RIP Ashley

Today I received news that my friend and colleague, both from my previous employment in America and also here in Southern Africa, has passed away.

I am saddened and startled to hear that she is no longer with us. I talked to her not long ago about her upcoming COS (she was set to finish her service in the next few days) and about her future plans. We commiserated about service and laughed about all we had overcome. And now she is gone.

I will always have fond memories of her teaching me to play Risk over coffees at Indaba on cold winter lunch breaks in Washington and of the moment we learned that each of us was applying to Peace Corps. And again when we found out we would be neighbors abroad. And once more when we both planned trips to Thailand only a few days apart. Our lives were intertwined and I am so grateful they were because my life was enriched by having her in it. She will be deeply and forever missed.

Rest in Peace Ashley...

Water Water Everywhere But Not A Drop To Drink

This is a road about six hours north of Gaborone. Can you see a road in this picture? No, me neither because it is completely flooded with water. This is what most of the mid to northern part of the country looks like right now after intense and long-lasting rainfall. In fact, the overflow of water has been declared a national disaster, as many of the rivers have overrun their embankments and roads have become impassable.

Gaborone and the southern part of the country, however, is still without water. It has not rained, our dam is at 11%, and water restrictions remain at three days per week without. We are also experiencing a national disaster but ours is because of drought. The experiences within one country when you drive a mere few hours away is expansive.

What now?

Well, the logical thing would be to build a pipeline to funnel water from the north to the south to more evenly distribute the water. The government assures us this is in the plan. But it has been for some time and to no avail. Protocols, red tape, materials acquisition, and so forth take time, and significantly more time in the developing world than this American would like (and most Batswana too, for that matter). So we wait and we deal with our individual struggles and we take comfort in the fact that we can escape from one world to the next within this crazy beautiful country that we live in.

The Endless Water Saga: A Desert-Dweller's Dilemma

This is a picture of the Gaborone dam on the 1st of November. As you can see, it isn't much to look at these days. In fact, the Water Utilities Corporation (WUC) stated that the dam is at about 14% (although this photograph begs to differ). Of the four dams in this area, half are already completely dried up. This equates to the southern half of the country having mere weeks of water left. When a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer asked someone in her village what happens next, the response was: "we die."

Now, I don't think the situation is quite that bleak. Despite having their own water issues, I can't imagine South Africa letting us die before offering some water and the Botswana government has consistently been meeting with WUC to discuss a way forward. Plus, if we're lucky, it will rain for more than five or ten minutes at a time... (But that requires Mother Nature playing a more active role here and that's not a reliable solution.) The truth is, the villager's assertion may be the reality for some in the most rural of villages. For those of us near the capital city, however, it is looking as though WUC will likely start funneling treated recycled water to homes or, they are suggesting, setting up pay-as-you-go standpipes and shutting the water off otherwise. Hopefully this method will work and it can be extended out further into the southern part of the country. If not, the four plus days per week without water will seem like a cakewalk.

I would like to state that Botswana is a desert country and its inhabitants are no stranger to going without water for extended periods of time. This is not to say that very serious issues don't arise as a result of droughts like this, but rather that people here live in such a way that they are constantly prepared for water issues - storing water, learning to bathe and clean and live with less, and so on. (Plus, I'm not going to lie, somehow folks seem to survive without drinking nearly as much water as my constantly dehydrated self needs. I think this may be to their benefit in times like these.) Peace Corps Volunteers adopt many of these practices throughout their service so we, in turn, become adept desert-dwellers. We become part of this place, including its challenges. We are fortunate here, though, in that the country is also a tight-knit community full of hearty people who tend to take care of each other whenever possible. And they have embraced us. It may be hard in the coming weeks but we are survivors and we will make even this work.

This Is Just To Say (Water Rationing Continued)

Today it reached 107 degrees Fahrenheit. No amount of water can keep you from getting dehydrated at that temperature. Unfortunately, Botswana is still experiencing a very serious drought. Villages in the southern part of the country are completely without water three and four times per week now and the reservoir is down to 14% capacity. This is one of the disadvantages of living in a desert country in Africa. Excuse me if I look a little funky - I choose hydration over clean clothes any day. After all, baby wipes get me clean enough, right? Off I go to drink a glass of stored water then pray for rain. Because, yes, they believe prayer will bring on the downpour. TIA.

Water Rationing

I have often discussed how Peace Corps Volunteers horde water because of the inevitability of a water outage - stock up while you can, use sparingly when you can't. Water is a perpetual issue. This is even more evident when the "rainy season" just doesn't produce enough rain. Why is this a problem, you ask? Aren't you happy to evade the torrential downpours, you question? I will answer you now.

Water dispersed around Botswana comes from the reservoirs and dams that fill up as a result of rain showers during the months of December through February. If they don't get rain, we don't have water. If there's no water, then the crops die, the animals suffer, and the people go without.

This assaults all facets of life. It goes a lot deeper than washing your clothes more sparingly or not having a bath. For example, people live off of personal gardens and farms in the lands. If the crops die then they go hungry. If the cattle have nothing to eat because the grass has dried up then they get skinny and eventually also die. Without them, there is no chance of additional income for the families. This often leads to an increase in desperation and a rise in crime. Everyone and everything suffers. Botswana has not escaped this trauma.

Botswana is in the midst of a very severe draught. Rainfall in last year's rainy season was exceptionally low. The current projections have the water reserves in the southern part of the country running dry in about two months. That is just before the rains are supposed to come again. If it is like last year, however, we could go months before we see water. This has unleashed a whole slew of problems and very few answers of what to do next. One thing they have instituted though is water rationing.

Water rationing is rolling shut-offs of water to certain areas. When I returned to Botswana from my home leave at the end of June, they had already started this. My area of Gaborone was without water on Saturdays. Inconvenient to have an outage over a weekend but I was grateful to know for a fact when the water would be out so I could plan for it. This, as I saw it, was a blessing. The government then asked people to be diligent and responsible with their water usage the rest of the week, calling for cutbacks (including shutting down car washes, which is a huge independent industry here that supports the livelihoods of so many).

As of yesterday, the water rationing has increased to two water shutoffs a week within Gabs city limits and even more in the villages outside. It is instituted with the hope that they can keep the complete loss of water at bay until the rains come. So it is with cautious optimism that I accept my second day's shutoff. It is a small plan for this big issue but it's something. Rain dances would be appreciated. Anything that might help.

Now if only they could figure out what to do about all the subsidiary problems that are arising...

