I think I love board games more than most people

And that’s what compelled me to melt into a puddle in Shopprite when I spotted a South African version of “Monopoly”.  I was roaming around Siteki with Futhi, another volunteer, and having failed to retrieve money from the ATM (ohh that’s right…  it was the end of the month), so I had very limited dolla dolla bills. I turned to Futhi and blurted out “would it be stupid if I bought this?” Without a hint of judgment, she said “go for it” (or something along those lines… this was in October… and hey! This is my reality!) so I picked a box off the shelf, paused momentarily to smile appreciatively at the giant teddy bears strategically placed next to the “monopoly” boards, and bounced my way to the check-out line. Now. Would the card machine work? AND IT DID. And it hasn’t worked since. But that’s beside the point. I proceeded to prance around Siteki hugging the game like it was my most prized possession much to the amusement of random passersby.  As I strolled through the bomake market I bumped into my friend Mavis, and this was when I promised, one Saturday during the break to play monopoly with her… fast forward a few weeks. 

It was hot, and it took a lot of energy to drag myself out of the strangely climate-controlled house that I currently reside in, but the guilt of putting off playing monopoly overcame my survival instincts to remain in doors. So I packed up the game, wrapped myself in a lihiya, and ventured out into the great unknown (the amount of roosters dotting the path makes it a perilous journey).  As I strolled through the market, greeting the various bomake (oh, the art of schmoozing), I approached Mavis’ stall only to find her a little frazzled. “Oh Bongiwe! I was late coming back from Manzini, I am still very busy”. Two thoughts ran through my head simultaneously. Well… that’s not the end of the world and “Maybe I could help?” is what blurted from my lips. She hesitated… “but you don’t know how…” My mind was made up, so I persisted… “but Mavis, you could teach me” and that was that. She moved a stool next to her chair where she was packaging green peppers. She gave me a brief tutorial and then presented me with a box of apples.  How hard could this be? Well, it wasn’t necessarily difficult, but I had certain standards to uphold… the apples had to be stacked a certain way, the plastic baggies functioning more like cling-wrap, and I had to fit between 4 and 6 apples in the same size bag. Magic. After a little while it became much easier, and it was really fun to be sitting behind the stall with Mavis packaging up emaveg and emafruits.  Mavis is well known in the market, and several people came up asking her what she was doing “Wentani lapho Mavis” and she would proudly respond “Ngipakgisha na Bongiwe” (I am packaging with Bongiwe).

Something that’s changed in the past month or so is the fact that acquaintances are becoming friends, and I feel like I can trust more people that previously made me wary. I sort of left PST feeling like I’d never make any Swazi friends, or that I’d always be seen as someone who has things of material value, rather than as a person. It was easy to feel guarded when those assumptions were supported by strangers frequently stating “give me money” or “please support”.  I think that’s why sometimes I feel short of patience when I go into town, because I know that those are conversations I am going to have to navigate. However, sitting in the bomake market with Mavis made me feel like I belonged, like I was a part of the community, and that I had more value than whatever items I squished into a suitcase and overly large backpack when I came here. Often, that bubble bursts when I least expect it.  Sometimes I’ll be having really nice conversations with someone on a kombi, or walking through town. Just when I’m feeling like I am being seen as myself, I get the kiss of death “can you give me 5 rand?”  I hate that that is always at the back of my mind… why often I feel like “why bother greeting this person” because I feel like we’re a hop skip and a jump from the real goal of any conversation… But that’s not fair. And that’s what Mavis’ friendship reminds me. That people can be friendly and supportive, and mean it, not with some hope of gaining something other than a good laugh and a pleasant conversation. It’s important to know that, because I think when I lose that understanding I feel lonely here.  I think that was one of the nicest things about that hot afternoon in the market, I decided to let my guard down, and I wasn’t disappointed.  And I was able to transcend the surface-level communication that I really loathe… and that easily frustrates me. I learned more about Mavis, how important Monopoly actually is to her… (she used to play it with her sister who has passed away), that she’s a hard worker, and I felt like a person. So I came out of this experience with some restored faith in my experience here, a new skill in packaging fruit, and feeling like I had a friend.  Not a bad afternoon at all. 

On a completely unrelated note… Sanelesiwe’s homestead has a mango tree(s?) and she promised to bring me back mangoes after she visited home… What I didn’t realize is that that meant I would receive a 10 liter-bucket full… So with great internal amusement… and personal pride (or something…) I’d like to announce that I successfully ate (with a little help from my friends) 79 mangoes in a week. Yep. 79 mangoes.  I didn’t quite pull a bubba-gump shrimp… (Mango curry, mango custard, fried mango, steamed mango, frozen mango, mango smoothies…) but I definitely made good use of them, and didn’t turn orange. So I’d say that’s a success.

In other news I am super excited that my friend Sarah will be visiting me in March… which is… I have no words. I am also not sure if I should be terrified because it’ll be interesting to see two worlds collide… nah. It’s going to be awesome! I cannot wait to troll the countryside with her.  And eat mangoes. Obviously.

Well, I’m going to leave it at that.

Sala Kahle.

I re-discovered the beauty of this book, and how much it applies to my life here. My life in a fishbowl...

Wishing you could help dreams come true?

I wouldn't normally use this as a means of advertising so explicitly... but this is a really important project that many of my fellow PCVs are working extremely hard on, so I thought it would be nice to support their efforts... especially since you all know how much I love the library at my school...hehehe... But in all seriousness, our pal Arthur (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JlCm7-Y1wtk) knows that having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card... So, if you're not hating me for getting that song stuck in your head, help bring the fun to Swaziland by donating to our "Books for Swaziland Project". PCVs will be collaborating with schools in their communities to start up and bring books to 30 libraries in 2014!

Just follow this link, and the rest is easy!  https://donate.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=14-645-001

Eating Mangos in Hhohho

You can really squeeze a lot in a week here.  

