First Congregational UCC - Platteville

Greetings friends and family,

One of my fellow PCV’s and good friend Cassie who stays in Gantsi has a somewhat famous quote from our first week at site. “I feel awkward 100% of the time.” Monica modified it to her situation, “I feel confused 100% of the time.” I didn’t know what to say at the time and I think it’s because what I am is overwhelmed. I would compare the culture shock curve to highpointing . . . there are false peaks in sight all the time and each time you reach the crest of that false peak (of language proficiency or cultural understanding or level of comfortability with life in Kole) another peak lies in the distance. I am better at Setswana than I was when I came to Kole. But I have recently had the revelation that I really need to learn Sekgalagadi. And even the things I do understand about the language are sometimes not enough. This morning, I was at the school for their assembly before they close for a month-long break. One of the women who cooks for the school asked me if I would take her back to Europe with me when I left. I knew what she was saying but I still felt unable to reply. I am not going back to Europe because I’m not from Europe and I can’t take her and why would she want to go but I can’t say any of that without feeling like I might sound annoyed or condescending. So, I say, “ma?” Which means, “what?” and then I was reprimanded by my tutor who knew I understood and told me to respond appropriately in Setswana. “Ga ke kgone.” (I can’t). That was a perfectly satisfactory response, apparently, because she nodded approvingly. I forget that about three quarters of what the elderly people of Kole say to me is more like a quiz than a conversation. I used to think it was normal to greet in three different languages and with a few different phrases all meaning the same thing. Now I realize that was just seeing if I knew what I needed to know. Out of curiosity or genuine concern, I am not sure, but it is good practice whatever the intentions.

There is an inservice training for Peace Corps at the beginning of September. We have a community assessment assignment that is supposed to show the efforts we have made to integrate into the community and also to way out a work plan for the extent of our service. In training, the assignment sounded like work, but I am grateful to have something tangible to produce for Peace Corps. It is incredibly satisfying to see things on paper (for we, the academically inclined and verging on anally retentive Type A personality). I have a Setswana lesson plan, including language learning goals and total hours studied each month. I am still making progress with the GLOW (girls and guys leading our world) club for Ncojane. There is a country-wide activity called “Run for Life” that includes a half-marathon race in October. I have a team leader (although he is currently not well, so I hope he can recover in time for the race). A team takes a pledge for living a zero-transmission, healthy lifestyle and completes community projects to educate the community about what they are doing and why. The race is just for fun and for publicity. I will go pass out water if I don’t stick with the training regimen in order to actually participate. I am only about a week behind, currently.

I created a questionnaire to give to the teachers at the Primary School to get their view of gender roles in Kole. Understanding gender roles is relevant to understanding the spread of HIV/AIDS and so it’s one of the things our community assignment should address. I wrote the questions and passed it out sort of half-heartedly, thinking I already knew the answers. Men work at the cattle post, women cook and clean and care for the kids. It makes an agrarian society more efficient to have those roles designated and gender has historically been a way to divide societies. But of course it’s more complicated than that and I did learn new things from their answers. For one thing, I expected there to be generational differences (that young men and women would no longer adhere to the strict gender roles). Not so. The urban, rural divide is much more pronounced than the generational divide. Young people in Kole will imitate their parents unless they visit an urban area for an extended period of time, in which case they could choose to act differently at the expense of much harrassment from their elders. For example, the teachers at the school are mostly young men. They cook and clean and one of them has two orphans living with him from his extended family. I handed the survey out as another young man was hanging his laundry on the line. So, they are willing to step outside of their traditional role . . . but when they go home, the sisters and mothers will take over such “womanly” duties.

