Officially Saying Goodbye To GCHBC (Protocol Observed)

Apparently, even going away parties operate on "African Time" in Botswana so it is a darn good thing that I stuck around for a third year or they would have needed to have it without me! Nearly six months to the day since I moved out of Gabane, I was honored with a very special "Farewell Kamogelo" event at Gabane Community Home-Based Care.

Let me set the stage...

The event, which was held at the center, was attended by the GCHBC staff and board, the home-based care volunteers, the District AIDS Coordinator, district counsellors, the village chief (Kgosi), clinic and health post staff, community members, and a number of people I worked with on various projects. While everyone showed up on time (a huge feat), the event still started nearly two hours late. Conversation filled the time, though, so it went by as if only a moment passed. The room was overflowing with smiles, laughter, song, and dance. The smell of my favorite Setswana dishes traveled out of the kitchen (with happy cooks exclaiming that the vegetables were from the garden we built, a fact they knew would make me exceedingly happy). And the tables were covered with shiny linens in white and purple, expertly ruffled so it looked like flower blossoms adorned them. The atmosphere was stunning and the energy nearly took my breath away.

The event had a formal component, where I sat at the head table and heart-felt speeches were given. Among them was a speech given by the center's coordinator, Mma Leburu. She spoke first in Setswana and then repeated in English, making sure I heard her words. Her oration brought tears to my eyes. She talked about the challenges we overcame, the work we did, and the skills they now have. She had people from the audience stand in acknowledgement as she told stories about projects I had worked on. For instance, the family we built the home for, children and all, stood as she talked about that effort and the School Heads from the primary schools when we discussed my ongoing caregiver training and support project. As they stood, they blew kisses and bowed in my direction. I couldn't help but tear up at this gesture. Compliments were paid to me that humbled me beyond compare. And then, perhaps the best compliment was made to me as Mma Leburu said:

"Kamogelo, you never judged us or looked down on us for our lack of education or experience. You just held our hand and believed in us. Because of you, because of your kindess, and because of your love, we now see in ourselves everything that you always told us we were. You were our gift. We love you."

And, with that, ululations exploded from the crowd, I burst into tears, and I lept out of my chair and ran over to Mma Leburu and hugged her a half dozen times before walking throughout the room to give hugs to everyone there.

While I finished handing out my hugs, everyone began to sing and wave and point at me. The lyrics to the song, which were exceptionally poignant, were (translated from Setswana): "Go well my lady, go well, but don't every forget us!" As they sang, I kept thinking, How could I ever forget these people?!

During their song, Sebina (my counterpart and one of the staff from the center) slowly brought a giant wrapped present over to me. The moment she laid it on the table, she began to unwrap it, too excited to wait on me. As the hand-decorated brown paper fell to the side, pottery was revealed! It was an entire tea set made by my friends at the Pelegano pottery place! A tea pot, six cups and saucers, a sugar pot, and a milk pitcher! As I gasp with surprise and awe (since this was a set that I had looked at purchasing for some time), Sebina whispered "I know you love this. It matches the big coffee mugs you already have. I remembered!" And then she smiled ear-to-ear as I jumped around thanking everyone for their generosity.

Moments later, Sebina was handing me another gift, which was just from her with a note attached to it. While the gift was beautiful (a red vase), the note was exponentially more special. I hugged her again to let her know how much it meant to me and, as I did, she said "I will never forget your hugs." So I hugged her again.

The entire day was a reminder about all the things that made my Peace Corps service so special - these ladies, this community, and our relationship. This was what my service was about and no one can ever take that away from us. It is something I will never forget. And now it is something that I know they will never forget either. It brought so much joy to me to have that closure with them and the acknowledgement of everything we shared. I kept thinking about how lucky I was to still be in the country to have this time together and this experience, and I wondered how many volunteers never get the chance for this. After all, I "should have" been gone six months ago... So, to those who left without a party or without hearing these words, I hope you know that your service mattered and you inevitably touched people beyond recognition. Sometimes it just takes them a little while to sort through it all and find the words. Two years just isn't enough.