The adventure started last Thursday when Lomaswazi and I departed from my school to catch a khumbi to Mbabane. Our destination? The country director’s house. What was guiding us there? The aroma of delicious food.  Although we weren’t gathering strictly for our homeland’s festivities… the following day would also sponsor an “AllVol” event where it would be the first time that all G10 and G11 volunteers would sit in the same room together for professional reasons.  It was interesting to see how our two group dynamics intermeshed…and they didn’t clash like I thought they would.  The main point for this gathering was to discuss the new format for the VRF (Vacuous Rabble Forum)… er… I mean… Volunteer Reporting Form.  You know you’re an MI student when… you get really excited to partake in Monitoring and Evaluation, followed by a statistical analysis of the data you’ve collected… But in all seriousness, the new VRF mechanism is super cool, and I am actually *nerd alert* super excited to begin filling it out. But we’ll see when I actually sit down in January and begin scrutinizing my past six months here. 

I ventured home on Friday (after walking through an amazingly well-stocked grocery store… with cream cheese, curry paste, and many other magical things) with Thandolewethu the volunteer at the High School for the Deaf.  It was a nice trip home, and we got to talk about our experiences at the schools, and brainstorm a little bit about uniting our communities.  Although there are many aspects that are similar between our schools, we are living very different experiences.  For one thing, she has ¼ the number of students at her school than mine.  So it’s just nice to exchange stories and see what else is going on.  I won’t really go into the history of the schools, but it would be amazing if by the time we both fly home to ‘Murica they were working together. 

On Saturday, I attended Sanelisiwe’s daugther’s Pre-School Graduation. It was probably one of the top ten most adorable things I have ever seen AND there was cake.  It was fun to go and support her and act as a photographer for the afternoon.  It was pretty much a little showcase where the students read poems, sang songs, and there were even costumes.  Also, attending something like that made me feel like I was actually part of a family, and of the community, which was a really nice feeling. 

I had spent the morning hanging out with the ten or so students who had yet to be picked up by a responsible adult.  It reminded me yet again of being a camp counselor… waiting with the campers who’s parents had spaced about the pick-up time. I broke out the checkerboard and tried to keep them amused while they waited hopefully, not entirely sure if anyone was even on their way.  I think that’s been one of the hardest things to adjust to… the different role of the parents, or the absence of parents (for one of many reasons… the country has a saddening percentage of Orphans and Vulnerable Children… OVCs).  The supervision is also something that always catches me off guard.  Save for the kitchen staff who remained to feed the students breakfast and lunch, none of the teachers were there to ensure that the students were collected, or even picked up by the right people. I am still unsure if I should feel encouraged by this, or anxious. 

Sunday meant it was time to head back towards Matsapha. I was happy to learn that Sanelesiwe was also traveling to Manzini, so we got to ride a kombi together.  I then met up with Thandolewethu in Manzini. We had planned to go to the bomake market and buy some crafty holiday presents. Although not all of the stands were open (it was afterall Sunday), but it was actually quite pleasant. We were the only shoppers strolling through, and the usual hustle-and-bustle was not present, so I felt like I could take my time to walk around and not have to simultaneously navigate through hoards of people. I spoke with a few of the craftspeople in hopes that they would be willing to come to my school to teach some of the students their trade. One man who made drums, and incredible paintings offered, so hopefully that’s something that can be solidified in the future. 

Thandolewethu and I then set off for Matsapha, in a sense our home-away-from-site.  This time, as mentioned before, our training would include program design and project management with a counterpart from our community… This meant that we anxiously paced around the corridors of IDM as we waited for them to arrive… we all had a not-so-secret fear that we would be jilted and have to go back home. Fortunately, only two PCVs got stood up, but have the opportunity to attend the training again in February. (See… our fears were totally real). This was by far my favorite training since being here. It was incredible to be able to sit down with our counterparts, brainstorm a vision for our community, and address the challenges we think our community faces, and then work to devise a plan of how to overcome those challenges. It was just amazing to have the time to go through that process, and in relative detail.  I had brought Nosipho, a teacher I have been working on the Sign Language Book with.  It was neat to see that we both felt that in order to help our community grow, we needed to address the lack of sign fluency amongst teachers and students, and develop a “staff development plan”.  I am very excited to begin working on this new project (one, interestingly, that I had hoped would happen… but had kind of given up on the idea… look how life works some times!).  The workshop really rejuvenated me after a busy and stressful end of the term, and rekindled my hope and faith in those I am working with that we can truly achieve a common goal.  Things are magical falling into place, and it is beautiful… now we just have to wait and see. 

At the end of the workshop I traveled with Zinhle back to Manzini, where we met Tambile, a volunteer who will be attending the same workshop only in February.  We were going to spend the night at her homestead.  The drive to her site was incredible. We passed the biggest lake in Swaziland, it the landscape was a 1,000 shades of green.  I always get a twinge of sadness when I visit another volunteer and see their homesteads and observe their interactions with their families. While I sort of do have my own kind of homestead here, it’s crazy how different their experiences are from mine. It makes me feel like I live in a city… (which is not entirely false…), but I’ve always been a country mouse, so it’s strange.  Tambile lives in the foothills of some mountains in the Hhohho region of Swaziland.  The walk to her site was stunning, and her homestead was cozy.  A sisi offered to get us some mangos so we meandered over to the tree and gathered at least 30 mangoza.  We then went to the “little kitchen”, a roundevel (…spelling?) with a thatched roof, seated ourselves on grassmats and forgot to worry about juice dripping down our chins or the uncomfortable feeling of mango-strings in-between our teeth.  We then got to keep a ton of mangos, which was awesome… I’ve been eating like 3 a day… so satisfying.  It was a really nice visit, and we had delicious grilled cheese for lunch. Tambile’s hut is super comfy, and I enjoyed swinging in a hammock for a good chunk of time.  I think I know where I am going to spend some of my break… haha

Although kombis and public transport in general tend to be an exhausting experience… I really love having the opportunity to see how this country transforms from winter to summer… from desert to tropical oasis.  It’s even more exhilarating when for a second I comprehend the fact that this is my home. This, coupled with the fact that I feel like I have finally found my footing in terms of transitioning from being a clumsy mlungu to a volunteer/professional is pretty empowering. 