The Not-So-Funny "Comedy of Errors"

I am writing this post after the emotion has subsided and the sheer exhaustion dealt with. You can be thankful for the wait. Without it, this post would have been filled in expletives and long rants and my keyboard covered in exasperated tears. None of those would have been productive. Plus, honestly, I would have had to print a retraction anyway because I love my life and I love Botswana and Africa is the bees knees. A month and a half ago I would have said otherwise.

June 27th started out like any other day. Well, any day when you are embarking on a thirty-something hour journey from the west coast of America to Southern Africa. I got up, poured myself an extra big cup of coffee, and gave my mom hugs in between shoving things in the side pockets of my luggage. I was sad to be leaving my family and friends but so grateful for having five amazing weeks filled with love, hugs, Starbucks, and taco truck tacos. So, it was with a full belly and a warm heart, that I was to return to Botswana.

My flights across the continental USA went smoothly and I arrived in Atlanta for my Delta Airlines connection to Johannesburg with three hours to spare. As I wandered through the airport in search of a "last meal", I was pleasantly surprised to run into a fellow Bots 10 volunteer who was also on her way back for her extension year. We told tales of our home leaves over Blue Moons and laughed about all the things that led us to this point. It was a great couple of hours before the long leg of the journey.

The flight over the ocean was equally pleasant. I sat next to two university rugby players from New Zealand who were between tournaments, I believe. What I liked most about them was that they were on the same schedule as me - we slept at the same times, watched movies at the same times, and took similar bathroom breaks. Being on the aisle was never so easy!

As we landed in Johannesburg, my excitement at being so close to home was almost more than I could handle. In a few short hours, I would be back in Botswana and giving my boyfriend a great big bear hug! That reality, on its own, provided me with enough energy to almost skip towards the transit area to get my new boarding pass. Exhaustion be damned!

Now here's where everything started to go south...

There was a fairly significant line at the transit counter for Air Botswana and both my fellow Bots 10 and I needed to go get new boarding passes there. So we found our spot in the queue, somewhere in the middle of what appeared to be a youth sports team all wearing matching Botswana jumpsuits. Person by person, they started cutting in front of us. This is an unfortunate yet common practice in Botswana (pushing the white person to the back of the line) and something we had both forgotten about in our months at home. We periodically tried to convey our frustration but no one seemed to care. Before long, the last of the sports team was at the counter and we were the last to get our boarding passes (with a mere forty minutes left before take off).

My friend received her boarding pass with little issue and at long last it was my turn. I handed the attendant my passport and my flight confirmation sheet and was ready to grab my boarding pass and make a beeline for the security check, which was already filling up much more than our remaining layover time allowed for. I waited... and I waited... and the ticket guy fumbled around... and I waited... he asked if I had any other information but I didn't because that was the ticket confirmation and booking numbers. I waited more... he called someone up... he hung up and informed me that I wasn't in the system but that he could see the confirmation so there shouldn't be a problem. He then assured me there were three seats still on the plane. The clocked ticked ever closer to departure time. He made another phone call. In apparent lulls in his call I asked if everything was ok and he shook his head yes. I was relieved. I saw the departure board switch to say that our flight was boarding the airplane. My friend had to leave or risk missing the flight. The ticket guy hung up the phone. What follows is as accurate of a conversation as I remember from that night:

Ticket Guy: We don't have you in our system for this flight.
Me: But you see my confirmation number?
TG: Yes.
Me: And there are seats on the plane?
TG: Yes. There are three available seats.
Me: Can I buy one of them now and I can deal with the rest later?
TG: No.
Me: Why?
TG: Because the plane has switched to "boarding" and I can't sell tickets after they start boarding.
Me: But I have been standing here waiting on you to get off the phone. And I should have been helped a half hour ago but you kept calling people up before me, which wasn't right either.
TG: I cannot sell you a ticket.
Me: But when you were on the phone you said everything was fine, otherwise I would have asked to buy one earlier.
TG: (shrugs shoulders) You aren't in the system for this flight.
Me: Ok... When is the next flight out?
TG: Tomorrow at noon. (Note: I later found out that the first flight out was at 10:40AM. Extra irritated.)
Me: Are there seats available on that flight?
TG: I don't know.
Me: Can you check and tell me?
TG: No.
Me: Why?
TG: Because I shut down my system.
Me: Since I have been standing here, trying to figure out my ticket, you shut your system down?
TG: Yes.
Me: Ok... Is there a place that I can get a SIM card or access wifi so I can check for myself?
TG: No. We no longer sell SIM cards in the airport and there is no wifi anywhere. You could go to the post office and get a card but the post office is closed until tomorrow.
Me: So you can't tell me if there are seats available because you shut your system down and I can't find out on my own? So what am I supposed to do?
TG: Not my problem. (Then he turned and walked away.)

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! At this point, emotions took over, compounded by the exhaustion that was temporarily at bay due to elation. I was overwhelmed with frustration. I cried. Then I cried a little more. Then I had an inner monologue (read: RANT) that went something like:

Why am I in this crappy place? Why do I work so hard to make this place better when no one is willing to help me? I hate Africa. All I want is to get home and I can't. ...Home? America! Maybe I should see if there's a flight back there. Everything is easier in America. ...I want to see Tuan. I was so excited to see him... I am going to live in this airport for forever and ever because I can't get out of here... People here suck... America is so beautiful and people are so friendly... I just want to see my boyfriend... I just want to be with my mama. I can't even call my mom. Oh my god, my mom is going to panic if she doesn't hear from me... I don't have a South African SIM card... Let me check my phone and see if I have roaming... OF COURSE MY PHONE IS DEAD... I HATE AFRICA... Today sucks... Well, today was horrible... This ticket guy is a horrible person... I wonder what his name is and if I can get him in trouble for being a giant jerkface... I wonder if anyone has ever really lived in an airport. They did make that one movie called The Terminal so probably... This is my life now - a Peace Corps Volunteer stranded in Johannesburg... Oh my god, I'm trapped in Johannesburg! This place is fully of crime. I'm so getting mugged in this airport tonight. And, of course, now that I have a fancy iPad... I need to call Tuan because he's going to be worried when he goes to pick me up from the airport and I'm not there. How do I call him? Why did I give him my South African SIM card? ...I hate it here... Everything is so much harder in Africa... TIJA LEIGH DANZIG, STOP FEELING SO SORRY FOR YOURSELF AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!

So I got up off the ground, wiped my tears, and started trying to make a plan. I went around asking people where to purchase a SIM card. I even got a little comforting from the ladies at the KLM ticket counter. But, unfortunately, no one could help me.