Reflections And Thanks Given

Growing up, my parents told me countless stories of their lives that both captivated me in awe and amazement and which inspired me to do and be more. I heard about road trips and incredible jobs and travels and wild adventures. They spared few details - a fact I respected them for - and I laughed when their stories took a turn for the bizarre and smiled with every new tale. They were daring and pushed themselves. I remember knowing from a very young age that I had the coolest parents on the planet. This, I resolved, was undoubtable. I wanted to be just like them.

I wanted to have stories of my own to tell. Ones that would make my personal narrative hold memories and adventures that rivaled theirs. I wanted a glimpse at the full and vibrant life that my parents had shared with me. Their bravery to go and do and see everything gave me the strength to challenge myself too. They were my heroes for living their lives to their greatest extent. That is how I always felt, and continue to feel, about them.

Being raised by these two very adventurous and fun-loving parents who came of age in the '60s, it was inevitable that I would be a perpetual "flower child". The ideals I was raised with gave me a sense of purpose and a deep respect for community. Peace, love, and happiness were the end goal. If you could get there by dancing to the beat of a different drum (perhaps an African drum), then all the better. And it is because of them that I am where I am now and can tell so many great tales.

I am living in Africa. I have traveled halfway around the world and back. I have gotten up close and personal with elephants and lions, quad biked on the sand dunes, and out ran a hippo. I have explored Israel, sailed through the Bosporus, danced with strangers into the early morning in Istanbul, scuba dived with 300 pound groupers, and backpacked around Europe. I have lived without water and electricity and among some of the scariest creepy crawlies imaginable. And I have raised over one million pula in donations for agencies around Botswana. I have many stories to tell now... And sometimes it feels like my life is just beginning.

This post is a dedication of these stories and a tribute to my parents. They are a reflection of you and what you inspired me to do with my life. I am beyond grateful that you chose to share your exciting lives with me and pushed me to go out and live mine to the fullest. Thank you. Because of you I will never wonder what could have been but rather be able to say "This one time in..."

And, In The End, There Were Emotions

I have exactly twenty-two days left in my comfortable little village and only thirteen days left working at my NGO and with the ladies that have become my family in Gabane.

This is an emotional time. 

It just doesn't seem possible that my two years here are up and I am having a hard time wrapping my brain around leaving here. Even though my ticket to America is booked for my home leave and I can see the upcoming date on a calendar, it still doesn't feel real. It is as if my brain has employed a defense mechanism to keep me from feeling the anxiety and heartache of leaving something I love so much. Even if it is just to start something new nearby. I have to consciously remind myself to cherish each moment with the ladies of my NGO, to take the time to do the "secret handshake" with each kid in the pre-school, and to greet each person I meet on the dusty paths around Gabane. In a matter of days it will all be a memory. When I think about how fast two years went, it is overwhelming (even heartbreaking) to think how fast these last few days will likely go.

This is also a time when I am pushing to get projects and things finished but also trying to disconnect from the work in a more meaningful way. This is something I have blogged about a lot - the idea of true sustainable development. Of course, I have things I want to get done and see through here before I go. For example, the house building project is complete but the sanitation component - the pit latrine - is not quite finished yet. Same goes for some aspects of my organizational development project at the NGO. But, at the same time, I need to back away and make sure the ladies can do everything on their own. I need to observe them and support them in their own personal development if the things we have worked so hard on are to be sustainable. And, so far, they are.

I have watched the ladies take ownership of projects and work diligently to get the financial systems in place or to improve the teaching curriculum and our reports. The Board of Governors has finally been elected and they are taking an active role in helping scale up our operation. The members are coming to the office and conducting their own mini trainings and helping the ladies network with local people who can assist them. Local people helping local people to help the local community. This is a huge accomplishment. I have always said that, as a capacity builder and development worker, if I am able to make my job obsolete and unnecessary because the staff and community are able to do it on their own, then I have done my job well. Being able to witness this happening first-hand is bringing me peace and soothing some of the sorrow of leaving as I hesitantly look forward to the end of this chapter.

Saying goodbye is probably one of the hardest things anyone can do. This is a time filled with that - goodbyes to my fellow Bots 10s as they embark on their next adventures (on their own), goodbyes to my village and my work, and goodbyes to a life where I could be anything I wanted on any given day of the week (a farmer, a social worker, a teacher, a consultant, an accountant, a youth leader, an artist, and so on). Goodbyes are made harder when you deeply love all the things you are bidding adieu. And that is where we stand now.