Gender roles aren’t inherently bad. I would say our society with currently more or less mumbo-jumbo gender roles isn’t exactly making the nuclear family unit function smoothly. However, when considering the spread of HIV/AIDS (not to mention womens’ rights), it is difficult for me to refrain from judgement. I am at risk of being culturally insensitive about this topic. There was a BONASU (blast these acronyms, I don’t remember what that stands for; Botswana National something having to do with AIDS) conference in Charles Hill on Wednesday. Monica got to attend, I was in Gantsi at an evaluation meeting for the PMTCT drama competition and to plan the regional competitions. She told me that the kgosi’s of the sub-district attended the conference and that the facilitator was excellent and the information was really good. So, I’m glad it happened and I’m glad she was there. One of the activities that involved group participation was: facilitator states X, if you think it’s true, raise your hands up high, if it’s false, keep them in your lap, if you’re not sure, put your hand under your chin and look thoughtful . . .

statement: “It is okay to hit your wife or girlfriend.”
Kgosis’ response: hands raised high
statement: “You can tell if a person has HIV/AIDS by looking at them.”
Kgosis’ response: hands raised high
statement: “You can get HIV/AIDS by sharing a fork with an infected person.”
again, hands up

You would hope these responses would be based on a language barrier as opposed to ignorance, but alas, the workshop was conducted in Setswana and the kgosi’s are quite well educated.

Mr. Moncho, my tutor and one of the teachers at the school, brought up that “cultural preservation” is more of a concern in rural areas in general (when he was completing the questions about gender roles). Language, traditional practices, etc. are adhered to for longer in rural areas. This is a good thing! But again, it becomes difficult to refrain from judgement or trying to “change things” when it comes to the spread of HIV/AIDS. When I interviewed the kgosi, Rra Ramoswaana, I asked him what issues were addressed at the kgotla meetings in Kole. He said kgotla meetings were where the community discussed any problems or met important political figures who visited the village. I knew that and wanted a more specific answer so I said,
“When was the last kgotla meeting and what was it about?”
“May 23rd and it was about cultural preservation.”
(Wonderful! I though, he had already expressed concern that the young people of Kole were going off to the cities, chasing after a Westernized lifestyle and shirking their duties at the cattle post and I shared his concern partly because it puts them at higher risk of infection to be such a mobile population exposed to higher-risk lifestyles).
“What was the main concern at that meeting?”
“We were saying that people should marry within their clans.”
I suppose that would be one way of ensuring cultural preservation. But still, the response surprised me.

Last weekend was the PMTCT drama competition in Gantsi. There was a meeting to finalize the details of the event on Thursday. I wanted to be sure to go so I could here straight from the horse’s mouth, as they say, that transport was being sent to pick up the team in Kole (I was skeptical after my personal experiences with promises of transport). I had a lovely time in Gantsi with Cassie that day. It was the first time I had been there without rushing around doing errands in order not to miss transport back to Charles Hill. Gantsi is an interesting place, only 10,000 people actually live there but it is close to the border of Namibia and there is a convergence of cultures. Herrero, Bakgalagadi, Basarwa, Batswana, and Afrikaners (quite a few of them). So, I enjoyed having a day not being busy taking advantage of the SPAR grocery store and plethora of other shops that seem to overwhelm such a small town. I stayed with Cassie who has four puppies and the Peace Corps bare minimum housing requirement of one room that fits a bed, a wardrobe, a table and a half-fridge. She does have electricity and she is neighbors with another peace corps volunteer who works for an organization called “True Love Waits”.

