Botswana v Tunisia

“Hurry up!  It’s starting!  Let’s go!”

“Geeze Tess, I didn’t know you were such a sports fan.”

I’m absolutely not.  I spent the entire season of kindergarten soccer picking dandelions and yelling at my dad to turn off the video camera.  Even so, nothing can beat the thrill of 10,000 fans wearing Botswana blue, cheering, singing, and blowing those damn World Cup horns.

Today I went to my first (hopefully the first of many) football game here in Botswana.  The Botswana Zebras were playing the Tunisia Vultures in hopes to score points toward playing in the Africa Cup in 2012.  It was absolutely crazy inside the stadium, and I ended up sitting on the ground behind the fence.

The smaller stadium at University of Botswana

As with most football games, nothing really happens until someone finally scores.  When Botswana did in the first half, the crowd went crazy.  Everyone was on their feet jumping and screaming.  My friend even got a kiss on the cheek from a random stranger.  (…Yes, that’s kind of creepy.)

Nicole: Does this headscarf make me look like a pirate?
Me: Yes.  But it's really cute!

There actually were three injuries during the game, and once while we waited the crowd did the wave.  Not once, not twice, but four times around the stadium.  I guess when the stadium is so small, four times around makes sense.

The ominous looking rainclouds at the end of the first half.  Luckily the storm held off.

At the end, when the score was still 1-0 Botswana, everyone began to sing.  I don’t know the words ka Setswana, but I was told that the English translation is, “Jesus, Jesus, look upon us now.”  As I’ve mentioned before, religion enters every aspect of life here.

Getting out of the stadium was pretty crazy.  People were parading around, crushing innocent bystanders (a.k.a. me), and mobbing the bus with the players on it.  Not even 20 minutes after the game ended, radio news stations were broadcasting the victory.

Mid-celebration

I made it through the game without picking even one dandelion, although I did thoroughly analyze which type of Botswana jersey I’d like to buy.  And I maybe checked out the players while they warmed up (football players have the cutest behinds).

I didn't want Tunisia to win, but I also didn't want their players to stop stretching right in front of me.

Free

Daw Aung San Suu Kyi is finally freed from house arrest!  Let's hope she stays that way.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/14/world/asia/14myanmar.html?_r=1&nl=todaysheadlines&emc=a2

Youth Forum: Day One

Yesterday I checked my email at around 6pm, after work, and I had a message from my supervisor at the Ministry of Education, Jane.  She wanted to know if I could make a meeting at 9:00 the following morning to help plan for the Youth Forum.  Luckily, Peace Corps has made me nothing if not flexible, so I cleared my day and headed out the next morning at 6:45.

The meeting was two hours long, but really interesting.  There are two Youth Forums each year for orphans and vulnerable children from across the nation, aged 10 – 20 years old.  This Forum is expanding its capacity to 175 students and is being held in the Tuli Block, and one day there’s an excursion to see the wildlife.  It was great to be in a meeting with individuals who truly wanted to be there, and who wanted nothing but success for the Forum.  Many raised really good points as we discussed different aspects of marketing, logistics, and counseling services.

I fully expected my role to be “Peace Corps Volunteer: Help out with random things, mostly just observe, and play with the kids.”  However, Jane nominated me to be on the facilitation committee.  It entails evaluating different organizations in order to determine which one will be the best at facilitating sessions for the students.  On Friday, I am going to watch four organizations do activities with three different age groups, and after that decide which one to hire. 

Jane also informed me that she wants me to create a hands-on session about volunteerism.  I want to make it really interactive, and ideas are starting to formulate (although, if any of you can think of any games or activities that apply, please let me know).  I might even volunteer to do a couple dance sessions.  It could help students not only express themselves in a new way, but become more comfortable with themselves and with the other students, allowing them to open up more in the counseling sessions.

It feels great to actually be given responsibility!  

Pula - Rain!

Last weekend, we had heat lightning, which was beautiful and amazing to watch.  The next morning, there was a ten minute downpour, which was also beautiful and amazing.  Having not seen rain since April, it’s much appreciated.

Wednesday evening there was another thunderstorm.  I told Katlo, the little boy who lives on my family compound, to come dance in the rain.  He laughed at me, as he always does when I have these “crazy” ideas.  I ran out in my gym shorts and a t-shirt anyway, did some cartwheels, and chassé-ed around on the pavement.  My landlord’s maid yelled in Setswana that I was going to “catch flu.”  Ignoring them, I sang whatever song I could think of, conveniently inserting the word “pula” into every line.

