Friday, February 24, 2012
We're Moving (Websites)!
Hello! We've moved our blog to As Food to Life Letters on Wordpress. There we will continue talking about food, life and the things we love, and hate. Hope to see you there!
Monday, February 20, 2012
This time its war
Dear Meredyth,
Do you remember when I told you about those horrifying 10 days I spent at a Youth Camp in December? The one that was run by a Ministry of Education official who was so negligent of the children at the camp that it was borderline child abuse(well to be real many lines were crossed). The one who treated us PCVs like they had a personal vendetta against us, like it was her daily goal to make each day more painful than we could have imagined? You do? Oh good, because I would hate to recount that experience here. That Youth Camp was the probably the most challenging time for me, seeing those kids suffer the way they did that week made me lose a lot of the faith I had that I would be able to do any good here in Botswana. Worse than that, if it's really possible, it made me very bitter towards Batswana and especially to the Ministry of Education. Despite the horrors of that week I learned a lot, it seasoned me as a volunteer, and I was glad to put it behind me and move forward in my work here.
Well guess what? The Ministry of Education invited (demanded) all of the Life Skills PCVs and our counter part teachers to a two week workshop in the town of Molepelole. Great, it's the middle of the school term, we have just returned from two weeks away at our In Service Training, just to leave again, this time pulling a teacher out of classes for two weeks. Oh yeah, the idea of a substitute teacher does not exist here, the children will just sit in a teacherless classroom until we all return. Why did the MoE plan it this way? It's the end of the fiscal year, they have a ton of unspent money left over in the budget that will have to be given back to the national government if unused. So instead of buying notebooks, textbooks, paying the teachers a bit more, or adding to the school's food budget this money is going to keep 45 people in a lodge for two weeks of "workshops". Cool. To make things even better that same official is running this workshop for us.
Today was day one of the workshop, we shared challenges each of our schools are facing, so 25 schools repeated the same issues. One particular issue that emerged from a Batswana teacher was the problem of "these boys loving boys and girls loving girls problem". The Batswana actually use the terms "transactional sex" and "homosexuals" interchangeably.
Well to be short and sweet, we exploded over this offense, the official shut us down and silenced our pleas to the group to please keep in mind that as Americans we celebrate diversity and accept all people's sexuality. And now our counterparts think we are all evil and hate us. So it was a good start! I'll let you know how the rest of the week goes. Cross you fingers that I keep you updated on this blog instead of ditching this dessert of bigotry to tell you face to face.
Love,
Julia
Do you remember when I told you about those horrifying 10 days I spent at a Youth Camp in December? The one that was run by a Ministry of Education official who was so negligent of the children at the camp that it was borderline child abuse(well to be real many lines were crossed). The one who treated us PCVs like they had a personal vendetta against us, like it was her daily goal to make each day more painful than we could have imagined? You do? Oh good, because I would hate to recount that experience here. That Youth Camp was the probably the most challenging time for me, seeing those kids suffer the way they did that week made me lose a lot of the faith I had that I would be able to do any good here in Botswana. Worse than that, if it's really possible, it made me very bitter towards Batswana and especially to the Ministry of Education. Despite the horrors of that week I learned a lot, it seasoned me as a volunteer, and I was glad to put it behind me and move forward in my work here.
Well guess what? The Ministry of Education invited (demanded) all of the Life Skills PCVs and our counter part teachers to a two week workshop in the town of Molepelole. Great, it's the middle of the school term, we have just returned from two weeks away at our In Service Training, just to leave again, this time pulling a teacher out of classes for two weeks. Oh yeah, the idea of a substitute teacher does not exist here, the children will just sit in a teacherless classroom until we all return. Why did the MoE plan it this way? It's the end of the fiscal year, they have a ton of unspent money left over in the budget that will have to be given back to the national government if unused. So instead of buying notebooks, textbooks, paying the teachers a bit more, or adding to the school's food budget this money is going to keep 45 people in a lodge for two weeks of "workshops". Cool. To make things even better that same official is running this workshop for us.
Today was day one of the workshop, we shared challenges each of our schools are facing, so 25 schools repeated the same issues. One particular issue that emerged from a Batswana teacher was the problem of "these boys loving boys and girls loving girls problem". The Batswana actually use the terms "transactional sex" and "homosexuals" interchangeably.