And with that, here are some parting words of wisdom from my counterpart, Nosipho. “Dig deep into your brain box… it can’t be empty.”

“Angifuni”: A How-to Guide for those persistent marriage proposals

This is going to be a several part series...
 
Sometimes it takes a lot for me to muster up the energy to meander into town…only a few things really push my need to go more than twice a week… those being the acknowledgement of having not enough of the right ingredients for “no bakes” and having no food in general once I’ve exhausted all of my leftovers and ate a meal that could have been a prize winner in “Chopped” for creatively throwing ingredients together.  This isn’t because town is miles away. Comparatively, I probably walk less than most other volunteers, nor do I have the task of hulling water from a borehole or a river. It’s not even the extreme heat… living on a plateau still means that summer is blazing hot… but it also means that I am graced with the soft breezes of the Moz. Ocean.  No, it’s the fact that I never know what conversations I’ll have, or people I’ll meet in my hour or so in town.  This isn’t so much a reflection on the characters of men (or people) in this country so much as it is merely a narration of some of the more trying experiences I’ve had here in terms of testing my patience, or requiring me to be good-humored more than is humanly possible.  For the most part, I honestly think the comments are the basis of a joke… “I wonder how she’ll react” sort of provocation. There’s only been a couple instances where I felt like it was really harassment.  But I thought it would be funny to compile a list of responses I’ve come up with, or have heard from other volunteers when “angifuni” (I don’t want) just isn’t enough. 

1.     Make them laugh.  Scenario: I was walking back from town toting some groceries (why I always manage to buy milk AND eggs at the same time, I’ll never really understand), and I was feeling good about making it through the busrank without any scarring experiences… when I noticed a cluster of guys communicating, briefly looking over their shoulder and pointing in my direction.  Well this should be interesting… nevertheless, I trudged on.  As could be expected, just as I passed them one began to frolic towards me, with the most ineffective, yet most-used pick-up line in all of Swaziland…”Mlungu, iyahpi? Ngiyatsandza” Which roughly translates to “Where are you going foreigner, I love you.” I know, I know, I’m crazy for wanting to run away.  Meanwhile, his friends were moving significantly slower, and were a good few feet behind him, watching this scene unfold as though it were from an episode of Generations. I was anticipating them to reach into their bags and start munching on some popcorn. All-the-while, it appeared as though they were doing the best they could to sustain any great bursts of laughter. I smiled knowingly at them, and questioned “ninjani?” How are you? Thus, letting on that I new ample enough SiSwati to entertain their hopefully brief conversation. As I trudged onward, the man persisted to tell me that we were going to get married and live in one of those houses conveniently sitting on my left, as I persisted to contrast everything he said… then a few school girls approached us, and they too were taking in the scene with relative looks of amusement plastered on their faces. I realized then that I could let myself in on the joke with a little help from some unexpected studio audience members. As they got within “whispering” distance I cupped my hand around my mouth like I was letting them in on a secret and lightly said “Inyanzelayo!” which in dire situations could amass an army, but for this particular purpose just simply means “help”.  The girls began to giggle, and then my man friend, caught so off-guard by the fact that I knew even that word actually stopped, and LOLed in a way I’d never seen anyone laugh like here before.  I continued on my merry way, and once he’d caught his breathe matched his strides with mine, but this time just left it at “Well, if you change your mind, I live over there”, I said “Hambani kahle” (go well), waved, and we went our separate ways. End scene.

Let me take a moment to check my attitude at the door…

A phrase I haven't uttered since PST, although I felt it's resurrection necessary given my moodiness these past few weeks.

With less than two weeks left in the term I am trying to keep life in perspective.  For starters, it’s rather confusing to acknowledge that it is nearly December. What with the fact that it has been in the 90s, and “sweating profusely” has become my normal state of being. I am simultaneously welcoming the break with open arms and honestly terrified of it.

And like most things here, time easily molded into delicate folds of origami waiting to be tucked somewhere as a token representing a particular period of my life.  It is now officially the start of break. I spent the last two weeks trying to pull the school calendar together and solidify as much as I could in preparation for the coming year.  While seven weeks feels like eons of time, I know that before I know it will be January, and I’ll either be accustomed to the still silence of an empty campus, or will be anxious for it to be brought back to life with the sounds of laughter and school bells. 

November was very good to me. It showed that friendships had deepen, my language had developed and solidified the sense that I am in the right place.  Although I was extremely anxious about it, I was able to launch my student council, which I am also extremely excited about.  It took over a month for me to put the right signs together to communicate it’s purpose and persuade the students I had rendered as leaders to want to be on board. While I do not currently have a counterpart at the school (another teacher per say) one of my best friends here, Sokuhle who teaches sign in Manzini, and is a real role model to the students, has been able to come here and help me explain it to the students and communicate it’s significance. For the time being I have six students who I am going to begin providing leadership training to.  This includes how to run meetings, setting an agenda, writing minutes, and public speaking. However, part of the responsibilities we’ve discussed include how they are going to be role models to the younger students. The concept of “setting an example” is not the same as the one I grew up with, and so I’ve had to think carefully about how the group should transform, be legitimized and what role exactly the students should play. Thankfully, they are super excited and really liked the idea of building skills. I was worried at first as Sokuhle and I listed the responsibilities and expectations that they would back out. However, I am truly lucky to have Sokuhle, as he was very encouraging of the students and articulated that we were there to support them. I am intrigued to see where things go in the next year. For the time being I bought them all little notebooks to write their ideas in, so I have a glimmer of hope that they’ll think of something over the break. 

