Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Feel the Goodness


Feel The Goodness – Slogan for Chibuku, the alcohol that comes in a milk carton. I have not tried it but I have it on good authority that it has chunks in it and tastes like vomit and people drink it in massive quantities because it is cheap or why? How can any of this be true? Yet it is. Although I know people who would not drink straight vodka, and that doesn’t seem crazy to me. Well, as long as it has olives and olive juice or something.

I deadpanned with my friend Tija that I thought maybe I was allergic to olives the morning after I had had one too many martinis.  She got it. Her boyfriend took longer, but he is still smart. He just doesn’t get all the American-ness of American humor like we do.

I was in Ramotswa the other day to be one of three judges at a high school debate. The topic: Transaction and Intergenerational sex is dangerous.” I arrived early so walked to the store to get something to eat. On the way back I passed an attractive young couple walking together under an umbrella. He started asking me all kinds of questions, “where are you from, what are you doing, where do you live, wanna go party?”all said in the flirtatious way people here talk to strangers.  I laughed along, as did his female co-umbrellatee and finally said to him, “dude, what is wrong with you? You have a gorgeous and age appropriate woman sharing her umbrella with you and you are flirting with me? Are you nuts? Snap out of it!!!” and I walked away. They both laughed good-naturedly and went off in a different direction.   Okay, I am ready for this debate. Bring it on!

The other two judges were young men, in the mid to late 20s I am guessing, but maybe early 30’s. So hard to tell when you are as old as I am. A silly thought entered my mind at that point: maybe the whole campaign against intergenerational and transactional sex is really being masterminded by men in their 20’s without jobs who don’t have a chance with any of their peer females as long as the older guys have jobs and sparkly things to entice the young women. Really, guys in their 20’s in most places have problem competing with someone a bit older with a steady job. So maybe they just want girls their own age to have sex within their age group and not expect gifts? Ending intergenerational and transactional sex would be a great boon to the young unemployed brothers out there.

I don’t really believe that; it is just my cynical American mind that has seen marketing campaigns successfully sell almost anything to the unsuspecting, and well, I was walking around in the heat a little too long, and it was a REALLY hot day. And the darned debate process took soooo long to get organized. 

It is really quite dangerous for young girls, even as young as in their mid and early teens, being approached by older men who can promise them the world and say clever things that their more suitable peers can’t even dream of figuring out. The girls don’t have equal power at all in these situations and the prizes must seem just too great to turn down, yet the down side can be deadly.  

Turns out the best debaters weren’t from the school who brought the entire school body along to cheer and hoot, but a smaller school that argued respectfully against the premise that this type of sex was dangerous.  It wasn’t that we believed them, it was that they were the most articulate and able to manipulate the facts to sound like they had the best argument. Not sure what was taught with this, but everyone was given a bag of snacks, including fruit and drinks, and sent on our way. So it was overall a good thing.  I said to the teacher who came with the kids from Mogobane while I was getting a lift from them back to Otse that I thought it was a bit odd to have each school be given a special team name for the debate, rather than just using their own school names. They were all given names of airtime carriers!  Given that having sex for a phone and airtime is one of the biggest clichés here for younger women, I found that a poor choice.

I got a glimpse into how the Good Old Colonel Sanders might have gotten his start way back when, with a slightly African twist to be sure.  I was in a combi, during Friday afternoon traffic in Gaborone. We were coming to one of the roundabouts which means it was bumper to bumper more than usual as everyone was jockeying for position. Suddenly, our driver stops, turns of the vehicle and hops out, right in the middle of traffic.  He bends over, snatches up by its legs a stray chicken that was trying to follow its bliss by crossing the road, brings it around to the back of the combi, opens the back door, pulls out a bucket, empties it of its filthy water, shoves the chicken in the bucket, slams the door shut and hops back in to continue on our merry way.  The chicken was quiet for the first 5 or 10 minutes, then started thumping about against the seat.  We drove along until we passed the vehicle the chicken had made its escape from.  Out of the frying pan into the fire, I was sure it had started to realise, but as always, too late.   
The driver yelled something to the driver of the other vehicle and our whole combi bust up laughing. My laugh came later once I got a translation. Apparently he had said something like, “that chicken there back on the road that way there is now a chicken being here enjoyed by these people in this combi here.” Not sure if the guy caught all that as we drove by, or if he knew we meant it was his chicken we were thusly enjoying, but it was sure funny. Well, the chicken wasn’t amused but dad was bringing home dinner tonight, and that means alot.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Still here