Finally, feeling defeated and exhausted but determined to find a way out, I went to the man at the baggage security checkpoint. I asked him if there was any way I could go beyond that point, despite not having a boarding pass, to see if there was a place to buy a SIM card or access the internet. He asked me what the problem was and then I burst into tears. Between whimpers, I managed to get the story out - about trying to get back to Botswana but having an issue with my ticket and not getting on the flight and how I needed to tell my boyfriend who was supposed to pick me up that I wasn't on the flight and that I needed to get a new ticket. He looked sympathetic. He then asked me why I was going back to Botswana. I told him that I was a Peace Corps Volunteer and had extended my service for another year and had gone home for a month in between contracts. With that, he completely softened. He told me that he had been taught by PCVs in his township in South Africa and that he cherished the work we are doing. He said that the only way to keep us here is to be kind and helpful. He then handed me his cell phone. He said to use it to call my boyfriend and to hold onto it until everything was figured out. BE STILL MY HEART, SOMEONE WAS BEING HELPFUL! In that moment, this man was my lifesaver. And, not only did he let me use his phone (for free!), but he also brought me some snacks to eat!

Meanwhile, in Botswana... My boyfriend received the phone call from me about Air Botswana's disregard and rudeness and the fact that I was going to live in the airport until further notice. He was mad. Five weeks apart and a ruined reunion was more than that guy could handle. So he got into his car and drove out to the airport in Gaborone and marched straight to the Air Botswana office. He literally told them that no one could leave until they sorted out my ticket for the following day. Having stood in front of the door and acting as a human barricade, they finally succumbed and got me on a flight 18 hours later.

Back in Johannesburg... I spent 18 hours in the OR Tambo International Airport. But I didn't have to spend it all in the transit terminal. The same super kind and helpful security officer let me through to the departures terminal, despite not having a boarding pass, so I could go get a hot meal and be (slightly) more comfortable. Because the ladies at the KLM desk were so friendly earlier, I decided to take a chance and ask if I could sit inside their lounge. They agreed! I was able to access their wifi (take that Ticket Guy, there was wifi in the airport!) and eat a snack without having to pay anything!

Around 1am, just as I was finally falling asleep in the KLM lounge (on two chairs that I had pushed together), a security guard came to tell me that they were closing for the night. Of course! He asked me what I was going to do until my flight at noon the next day. I told him that I would find a spot in the terminal that was lit and sit there. He responded: "No, no. You cannot stay like that. Not safe. No, no." I explained that I had no choice and slowly started to pack my bags and leave. On my way out, he appeared again, this time as an escort to bring me to another lounge that was open all night. Even though that one required me to pay (a lot) to stay, he insisted that I had to because the alternative was not a safe option. I was grateful that he cared enough and, honestly, was too tired at this point to argue. I hadn't slept in nearly 40 hours.

Flash forward to my arrival in Botswana... My luggage didn't make it. None of it. And, when I inquired about it at lost baggage, they said they didn't think it made it to Africa because they had no record but would keep looking for it. Great. I went to walk through customs and reunite with my boyfriend. It had been a long couple of days.

After a kiss and a big hug, he starts leading me over to the waiting area benches. I asked where we were going and he said "I need you to sit down." Uh-uh, no way, I've been sitting for days. He proceeded to tell me that he got a phone call from my Country Director that my house had been broken into the night before and that "everything was gone". Whaaaaat?! Welcome back to Botswana - people are unhelpful, you get stuck in airports, your baggage doesn't make it, aaaaaaand your house was broken into. No big deal. Just another day in Africa, right? Why did I come back here?! So we hopped into the car and made our way to the village to assess the damage...

I am happy to report that, although the house was completely ransacked, my pre-planning paid off and there was very little in my house of value (because I had brought it to my boyfriend's before I left - empty houses are often targets and I didn't want to be a victim...). But, I have to share a funny story right now about what was taken... I store all of my drinking water in empty glass alcohol bottles. So I had about ten empty vodka bottles that were acting as storage receptacles in my refrigerator. All ten of those bottles were stolen. So, ladies and gentlemen, there were likely a bunch of placebo drunk slash super hydrated people wandering around Gabane village! Whoops! The joke is on them! WATER!

Good news: two days later my baggage arrived!

Flash forward one more day... My boyfriend came to pick me up for dinner at a house that I was housesitting (for a friend who was on medical leave in Pretoria). He parked his car outside the compound and came in for about fifteen or twenty minutes. We walk outside, go to get into the car, and see that his car window had been smashed in. Someone, at about 6pm, broke into his car and stole everything! He had his flight bag in the car - with his expensive aviation head set - and a bunch of new clothes I had bought for him while in America. To add insult to injury, the thieves even stole his pilot's uniform! Why in the world would they need that?! So it was back to the police station to file the second report in the same amount of days...

But all is not lost! My boyfriend was able to replace his headset with an upgrade because some kind folks were returning to Botswana from America and, after hearing the news, offered to carry them back for him! (Note to pilots everywhere: they are about one third the price in America so buy them there if you plan to relocate.) I am convinced that I will see one of the new sweatshirts I brought my boyfriend just wandering around Gaborone some day on the backs of one of the thieves. Botswana is small and Gabs is smaller and I WILL FIND THEM! I get a huge chuckle every time I think about the house robbers drinking water instead of vodka because, lets face it, that's hilarious! And I was able to meet some very good souls in the OR Tambo International Airport, proving, once again, that one kind act can change someone's whole day.

So this long and winding tale doesn't end badly. While it was trying and tiring, it ends with a few laughs, some grit and determination, and a smile. Because, after all, TIA. This is Africa. Gotta live and let it go.

Water Problems Continue

In America, having potable drinking water and a constant water supply is never a problem. Almost magically, it is there whenever you need it. If you have followed my story, however, then you know this is not the case in Botswana. I have gone months on end without water and have, on occasion, put buckets outside to catch precious rain water. Some of my peers have to walk up to 5km to fill up buckets to carry home because they don't have running water or a water pump nearby. Water is an issue.

Volunteers in Botswana are lucky, though, in that our water has been safe to drink. I have been drinking it straight from the tap for nearly two years and have had no problems at all. That was until recently, when a number of random quality tests were conducted and the water failed to meet US Embassy standards. They advised us that water in my region intended for human consumption should be boiled. Before receiving this statement, I had been having some stomach problems (eww) so I started boiling my water and they ceased. Boiling water is laborious, especially during the heat of summer when all you want is something cold to drink. As of last week, after talking with a health specialist who told me the situation had been cleared up, I have stopped boiling my water. Gratefully, my tummy has not been rattled so I believe she was right and the water is fine now. (After all, the best way to find out is to try it out and my body isn't reacting...) Happy day, right? Wrong. As annoying as it is having to boil water, it pales in comparison to the alternative... no water.