Anyway, the drama competition hoopla started Friday morning at 10am. I was supposed to meet with the catering committee at the RAC (Rural Area Committee). Everyone arrived around 11am and we were given a ride to the venue where we were to cook. We had tea and waited for the pots and pans to arrive. I visited with the other ladies and read a newsweek that Peace Corps sent me (which was really nice . . . that’s another idea for my wonderful, supportive family who send me packages!!!) :) To make a long story a little bit shorter, I ended up going around with the head of the catering committee to finally collect the pots and pans from various places in town: the schools, the wildlife department, and a restaurant. It was a process, they had written letters in advance to request the use of their serving bowls and spoons, etc. We had to sign a register and write down exactly the size and number of what we took. At the wildlife dept., they actually spray painted everything with a green mark. The lack of structure or formalities that one might expect in a third world country with sky-high HIV rates is . . . well, they aren’t lacking. Structure, formalities, committees, acronyms, meetings, conferences, workshops – there are plenty. I didn’t help with dinner on Friday because I wanted to be at the Primary School where the drama teams were going to sleep when Kole arrived. I should have helped with dinner. They finally got there at 11pm. I was no longer there at that point and got a call from my tutor saying, “can you come? We have a problem with accomodation.” I was given directions to tell them to go to Brigade, the place where we were cooking, for dinner (even after I had suggested we simply leave food at the school after it became obvious that Kole wasn’t arriving until very late). So, I had a ride from Cassie’s friend and got to Brigade first to find the doors locked, no food, no people. I called the woman who I was working with earlier. She told me that they had taken food to the school after all and gave me the number of the woman who was supposed to be there to meet Kole. I called her and she said, “I’m at the school, where are they?” I still don’t quite understand how they missed each other, but anyway, we all ended up at the school and I got the kids started eating while Pearl (my counterpart) made rather a spectacle of herself expressing her frustration and hunger and lack of sleep towards Kereng, the poor woman who was responsible enough to make sure Kole had food and accomodation. Again, to shorten the story, it all worked out in the end. I was at Brigade early the next morning, chopping onions and cabbage and mixing cabbage salad in huge tubs (with my hands and arms, there is no utensil for stirring that amount of coleslaw). I left Brigade about 11am so that I wouldn’t miss seeing Kole perform. They were wonderful, especially considering the circumstances (new team members and props they had never used). We got fourth place out of seven.

They have expressed interest in continuing to practice and perform at events like World AIDS day in September. I really hope I can keep getting them together, even if we aren’t traveling and performing, to give them something to do together that they enjoy. I might even teach them salsa or swing. And, of course, a little bit about HIV/AIDS.

Saturday night, I realized that one of the group members was ill during dinner. We ended up taking him to the hospital, and I had the honor (and I mean that, I was so touched) of being in the examination room with him. They gave him pain medication which he reacted to so he vomited, then the nurse tried giving him a shot of hydrocortisone to counteract his reaction and couldn’t find his vein. Then the doctor walked in (thank goodness!) and eventually we were on our way with more pain meds, antibiotics, and vitamins. I was also on a private mission to re-hydrate him because I am fairly certain that was the main reason for his fever. He did have an abscess on the side of his nose that was infected so it could also have been the cause (which is what the nurse said).

I have continued checking on him this week. He was supposed to go to Gantsi to visit the hospital for review from that doctor on Thursday and he didn’t go. I didn’t get a good explanation of why, but I can’t help feeling slightly responsible because I wasn’t there Wed. night to remind him or tell him what time to be at the health post to catch the ambulance. It is distressingly difficult for patients to actually get a ride on that ambulance. Once five people are in the back, no one is really interested in taking someone else along. Anyway, he is doing fine, obviously getting better on his own. I might offer to go with him next week if he isn’t totally healed.

On the ride home from the drama competition, I got up the courage to tell Pearl that I couldn’t ride in the back of an open pick up truck (according to Peace Corps rules) and asked her to take my place in the back of the huge flat bed truck that was transporting the group (about 12 of them) home. There were six of us in the cab which was quite crowded, especially after we stopped in Charles Hill to pick up the two babies of the PMTCT counsellor from Ncojane who was riding back with us. She tried to pass one child over to my kgosi’s older brother. He stoutly refused and she shot a pleading look over her shoulder at me. I didn’t hesitate, of course, and so I had a precious sleeping baby on my lap all the way back to Kole.

I was about to burst with gratitude after that weekend.

I hope this finds you all well. Please email or write when you can. Aunt Wilma, thank you so much for the package, I love ginger cookies and chai tea. Good choices! :) Mom and Dad, I got the travel mug, granola, face lotion, and orbit gum. Yeah!!! Thank you.

thoughts and prayers and dreams from me to you . . .

love, leah