That’s when I noticed that there were four workmen fixing something on the roof of my landlord’s house, frantically trying to finish in the downpour, and they absolutely thought I was insane.  Too late to turn back, I just told them I was out of my mind (“Ke a tsenwa!”) and after that they laughed with me and maybe even started to enjoy the rain themselves (if nothing else, I certainly was entertainment to help pass the time as they worked).  Katlo gave in to the urge and joined me in dancing around.  Coconut, Blackie, and Doodle-doo (my landlord’s dogs) came out for the fun as well. 

It poured again last night, and while I didn’t choose to dance outside, I saw Katlo spinning around, embracing the fat raindrops and cool breeze.  I may fail at capacity building with the teachers at my school, but it’s nice to know I may be able to teach about appreciating life’s little pleasures. 

Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass, it’s about learning to dance in the rain.

Ga Ke Na Ditsala

Two summers ago I was a live-in nanny.  The family lived in Westchester County and I was really excited for the experience.  I pictured swapping recipes with the other nannies at soccer practice, stopping to chat with some neighbors while at the grocery store, and maybe even having a summer romance with a gorgeous guy who mows all the lawns in the neighborhood with his shirt off.  As you may guess, I learned a lot about the danger of romanticizing a situation.  I ended up spending my weeknights alone in my bedroom, my weekends traveling to visit friends in the city, and speeding through my grocery trips with my eyes on the shopping list rather than the faces around me.  It was a necessary lesson in the difficulty of finding one’s way in a new community.

When I accepted my invitation for Peace Corps, I made a point not to romanticize what I expected to happen.  In fact, I tried my damnedest to not have any expectations at all – something that has served me well in adjusting to life here. 

However, I now realize that I had one huge expectation – something so essential that I took for granted that it would happen, and it’s the same assumption I had upon embarking to be a nanny.  I assumed that I would have friends.  I assumed that people would want to get to know me as much as I want to get to know them, despite barriers in language, background, or culture.

Well, that hasn’t happened here.  Of course I’m friendly with a lot of people.   Everyone I see says hello (well, “Dumela”) and a majority even know my name.  The teachers and nurses are also starting to get more comfortable with me as well.  And of course everyone is absolutely fascinated by my white skin.  But there’s no one in my village I would call a friend.  No one who knows more than the most basic information about me.  No one who I feel comfortable going to when I’m homesick.  When I stay home on the weekends, the only face I see is my own in the mirror as I’m brushing my teeth.

Okay, I know, my dramatic side is coming out again.  It’s just that I honestly hadn’t thought too much about it until recently.  I figured it would just take time to make friends.  But the fact is, every other volunteer has someone they’re close to in their community.  Someone who lets them know if there’s an event going on, or someone to stop by and say hello to, or someone who invites them to baby showers.  So, since I don’t have that, I’m wondering what exactly it is that I’m doing wrong.  I know I’m not an effusively out-going person, and maybe I even come across as somewhat guarded at times, but I do always try to wear my brightest smile.

So I find myself again looking to my weekends as an escape.  A chance to either visit other volunteers who know me well or to just get to the capital where I can be a nobody (instead of the village lekgowa).  This worries me.  I don’t want to look back on my Peace Corps experience as I do my nanny experience: something I would never take back, but also something that could have touched me on a more personal level.

I want to live without regrets.  I don’t want to live without friends.

Phirimo ya Letsatsi

My training group finally set foot onto Botswana soil as we walked from the airport to the bus that was transporting us.  It was April 12, 2010, and we had been through over 24 hours of traveling.  Our ankles were swollen and we were in that groggy daze affectionately called “jetlag” with at least 2 more solid hours of transport and checking into the hotel.  We should have been on the verge of either strangling one another or sliding off the bus seats and laying unconscious in the aisle.

Instead, we smushed into the seats together conscientiously as if we were already old friends.  The excitement was still alive in us because – there it was, right in front of us, right out the window – we were experiencing our first sunset in Botswana.  Phirimo ya letsatsi.  I’ve seen my fair share of beautiful sunsets, but nothing compares to what you see here.  Words fail to give a true depiction – the overwhelmingly wide expanse, the rainbow palette of colors, a golden sun that blazes so brightly you fear it’s imprinted into your eyelids forever.  But, in truth, looking at something that beautiful forever wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Fast forward six months: one day last week I realized I never, ever watch the sun set anymore.  The fact that I am forced to watch the sun wake up as I walk to work at an ungodly hour seems to nix the need to also watch it go to sleep.  When I come home from work, there is too much decompressing that needs to be done, and barely over an hour of sunlight left.  So the beauty of a sky lit on fire has been escaping me.