For me, this goodbye is also met with some exciting hellos - to a new life, to a new job, to new challenges, to new faces. There is glory and elation and vitality in moving forward from something achieved and towards the great unknown. It is, after all, how I got to this place in my life that has become so special to me.

I am going to try and take the next twenty-two days to "hug" this world I am in now and shower it with all my love. I want to feel the emotions of it all and embrace them. I want to leave all of who I am right now in the sand of my village and with the people who have helped me grow here so that I can start this next chapter in Botswana anew.

My Left Eye: Insights And Analysis

A friend of mine emailed me in regard to my post about my close of service medical, specifically about the part where I congratulated my left eye for getting stronger. This is what he said:

So, Tija, I was reading your blog and I wanted to not only congratulate your left eye, but suggest that its resilience may actually be indicative of something much more insightful. :)

In high school, my English teacher taught me about a Sufi tradition: that you can see ones soul through their left eye. This really stuck with me. In fact, I find that even today, when I look at people in the eyes, I tend to focus in on their left eye.

What this has to do with you, I believe, is that your refurbished retina may be the result of a much greater transformation you've undergone since being in Botswana. If anything in your writing has pointed out in the last two years is that your service has lifted you to higher and happier heights than where you have ever been! You have been enriched by your life and your work. Your soul has been filled with so much life and love that it has, too, transformed and been uplifted.

Now literally, metaphorically, pragmatically, spiritually even perhaps, you can see the world more clearly. See the problems that need to be fixed, how to help solve them, and the path on which you should walk, skip, and dance on through life!

Wow.  Could this be true? His words certainly make me smile and I am honored by them. I definitely feel the transformation that has gone on inside of me and in the way I view the world and my place in it. I feel grateful with my entire being, my entire soul. I humbly thank my friend for believing in me like this and for sharing this tradition with me.

Capacity Building Gone Right!

The whole point of capacity building is to transfer skills to others so they can do their jobs better and, in the case of NGOs like mine, scale up their systems and better serve their constituents. So, if you have "students" that are actively trying to learn and you are a dedicated "teacher", doing the job well should mean you are no longer needed. After all, if they learned the skills and can use them properly, then your constant presence is unnecessary. That is the goal.

True capacity building is terribly difficult and, often times, Peace Corps Volunteers feel like they are constantly hitting their heads against a wall. Basically, you're asking people to do things above and beyond their preexisting work and they often don't see the rationale or what benefits might come in working extra hard for a while. Plainly, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." And our response to them is that, "just because they can't see the cracks, doesn't mean they don't exist". Try convincing someone to follow you with answers like that! It's TOUGH!

I decided early on in my service that I was going to be steadfast to Peace Corps' approach to development: "helping people develop the capacity to improve their own lives". This meant focusing on the development of people and not things. And it also meant that I wasn't going to do things on my own just because it would be easier (and much faster) that way. I was going to take the long road and do everything step-by-step with the people that I work with to ensure they learned what they were doing. Even if that meant spending hours going over and over and over the same things and taking the time to hand-write instruction manuals for even the simplest of tasks. (Yes, I even put a "ON/OFF" sticker on the power button on the computer and everything moved forward from there...)

I have had relative success in capacity building at my NGO, mostly in terms of systems strengthening. I think that is due, at least in part, to the fact that I have been patient in explaining things to the staff and have demanded they participate in every single thing that I do there. They are learning the skills to do everything from typing to drafting reports to financial management and administration and they are gaining the confidence in themselves to carry out their tasks. (I make a big fuss over them when they remember how to "align right" or enter something into QuickBooks. They laugh and cheer themselves on and feel proud of themselves for their accomplishments. In turn, I believe it also inspires them to keep trying.)

Just this week, there have been a number of huge examples of the success of capacity building at the center. I am like a "proud mom" because I can see how much all of our hard work (theirs and mine) is paying off. So here we go:

The ladies at the NGO successfully put together their very first financial report. This meant going through an entire year's worth of receipts and bank statements, organizing them by category and entering them into the computer, tabulating results, and building charts.

The center had its very first Annual Meeting where the staff presented their very first Annual Report. Although I helped with the report, the ladies presented it on their own and fielded all of the questions from the Executive and General Committees. (We spent days prepping for every possible question and brainstorming solutions. The ladies took the initiative on this end and even worked extra hours to get ready.) 

