you…Here, Friday is no different from Tuesday. There is no eagerness to take respite from the week. It might be that I have training 6 days a week, but then I asked my sisters here what they do on Fridays or what they did when they were younger. Most of the time they work on Saturday too so there isn’t much room for recreation (in the TGIF sense of the word). Also, the further you are from larger cities like Francistown and Gaborone, your commercial social experience is significantly lessened. The only evening opportunities for socializing are the neighborhood bars. They are typically inhabited by men who have nothing better to do and drink probably more than they should. You can imagine that this will not by my scene. These bars are typically barren little joints with not much more than a concrete floor and a fridge of beer and chibuku. Themed/specialized bars that cater to particular social groups or genres of people don’t really exist here. It’s one size fits all. Also, restaurants are not “restaurants” in our connotation of the word…They have the general layout and aesthetic of a bar (give or take a few table and chairs & add a little better lighting), but are only open during the day and serve things like chips (French fries), seswaa (pounded meat), Russians (something that contains too many abstract elements…the flavor is something like a mix between bologna, spam, and a hotdog…aren’t those all the same thing anyway in being a bleh concoction of other things?) Movie theaters and parks and the like don’t exist in rural Botswana. All roads lead to Gaborone. I am grateful to have Gabs accessible but I doubt it will be a frequented visit. I am also excited to improvise on what is available in my village and discover new ways to occupy my time. Anyway, all that to say my Fridays are new…While I miss the general anticipation for week’s end and the unknown potential that a Friday night holds, I have come to greatly appreciate Sundays. Where Sunday afternoons at sunset had some overbearing, ominous feel to it in the States…or maybe just a general unknown of the week ahead. I suddenly feel freed from that. Again, with training Sunday is my only day off, but I also accomplish things like hand-washing all my laundry and cooking something new with my family or with Karen next door.
I’m sure this list of small things I appreciate here will grow, but for now, these will suffice.
I hope all is well stateside and I’ll write more when I’m back from Moshupa.

Cheers