Today the Water Utilities Corporation released the following statement: "The Water Utilities Corporation (WUC) would like to inform residents of Gaborone City and surrounding areas (Mochudi, Gabane, Kumakwane, Mogoditshane, Tlokweng, Lobatse and their surrounding areas) that it is currently experiencing water supply challenges. Due to this, they will experience low pressure to no water at all indefinitely. Residents are advised to wisely use the little available water." INDEFINITELY?! We are going to be without water indefinitely?! To my great dismay (but not to my surprise), this public statement came out AFTER the water cuts arrived in my village, meaning that none of us had the time to prepare. We are already without water and now without means of stocking up. While we all live with water challenges every day, this is incredibly difficult to hear. Although Peace Corps Volunteers hoard water like it's our jobs, there is never enough for our "shorter" week-long outages. It is in these moments when I wish I had a pit latrine because at least then I could go to the bathroom in peace without worrying about using 3L of water to flush... The question then becomes: "What happens to us and to the local communities if the water really is out indefinitely?"

I beg all of you back in America, please cherish every time you turn the faucet on and water comes out and that it is clean water to drink. I will never take those things for granted again.

HIV Gets Personal

Botswana is a country plagued by HIV. It is estimated that nearly a third of the country is infected, although those of us working at the village level believe this is likely a very conservative estimate. And that doesn't even begin to take into account the devastation the disease has brought on the rest of the populous, most notably the children who are often orphaned and those loved ones who are left to assume the burden. The country has set lofty goals to eradicate the disease but, unfortunately, seems to be falling short. This is why Peace Corps is here. We are here to work in the health sector - improving organization's capacity to help - and to inspire and motivate children and youth to live healthier lives. As such, we meet and befriend many people who are living with HIV.

The work I am doing in Botswana puts me in direct contact with numerous people who are HIV positive. Whether it be through assisting my NGO and the Clinic with improving home-based care services, collaborating with the Support Group on projects, or playing with children affected and infected, I have gotten to know so many individuals whose lives are forever impacted by the disease. It has opened my eyes and my heart in ways I could never have expected. 

That being said, there has always been some semblance of distance. Although they are people that I work with all the time and who I care about, I have been able to look at them as colleagues or smiling children first and let the disease take a backseat. I don't often have to see the deterioration nor experience first-hand its impact. Their HIV status is only one aspect of who these people are and, honestly, it isn't all that important. As long as they are taking care of themselves - adhering to their ARV regimen, eating nutritiously, and being supported by family/friends/caregivers/my NGO - then we can all carry on with our lives as normal. That is, until two weeks ago...

Two weeks ago a very dear friend of mine sent me a text message that said "Kamogelo, I am having a very serious problem. I am not sure when I will be coming back but I need you so I will find you when I return." I frantically tried calling her but she did not answer. I waited (im)patiently for nearly a week before I heard from her. When I did, she assured me that she was okay but that she wanted to talk in person.

With nervous hugs and hand-holding, she carefully told me that her husband of nearly twenty years, who had been very sick lately, underwent a series of tests at a nearby hospital. After ruling out prostate cancer and a slue of other things, he finally succumbed to an HIV test and learned that he is HIV+. In shock, he refused to get his CD4 count read to find out if he should start ARV treatment, despite urging by the doctor and my friend. My friend said that what happened next was an almost psychotic episode by her husband, who left the hospital before he received HIV counseling and demanded they go directly to their lands in the Kalagadi. He then refused to say anything more on the matter, would not discuss his newfound status, and began making ridiculous requests and talking gibberish. This lasted for four days. 

After returning to the village, my friend's husband holed himself away inside the house. He got even more sickly. He continued to refuse counseling or to get his CD4 count tested. My friend begged him to talk about his status with her or with a counselor from the Clinic or with a trusted friend. She hasn't been able to process her own feelings about his new status because she has been so overwhelmed with helping him grapple with it. She is constantly worried about him.

This is the first time I have witnessed this side of HIV - the emotion, the turmoil, and the tragedy before the recognition and acceptance. To listen to my friend talk about the struggles she is going through and how hard it is for her and her husband to come to terms with things has been heart-wrenching. This is someone who I deeply and profoundly love and she is going through something I cannot even fathom and I don't even have any point of reference. Everyone I know who is HIV+ have already come to terms with their illness to the point where it's practically a nonissue. And every time I ask her how she is doing and how she is coping, she (of course) brings the concern back around to her husband. It is devastating to feel so helpless. I can only imagine how they must feel.

I am humbled that she chose me to talk to and believes in our friendship enough to share this burden with her in some way. Right now, all I can offer her is hugs, which she says is enough. 

My water is dried up like the rivers in Botswana

So begins my fifth straight week without water...

On the down side, this has left me with a pile of dirty laundry and a layer of dust and grime that I can't seem to get rid of. On the plus side, however, I still have brand new bottles of shampoo and condition that were purchased nearly two months ago in preparation for running out (i.e. more money in the pocketbook) and I have met many more of my community members while I wander around the village with buckets asking people for water (i.e. I have been much more social). Best to stay optimistic at a time like this!

As for what is next? House hunting is in full effect. People around the village are keeping an eye out for available housing but, as they say, "housing is mathata ma tona", or a really big problem. I saw one house over the weekend that had promise but, sadly, it will not be my new home. Although it had running water (huge plus these days!), the foundation was a mess - tiles literally coming up and apart due to uneven shifts in the ground, an interior wall starting to lean in on itself, etc. We have a call in to someone who is just finishing a new house not far from my NGO. The house is said to have two bedrooms, electricity, and pipes for water (that still need to be connected). We are all keeping our fingers crossed that this one might be the one (provided, of course, the house gets finished in due time).

Even the Batswana keep telling me how I'm "suffering" without water. But, if I am being honest, I don't really feel like it. Yes, things are significantly more difficult right now - I can't clean very well, I am almost out of clothes, cooking is a chore, sometimes I am a bit parched, and, yes, I am stinky and unclean much more often than I once was (or would ever care to be), but things could be much much worse. I am trying to keep things in perspective and what I have, even without water, is so much more than most. Regardless, I am pretty lucky and definitely living a life of abundance comparatively. So, until some new development in this water(less) scenario comes around, I'm just going to play with the village kids, chat with the mosadimogolos at the NGO, dance around my living room, and laugh out loud about how goofy and ridiculous this whole thing is... (And maybe even go say "dumela" to some of these new friends I've been making!)

"Every day may not be good, but there's something good in every day."