The Administrative Officer at the center installed the ink into our new printer, typed up multiple letters, and printed them off all on her own. I wasn't even present for any of these actions. This may not seem like a huge deal but, less than a year ago, she couldn't even turn on a computer.

They have learned the definition of "promptness" and are using it in their lives. This is no small feat. "African time" is very real and has been a frustration of mine throughout my service. Today, when I told the ladies I would be at the center "around 8am", which in the past would have allowed me to stroll in any time up until 10am, garnered me a phone call at 8:01 because I wasn't there yet and they were ready and waiting to get started on projects.

When I first arrived at the NGO in February 2012, I recognized a need for better communication among the staff. I started bringing the staff together for meetings. It was a time, I explained, to share about projects, successes, and problems; to brainstorm; to discuss policy changes; and so on. I was informed by the Center Coordinator today that she had called for a staff meeting. She apologized because it would be during a time when I was scheduled to be at one of the schools but assured me that she could facilitate it on her own. She then handed me a typed agenda for the meeting. I scanned the agenda and asked her if she felt confident in bringing up and explaining some of the policy changes she was calling for. She said that she was because she understood the reasons for them and was sure that she could tell the staff in such a way that they would understand as well.

Whoa! What a week worth of successes! Now that's capacity building gone right! It's such an awesome thing to see your need slowly start to fade away... And it definitely makes it easier looking ahead to leaving. It's a relief and such an amazing feeling to finally feel like they are getting it! :-D

Ramblings on Change and my Beloved Group

I have been very introspective and reflective these passed few days. As you may remember from my ramblings nearly two years ago, this is part and parcel of a Peace Corps Volunteer's routine - having ample time to just sit with their thoughts. As a general rule, PCVs are deep thinkers and even more passionate planners. This makes us very efficient and diligent workers, able to tackle hard tasks in grassroots development, but has often also provided much anguish in the long hours alone in the village. The time spent by myself, left to ponder my life and my existence and, truly, humanity, used to rattle me to the core. I had things I needed to work through and personal obstacles to overcome. Since then, I have grown to love and appreciate my alone time and can literally sit in silence for long hours reflecting and, albeit to a lesser extent, looking forward. Now I recognize that this time alone is precious. It is something that once was more than I could handle but now seems harder to come by so I am grateful for these passed days. Most of my thoughts come back to my group and our time here...

My group has just over five months left in Botswana. The time has flown by at a rate that I can only refer to as "lightening fast". When I think back to the last minute scramble to throw things in my hiking pack into the wee hours of the morning before I left, it seems like only yesterday. But when I think about how far I have come and everything I have experienced and been through, it seems like a lifetime ago. The girl that stuffed an extra skirt into her pack in lieu of extra face wash hardly exists anymore, at least not in that same way.

We have all changed. Looking at pictures with other members of my group from when we first arrived here, we all laugh and clamor about how young we all look. We have aged. We look a little haggard and rough around the edges now but I think it shows wisdom and courage. We are also a little jaded after all this time dealing with hardship but we are also more aware of ourselves and our capabilities and have maintained the will to try. We are not afraid of failure because we know how much sweeter it is when projects finally work out.

I have watched my group-mates grow in such unique and beautiful ways. For one, that might mean coming out of her shell and becoming strong and independent. For another, that might mean overcoming the ebbs and flows of his service to ultimately feel happy and successful. And, for yet another, that might have meant knowing when to say goodbye and head home to pursue the next big thing in their life. We have all had our own battles to fight and hardship to overcome along the way but we have done it as a group. I have loved watching my friends be transformed into these incredibly inspiring people.

And, on top of this evolution of being, we have had a rockin good time together. From quad biking on the sand dunes in Namibia to kayaking with penguins in South Africa to croc hunting in the Delta, it has been one crazy amazing adventure.

It's hard for me to believe that, before we know it, this time together will be complete. All of these realities will become memories and those extra grey hairs in our head a quiet reminder. I am proud of my group and where we have come and grateful to have shared this adventure with them. It's not every day you feel grounded by both your head and your heart but, for me, that's where I'm at. So a deep breath and a smile for the quest. I intend to relish in these last five months with my group and brace myself for what's next. It's going to be a wild ride!