In the past few weeks I feel like I finally stopped feeling like a Mlungu (foreigner).  This is also evident in the realization that I am beginning to forget that I stick out like a sore thumb, and am the cause of many double takes.  This is mainly due to the fact that I feel like part of a team here at the school, and have been slowly chipping away at multiple language barriers.  It’s an incredible thing when you realize that people have chosen to trust you, and that the respect you’ve worked hard to exhibit is being reciprocated.  I was honestly a mess back in July when I first moved in with my host family and stuttered along through the syllables of siSwati.  If you could have told me that I was going to be as happy as I am now, PST would have probably (… maybe) been a lot less miserable, and full of anxiety. The fact is, I feel so fortunate to have made the friends I have, and that I was able to feel comfortable enough here to let my guard down enough to learn to laugh again, rather than feeling constantly on edge. We all joked that it was the mefloquin (malaria prophylaxis) that was making us paranoid… but I think it was just my brain rapidly trying to process everything that was around me.

For Thanksgiving we were all invited to the Country Director’s house for delicious kudla. It was really nice to have the opportunity to hang out with my fellow PCVs and some of my favorite food. I was a little bummed at first, because that meant pulling me out of school during the last two days of the term, and year. I knew that when I’d return the following day, most, if not all, of the students would have been collected by their parents or bogogo.  It reminded me of the end of the first summer when I bawled like a baby after my campers were picked up… these silly kids always weasel their way into my heart.  It was a pleasant surprise to see that a few were still here when I got back. I had arranged a skype date with my family (the first one in 5 months!) and I had just logged on, when they came out of the dinning hall, and the older girls filed into the teachers lounge… I don’t know how they find me sometimes. It was pleasantly fun. They hung out during the skype date and got to “meet” my family, and I interpreted as much as I could. It made me incredibly happy to see these two worlds kind of collide for a little while. They even gave them sign names, which was neat. I think in some ways that described my experience here far better than me just rattling off what I’ve been doing. 

This next week I’ll be back at IDM (where I spent my first two months here), attending a training in which we are allowed to bring a counterpart with, and talk about program design. 

We interrupt this programme for a breaking news update: The storms here are incredible, and I am thankful that they tend to occur in the evenings, when I am safely indoors tucked beneath my snuggie. You know it’s intense when the wind makes it through your closed windows. Usually I get tired of the lights flickering and end up chillin’ by candlelight. Also, I discovered that with enough force the rain also makes it's way through the door... so I had a lovely pool forming in my hut... oops.

Anywho. 

Other than that, I don’t really have much else to share… save for some gems I’ve been gathering for a few topic-focused posts.  But that’s for another day.

Insert Creative Title Here

I’ve now been in Swaziland for over four months and it feels like home. I am in love with my site. The students are incredible, and the teachers continue to be supportive and a good source of laughter.  I feel as though I am really part of this community, and that has really helped in my settling in. Although I’ve only been living at my new home for two months, it feels like I’ve been here much, much longer (but not too much long).

One of my favorite things about my site situation is that I live in an apartment next to pretty much all of the bothishela that live at my school. This means that in the early evenings, or after dinner I can spend time chatting with their families, gathered around the TV watching Generations (anxiously awaiting the terribly intriguing plot twists…), and sharing the occasional meal.  I have made it a tradition that once a week I cook for my counterpart Sanelisiwe and her family. It has been a really nice exchange, and makes me feel like part of a family, and Sanelisiwe enjoys learning new recipes and sharing food, so it generally works out. Most importantly I feel like a real person again, in other words, I feel like myself again.  Zinhle and I used to joke during PST that we weren’t real people, because we felt that we couldn’t act the way we would naturally, as we were trying to adjust to a different culture with different social expectations, while the same time feeling constantly like we were on stage wondering whether the audience was going to laugh with us or start throwing rotten vegetables. Thus, I spent much of PST honestly anxious, and uncertain. However, now that I feel more comfortable here, and understand when a joke is being made, and when I need to quickly exit stage left… I can laugh with the audience instead of feeling laughed at. It’s honestly quite wonderful.

So where am I going with this…?

Sanelisiwe has a daughter who is five years old, and at the age of being super curious and wanting to participate in everything.  She was sitting on a bucket in the kitchen and I decided it would be a great idea to take a piece of my hair, and drape it across my face above my lip, and below my nose, making a silly mustache. This sent her into a fit of giggles. Sanelisiwe then turned around (although she was in the middle of cutting some chicken), and burst out laughing. This has become a defacto move if ever I feel I’ve walked my way into an awkward moment or if things start getting too serious.  Sanelisiwe has also been extremely wonderful in making sure I’m doing okay, inviting me along when she goes into town (hey, she even stopped the car long enough for me to snag some pictures of a few giraffes), and not letting me miss out on the incredible VoetKoeks at Shopprite. That’s a quality friend right there.

The other teachers have also been extremely welcoming, and what is neat is that the Head Teacher suggested that I do little workshops with them in the mornings before class, focusing on topics such as mental health and wellbeing. This has been a neat project to work on, and a great way to become part of the team. We just completed In-Service Training (which was a crazy two week reunion…) and upon my return to campus several teachers came up to me and told me they had been bored in the mornings because I wasn’t there to teach them. The Head Teacher told me yesterday that she is going to change the schedule a little bit, and have classes start later in the day so I have more time in the mornings for my workshops. I am very excited because my latest topic is Goal Setting and Planning.  I think as many of you know, I enjoy a little structure in my life… and the school has been without a school calendar, thus, things sort of just happen, or they sort of don’t.  In thinking about the projects I wanted to start, but being unable to follow this schedule intuitively, (as I feel the teachers here have a sixth sense of knowing when things will happen…) I offered to help make a calendar. I am SO excited. Seriously. I had the teachers generate a list of ideas of things they want to do next year… clubs they want to start, programs they want to develop, and fun activities even for the teachers themselves. They came up with an incredible list. I then asked them to write their name next to the activity they’d be interested in working on, and was pleasantly surprised that EVERY teacher signed up to lead an activity, and some even signed up for multiple activities. I had been really stressed that I was going to be the only one starting projects, and that I wouldn’t have any support, so anything I did would just fizzle out upon my departure. Now I feel like even if some of the things still don’t actually happen, the teachers are learning the skills to program activities in the future.  I’m having them write up little plans for these activities so that we can give each other feedback on how they can best be carried out.  Some teachers even came up to me and said they were excited for 2014. This with the break in two weeks is really encouraging. 