The Water Saga Continues

What follows are a few of the realizations I have made from not having water for three full weeks (and counting):

1. My order of preference for using (precious) stored water: drinking, cooking, washing dishes, flushing the toilet (moved up in the list in some instances, obviously), miscellaneous cleaning, bathing, laundry.
2. Underwear is the first thing you run out of when you can't do laundry for three weeks.
3. It is extremely exciting and worthy of a happy dance when you turn on a tap (someplace else) and have water flow out instead of hearing the screech of dry air (as is the case at my house).
4. I am I extremely grateful that I "practiced" not showering for multiple days in a row in my past life (i.e. before coming to Peace Corps) because, without that experience, this has the potential to be exponentially more miserable. 
5. I am now able to have a complete bath, including washing my hair and shaving, using only the water from one 32oz Sigg water bottle. (And, miraculously, feel quite clean!)
6. Baby wipes are essential.
7. My neighbors are pretty generous people. They have filled up my water bottles from their own water sources on more occasions that I can count.
8. Nothing feels better than a hot bath after many many days without one.

You may be wondering what is next for me in the water department? Will I or won't I have water again? And, if so, when? Admittedly, I have been wondering this same thing for what feels like an eternity... 

Up until today, the only answer I have heard is: "sit tight", "be patient", "keep taking water from your NGO and neighbors", and other similar one-liners. This morning, however, I had a candid conversation with my DAC about the reality of the situation with my landlord, the house, water utilities, and so on. Ultimately, there are some unforeseen problems that could hold up getting my water reconnected indefinitely. Basically, what we have learned now, after three weeks of calls and messages, is that my landlord has not finished paying for the plot and therefore cannot directly authorize my DAC to pay the Water Utilities Corporation. To do so, he would have to finish paying off the plot but, unfortunately, he hasn't the money to do that right now. He is also stating that he cannot (or maybe will not) pay off the water bill in total, meaning that the water will not be reconnected for some time. These new facts are quite disturbing if you're the girl living in the house without water for almost a month...

That being said, calls have been made and a full-scale search for a new house for me is underway... In fact, when I was walking through the village a mere hour after hearing that I will be moving, I was stopped by a half dozen people from my community all telling me that they are aware of the situation and are looking for potential new homes for me! If nothing else, it feels good to know that I have my community behind me! Anyway, it looks like move number three since coming to site may be happening in the next week or so. Sigh. I'm keeping the faith though - things have worked out for the best so far and I am hopeful this next move will be every bit as good. (But I'm keeping my fingers and toes crossed just to be sure...)

Saying Goodbye to Bokena

Last night I had to tell Bokena that I will be moving from Kumakwane. It may have been one of the harder things I have ever had to do... To make sure that she understood what was happening, I asked a friend to come over and help me by translating my goodbyes to Setswana. Together, we told her that I would be moving down the road to a nearby village, meaning that within a week I would no longer be living in my house in Kums anymore. Most importantly, I wanted him to tell Bokena that I would be near enough to visit her and that I would come as often as I could. Almost immediately she burst into a fit of tears. She threw herself on me and sobbed. As I am sure you can guess, this made me bawl uncontrollably. I kept telling her "ke a go rata" ("I love you") and that we would still see each other. After some time, she stopped crying. We were joined by some of the other kids and we spent a couple hours playing games, dancing around my house, "oohing and awing" at Mythbuster episodes, petting the puppies on my compound, eating popcorn, and singing "I like to move it move it" (Bokena's current favorite song). When it was time for the kids to go (mostly because it was dark), I went to give Bokena our customary hug and secret handshake and she grabbed hold of me and started crying again. We sat on the stoop of my house for another half an hour crying together, her sitting on my lap and nuzzled into my shoulder. I explained, once more, that this was not goodbye, especially not then, and that I would see her the following day. After this pep talk and another quick hug, she went home.

Wow. Saying goodbye to Bokena was so hard. So so hard. And I know that it is not really goodbye yet because I will see her today and tomorrow and this weekend and periodically for the next fifteen months. I can only imagine what it will be like when my time here is up and I don't know when I will see these children again, if ever. They have become such a part of me that imagining not seeing them is unfathomable. For now I am seeking comfort knowing that I will only be about 10km down the road...

(Next up... telling the rest of my Kums Kids)

Time to Confront this Head-On

I am a rule follower. I am patient. I respect authority. I take direction. I do not like confrontation. But I am here to tell you, in writing so that you can all hold me accountable, I will be my own advocate. I am tired of getting pushed around and taken advantage of. I am tired of feeling like my time and my skills are being wasted. I am tired of playing by the rules and waiting to see how it will all turn out. And I am tired of keeping a smile on my face and staying optimistic when I am constantly being disappointed.

Why this firm stance and change of heart? Because I finally racked up the courage to go directly to our Country Director to discuss my looming site relocation and to clarify the situation from my perspective and it turns out that we are no closer to a resolution. He apologized for this "unfortunate situation" and then he informed me that, not only does he not want me to move to Mogoditshane (for all the reasons that I have previously mentioned), but he also does not want me in Molepolole because there are too many volunteers there (currently eight). He then stated that he believed my APCD was looking into another potential NGO in the village of Gabane... (deep breath) ...and they may want me to commute from Kumakwane to Gabane if this NGO seems like a good fit. (Excuse me?) First it was Molepolole (back in July before they opted to keep me here) then it was Mogoditshane then back to Molepolole and now Gabane via Kumakwane... What next?

Now, this is all still in hypothetical terms so it could change at any minute, as it has so many times before. There is no actual movement in one direction or another - it's just talk. I was told that either my Country Director or my APCD will call me this afternoon to discuss other potential sites and what they have uncovered in terms of NGOs. More talk. Don't get me wrong, I like talking but I am tired of it. I have been in country for 288 days, that's nearly ten months. I should not be in limbo anymore. I am tired of Peace Corps going back and forth on the subject. I want some sort of resolution so I can feel secure and move forward into the rest of my service. I think I deserve that much.

Ultimately, my fear, as I have tirelessly expressed, is that I will have been in country for a year or more before I get settled into a new site. This is not fair. I have been flexible, patient, open, and positive through all of this. I have held onto hope and small victories. I have believed that it will all work out. (And it will or I'll be damned!) But enough is enough. I am going to push and prod and talk to whoever and do whatever I need to do to get this ironed out as soon as possible. No more waiting...

After the fact note: I just got off the phone with my APCD. She is waiting to hear back from my District AIDS Coordinator about organizations in the district but, in the meantime, she met with an NGO in Molepolole today to discuss potentially putting me with them (kind of a waste of time if you ask me since my CD doesn't want me there but oh well). She is also going to look into two NGOs in Gabane that I had sent her contact information for (exercising my right to be proactive). Unfortunately, she told me not to expect a call from her until after next week Tuesday but that she hopes to have options for me to visit by then. Fingers crossed.


