Words of Beth Giebus, a PCV in Morocco (1990-93)
Just thought I would share this nice thought on the premise of the Peace Corps. I feel like I’m still in the process of trying to find my own words to describe my time here. While I’m sure some marketing campaign for Peace Corps has addressed this in a more eloquent manner, I find that I am alternating between losing and finding myself. Some days I get lost in the chaos of everything that is new. I’m immersed in a culture with an unspoken protocol and find myself dazed by the complexity of issues pressing on this community. Some challenge my patience and others my morals. I’m surrounded by people steeped in their efforts to find resolve and others are blind or passive to it all. I try to teeter somewhere in between, not taking myself or my work too seriously, but remembering that I am a valuable resource capable of accomplishing many things. Within the chaos and confusion, I find myself discovering my own limitations and pursuing some personal aspirations. I explore what about me is American or is inherent as a result of being raised in America. I try to figure how my experience is shaped by the fact that I am a Caucasian female. Beyond all of these associations, I am finding what it means to be a human. That’s the part that I really like about finding myself, is just knowing that I am compatible with people on a most base level for the mere fact of being human, balancing our drives to satisfy our needs and wants. It’s a simple idea, really. I’m just a mere being in a big world, shaped by my own history but willing to be remolded to fit the context of a new culture and environment.
As I try to write my job description in my mind, I discover that it needs to be revised each day. It’s about as apt to change as an artist’s statement for an art school kid.
It seems I've got a lot going on and I don't have the kind of structured day that would give me so much affirmation in the States. Instead, I’m trying to balance my own desires for projects in the community with projects that are more need-based. All the while, I’m still evaluating what resources are available to me in terms of money and people to even pursue these projects.
I have returned to Moshupa after two weeks of training and gluttonous indulgences in Gaborone City or “G.C.” as everyone says here. Britt pointed out to me that two weeks is probably the longest time that I will be away from my home in Moshupa for my entire time here in Botswana. That in and of itself seems like an accomplishment of sorts. Also, getting through IST is a huge milestone in my service. We sat for two weeks in meetings evaluating our progress thus far learning the language and also organizing our work plans for the coming months. It was particularly difficult with the passing of my grandmother, but I was grateful to be in the company of other volunteers to be distracted and comforted. Since returning, I have gotten a dog and named him Zeus. I’m not convinced that’s a fitting name for this dog, but his name preceded him. Regardless, it makes a world of difference having company in the evenings. Being that he is still a puppy, he’s not one for any level of protection, but he’s entertaining no less.
I find satisfaction in getting out of my house and seeing people. So, on days where I don’t feel so accomplished on the “work” front (that is HIV/AIDS “mitigation strategies”…dear lord the rhetoric alone is exhausting), I address my social well-being by checking in on some familiar faces to see what’s going on in their lives. To even say I have familiar faces in my social repertoire is another point worth celebrating. I’ve met two women in my office building just by sitting outside in the sun at lunch. They walk by, wondering what I am doing sitting alone & on the ground. What’s particularly special about these ladies is that they are both in their twenties, not married and don’t have kids! Finding someone to fit this criteria has been my own personal game of Where’s Waldo in Botswana. It turns out that these two went to school together, but they don’t hang out. I met them on separate occasions and I’m trying to get them together with me to go walking or something, anything! I ask them what’s in store for their weekend, but they seem perfectly content with staying at home on the couch watching soaps. Again if they knew the potential of a Friday night in America, oh the things they would aspire for! I’m thinking of art shows, happy hours, movie nights, concerts, restaurants, and MOREEEEEE…that and just the simple company of friends.
There was going to be a dance club opening in Moshupa, but the council didn’t approve its opening because it was too close to a school. Well, it’s also just next to the Boys’ Prison, but that didn’t seem to be a problem. There are boarder students from the more remote villages that stay on the school grounds. Some of these students manage to sneak out at night and venture the village. Not that there is anything to do, but I imagine the thrill of the escape is sufficient recreation. I can see the concern for these kids being even more tempted to get out and into trouble.