That is, until yesterday.  Enough is enough, I told my lazy behind.  Your book and comfy chair will be there when you get back, and right now there is gold dripping off every surface in your village.  You need to watch it.  So I made myself a cold drink, invited along my landlord’s granddaughter, and watched the sun descend behind the rocky hills in the distance.

I repeated the experience tonight.  Each evening brings a new set of colors and another chance to appreciate true, unadulterated beauty.  The peacefulness is addictive, and I hope to make watching the sunset a habit. 

Also tonight, I realized that the sun was leaving me in order to bring that same beauty across the ocean to my friends and family, and I fervently sent all my love with it.  So the next time you are driving home from work or making dinner or running errands in the evening, take a minute to appreciate the sunset.  It’s the closest thing to a real hug that I can give you.

Know what you want to do, hold the thought firmly, and do every day what should be done, and every sunset will see you that much nearer the goal.  –Elbert Hubbard

Prizegiving

At the end of each term, every school across Botswana holds a big ceremony called Prizegiving.  Basically, it’s a day-long event at school where the students who have gotten the highest grades for each subject get rewarded (one student per subject per form, meaning that for each subject three students receive a prize).  Parents are invited and encouraged to come, and there are fundraising efforts for many months leading up to the event.

During the week before Prizegiving, excitement permeated around the school but I had no idea what to expect.  When the day rolled around, I made sure to wear a pretty dress and took extra time on my makeup.  I arrived to school to find all the teachers took the opportunity to dress down instead.  Typical. 

As I said, preparations had been going on for months, and yet the ceremony was delayed nearly two hours in starting because the actual prizes for the students had not even arrived at school, let alone been wrapped.  I helped teachers wrap prizes such as big mixing bowls for cooking, electric kettles, and home décor. 

Finally it was time to begin, and I sat on a curb to watch, as the parking lot had been converted into a little stage, with plastic chairs set up under big tents.  There was a DJ playing music as we waited for the guest speaker, a businessman by the name of Ittan, to get situated.

In the U.S., I’m familiar with school awards ceremonies – they always have academic and athletic ones.  Someone at a podium will announce the winners, he or she will walk up to get a certificate, shake hands, smile, take a picture, sit back down.  In Botswana however, the drama club performed a play which was really cute (not that I understood any of it – it was in Setswana), the choir sang a few songs (even one that involved the audience and got all the parents laughing), and a long speech by the guest speaker about the importance of education.

I have to say though; I think my favorite entertainment of the day was from our math teacher/choir instructor.  He’s very passionate about music, and loves to perform.  (Note: this is the same man who texted me two days after we met: “i hav nvr had such strong luv feelings 4 a lady.”)  Well today he was of course performing, but he actually had two BACKUP DANCERS.  I’m thinking of reconsidering my rejection of his courtship.

Then came the actual giving of prizes.  It was really amusing – after being announced the kids would walk up to get their prize either a) completely embarrassed and covering their face with their hands, or b) acting completely nonchalant, hands in their pockets and everything.  The really funny part was that their mother would also come up to get the prize, dancing and celebrating, and giving their embarrassed kid a huge hug.  Even the Head of Department teachers would get up to give students hugs, picking them up off the ground and swinging them around.

One form 3 student I know, Botho, got a few prizes.  The first time she went up, I was worried that a parent hadn’t come for her.  Then – her older brother came walking up and gave her a hug, overwhelmed with pride.  My God, break my homesick heart into a million pieces.    

At the end, I was exhausted.  Sitting in the sun for three hours without any water had just drained me of energy.  I decided to head home without getting a free lunch (which, let’s be honest, is what everyone was looking forward to).  The DJ had turned on music and the kids stormed the parking lot, dancing around and jumping.  Of course I had to dance with them – and found myself getting completely mobbed.  I couldn’t see anything but laughing faces and hands and general jubilation.  It was fun, until I started to get pulled in three different directions and then someone pulled on my dress (which was bad since my dress was strapless).

I spent the rest of the day recuperating on the couch, but it was undoubtedly a nice day to be a part of the Motswakhumo Community Junior Secondary School family.