I am still alive and kicking, but at a much slower pace without my laptop. Everyone asks me if it has been found yet and seem shocked when I say no.  Do they really think this guy who has a record for petty theft is going to suddenly decide to say he took it and give it back?  He will end up doing jail time, so he is staying quiet. And if someone else managed to sneak in and take it, they have gotten off scot free. The only hope is that this kid falls on his head and has remorse knocked into him and he brings it back.  Not holding my breath on that one.

So now, the good news is, I don’t do much work at home anymore. A less good news part is I also don’t watch movies, listen to music other than with my MP3 or do much writing, other than the scrawls I can’t even read. The music thing is sometimes hard to handle when I have clothes on without pockets, or when I want to listen to music while bathing and without any clothes on at all, pocketed or otherwise.  If I want to sing along and have the music drown me out so my neighbours don’t thing I am killing an animal in my house, well, I can’t because I don’t have speakers playing anything loud enough to drown me out.

Luckily, my family just sent me 13 skeins of yarn to knit 13 cute little scarves, and I haven’t read all the books in my house, let alone the PC office, and the kids still want to hang out even though the computer is gone. (This helps reassure me they didn’t take it, or they would be hanging out with it and not me, for sure.)
I have more time to plan and scheme for my many upcoming trips.  From last June until now, I haven’t done any travelling in Africa due to my heavy workload. Except home for my Dad’s funeral and Germany for 10 days, I have only seen the Gaborone and Johannesburg airports.   

Now, while I am still very busy, I committed to two things for the remainder of my service, in addition to my current projects. One was to not carry my laptop to work each day (problem solved!) and the second was to travel more and visit other volunteers in Botswana and surrounding countries.

I have a trip scheduled for Cape Town for the South African International Jazz Festival. Randomly enough, the daughter of Gordy and Joan Camphill lives there, and they will be visiting her the same time I am in town, so I might get to see them there. (Note to mom – maybe they can bring me something...lol)  I have another trip scheduled to the other side of South Africa again in June  for a Rotary convention in the Drakenburg mountain area. Since that will be a winter time trip, we will see snow and freeze our buttocks. Yippee.
I even have a trip scheduled home to go to my BFF’s wedding in late June where I will also get to see as many of my nieces as possible, along with my only nephew on another “cousins” trip.  This time, we are doing San Francisco which is one of my favourite places in the whole world! While this doesn’t count as an African trip, I do get to buy a wedding gift from Africa and spend time in the Jo’burg airport again. Oh, and spend ALOT of time in the Dubai airport, which I guess also isn't Africa but it is somewhere I have never been before. (The cheapest route between two points is not a straight line, I can tell you that.)

I hope to travel up north to see the elephant’s and Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe, though I may end up having to go via the Zambia side if the president of Zimbabwe continues to act in his own presidential way. By then, another winter here will be over and I will be coasting through my last 9 months of service, and may try to fit one more trip in before they lock us down for the last three months.  Then, if things go one way I am thinking, I might head to Europe for a Rotary conference in Lisbon and a month or so of studying Spanish in Spain or French in France. Still haven’t decided on which and where. 

Or maybe I will sign up for a third year of service.  Be still my heart. No, probably not. All the above travelling costs money I am not making, so in reality I would probably have to get a real, paying job to do half of all the stuff I just listed...sigh.  So much to do, so little money.

It is nice to have a comparatively open slate or canvas before me even if it is only in my mind.  Simply not knowing what I will do after service at this point is refreshing. Maybe when I get closer I will freak out, but now I like the wide open vista. I figure when I finally settle back home, I will be working my remaining buttock off, so I need to do some of these things while I can, right?

Thursday, February 9, 2012

Computer lost, time found... I guess

So I can't do a regular post because I usually type them at night and then put them on here at work, but my netbook was stolen from my otherwise fantastic party on Saturday and i am flying without music, movies, ability to write and still be able to read what I have written (my handwritting is so bad i can write something and not be able to read it 5 minutes later, but then you all knew that already), or photos or or or.

