And now...the end is near..and so I face...the final curtain...

"I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do," read a quote by Georgia O’keefe during the first leg of PC training.

Many times I have struggled to find the meaning in all of this and when I look back on that quote, I think that perhaps our souls were placed in these bodies of ours to experience everything we possibly could in this life. We have a thought, idea, a hunch that we’d like to do something. Sometimes what we believe we want to do causes more pain and suffering than we would have experienced had we not gone after that thing. But it’s also true that through those experiences, we take in everything life has to offer and are then transformed into a fullness of our own being. We will never reach the level that we want for ourselves, but we pushed ourselves as far as we could go, and thereby, have achieved a completeness of our own.

I know that when I’m an old woman sitting in my rocking chair, I won’t feel like I missed out on life because I was afraid to take chances. I will have taken everything I could from this world and when it’s time to take my last breath, I will nod off peacefully and without struggle. My advice is, if you want to do something, go for it with a willingness to suffer.

A special thanks to those who helped me through:

Thank you to my host family, who housed and took care of me during training, especially my host brother, Ronnie, who cooked for me and woke up at 4am to turn the geyser on so I’d have a warm bath. You will forever be my brother and I will never forget you.

Thank you to my Batswana family on the compound with whom I lived for the last 2years. You’ve always kept me safe. You accepted me, and eventually… even the Zim I brought home! You not only accepted him, but treated him as your son, then did the unthinkable…had him as your best man at your wedding! Thank you for your openness, hospitality and teaching me the ways of a different culture.

Thank you to the folks at Kagisano with whom I worked at the end of my service, you were welcoming, appreciated my effort and restored my sanity. Because of you, I left Africa lighter on my feet with my head held high.

Thank you to my sister Nancy, who sent many a package, letter and fulfilled requests for warm blankets, needed documents, made many phone calls and took care of my finances. I wouldn’t have made it without you. You were ALWAYS there for me. Thank you!

Thank you, Dad, for your support, patience, understanding and acceptance. Thanks too for the letters which I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Thank you to my sister, Paula, for all the letters, emails and the cool Suffolk University blanket which I’ve kept on top of my bed for the last year.

Thank you to my nephew, Will and his wife, Kristin for the INCREDIBLE packages (esp suzie Qs, Twinkies, bulls eyes!). Thank you for the thoughtful letters, support and understanding.

Thank you to my nephew, Danny, and his wife, Karen, who always believed in me and also generously donated a ‘learn to type’ program to my school.

Thank you, brother Tom and his wife, Marty who sent me many books, magazines, clothes and air mattresses for my bedless neighbors. Thanks Tom, for your relentless attempts to reach me by phone, mostly failing, but never giving up. Those short conversations helped bring me back to earth and understand I was still Jennifer.

Thank you, brother George and wife Donna for my beloved coffee and coffee pot which I would never have made it through the two years without. Thanks also for the best kick-ass hot chocolate that I’m still salivating over and for the remedies which kept me out of the hospital.

Thank you Billy, Wendy, Emma, Lindsey and Jamie for staying in contact as much as your chaotic lives allowed and also for allowing some people from a very different culture have a peek into your lives.

Thanks Josh, for the support. It meant more than you will ever know.

Thank you, Jeanne, the mysterious stranger and former PCV, who sent me the lovely package out of the blue.

Thank you, AnnMarie, for sending the Mary Kay oil absorbing face tissues that I happened to believe, at the time, were very important to have. But moreover, thank you for all the memories I had of you, me and Joe, laughing and having fun during lighter days at the SSC Wellness Center, those memories sometimes got me through the rough times.

Thanks to all other friends who stayed in contact with me via email and facebook. You all played a role in helping me get through this challenging experience.

Thank you, Dee Dee, for your generosity and support by offering a place of residence to two homeless people who will be arriving back to the US very shortly.

And finally, thank you, Kate and Molly, my Supreme Gurus, who taught me what it means to selflessly give. You did this not through words but by your actions each and every day…tirelessly and relentlessly. I will never reach your level of enlightenment, but one cannot train with Masters without learning something.

.....See you all on that side

The things ya do for love...

“Good bye my friend, you never know when the last time will be the last time do you? See you on that side. The best part of PC was making friends like you”. ~Love, Betty the Bulldozer (aka Kate Greenmun aka Oratile)

May, I thought, was going to be my month to return home to the US. My group, Bots 7s earliest possible Close of Service date was May 18. PC wanted to get us out of here before all of the chaos with the World Cup began, so the required 27 month service got whittled down to 25. I was planning on leaving, but here it is, May 19 and I’m still here! The other day in Gabs, I saw the smiles, bursts of joy and peaceful looks on the faces of those articulating the words…”I’m leaving tomorrow.”It was a strange feeling when the reality of it hit me. I believe there is only one other volunteer in our group who is extending for a 3rd year and a few others who are leaving the first week in June.