Well to be short and sweet, we exploded over this offense, the official shut us down and silenced our pleas to the group to please keep in mind that as Americans we celebrate diversity and accept all people's sexuality. And now our counterparts think we are all evil and hate us. So it was a good start! I'll let you know how the rest of the week goes. Cross you fingers that I keep you updated on this blog instead of ditching this dessert of bigotry to tell you face to face.
Love,
Julia
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Married Valentine's Day
What did I do for Valentine's Day?
So, after all of this I must have gotten the best mumble-mumble of my life right? Some flowers? A card at least? SOMETHING?
I got a someecard that never made it to my inbox, and slow dancing that devolved into teenage necking. As soon as we made it to the bed, ripping our clothes off and about to actually get somewhere I noticed blood on the sheets. It wasn't mine, of that I was sure. It was either Penny taking out her boredom over heartworm-enforced confinement on her foreleg or Ian's head wound reopening while he slept. (He got it by walking into a branch while taking Penny out at night. It's just a big scratch). Our concern over Penny killed whatever mood we had and we were left in a Riesling and IPA haze. I went to sleep.
Okay, I'm not mad about my lack of flowers or cards. I realize if I wanted them I should let Ian know that Valentine's is more important to me than I'd previously known. But I didn't know, so how could I have warned him? And the necking was fun, as was the part where he sang Jeff Buckley's Grace and I crooned along to Joni Mitchell's Court and Spark but these things could also have happened any night of the week. They didn't have any special romantic element to them, and I guess I'm feeling a little letdown because I exerted so much effort to make it a special day. It wasn't really a bad Valentine's. Surprise flowers would have made it nicer though.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Home is where I hang my bug net.
Dear Meredyth,
I'm finally home from In Service Training! Wooooooo!! Well kinda home, but I will explain. I left my village Jan 22nd to go to Gaborone for IST for two weeks. IST is a big landmark in the Peace Corps, we all made itover the huge slumping hardtime of "community assessment phase" i.e. Lockdown, a three month period during which PCVs are not supposed to leave their village except for grocery shopping. Lockdown is a particularly hard time for PCVs, also a time when many people decide this is not for them and go home to America. I have heard from past groups that a lot of people show up to the lodge for IST with all their bags packed, I was really afraid of this happening to our group. Our group is exceptional. Sometimes certain people really grind my nerves but overall, we are a tight knit bunch, the thought of anyone leaving makes me sad. Well guess what! We are all still here, we are the first group in PC Botswana (since reopening in 1997) that no one has left before or during IST! Well, my good friend Celia had to return to Boston to deal with the passing of her Father but she is coming back next week.
It was really really wonderful to see everyone at IST but I admit it was during this week that I felt the closest to going home. I don't have the most solid of reasons for this, and I knew that I wouldn't, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I think it had a lot to do with the comfort hat I get from being with my friends here while at the same time it made me long for my friends and family back home even more. I also knew that at the end of the week I would go home alone, I would go to the place that's not my real home, the small concrete house in the middle of a small sandy village in Africa.
Well as it happens each day at IST made me long for my little house more and more. The sessions we long and tedious, the pool was "broken", the food was setswana food and giving me stomach pains and the company gets overwhelming (as Americans are in large groups). By the end of IST i was slightly dreding the extra two day STEPS films training I had signed up for with my counterpart. The films are excellent, they are all written, filmed, and produced in Africa by Africans, I'm really excited to start doing these screenings in my village. BUT it was the straw that broke the camels' back. I wanted home!!
Finally last night, after a four hour trip (which should've only been 1 1/2 but my driver had to make 10 stops to check on his various friends and run errands) I was home. I was exhausted, sweaty and starving, but at least I was home. While I put away my grocerires and piled my dirty clothes for washing (that is for tomorrow) while listening to Ryan Adams, I was content to be here, in the quiet peace of my house in my little village in Africa.
I still miss you and everyone a lot, but I am home, maybe just for a little while.
Love Julia
I'm finally home from In Service Training! Wooooooo!! Well kinda home, but I will explain. I left my village Jan 22nd to go to Gaborone for IST for two weeks. IST is a big landmark in the Peace Corps, we all made itover the huge slumping hardtime of "community assessment phase" i.e. Lockdown, a three month period during which PCVs are not supposed to leave their village except for grocery shopping. Lockdown is a particularly hard time for PCVs, also a time when many people decide this is not for them and go home to America. I have heard from past groups that a lot of people show up to the lodge for IST with all their bags packed, I was really afraid of this happening to our group. Our group is exceptional. Sometimes certain people really grind my nerves but overall, we are a tight knit bunch, the thought of anyone leaving makes me sad. Well guess what! We are all still here, we are the first group in PC Botswana (since reopening in 1997) that no one has left before or during IST! Well, my good friend Celia had to return to Boston to deal with the passing of her Father but she is coming back next week.