My friend, Tija, and I were discussing the juxtaposition we see in Botswana. It’s not uncommon to be walking down the tarred road and see a family riding in a donkey cart with a Mercedes or a BMW to be passing the opposite direction…such a commentary. One afternoon we were in G.C. walking to the bus rank. We were walking alongside these shanties made of corrugated metal and some from scrap wood with the view of these tall modern office buildings in the distance. I couldn’t decide if these little structures were little stalls for selling fruits and sweets, but I did see a woman bathing herself in one of them. I suppose they are multi-purpose facilities, domestic and commercial. Just across the street they were building this HUGE Holiday Inn. Yes, Holiday Inn has arrived in Botswana. McDonald’s isn’t even here yet, but I imagine it’s only a matter of time. It will probably be located next to the truck trailer that operates as a restaurant.
There is just as stark a contrast between people in the young and the old, rural and urban. Where in the rural villages women are carrying buckets and firewood atop their heads, I will pass women carrying suitcases on top of their head in the city. Yes, suitcases…and I get attention from riding a bicycle.
It’s not uncommon in the least to see a mosadi mogolo (“old lady,” not in a derogatory sense, but there is definitely an very distinct woman that fits this title) dressed in traditional attire with a headscarf tied around her head and blanket wrapped about her shoulders or waist. On the bus I will see a mosadi mogolo sitting next to a teenager in a pair of skinny jeans and Chuck Taylors listening to his mp3 player. I can’t help but think what a great photo that would be to document that visual contrast, knowing the implications it has on their respective lifestyles. Stereotyping as it may be, there is some truth to it.
Speaking of stereotyping, I have met many Zimbabweans here since I’ve moved to Moshupa. They tend to be the more socially “normal” population (in Virginia terms), from what I’ve observed. What I mean by that is just that they are a little easier going and chill…inquisitive but gently interested rather than obtrusive. They don’t speak Setswana and therefore do not bark at me in Setswana demanding that I “bua Setswana” in response. They are also the ones quick to offer me a ride or taxi fare in passing on the road. Before I begin with my next tangent, let me just note that the notion of being “politically correct” as we would think of in the States does not exist here. I’ve experienced conversations where a Motswana will profile a Zimbabwean with a derogatory air. Apparently, you can tell a Zim by appearance and dress alone, before they even begin to speak. I guess their language seals the deal. I don’t have the eye for this or even have any recognition of the criteria that qualifies. We as Peace Corps Volunteers are not allowed to travel to Zimbabwe for various reasons stemming from social and political instability. However, those I have encountered here in Botswana make it hard for me to understand how such a kind people can have such turmoil. I am guilty of thinking of Africa being one large country. In idle thought I often forget that Africa is comprised of so many countries and cultures and complex histories. To acknowledge that is not to say that I am ignorant or totally unknowing, but how often do people think of Africa, lumping together places and people as one collective group, a struggling and developing people and the perpetual pity/or philanthropic experiment of the first world. So mizundertood.
Being here in Botswana, we don’t hear much about the famine in Somalia or even the birth of a new nation in Sudan. Even close to home at our borders, we don’t associate with the Zimbabweans. To be honest, it seems somewhat reminiscent of the US relationship with Mexico. We share a border, but want nothing more than to exploit their people for labor (if that) while maintaining a social, cultural, and political severance. The terms and specifics are obviously different, but the general sentiment remains.
Just this weekend I was walking past one of my neighborhood friends, Honest. He is from Zimbabwe and works as a welder out of his compound. He has asked me to help develop his business, but I don’t know how to help him other than to suggest making a sign and getting some business cards. Anyway, as I was walking to the bus stop he and his friends asked my why I was walking in the hot sun (as though I had another option). He suggested that I go for a swim in the pool. Shocked, I immediately inquired where this pool was and he just started laughing, saying “aooo, Peo! There is no pool here.” I then suggested that we go for a swim in the dam. The same dam that I sometimes walk by in the morning and has a sign posted: “These waters are infested.” He then joked that crocodiles would eat me if I did that. The threat was a little too plausible for me to really laugh, but I appreciated the humor.
The end.
Sorry again for being incoherent, but I figured it was time to change the tone of my blog and not leave you lingering on my low points, but rather document my revived spirits and little discoveries.
Next week I will have been in Botswana for five months!