But in a nutshell, my party for 70+ kids was fantastic and I plan to say more about it when i have the time and means. here at work, i am just too busy to take the time to write. maybe next week when my boss is gone. lol. 

We danced, played games, ate cake and did all the things you are supposed to do at your 50th birthday party. In the evening, I put on my sexy short purple dress I bought in August in the states, makeup (one it had cooled enough so it didn't all sweat right off), and that, with my hair once again its natural color of chestnut burgundy (yeah, says that on my driver's license too, I am sure!) I was simply stunning.  Ask anyone.

And the greatest compliment of all was that I dance like a Motswana.  I guess they really think white people can't jump OR dance. 

Still waiting for my birthday packages but am glad to hear today that my special package sent to my niece Kaitlyn for her birthday on January 17th finally arrived and, as i expected, she thought it was awesome. Go Zebras!!!  


Today at the bus stop a fellow called me baby in the first sentence and then mamie in the second. I think the hair color threw him off for a second, but he recovered by calling me the term for us women of a certain age.   Not his baby or his mamie, but it was amusing anyway.


Today we delivered the last of the furniture to the group in Mogobane and after the meeting about 6 women put the desks together. Those ladies work hard, as did I. Last time I was there for the delivery of the trailer I did a little happy dance. Today I caught one of the members doing her own version!! Cool.

And my computer?  Well the police were inept and had little concern for helping me. the guy who most likely took it is a known criminal in my town. The Peace Corps Security Officer came Wednesday to talk to everyone, including the suspect but I am thinking my computer is in Zimbabwe by now, enjoying a new life of usefulness to someone I hope. I am grieving. I am lucky I have insurance. I am hoping I never really need the local police department and grateful that Thuso at PC is only an hour away if i ever really need serious help.


It is now 6 p.m. my time and I am going to head home for a night of....book reading....and playing with my cats. They don't miss the computer.













Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Erto Updated


We are getting closer.  The doctor in South Africa is keen to get started, but was concerned about Erto’s seemingly not trying to walk much, and wondered if there were other hidden problems. He wanted xrays.  Cathrine took Erto to Lobatse for xrays. They wouldn’t do them and told her to go to the hospital in Gaborone. She went there on a Friday and they told her to come back and see a specific doctor on Monday. On Monday, that doctor said he wouldn’t do xrays that were going out of the country and that the doctor is SA could do them. Too bad they didn’t tell her that on Friday, right?
Now mind you, each of these trips require Cathrine to pack up herself and her son, put him on her back and walk to the bus stop, which is about a mile away, if not a bit more.  In Gabs she then has to take a khombi and try to get to the hospital at 7:30 when they open so she can stand in line and hope to see the doctor by noon.  All this with little (well not so little, he will be 2 in April) Erto in tow. They don’t give appointments in the government clinics or hospitals –first come, first served. Each trip to Gabs costs P27, which adds up when you have no money.
Well, Tshepang, the mother who had her own child treated by this physician and has been willing to help transport Cathrine and Erto to SA for treatment once it starts, scheduled xrays with a private doctor so that she could take the xrays herself on her trip to see the doctor this week.  He now has the xrays, will see the nature of the problem and hopefully schedule treatment to begin.  Then we just have to find housing for them during the 8 weeks so they don’t have to travel back and forth each week. That would be a nightmare.
With any luck, treatment can start in February and be completed by his second birthday in April. Then, he will have to endure wearing a brace almost constantly for 6 months or so, but he will thereafter be running around just as nature intended.
I can’t wait for the next step, pun intended. Thank you everyone who donated to his cause.  There is a real need for physician training in Botswana so kids won’t have to travel out of the country and Tshepang and I are talking about how we might help the STEPS organization make the connections here so they can train some doctors in the treatment method.