After after the fact note: Once again I am feeling like things might work out for the best. While it's true that this could just be my optimistic nature at play again, nevertheless, I am feeling pretty good about things. In talking with a fellow PCV this evening, I told her that I had spent some time in Gabane and that I had felt it was a wonderful little village (and had actually thought to myself some months back that I should move myself there). I have made friends with some women in the village from the cultural arts center there who had invited me to come and learn how to throw pots on the wheel. In exchange, I offered to help them set up a website to advertise their work. Since then, I have gone back a few times to meet with them but the electricity has been out and so on. Moving to the site could provide a better opportunity for me to work with them. Still the same, I am going to do my best not to get my hopes up, as has been the case in the past. One thing at a time. But, for the first time in a while, I'm really truly feeling like things will work out. I am going to see to it. I also want to state that, in trying to bring myself back to "om", I re-read my Aspiration Statement that I wrote before coming to Botswana. In re-reading the aspirations that I had for my service and the goals I made for myself both personally and professionally, I realize that I have already accomplished most of them. Despite all the ups and downs, I have achieved much more than I realized (and I'm not just referring to time spent with the kids). This is a pretty exciting realization and one that brings me great comfort.

Whiplash

I have a case of whiplash. Why? Because I'm being yanked back and forth by the site placement/reassignment gods (aka Peace Corps).

As you know, a few days ago I was told that I was moving to Mogoditshane. I went to the new NGO, I wandered around the village, and I looked at a potential house. Afterwards, I had a discussion with my APCD about the move and I expressed a couple concerns but then, this afternoon, I told her that I was excited about the possibilities in the village and was eager to go. She told me that I would be moving within the next two weeks. I began packing. I packed and packed and had most of one of the rooms organized into boxes and ready to go. I was getting ready to start in on another room when my phone rang. It was my APCD. The phone networks were being screwy so everything I heard was choppy but it sounded kind of like "Senior staff met... Mogoditshane... Molepolole... what... your interests..." and then it hung up. A few minutes later I received a text message from her explaining the call. Essentially she said that Peace Corps' senior staff had met and decided against moving me to Mogoditshane and would start looking for potential placements in Molepolole instead. She said that the decision had been reached in part because of safety concerns that I had expressed earlier (I mentioned them because I had been told there were rough areas and to make sure my house was in a safe location. Apparently our safety and security officer met with the police today to discuss this and find out where was acceptable to look for house - I'm guessing they said it wasn't so safe. Shouldn't they have looked into this before having me go to the site?!) and in part because they don't want to have volunteers in the village in the future since finding housing is so difficult and they don't want spillover of volunteers in Gaborone. So where does this leave me? Well, if I believe what Peace Corps is saying right now, then I may be moving to Molepolole (a village north of me) to work for a yet unidentified organization that may or may not work with orphans and youth (per my request). If I don't trust Peace Corps yet because this yo-yo game is giving me a headache, then I am in limbo again and unsure of what is going to happen next. Right now I just hope that things get sorted out quickly. In three months I will have been in country for a year and, at least in my opinion, it is absolutely unacceptable to still be dealing with this. Now the question becomes: do I scream or do I cry?

Towards Acceptance? An Analysis of My Happiness

As a general rule, I am a happy person. Unfortunately, I am not happy. That does not mean that I am unhappy but rather that I am not living in a state of happiness. That is not to say that I don't have happiness in my life right now because I do. Every time the kids come over to play or I get a message from home or I go on a uniquely African adventure, I feel joy. But it is no secret that I have been unfulfilled in many aspects of my work here. I have been searching for meaning, knowing full well that I may never realize the full impact of things I am doing and that if I am able to help one person that should be enough. Even still, with a closed NGO, a counterpart that isn't interested in putting forth the effort to reopen, and the knowledge that hundreds of orphans and vulnerable children in my village are going without the care and services they need, I have had great difficulty finding comfort.

I have spent more than my fair share of days confined to my house trying to work through all of my thoughts and find some semblance of resolution. Recently, I have become rededicated to my own yoga and meditation practice, which has helped me let go of myself and examine this experience more clearly with the hope of finding comfort here. In this quest, I have realized many things. Among them: I know that I have little control over situations and that I must be patient. I have realized that sometimes even my passion and steadfastness cannot bring change and that it requires dedication of the masses (and not everyone truly cares). I have discovered failure and frustration and resignation and hope and disappointment and small victories. I also know that, despite everything, I am one of the lucky ones.

I long for something more because I have felt happiness and love and security and abundance. I know that the world is great and that more exists. I am surrounded by people, however, that have not realized these things. (And, even for those who know, they cannot imagine themselves in that world.) I have befriended orphans that never knew what a hug was or that snow exists. They cannot fathom the world as I know it. My happiness has been born of things that are foreign to them. I am grateful for my experiences and for my life.

If my end goal is solely to find comfort, then I can accept this new state of consciousness and recognize that I have been blessed and that I will get the chance to return to all those things that embody my happiness. I have the opportunity for this when others may never get it. This, in and of itself, is something that I struggle with every day. I often ask myself "Would I be happier right now if I never knew everything that existed and the great potential in the world?" I don't know. Maybe I would be more content in the nothingness. I doubt it though.

What it all boils down to is this: I would happily give up all of the comforts of home for the opportunitiy to help others, which is why I embarked on this journey to begin with. And, while it's true that I am grateful for the joyful moments here, I will forever doubt that I could be truly happy when I know there is something more I could be doing to help people. That desire comes from something within me that I cannot silence. But how can I help if I am in a place and in a situation that cripples me? I have a lot to offer and I want to give of myself to the cause here - I am constantly trying and being unable to do anything. I feel trapped and as if my efforts are fruitless and unwanted. How can I find happiness, or even contentment, in an existence like that? And therein lies my problem.

After the fact thoughts: The problem with being in this state is that "the smile" is gone. It's as if my sense of balance has dissipated and the little joys aren't enough to bring me back to center. You can't have happiness without sadness or work without play. My universe right now is very one-dimensional. And, unfortunately, it's primarily in the realm of dissatisfaction. I hope to find my equilibrium again.

We Remember... I Will Try To Fix You ♥

Loss is hard. Anyone who has lost someone important to them knows the pain, the longing, and the confusion that accompanies it. I, for one, know it all too well.

Today my family had to say goodbye to someone we love. Being half a world away makes it hard to mourn and to share the burden of the loss. I am so sad that I cannot be there to hug my mom, my aunt and uncle, and my cousins. On days like today, being far from home is ever the more difficult. I wish I could be with my family. I wish I could look them in the eyes and express my deepest sympathy and sorrow. I wish they could see that I hurt too and they are not alone. When there is a loss of this magnitude, when the world says goodbye to such a wonderful soul, a hole is left in our hearts. There is definitely one in mine.