So where might you also find me?

Begrudgingly (although, admittedly, I am enjoying it now…) I was placed in charge of the library operations at the beginning of this term.  It’s been a love/hate relationship for sure, but I’m now at the point where I know enough sign to communicate “library clean please now close” quite effectively. Other students also tend to follow my lead and help me tidy up, and ask each other to wrap-up and go. The other day, however, had me questioning what on earth I had gotten myself into.  It was the third or fourth day of rainy, cold weather, and it just so happened to be pay-day. This means that the teachers were excused from class so they could go to the bank. However, what I didn’t factor in, was that all of those kids, that would normally be in class, would be free, and want to remain in doors because it was unnecessarily cold outside. Therefore, my 11 person library class quickly expanded to 20, then 40, and before I knew it I had over seventy students crammed into the library, which is half of the entire school. Me and 70 students. For all you camp counselors out there, that’s a pretty terrible ratio.  I kind of forget where I was going with this, but I think for as much as my blood pressure went up during the two hours I spent in overseeing that many children as the library was pretty much bursting at the seams, it made me realize that for starters, I really can never guess what I’ve gotten myself into here, and secondly, that despite that horrible ratio, I must be doing something right, because the library closed in a relatively orderly fashion, and I’m glad that, despite my better judgment, I agreed to work in the library this term. It has served as a means through which I have really gotten to know the students, and figure out what role I want to have within the school. I think many of them have incredible leadership potential, and if I didn’t spend 15 or so hours a week hanging out with them in the library, I might not have been able to see that, or know how to communicate with them as well. I also made two checkerboards out of cardboard, and that has been a big hit.

This past week (as noted above) we were brought back together at our original training site to have “In-service Training”, it was much more difficult than I thought to tear me from site, and as I walked through the school gate I had to hold back tears, because I realized how much I was going to miss everything about the school for the next two weeks. While I do think it has been a nice break, and great to catch up and learn more skills, I am looking forward to being back in my house, sharing laughs over tea and chasing the pre-schoolers around pretending I’m a lion.  I think this means I’m integrated.

School holidays begin in December, and although I’ll miss the students, I am looking forward to having time to work on some of the projects I have started to develop, and practice my SiSwati. There are a few vendors in town that I am looking forward to hanging out with. I got super excited because I saw a “South Africa” version of “Monopoly” in Shopprite at a reasonable price and bought it immediately. I then proceeded to march proudly through town clutching the game like it was a long-lost teddy bear. As I strolled through the Bomake market my pal Mavis saw me and exclaimed, “Bongiwe! Can I play that game with you?” after which she promptly stated “I will beat you”, and I remarked “Challenge accepted”.  It’ll be fun to spend a couple days playing monopoly in the market (although I am sure my game will become a little rough around the edges), and hey, I’d say that’s a lesson in financial literacy.  This moment, along with many others that I now cherish, are why I am enjoying this experience so much. This is truly the most incredibly opportunity I have ever had.

I am also excited because I am now a Co-Director for the GLOW Camp that occurs annually in the April/May school break. GLOW stands for “Girls Leading our World”, and the camp counselor in me is pumped beyond belief. It is also exciting because Zinhle is the main director, and I like the other volunteer who is the other co-director. It’s going to be a really fun and enriching experience. 

Well, I think that’s a reasonable summary of October for now… every once and a while I pause and am awed that I am where I am, doing what I’m doing, things no longer seem so foreign, and I can easily see how far I’ve come since the end of June, which is a pretty neat feeling.

Until next time,

Salani Kahle. 

A sign that I'm aging...

I just posted the same post... again... and have no idea how to delete it... oooops.

Behind the Scenes: The making of “Bus Twister”

Today (Note: This entry was written on September 27th) was exceptional. A leading indicator of this was the presence of a marching band that casually strolled through the Matata Bus Rank, in full ensemble, brass instruments braying, trotting to the beat of the giant bass drum. Peacefully watching this scene from the bus windows, I could not have imagined that an hour or so from then, I would be uncontrollably laughing at a stesh in Zinhle’s community (which I shall henceforth refer to as “Candyland”).

We had entered the big bus destined for Candyland well over half an hour before it’s scheduled departure time. All seats were already taken. No big deal, we’d just stand in the aisle, and cling to railing for dear life, just as PST trained us to do.

Soon we were packed in like sardines, so much so that there actually wasn’t any space left on the floor to move my feet. I was trying to position myself so that my backpack, or shopping bag wouldn’t knock anyone unconscious.  Then the umholeli decided we could fit more people.  Already there were probably 60 or so people on the bus… not including the various packed in between the seats.  At this point I’ve been pushed maybe 8 or so rows towards the back of the bus, a way from Zinhle and Futhi.  There I stood crammed between some increasingly irritated passengers, trying to smooth talk my way with “Ncesi, Make, ncesi”.  I thought there was no way we could possibly human tetris ourselves into a more condensed space. Woof, was I wrong.  And the umholeli was being craftily strategic. Soon I was back-to-back with Futhi, with Zinhle chillin’ on my right. We were our own Bermuda triangle of Peace Corps Volunteers.  I was also growing increasingly irritated, as I truly appreciate and value personal space, of which there was none, and snarked, “Look, here we are together, it’s like herding cats.” By this time there was probably an additional fifty or so people sandwiched in the aisle.

By the time the bus finally inched its way out of the busy plaza in Matata (home to a Super Spar… that had a plethora of drool-worthy groceries…), we had already navigated through a string of seriously redundant conversations (the kind that would normally be found amusing, but do to the unnecessarily close quarters, were now rather irritating…)  “Why are you here?” “What are your names?” “I want you to marry me”, “Oh, you speak siSwati!” “You don’t know enough siSwati! I will teach you.” Not to mention the fact that I spent five minutes tolerating a baby kicking my butt (literally), and Futhi almost lost an eye as a glass panel nearly made contact with her face.  By this time, barely a km into our journey, we were all reaching a breaking point.  (I may or may not have ranted in German for a couple of minutes… much to the enjoyment of Futhi and Zinhle).