Fun Dammit

I wrote part of this Saturday night, the 28th after what was both a typically eventful and uneventful week, in that those things that were supposed to happen didn’t but things that weren’t necessarily going to happen, of course did.  Then today the 31st. I added to it….what a difference a week makes.
We progress slowly on the closing out of the European Union Project and are still waiting for the mobile office to be delivered. They said the 27th but on closer interrogation I was able to wrestle the information that it would be DONE on the 26th and then they would have schedule delivery. I suggested that they schedule delivery assuming it would be done on the 26th so we might get it on the 30th or 31st. This was found to be a fine idea, but tonight, Saturday the 28th, I have no idea what will happen on Monday, or Tuesday or, god forbid, even further adrift from there.
Meanwhile the contractor is finishing the latrines and the storage building just fine, but has to move the two large piles of sand he had brought to the site because they sit where the caravan needs to go.  I lied to him and said the sand had to be moved before the 27th because of delivery. Didn’t do a lick of good, but I don’t envy his workers having to move a pile of sand from here to there in this heat.  He asked me if they could just spread it around. Sure, just NOT WHERE THE CARVAN IS SUPPOSED TO GO. Have to say these things. I found out that the contractor paid the support group to move the dirt and sand. A fine idea which amounted to slave labor prices but they were happy for the money and it all actually got moved.
Today, the 31st, I was there to witness the landing of the caravan. It was an all morning affair. We arrived by 10. The caravan, set smartly on a very large truck, drove by us happily around 11.  Dudes, do you not know where you are going?  Apparently not, as they called us and said, “heh, duh.”  The chair of the committee commented that perhaps they wanted to parade it through the village first on our behalf.  He cracks me up.
Previously, we had arranged with “Fred” from the company that they would come straight off the road where we would dismantle the government fence temporarily so they had a straight shot into our gate and the property. Easy peesy.  Fred wasn’t there and didn’t pass this on, but I didn’t clue into this because I was trying to let things unfold, let the group manage their new asset, etc., etc. and I really thought one of the guys was Fred.  So they drive back past us again, turn around somewhere where a big rig can turn, drive by us one more time, and turn off onto a very uneven dirt road to come to the property.
Thing is, it is not humanly or superhumanly possible to then turn this monster truck into the property without taking out a serious fence, which is ours. They tried twice, then decided if they couldn’t come in forwardly, they could back in, which as far as I am concerned is just plain stupid.  Well, at this point, I watched for as long as it took for them to  bring the back of the caravan very close to the fence pole and said, “ema fo” which as we know means “stop there,” but could also, with a slight change in pronunciation, sound like  a shorter version of “eh motherf-ing fool.” 
I explained to them the real solution and we took the fence apart, they drove out and then back in lickety split. Then it took awhile to remove the trailer from the rig, but I now know how three skinny guys can do that. Quite a low tech but worthy system. While they were at that, two members of the group, a staff member from my office who arrived with pliers, per my plea, and the director of the local conservation group, put the fence back together.  Well, kind of. Don’t look too closely.
By this time, even with my sunscreen I had been in and out (but mostly in) the sun for about 4.5 hours and was thinking it was time for me to go. I did a quick happy dance for the benefit of the support groups members who all really wanted to do one themselves, but just didn’t dare, and headed back to the office.
The water and electricity hook ups for the other group still haven’t happened, but at least now supposedly the village development committee and the local political representative are hot on it.  But if we don’t have something by my party maybe I will just tell my three bouncers to not let any of those guys in. Meanwhile, we doggedly dig holes to put in the gumpoles for the shade garden.  We can’t really occupy that office until we get the big smelly things out of the first room, and we can’t do that until we can put them in the ground and secure the cross poles and shade netting with wiring good and tight so no one makes off with any of it.  And we have a fellow who is going to stay at the office as kind of security, but he can’t move in until the gumpoles are out and wants to have power and electricity too. So there you go.
My party is threatening to become absolutely crazy.  I am now planning for maybe 100 kids and some of them will be bringing parents because everyone sees it as a chance to get free food at my expense.  We will be counting people at the gate and when I hit 100 kids I am locking everyone else out because the looks I will get when I don’t give everyone exactly the same amount of everything are going to kill me. The kids are already following me around, asking me questions I cannot understand, all I am pretty sure having to do with the party.