In honor of this loss and the many others that resonate with us, I want to impart the following passage, which I hope will bring some comfort...

"We remember now, 
those with whom we shared, 
those that gave us strength, 
those we cherished, 
those we loved...

In the rising of the sun, and in its going down, we remember them. 
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter, we remember them. 
In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring, we remember them. 
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer, we remember them. 
In the rustling of the leaves and in the beauty of autumn, we remember them. 
In the beginning of the year and when it ends, we remember them. 
When we are weary and in need of strength, we remember them. 
When we are lost and sick at heart, we remember them. 
When we have joys we yearn to share, we remember them. 
So long as we live, they, too, shall live, for they are now a part of us, as we remember them."

May those who we have lost rest in eternal peace and may we find the strength to carry on and bring a piece of them with us... everywhere.

Until that day, I am here for you... ♥

Rest In Peace Dex

Dex, named after the mischievous little monkey from Night at the Museum, passed away on December 1, 2011. Dex was only six months old. The cause of death is unknown but she was found in her home compound surrounded by her family. She was known best by those who loved her as a goofy little thing, the runt of the family, and sweet beyond comparison. She loved sitting on the couch, eating popcorn, and playing with her brother Bolt. Her happiest days were when she could go on adventures to the bus stop with her lekgoa. She is survived by her father, mother, and siblings. She will be missed by all. Rest in peace Dex.

Saying Goodbye to Another Friend

I have discovered that when I'm feeling overly emotional or introspective that I tend not to blog. This is probably to all of your benefit because I can only imagine that my thoughts would be chaotic and somewhat impulsive otherwise. So it is with that in mind that I am writing now.

It has been a long and arduous couple of weeks. I have gone back and forth between villages helping friends with their varying situations. For instance, I had one friend whose house was broken into. The culprit, an 18-year-old boy, had climbed onto the roof and entered her house through a hole he made in her ceiling. SCARY. And then I spent time helping another friend pack her things so she could go home.

Whenever we lose a member of our Bots 10 family, it is really hard. This loss was especially hard for me because it was one of my closest and dearest friends here. Her decision to leave is one that I support and I know it is the right choice for her. She had issues at her site, trouble with her counterpart, and a general feeling of being unfulfilled. To put it bluntly, she was unhappy. This sentiment is common among volunteers here and has played a roll in many of the 10 (soon to be 11) early terminations of service by my group mates. Peace Corps service is hard. Peace Corps service is made even harder when you have irreparable issues. And I truly believe that no one should live unhappily if they can do something about it. I am pleased that my friend is able to make a change that will hopefully bring her happiness. But, even though I support her and completely understand her reasons for going, it's hard to say goodbye to a support system and to someone so close to me. So it was with a sad heart that I helped her get ready to go.

Before she left, we talked a lot about the transition back to America and what that might look like. We both agreed that it would be hard. (I mean, we literally cried the first time we walked through a super market in the capital city together that had an international section with things like Captain Crunch and barbecue sauce!) And we agreed it would be overwhelming. Things like paved roads, options, temperature control, technology and appliances, and social interaction are not necessarily common to us anymore. Our Country Director told her in her exit interview that two of the hardest parts of returning home are (1) things and people haven't changed at all and (2) observing the sheer amount of consumerism that exists in the states. Over breakfast the morning she left, we discussed these things and what they mean. Things we pondered included: What happens to our relationships when we come back? Will we be put off or frustrated by our friends and family who don't understand what we have been through and seen/experienced? Will there be a rift in those relationships when we are faced with "unnecessary" or excess spending? Will we look at people differently? Will we be more or less tolerant? Will the frivolity of America make us uneasy or angry? What happens now? Soon she will be able to answer these questions.

My friend landed in America yesterday. We have had a few email exchanges already and so far she's overwhelmed. She said that things like artificial heat is messing with her body and that she's trying to get her bearings back. I'm excited to hear more about her transition back home. And I'm anxious about what life is going to be like here without her...

Miss you already tsala ya me!

Constant Rededication

I have to confess that there were a few hours last night when the thought of going home seemed like a pretty good idea. These moments are few and far between for me but, when they happen, they are usually brought on by hard news from home, learning that another fellow PCV is going home, or a close examination of all the difficulties here. Even my perpetual optimism and idealistic outlook about life cannot always keep the hard times at bay. Last night's episode was brought on by all of these scenarios.

Every day here is different. Some days feel like they are dragging on for years and others seem to fly by. One day can feel absolutely hopeless and then be followed up by a day when everything is in your favor. And one moment you're playing happily with the village kids and the next you're hiding under a table because you just want one moment of silence. It can feel like being a yo-yo. 

The unfamiliarity of being so far from home and cut off from people and things and outlets is hard. And then not being able to get away at a moment's notice because you have to wait an hour for a bus that may or may not stop or calculate the time it takes to get from one point to another and back home before dark makes things even harder. And then there's the deep unspoken but always looming questions about what would you do if something happens to a loved one at home or if what you are doing will make any impact at all or why you are going through all of this? It's a challenge sometimes. Your head can get clouded and your heart can pull you in a thousand different directions. It makes you question things.

I wanted to share this with you because it is not all wonderful and jealous-worthy (although some of it truly is!). I have my doubts about the process, Peace Corps, my role, all of it. I am not always sure what the right thing to do is and it's hard to know if it is better to stay here or to go home. But this thought process is part of being a Peace Corps Volunteer and we all go through it. It requires constant rededication to ourselves and to our work. And, in the end, I have a very profound belief that there is potential for good and that I can make something positive come of my service. (Maybe I already have?) "To save one life is to have saved the world." So, at least for now, I'm staying put and staying (re)dedicated.

The Cycles of an Overactive PCV's Mind

I know I have said it before but, in the interest of stating it's contribution thus far to my experience, I'll say it again: Peace Corps gives you a lot of time to think (perhaps too much). There is a lot of down time and a lot of alone time at site which leads to an over-active mind. (I think it leads to this, and can be somewhat troublesome, because the type of people drawn to Peace Corps are usually outgoing, inquisitive, motivated, and adventurous. We are the type of people that seek things out and want to know and do more all the time. So, when we are given extensive time to just sit, we have to occupy ourselves with something: thinking.) Having all the time in the world to sit with your thoughts elicits a lot of emotions (that continuously cycle without notice).

At first, having alone time was only a blessing. We were relieved to have control again - it was a break from the monotony of pre-service training and all that entailed. For two months, we had been consumed with classroom sessions, group assignments, language study, field work, and living with a Batswana family. We had a regimented schedule and not enough time to just sit. We were on overload and so the quiet afternoons and dormant nights on our own were welcomed. We were able to calm ourselves down, think and do things our own way, and get back into our own grooves.