It was really really wonderful to see everyone at IST but I admit it was during this week that I felt the closest to going home. I don't have the most solid of reasons for this, and I knew that I wouldn't, but I couldn't get it out of my head. I think it had a lot to do with the comfort hat I get from being with my friends here while at the same time it made me long for my friends and family back home even more. I also knew that at the end of the week I would go home alone, I would go to the place that's not my real home, the small concrete house in the middle of a small sandy village in Africa.
Well as it happens each day at IST made me long for my little house more and more. The sessions we long and tedious, the pool was "broken", the food was setswana food and giving me stomach pains and the company gets overwhelming (as Americans are in large groups). By the end of IST i was slightly dreding the extra two day STEPS films training I had signed up for with my counterpart. The films are excellent, they are all written, filmed, and produced in Africa by Africans, I'm really excited to start doing these screenings in my village. BUT it was the straw that broke the camels' back. I wanted home!!
Finally last night, after a four hour trip (which should've only been 1 1/2 but my driver had to make 10 stops to check on his various friends and run errands) I was home. I was exhausted, sweaty and starving, but at least I was home. While I put away my grocerires and piled my dirty clothes for washing (that is for tomorrow) while listening to Ryan Adams, I was content to be here, in the quiet peace of my house in my little village in Africa.
I still miss you and everyone a lot, but I am home, maybe just for a little while.
Love Julia
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Penny Pie
"Hi! We're home!" We've returned from an early New Year's Eve at the Draughthause, our favorite bar that serves free bratwurst and knockwursts on Saturday afternoons. We had a couple of delicious beers and brought a growler for our evening, since we don't go out on NYE.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
The sound of something being hit repeatedly is the first thing we hear. It's Penny Pie, hitting her plastic crate walls with a powerful, happy tail. We've been gone a few hours and she's so happy to see us you might have thought we'd been gone for months. Ian lets her out and there is a mad, gleeful dash around our legs, through the apartment, and around our legs again. Then it's back in the crate to rescue the Kong, which she clutches in her jaws on her next fifteen laps through the living room. Her body wriggles and thrashes, in her joy.
We've had her for three days and already she loves us so much it's hard to look in her eyes. She is so smart that she's mastered standing, kisses, early stages of "find it" and the agility ramp at the dog park.
She's friendly with the other dogs but happy to be on her own. When they are running as a pack, chasing the designated "it" she might join in, but she might just explore an uncharted corner. She runs with them when she wants, but when they catch the dog playing rabbit and engage in play fights she circles around, smiling but not engaging. She runs back to check in with us, asking "is everything cool?" with her easygoing smile, and curious eyes. When another dog is introduced she keeps close to us to stay safe and calm. She speeds around with the fast dogs, enjoying the speed in those muscular legs, powerful and fluid, excited to meet other dogs and play doggy games.
When she's happy, her ears perk up, she smiles at us, and looks ready for any adventure.
When we go on walks it's like we've leashed you, Julia. This dog has places to go! and I am not walking fast enough to get her there on time. I adore seeing her prance along, ears cocked, ready to chase another unfortunate squirrel. She hasn't caught one, but it's not for lack of trying (it's because I won't let her off the leash). She stands straight up in her effort to strain against the impending leash. Her legs scramble to get good footing so she can dash to the tree, and she'd probably climb it too.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
The sound of something being hit repeatedly is the first thing we hear. It's Penny Pie, hitting her plastic crate walls with a powerful, happy tail. We've been gone a few hours and she's so happy to see us you might have thought we'd been gone for months. Ian lets her out and there is a mad, gleeful dash around our legs, through the apartment, and around our legs again. Then it's back in the crate to rescue the Kong, which she clutches in her jaws on her next fifteen laps through the living room. Her body wriggles and thrashes, in her joy.
We've had her for three days and already she loves us so much it's hard to look in her eyes. She is so smart that she's mastered standing, kisses, early stages of "find it" and the agility ramp at the dog park.