I have explained that it is a kids only party from 10 to 2 and no meal will be served. They think this is crazy.  I need to remind them it is called a cross cultural experience.  I am showing them how I would do a kid’s party at home. Lots of games, jumping castle, prizes and sugar.  No meat and cabbage salad, ok already?
Then the party for my 15 year old friend follows. I have told her only 30 kids. She is inviting more and they think they will get to stay for the “adult” party.  Sorry kids, I am counting up to 30 and then I am closing the gate and when it is time to leave, I am kicking you all out. They too think they should get a meal. I think they should eat what I give them and be happy about it.
I heard tonight from a local source for three cakes and hope her prices are reasonable or I go to Lobatse and have a Rotarian bring them to Otse Saturday morning. The DJ fellow still hadn’t contacted me, but then, it is only less than a week away, so he must have plenty of time. Last night, my landllord’s son said he could do it with a cousin’s machine so that got solved. Up until this morning I still wasn’t sure how I would get the 100 chairs from the Village Development committee’s office up to my house. One of my nice Rotarian buddies first offered to hitch me to a trailer he had but then made a more serious offer not involving me or any livestock. Still, I approached the director of the home based care program who really isn’t too busy right now and he said he could do it. I had seen more beat up pick-up trucks owned by people in the village I don’t know than I thought was possible, when I didn’t have any options. Now that I have, it I don’t recall seeing any.
The jumping castle will arrive the morning of the party and only then will we decide how many of the tree branches we need to trim away. Silly me, I was thinking to just trim up a bit this weekend….
Thursday I go shopping to buy the food for the “adult” party and will buy for close to 150 people, in case everyone I invited and some I did not, show up.  I have three bouncers to keep the riff raff and uninvited out, but if that turns out to be the village chief or some of my neighbors, they will have to let them in, right?  People I have not invited know about the party, so it is anyone’s guess what will happen.  If it decides to rain, I really don’t know who will come.  I have hired one of the disability groups to do the cooking for me, so at least I don’t have to mess with it. I am hoping they serve the meal at a reasonable hour. As it turns out, this afternoon, the 31st, one of my friends who is well connected in the community asked me if she could bring a couple friends. Well, sure why not? Who?  The chief and his wife. So I definitely need to make sure the bouncers don’t bounce him, which of course they never would do.
I have somewhere between 6 and 10 Peace Corps volunteers coming for anywhere from just the party to two nights stay. My Motswana family is coming also – all 8 to 10 of them, and 4 or so Rotarians.  These groups of people at least know they are going to be helping with the party.  I will be holed up in my bedroom with my cats, sitting the whole thing out, if it gets too beyond belief.
Early last week I thought of just officially canceling the adult party and unofficially having just my PC and Rotary friends and family over, but the problem is that someone would get wind of this and  would come anyway and then what?  Last week I was seriously thinking about cancelling everything, but that is a totally different story. Besides, it is going to be so much fun.
I succumbed and bought the bolts for the toilet seat, though most of the guests will be using the pit latrine. I also succumbed and bought hair color so all the grey will be gone for at least a few weeks of my 50th year.
I am going to have the girls help me write a little speech, welcoming everyone and explaining that this is an Americanized version of a party they would do, and that I am not related to Bill Gates even those we are both white, tall and goofy looking, and I can only do what I can do.  It’s not a wedding after all: I am not killing a cow or goat for them.  They dropped by tonight to pick some music, get an update, and help me pick what to wear for the party. We were in agreement: the short sexy dress was hands down the best. Thank god.
Really, it will be fun. Oh, that just made me think of one of my Dad’s quotable quotes from our childhood during one of what we would call “ill-fated expeditions.”  You are going to have fun dammit, whether you like it or not.”  Ema fo.

Apparently I need to eat more

 So says the PC nurse who I saw Friday to pick up my medications.  I lost another Kilo in two weeks and weigh roughly 141 lbs.  I do eat a lot, or so I think, but it’s the walking and sweating, stupid. Alot of what I have lost is fat, but a lot of it is muscle, so I went and bought myself some protein powder and am now starting to drink it with the full fat milk. And it is yummers.  I mean, I am fine with my weight, but it would be cool to show some muscle again. Ceci (my trainer at Praxis, not my cat) will not be happy if I come home all skin and bones.  Sisi my cat is a fatso and thinks I am taunting her with my leanness.  In fact, she just looked at turned her backside in my direction. Coincidence I am sure.