Zinhle reassured us kakhulu that the bus was never ever that crowded and that it was usually a pleasant ride. Sure. Of course, mmhmm.  We concluded that life is just crazier at the end of the month. I mean people did just get paid.  And marching bands always draw crowds of people… Right?

Then it dawned on me… How were we going to get OFF of the bus… Well… I mean, it was obvious, we just needed to climb over like fifty people in time to scream stesh at the top of our lungs and hope that the bus stopped… Easy as pie.

So fifteen minutes-ish into our journey, Zinhle and I said our goodbyes to Futhi… as much as we could given the movement restrictions, and began the trek to the front of the bus. (We had roughly 20 minutes until her stesh).  Thus, “Bus Twister” was born… Right foot lunged over a toddler, left hand clutching bags, bags also held up by another passenger, right hand  on seat in front of you, left leg pirouetting.  Seriously.

By the time we rolled off the bus, all we could do was laugh. Uncontrollably.  Another umholeli decided we still needed to pay 10 rand… false. Despite showing him the ticket stub, he was not convinced, but our un-amused faces changed his mind.  The icing on this tumultuous cake was the visual experience of seeing a man peeing in front of the bus, before the bus continued on its merry way.

We stopped for a second, so I could get a drink of water, and I lost it. I full-on snapped a garter (that’s for you Katie D, and Jack!) In other words, I entered a state of laughing hysteria, at the stesh, in a community I’d never been to. I felt bad for the people standing nearby, whom I later was introduced to… they were Zinhle’s host family… I LOLed for a solid ten minutes. I calmed down, but only briefly, when we paused to ask how long the bus took to reach Nhlangano… and burst into laughter again when we were told Futhi was going to be on the bus an additional 3 hours.  3 hours.

If I had a personal bubble here in Swaziland, it’s been burst beyond repair. 

I apologize whole-heartedly for all the feet I stepped on today.

Sweet mother of a tortellini sauce-wad.

--B

The Rules of Bus Twister

Players: there is a minimum requirement of 100 players. Any less and it doesn't count.

The goal of the game: to get off the bus at your stesh.

Bonus points awarded when:

-you get insulted

-if you stand on one leg for more than 5 minutes

if you don't hit anyone in the head with your bag before the end of the ride

-you get more than 3 marriage proposals

Trump card: if you were transporting eggs and they make it out whole by the end of the journey you become the default champion of Bus Twister

Sample Situations you might find yourself in while playing:

-right hand on bar above, left hand on baby's head, left foot two rows down, right foot hanging aimlessly in the air, bag on top of gogo

-right arm holding baby, left hand holding eggs, right foot in between someone elses', left knee up against seat, with the guy next to you proposing

-both hands on railing, left food wedged under a seat, right foot trapped behind someone else, butt kicked by baby, head positioned awkwardly, close to someone's armpit

*Some PCVs were mentally harmed in the making of this game.

Warning! Playing bus twister may result in hysterical laughter

Life on the Plateau

I'm currently enjoying a hybrid swazi and american meal. It's a hybrid because instead of lipalishi (or 'Pap' ... porridge of the corn variety) or rice on the side, i've thrown in some spaghetti mixed with the chicken stew I just cooked for my counterpart, Sebe. What's amusing to me is how used to customs I am (dare I say finally?) becoming. The language here is pretty direct, and often requests come as orders or demands. So at 3pm this afternoon when Sebe declared 'tonight you will cook for me' it was easy to just smile, and say 'sure thing, I'd love to'. Sebe, along with the other bothishela (teachers) have been an amazing support system for me over the last few weeks. And I feel much more at home here than when I was timidly peeking around my door, trying to figure out how I'd make any friends. I broke the ice pretty easily through sharing some chocolate muffins and no bakes with my neighbors. I've been both exhaustingly busy and bored out of my mind. Vive la Integration (I probably used that phrase wrong) but so is life.

I've been helping Ruth with computer lessons, teaching her the fine art of googling, and the magic and wonder of copy and paste. I also enjoyed a 2 hour hike with the computer, agriculture, and PE teachers. I am also pretty impressed with how I've been handling the heat. Although I'm on a plateau that experiences a 5 or 10 degree difference than hotter parts of the country (and offers an INCREDIBLE view when I take a kumbi out of town) it is still sweltering. Today, I was about to head into town when I was intercepted by the head teacher. Being the noob that I am, I was not carrying an umbrella to protect myself from the sun. It was rather sweet, she asked kindly, 'as a mother' for me to wait to go to town until it gets cooler.  What made this action all the more justified was the fact that someone had died of heat stroke in town earlier in the day.

I'm also slowly beginning to find my place here. This was super challenging in the beginning, there's so much already at the school, so on the one hand I wasn't sure what I could bring to the table, on the other hand, it didn't take long for me to feel like two years is way too short. In one of the meetings held before school started the bothishela mentioned their interest for providing *we interrupt this message with a breaking news update-- I now am more frequently eating with my hands...* facilities for mental health. I began thinking about how helpful the 'wellness wednesdays' were that my sorority sisters wrote while I was in undergrad. One thing led to another and now I'm doing 'wellness workshops' every morning before class starts. The goal/hope is that the bothishela will begin introducing these topics to their students, and that after they get an idea about it, they'll co-facilitate with me. But for now it's been a pretty awesome experience. I've started on 'time management' and this morning was a huge success. It was all about organization,   and as a take away, I said, 'remember, the world's universal currency is time. Like money, we can borrow, lend, spend and save it. How is yours best used?' ... And a hush fell over the crowd. It's funny to be talking about things that now feel so second nature, that many of the bothishela    have never considered before.