L'shanah tova!

Today is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year. I have spent all week (and much of the previous one) explaining the holiday, its history and traditions, to host country nationals and fellow Peace Corps Volunteers. It has been well received and many have joined me in celebrating and honoring this day. I am grateful to be able to practice (and share) my Jewish faith even while I'm halfway around the world.

One of the things I like most about Rosh Hashanah is the opportunity to reflect on the past year and contemplate the binds that held me back so that I can move forward into an even more fruitful new year. The idea of rebirth and new life is a great one. So here is my reflection for you all: In this past year, I have started a magnificent journey full of ups and downs and uncertainties and challenges and rewards. I have had to let go of many of my preconceived notions of things and be open to significant change in myself. This has been met with resistance, fear, solace, and finally contentment. I am only now learning some very valuable things about myself. Although I have alluded to it in the past, one of these great binds is that I feel like I need to fulfill expectations. This means that sometimes I refrain from doing things because I am unsure of what the end result should look like (so I don't know what I'm working towards). This next year provides me with the perfect opportunity to just do things because Peace Corps service is all about unknowns, trial and error, exploration, and creating your own path and destiny. No one really knows what your service is "supposed to" look like or what it's going to look like in the end. It's liberating and I intend to let go of this bind and be liberated by it.

So, on this day, I would like to wish all of my family and friends a sweet new year filled with health, happiness, and peace. And the freedom to let go of the things that are holding you back so that you can have the best year (and life) possible. L'shanah tova!

"What if I feel like I belong?"

I am sitting on the floor in my homestay bedroom, sipping Good Earth tea that my mom sent me in my first ever Peace Corps care package, and listening to my Zune on shuffle (currently Joshua Radin “What If You”) and feeling, for the first time in a while, emotionally free. I finally feel settled and at peace, like my spirit took a deep breath, smiled, and settled in. 

Although I have felt throughout this entire process like I’m on the right path and doing exactly what I’m supposed to be doing right now, I have also felt sort of in flux –not wholly believing what is happening, kind of bewildered, and constantly waiting to feel contented with this experience.

Things are new and sometimes very different from what I am used to. (This includes everything from what I am eating to the complexity of even basic household chores to the roosters crowing at all hours of the day and night.) I have felt like I am playing catch up – trying to learn a language, a culture, and a way of life almost after-the-fact. Occasionally I have a hard time wrapping my brain around the fact that I am halfway around the world from the life I have known and living in a place I only dreamed of seeing. Every day has had its struggles (some days more than others) and I have felt like a guest in this foreign land.

Today, however, I felt like I finally belonged here. As I walked the route from the training center to the bakery to the take-away and then home, I greeted locals that I finally recognized and who recognized me. The road, the people, and the conversations are familiar now. My host family welcomes me home with huge smiles and I look forward to seeing them. My host mom now knows I prefer vegetables to meat and makes sure I get an extra scoop of veggies on my plate. Things are getting comfortable and I am able to relax. It is such a relief to finally feel at ease.

It goes even deeper than that, though, and I am finding it hard to articulate. It is more than familiarity; it is a profound sense of peace. I said that I have always felt like I was on the right path but now it is as if I know that I am. I enjoy the life I am leading. I appreciate the uniqueness of this experience and I have started to find humor in the idiosyncrasies and differences between ethos. Yes, I realize that there will be many more times ahead of me when this feeling of contentment will wane but I am at home in Botswana and finally feeling fulfilled.

If this isn’t kismet, I don’t know what is, but “Hallelujah” just came on my Zune (the Ari Hest version, one of my faves). Honestly, it makes perfect sense to me that this song would come on right now. This is my first “hallelujah” transcendent moment in Botswana. Deep breath. Life is good.

"I have not ceased being fearful, but I have ceased to let fear control me."

Last night I had my first mini freak out.

I was having a hard time falling asleep (this is very unusual for me, generally I look at a pillow and pass out) so I went to grab an excruciatingly boring book from my dresser in the hopes that it would calm my mind. All of the sudden it dawned on me that I am leaving in four days and I will be gone for 27 months and this might be the last time I do this. The magnitude of that sort of hit me and my heart started to race and my mind went crazy thinking of all the things around my room that I won't be seeing for a long long time and the things I would be missing out on.... Eeeeeeek! And then I took a deep breath and came back to reality. The mini freak out lasted about three and a half minutes.