She's friendly with the other dogs but happy to be on her own. When they are running as a pack, chasing the designated "it" she might join in, but she might just explore an uncharted corner. She runs with them when she wants, but when they catch the dog playing rabbit and engage in play fights she circles around, smiling but not engaging. She runs back to check in with us, asking "is everything cool?" with her easygoing smile, and curious eyes. When another dog is introduced she keeps close to us to stay safe and calm. She speeds around with the fast dogs, enjoying the speed in those muscular legs, powerful and fluid, excited to meet other dogs and play doggy games.
When she's happy, her ears perk up, she smiles at us, and looks ready for any adventure.
When we go on walks it's like we've leashed you, Julia. This dog has places to go! and I am not walking fast enough to get her there on time. I adore seeing her prance along, ears cocked, ready to chase another unfortunate squirrel. She hasn't caught one, but it's not for lack of trying (it's because I won't let her off the leash). She stands straight up in her effort to strain against the impending leash. Her legs scramble to get good footing so she can dash to the tree, and she'd probably climb it too.
Antique Mall Redux
These were taken at the Austin Antique Mall where Mom and I spent a gray afternoon. I love this place. There was so much to see and comment on, and photograph. I wanted to be careful so people wouldn't think I was using the photos for some nefarious purpose. Rather, I just wanted to post them on the blog.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Bread, Babies & Boredom
“You don’t have to immediately eliminate world poverty, bring world peace, or save the environment. You just have to do whatever you discover works with you modest resources to make a difference in the lives of poor people” – William Easterly The White Man’s Burden
Dear Meredyth,
I am really sorry again for how long it’s been since I have written to you here. I would really like to blame my circumstances; I live in Africa so I have no access to the Internet, or something along those lines. The truth of the matter is that most weekends I go to Lobatse, a town about two hours from my village, where I get to sit by a pool, order filtered coffee (a rarity in Botswana), and spend as much time as I want surfing the Interweb. The problem is that I tend to binge on the coffee, become overwhelmed by caffeine, Facebook, Gmail, and the New York Times that I need to take a pool break, and then forget to come back to this. So what I’m say is, sorry that I’m lazy.
These past weeks have been especially long, hard and often frustrating. Botswana schools have been on break since November, 26th, so for the last month and more I’ve had no real job and nothing specific to do each day. This might seem nice, a long vacation right? Wrong. Having nothing at all to do makes me feel pointless, adding to this was spending the holidays in Africa. So many times I asked myself, what am I doing here? Nothing. Why am I putting myself through the pain of missing my family for nothing? No good answer for this. Luckily I have great Peace Corps friends and we got together to make the holidays the best week could, there were tears but also a lot of caroling, eating, and merry-making.
I reached a make or break point one morning a week before Christmas, I had been hiding in my house all morning, wallowing in a bit of self-pity, when a little (evil, hateful) voice in my head (that’s not that weird I swear) asked me a question: You ridicule Batswana all the time for being slow, lazy and unmotivated, aren’t you kinda doing the same thing? Is there really nothing you could do to help anyone or is it easier to stay inside watching movies and baking bread?
In fact that voice sounded a lot like Mom when she’s playing the Devil’s Advocate in an argument, and you get super pissed cause you know she’s just a little bit (or a whole lotta bit) right. In this case that voice was spot on, I had been ignoring this little fact for a week at least.
So I laced up my shoes, pulled on my sunhat and walked through the sand to the clinic to see what could be done. The sun scorched my head, children ran to their fences to point at me and screamed “lekgoa, lekgoa, lekgoa” (that’s all they do, point and scream over and over), my shoes filled with hot sand, basically it was the worst. When I got to the clinic the had nurse scolded me for not coming before now, I ignored this and asked where I could help. She asked if I knew how to read a scale and draw graphs, I said, “yeah, maybe, I dunno, I guess so”. She sent me to the Child Welfare Clinic where all the children in the village from 1 month – 5 years old come once a month to be weighed and measured, then the family receives their food rations: cooking oil, bread, dried beans, and fortified bran porridge. So this is what I have been doing for the past three weeks, weighing babies, ya know what? It fuckin rules. The babies are really cute when we put them in the scale (it’s similar to a baby swing), I feel like I’m really doing good when I track their growth & nutrition, then I get to do my favorite thing: giving that mother, who has no money at all, food for her family.
Love you,
Julia
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