I am also beginning the task of tackling the library, and have enjoyed working with Nomcebo for that... We're going to start up some literacy programs, and integrate the library more into the school' curriculum. Terrifyingly... I was handed the key to the library and informed that I was in charge. I guess previously volunteers have always been in the library. It's nice to be promoted to head librarian, buuut I am working on changing that. I have been opening up the library as an experiment to see how it is being used. The first day was chaos. Peace corps Pam... Er Bongiwe didn't mind the running, pushing, shoving and need for 'disaster tape' to be strung everywhere once I finally shooed everyone out of the library (thanks entirely to an older student that many are actually afraid of...) Today it was a very different scene. And what I really admire, is how much the kids want to hang out in the library, while not all are reading, today many spent an hour working on puzzles and memory games, and even reading news from the ancient stacks of The Swazi Times or National Observer.

The kids also enjoy leading me around and pointing out pictures, and I celebrated with them after they completed the puzzles. I am going to need to figure out times when I'll have the library supervised (hopefully by other people than just me) because I noted quickly that they really like it, and rather than fighting in the school yard, and tooling around would rather spend time looking through books. I saw that the past volunteer also offered study hall hours, so that's something I might start as well.

I'm also excited because tomorrow a group of students is performing a... Dance? At the hotel in town, promoting HIV/AIDS and family planning programs and education. It was incredibly to watch them practice so far. One of the young gentlemen is a phenomenal drummer, I'm going to try to film it tomorrow. It was really neat.

While the past week honestly made me a walking billboard for the importance of deep breathing (to put it simply... School started three weeks ago... Classes, on the other hand...) This week, so far is starting to feel like a breath of fresh air.

On Friday, I had a dinner of sorts, and enjoyed the company of several of my fellow pcvs... I made pizza, and even went all out and made pancakes for breakfast. I'm pumped because i'm going to be descending the plateau on Saturday, heading towards Matata, near Big Bend (cue the kumbi drivers 'Biggie Bendie') to visit my closest friend here, Robbin. It'll be nice to be back in village life for a weekend.

Because of my location to town, I tend to trudge on over nearly once a day.  My frequent visits have led me to make some friends with the bomake (mothers/women) at the market. Additionally, two waiters at a restaurant I've eaten at a couple of time, with ridiculous good food, have asked me to help them with learning English. I joked that I'd come in, order a milkshake and provide lessons, and before I knew it they offered to give me free milkshakes. So I'm hoping to find time now to tutor them once or twice a week. It's hard now though, as I'm trying to get a handle on my schedule, and where, when, how I should be spending my time.

But it's hard not to make time for milkshakes, hehe.

I think this entry does a far better job of summing up my life here, no matter how true my last one also was. Disgustingly, I probably ate like 50 'no bakes' last week. It was probably a sign from the weightloss and healthy eating spirits that I wasn't able to go into town to buy more butter today... Haha. Until next time, salani kahle.

A Lazy Blogger's Post

For everyone who thinks my life is somehow more exciting than yours...

Here's some things that I can't suppress from sharing because I feel I deserve some sort of bragging rights:

1. I treated myself to some non-stick cooking pans, and sweet crumbly muffins, they work like a dream. If ever you need something to brighten your day, I guarantee a non-stick pan will do the trick.

2. The sink outside my house for laundry has a built in washboard. Now I am actually looking forward to doing my laundry... In fact, on Sunday I had to tell myself to stop! I kept going back and looking for new things to wash. I know for the fact that I am the envy of many other PCVs because of this. But how can you resist when your clothes look and feel so clean--and for the first time in months!

3. I made the most bomb tomato sauce the other night with dinner. Huzzah. Then I even went and made salsa to have alongside the homemade tortillas I had for lunch. Yup... that's right.
In all seriousness, these things genuinely made my day. Along with having really awesome conversations where I dabble into my siswati.

Live, from under the mosquito net

*This post brought to you my amazing friend, Sarah.  Without her, I would still be pushing "refresh" angrily, eyes glazing over in agony as the message "connection unavailable" messed with my level of patience. All I can say is, thank... Siyabonga kakhulu!!!* 

Anybody still out there?

It's kind of unfathomable that it's already September. PST was a complete whirlwind. While the days felt sometimes unendless (waking up between 5:30/6am---before the sun, I might add), and returning to our host families sometimes as late as 5:30pm (oh the mad scramble to get water, and cook before the sunset... 30 minutes... ready, set... GO!). This was also lengthened by the probability of having to wait for the bus for 1-2 hours.  The bus was a good "get your feet wet" moment for transportation in general... as you often things leave when they leave... whether or not you're on the bus... but the rides were amusing, filled with house music, and encoures of Celine Dion (My fellow G11s... you're the strength when I was weak... the words when I can't speak...) Weeks were over before I even realized it was no longer Monday.

By the last two weeks, I was both extremely excited, and sad to be leaving for my permanent site.  Excited because I had a really incredible visit over On the Job Training or OJT for all you acronym fanatics.  Peace Corps even arranged for me and Megan to have additional sign-language lessons (for the folks at home, I am going to be working with deaf youth--and that's all the details I'll disclose, because you can't be officially badass if everyone in the world knows your exact location). 

I was really stressed about our final LPI (Language Proficiency Interview)--we had to get at least intermediate low to pass--, and then learning sign on top of it... my bucupo (brain) was on the verge of exploding.  But here we are.  All 33 of us had an awesome time at Swearing In.  there were speeches from the American Ambassador, and two regional administrators, as well as the acting Prime Minister.  And hey, my face even made it into the paper.  We all joked though, that we obviously hadn't learned that much in training because none of us brought tupperware with us to bring back some of the delicious food we, perhaps a little overzealously, scarfed down as if we hadn't eaten in weeks (embarrassingly SO not true).  A few volunteers got crafty with water bottle and quickly turned those into to-go containers... eish... I have so much left to learn. 

The last weekend with my host family was amazing.  The kids wanted to make videos, my bhuti (brother) is hilarious... and then the group of them wanted to greet my mom, so they made two videos, one in English and one in Siswati.  it was super cute (I'll get it to you sometime between now and 2015, mom!) Then another family member decided he wanted his picture taken too... so he goes into gogo's house, and carries out a 20 foot ladder... and then rests it up against a papaya tree... him and my bhuti climb up, and pose. (I've included some pictures... hehe) This was definitely one of my favorite afternoons since I've been here.  