The truth is, I am not scared to go and I don't have any fear or doubt about it. In fact, I haven't been this excited or felt this ready for anything in a long time. I have been through a lot in the past few years and all of those things led me to this. I have gotten stronger and learned that life is precious and I need to go out and live it while it's here. I honestly feel like my life is exactly where it should be and I'm ready to seize it. Yes, there are scary and intimidating things about leaving the comfort of my current life and moving to Africa but I feel like "the juice is worth the squeeze." This IS really happening! The tummy twinge is normal because it's a big change. I believe whole-heartedly that it is worth it! (And no amount of butterflies could change my mind!)

Now onto my second mini freak out..... reorganize my luggage (per the most recent Peace Corps email) and fill out the rest of my paperwork!

Because of Love

To me, Valentine’s Day is about sharing love. It is about sending love out into the universe and getting some back. It is about giving. I have been given so much and have been saved by love.

One day, when I was having a particularly hard time in high school, my dad got me a card. The cover read "If you can't make waves, make ripples" and on the inside it said "Be gentle with yourself. Give yourself all the room and space you need. And remember, wherever you are is probably exactly where you need to be right now." Below that, my dad told me that he believed in me and loved me and knew I would accomplish everything I wanted in time. It was exactly what I needed to hear. I have kept that card with me for more than a decade. I have read those words and recited those words over and over again throughout the years.

When my dad died five years ago, my whole world was rocked. Essentially, my universe fell off its axis and I didn't know what to do. Whether it makes sense or not, I felt like my dreams did not have meaning anymore. It was hard to find comfort in anything. I needed to do something to get my life back.

I went back to my roots and started training horses again, I started running and ran four half marathons, I got my masters degree, and then I moved home. I surrounded myself with positive people who loved me and believed in me. I reconnected with my mom and she became one of my very best friends. My neighbors and my friends became family. I became stronger than I could have imagined. I got my dreams back and now I have the courage to pursue them, knowing that I could get through anything and that I have the love and support I need to see it through.

My dad's card is even more pertinent today than when he gave it to me. I have slowly persevered and have gotten to where I need to be. I am finally pursuing this dream that I have had for the past six years. I have meditated on this and have been patient, waiting to feel this sense of calm. I am full of pride and joy and am overcome with a sense of rightness in my world again. I am not nervous or anxious and I don't doubt anything about this path I am taking. I am really at ease with this transition because I feel with my whole heart that this journey, joining the Peace Corps and going to Botswana, is exactly what I am supposed to be doing right now.

New Year, New Perspective

To celebrate the start of 2011, I went to Seattle to spend the weekend with some of my best friends from college. We went to a ridiculously awesome hip hop show, ate at some of my favorite restaurants, and "hydrated, dehydrated, and caffeinated" together. It was a glorious weekend.

During one of our escapades, we laughed about our (mis)adventures and joked about New Years Resolutions. Up to that point, I hadn't thought about New Years Resolutions at all, having focused almost exclusively on fretting about placement and the months (way) ahead of me. Our conversation got me reflecting on 2010 and thinking about what I wanted in 2011.

The past year was full of significant ups and downs - I was forced to stand up for myself, I exceeded even my own expectations for receiving grant funding, I was laid up after a bad injury, I said goodbye to an old friend and made new meaningful friendships, I made it through the fifth year after losing my dad, and, finally, I applied for Peace Corps. In thinking forward to 2011, I knew I wanted to take these lessons and the strength I have gained throughout the year and really utilize them. What I have come to is this: I want to be brave, to wake up each day with a fresh perspective, and to embrace moments. These are the areas that I want to continue to develop because I believe whole-heartedly that encompassing them will enrich my life.

I realize that I have a hard time slowing down and this has made times in my life blur together and has probably changed the depth of my experiences. I want 2011 to be full of memories and I am eager to embrace them. What this means for me (and my pursuit of Peace Corps) is that I will strive to slow down and enjoy the process of things, to find happiness and rejoice in whatever comes my way, to be open to change, to see the world from a variety of new and different ways, to trust untiringly, and to be present.