And then we found that having nothing but time yielded an over-active-mind-game, which had the potential to drive you insane. It could make you question your decision to join Peace Corps, it could make you over-analyze every relationship or thought or belief you have ever had, and it could drive you to drink just to escape the over thinking. (I say this last point in jest but, as a group, we have actually joked about the potential reality of it on more than one occasion...) Basically, you have more than enough time to let your mind wander anywhere and dwell on any number of things. It takes a strong will to focus those thoughts so they don't become destructive. In an effort to combat this, most of us consume ourselves with books and movies and sending sms's to one another to remind us that we're not alone out here. These things serve as an escape from our own thoughts and occupies our latent hours.

And finally, we hope to find peace. And I don't mean "world peace" (although that would be great too). What I mean is that feeling of contentment where you can sit idly with yourself and your thoughts in peace. In all honesty, some days I feel completely content and am blissfully happy just for existing and then other days I have to consciously force myself to this place, if I get there at all. (Remember, I said this is cyclical so it's a constant re-commitment to service and to myself.) I am doing a little meditation, a lot of yoga, and a ridiculous amount of soul searching on this quest for inner peace. At this point, what I have realized about myself (outside of the fact that I'm somewhat OCD and that I can cook) is this: It doesn't matter what I do in life if I am not surrounded by people that I love. Even the most meaningful work can feel meaningless without those people. They are who make my life complete and who fulfill me. Although I do not doubt that my work in Botswana will be extremely compelling to me (and hopefully to others) and that I will remain dedicated and passionate about helping people, it is realizations like this that will probably have the largest impact on my future.

In the meantime, I will sit and think and ponder... or go play catch with the neighborhood kids.

"When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person who can live at peace with others."

Unsettled...

For those of you who follow along about my life on Facebook, I feel I owe you all an update on the status of the NGO I am working for because I have made vague mention recently about some problems I have been facing. For those of you who have not heard yet, things are rather unsettled for me these days.

First off, I would like to start by saying that communication is a big issue in Botswana. People here do not like confrontation so they opt instead for omitting information, sugar coating, avoidance, and general passive-aggressive behavior. The reason I am mentioning this before I go into detail about my NGO's current situation is because the problems we are facing right now have been a long time coming and could have been navigated had they been addressed, or at the very least mentioned, when I came over a month ago. Additionally, I would not be quite as worried about the survival of the NGO if I could count on the staff to be upfront and proactive. As it stands, however, that may not be a reality here.

So here is the situation... About ten days ago I found out that the funding cycle for the primary funder of my NGO, Project Concern International (PCI), was coming to an end on July 1st. PCI would be supporting the NGO for the following two months to wrap up reports etc but that program funding was complete. Outside of one request that the outgoing PCV and I worked on with them in May, there had been no efforts made to secure additional funding. (Note: in following up about this proposal, I have learned that the funder made site visits a few weeks ago to the organizations they were interested in partnering with - we were not included in those visits.) What this means for the organization is that the staff would no longer be getting paid, the programs would cease, and the OVC (orphan and vulnerable children) Center at my NGO would be closing indefinitely. This means that the 78 children that are currently utilizing our center will not be getting fed (they eat two meals per day there) and they will not be getting psychosocial support (for either being affected or infected with HIV/AIDS - 21 of our 78 children are infected). (That does not even include the roughly 500 children that come in and out of the center for after-school care and homework assistance and the 109 HIV/AIDS infected adults that receive counseling and support through the NGO.) This is devastating for the children and for the Kumakwane community.

I have been vehemently working on a strategic plan and a resource mobilization plan and meeting with the board, the staff, and a number of consultants in an effort to find a viable solution and keep the doors open. As it stands, within two months the NGO will be out of money for rent on the facility, for staff salaries, and for continued programming. Efforts by the staff to thwart the problem have been negligible at this point, although I think the magnitude of the situation is starting to weigh in on the board chairman. At a board meeting yesterday, he begged the present board members (only 3 of 7 showed up - typical) and the Center Coordinator to take ownership of the NGO and recognize the need for the children to pursue partnerships and keep the organization alive.

It may be too little and too late at this point. The reality of receiving enough funding before everything dries up is dismal. Best case scenario is that we can put together some proposals and rub elbows with people that can help us in the interim so that the NGO only closes for a short time and not permanently. I don't even want to discuss the worst case scenario.

Now here is where I get even more unsettled... The potential for my organization to go under is impacting the permanency of my site placement. I have been meeting with my Associate Peace Corps Director (APCD) (basically a Program Director) about the situation and we have been monitoring it and trying to decide the best next step. I have two options: One, remain at the NGO and try to see this through, knowing that the organization will close for at least some time and that it will be a battle to get the necessary funding and that I will be doing the majority of the work and carrying a large part of the burden. Two, I can be reassigned and start over at a new site and a new NGO.

There are moral dilemmas riddled throughout either choice we make. If I stay where I am (at a site that I love, in a house that I love, and with people that I am finally becoming friends with) then I can potentially save an organization and help these children get food and care that they need. To do this, however, I will be taking on the workload and essentially running the NGO. This is not in accordance with Peace Corps principles. I am supposed to be capacitating people so that the work can be sustainable. This NGO has had PCVs in the past that have done a remarkable job in training and working with staff but the staff has not made an effort to continue the work on their own. The NGO will most certainly face this exact same situation when I leave in two years. The reason I came to Botswana was to help people and to make a sustainable impact - these two ideals are in contest right now with this option. (And that is if I am even able to secure funding to re-open the NGO in the upcoming months. If not, I would be reassigned.) However, if I leave Kumakwane and move forward with my Peace Corps service in another site, I may have the opportunity to work with inspired and involved Batswana who I can really work with and teach so that at the end of my two years they are able to continue helping people in their community. Peace Corps would have to take great care in reassigning me because it is a costly and timely process that they would not want to do a third time so the chances of my working with a more stable organization increases. The risk is that I may not like my site or my house or the people I am around as much as I love Kumakwane, I may not end up working with people that are motivated, and I may feel a sense of disappointment that I wasn't able to help the children from this first NGO. (Although, I have already decided that whatever choice is made, I will continue to help out here by writing proposals and assisting with systems development and implementation as a secondary project because I believe it is that important to try.)

My APCD told me that she would be looking into the situation more and pondering the best next move over the weekend and that we would meet again on Monday. (I am also meeting with someone from the NGO's national organization on Monday to try and get assistance for the NGO from them.) I am hopeful that we will make the right decision, whatever that may be, and that I can feel a sense of calm again. It is very hard being this unsettled. I will keep you all posted...