I really liked living in the "training village". On Sundays I had a lot of fun going for walks or attending community meetings at the Umphakatsi.  It was also fun to walk to the store and chat with the people hanging out there... and of course treat myself to some niknaks. 

Now I'm living on a school compound, which is really nice--My house is a teacher's apartment--but I no longer have a host family* My Make (mother) was excited, because that meant I get to keep the Swazi name she gave me--which I've also grown quite attached to... Bongiwe-- roughly meaning "praise".  It was strange leaving right when I felt like I was settling in. I"m really going to miss my host family, and I can't wait to visit them in a few months. My Make was so good to me, always checking in, and always ready to laugh if I got a little too serious. She joked that my hut will be mine, and that I can just move my family from the states here, and build more rooms on it... (what do you think, fam?)

*Although I am not living with a family... the other teachers have been so welcoming, and I feel as though I might actually 20ish families, which is nice, I really don't feel isolated. 

Here, because phone calls are so expensive, people buzz each other (let the phone ring once or twice, and then hang up), just to let you know they are thinking of you. I promised Make I wouldn't be lazy and I would buzz her often. As a going away present I gave her a handmade market basket--and I was so excited that she really loved it--her reaction was priceless. She is really good at making emafehti and buns, so it's the perfect thing to carry them around in. In return she gave me a beautiful wooden bowl. It is currently housing bobanane and oranges.

I really like the town that I live near. It's neat to only be a few minutes walk from the bus rank, and there's a really big Bomake market right next to it... so yay fresh produce!  In town, there's pretty much everything I need. It always cracks me up when I speak Siswati, because the reactions people give are also worth the effort, it's funny how surprised they are that I can speak even just a few words. 

The best way to sum up my feelings right now is to say that the past few days have been days where two years feels too short, and I think that's a good thing.  I've moved past the initial anxieties of being surrounded by so much difference and now I know better how to communicate and even joke, as I navigate through what previously might have been frustrating moments.  I'm really looking forward to the next few months of Integration, and the next two years of service. 

Here's to being an official Peace Corps Volunteer!

Peace Corps Moldova:The End

Well, I am sitting here on my final night, in this high-rise block apartment in the middle of this tiny Eastern European country for my very last night. It definitely hasn't sunk in yet that I will be leaving in a few short hours and boarding a plane that will, after a bit of much anticipated travel, bring me home to my family, my friends, my love, and my America. It has been more than two years since I have called the US my home, and I have learned so many lessons about what it is to be a American abroad but also, a more concious citizen of the world.

The past couple of weeks I have spent in the village I have grown to know as home. After finishing my projects within the community I spent my days going for long walks and getting lost on narrow muddy roads full of colorful flowers and heavy fruit trees. I tried to take in everything, the sights, the sounds, the flavors. I spent evenings with my host mom in her expansive garden sitting on a metal post bed sipping black tea and talking about what life had in store for me after this chapter closes. Her advice was always the same: Be strong, the hard times will pass you must stay happy. She saw me at my best, coming home from simple weekends spent with the man I love. She saw me at my worst, in the darkness of winter. She knows me and loves me, for better or worse. She was a mother to me these two years. Protecting me from dangers, caring for me when I was ill, cheering me up when I was down, sharing with me in the joys, and pouring some house wine when that was the only thing that was going to do the trick. I could never begin to express my gratitude and thanks for her. She is one of the special ones.

Reflecting on my time here in Moldova I realize my proudest moments are not accomplishments at work, but rather the relationships and bonds I have made with Moldovans. For me learning Romanian was a huge challenge, I have never considered myself a linguist. Being able to now converse in this language at not just a superficial but deep and meaningful level has allowed me to expereince a culture in a unique and special way.

One of my fellow volunteers was talking with us about how we can best relay our expereience on to friends and family back home. She said something that radiated deep within me: sometimes we have to recognize that all of our stories and all of our experiences really won't translate when we return home. But, she said, that's ok those are the moments that are just for you. Those are the unique gifts that Peace Corps service gives to you. I found that this little piece of advice has helped me as I close my service and reflect on my life for the past two years.

It's easy to share the funny stories; of needing to use the restroom my first day at site and ending up in the outdoor shower confused because there is supposed to be a hole, isn't there? Or the wild stories, like stepping onto a public bus in the middle of winter to see that it was being heated by an open flame, sitting in the isle. Or the cultural stories, like the time I blew-off the mayor because I didn't realize who he was and thought he was just arrogant, and later went to the office to meet with him, but when there were two men with the same name I referred to him as 'the fat one' because that isn't seen as culturally unacceptable (oh, and they knew to whom I was referring). Those are just a few of the stories that never get old. Those aren't the stories that are Peace Corps gifts. Peace Corps gifts are when you walk by that stubborn old woman on the block and she finally says 'good day'. The day you walk through the entire community and none of the dogs bark because they have finally gotten used to you, or the neighbors no longer stare at the American as you pass their fence. The day you come back from a trip and you feel like you are coming home and a flood of relief  washes over you when you get on the bus back to site. When your host mom refers to you as family and the dinner conversations get a little more meaningful. These are Peace Corps gifts that only PCVs can truly appreciate. We, PCVs know how a goat looking at us the wrong way can ruin a perfectly fine day, or the dog not barking at us when we go to the outhouse brings a goofy smile to our face the rest of day. Sound slightly crazy? Well, that's Peace Corps. It's crazy and wonderful and life changing and sometimes super icky and other times simply the best.

And so, I am sitting up in this high-rise Eastern-block apartment on my very last night in Moldova, my very last night as a Peace Corps volunteer, and all I can say is my life will be forever changed. Somedays I woke up hating Peace Corps, other days I woke up knowing I owed my life to Peace Corps. Peace Corps is a wild beast and to have lived it for more than two years, seen it through, and grown from it I can honsetly say: Peace Corps, thank you.

Tomorrow I will leave Moldova as a returned Peace Corps volunteer (RPCV) and I can honestly say that, that will be the proudest moment of my life.

Peace