Here, I remain, struggling with slow Internet connections, fax machines with no paper, a lack of ink in copy machines and unable to make a simple phone call to get a document that I need to complete my fiance’s visa application. It took about 3 hours to get home from Gabs during rush-hour traffic in a crowded bus with all the windows rolled up just so I could have free access to these amenities. I wasn’t made for this…I get car sick in a Mercedes Benz or even swinging on a swing in a child’s playground.

I can’t leave without him, so I decided to stay. The good news is: I have a new assignment at the Kagisano Women’s Shelter, Peace Corps is paying for my housing, so I’ll be 100% free from the strangling-dysfunctional grip of the Ministry of Education and phase two of the visa application process is in the mail (as completed as possible) and on it’s way to SA.

Life is funny the way things turn out is sometimes the last way you’d expect. My last day at the school was relatively uneventful. The school head made an announcement of my departure during assembly the previous Friday. I baked oatmeal raisin cookies and a traditional food here called Dipapata and handed them out during the last few days. I left my email address on the white board and asked people to keep in touch.

There were announcements made about having tea for me with the staff and a collection to buy Masa a goodbye gift was discussed- none of which came to fruition- but I was just as relieved not to have the teachers spending their money on me and I preferred to make my exit as quietly and inconspicuously as possible. It had been a very complicated situation.

It’s been over a week since my last day and I’ve already been back to the school checking on my mail and some of the staff. I have not yet started my new job as I’ve been using up my leave days. I’ll be going to the school Monday to say my last goodbye to the English speaking club which I didn’t get a chance to do. I want to make sure they are able to finish the bead project I started with them.

The infamous mural art project has finally begun, albeit, the topic that was agreed upon has been changed and the teachers are doing the actual artwork instead of the students. I still don’t know if the students got the snacks that they were supposed to receive as a reward for their work….. but then again….. if they weren’t doing the actual work……I guess it doesn’t really matter……

And so I begin my last phase of my PC adventure. As I test the waters of a new job title, I’ll be working on getting Thuba (my fiancé) and myself home so that we can begin our new lives together. We are both very excited about spending our future in a distant land across the great Atlantic Ocean far from the Kgalagadi, Okavongo, and acacia trees called, the United States of America.

Yin and Yang

"With Clifford’s death, I honestly think that if he was taken to the hospital and given some medical attention he ‘might’ have survived. But on the other hand, I think we just have to accept that it happened and what’s done, it’s done. You know, everything in life happens for a reason. God has a plan for all of us and that’s why we should always accept whatever life throws at us. Rest in peace my brother. We will know the truth sometime soon. And Masa I am so hurt that you have to go. You really helped all of us here in Motswasele a lot. Thanks for everything and God bless you."
~ Anonymous MJJ student

As I walk home from a PACT meeting with the kids at school, I hear a dog screeching in the distance. Immediately, I know it’s coming from my house- not an uncommon sound at the family compound. I enter the gate and see the young neighbor girl beating our family’s small, fragile dog with a stick as it shrieks at the top of its lungs. My Motswana mother, the girl’s aunt, is standing over her laughing in amusement and coaching her as if perfecting the skills she will someday use to rear her future children. The smaller dog, whose ribs protrude from his body, is on the other side of the house cowering, tail between legs, fearing he will be next. Abuse and neglect are so common here that they have lost their shock value.

At school, it is commonplace to see two students carrying another student who has fallen ill and is losing consciousness, crying or reeling in some type of pain. The teachers’ eyes remain fixed straight ahead as they casually walk by the ailing child. Generally, the student is brought into the HODs office, is sat down and recovers from whatever it was and sent back to class, business as usual. Last term, one student wasn’t so lucky after becoming ill while running around the field in the blazing, hot sun during after school athletics. Instead of taking him to the hospital, per request of the sick boy, a teacher dropped him off at his house and left him. His mother came home that day to find her son dead. No disciplinary action has been taken on the teacher. From what I can tell, there is never any disciplinary action taken on teachers aside from possibly a verbal tongue lashing by the school head. In the beginning of our service, a fellow PCV told us a story about a teacher from her school who dumped gas on his girlfriend and set her on fire. The teacher continues teaching at her school to this day.

I’ve met some descent teachers since I’ve been here, but apathy, abuse and neglect are no doubt contagious. When the boy died at my school, it was frightening how all the teachers pulled together to cover up what happened. Disappointingly, even some of my favorite teachers were protecting their coworker. I also no longer have the strong reactions I once did. Most of my emotional outbursts came during my first year. If I were a permanent resident here, perhaps I too would shrug things off with ease. In some ways, it’s a healthier reaction for the observer, but not so much for the future of this country. Who knows, maybe the strong reactions I displayed earlier in my service got some people thinking. Change will never happen until people start speaking out. In our country, people demonstrated, spoke out and sometimes died to get things to change, but it’s not my job to produce big change, so instead, every morning I walk by the teachers standing at the school entrance while holding their long, thin sticks, I flash them a smile and say, “Dumalang, o tsogile jang?”

I must not forget that, at times, positive occurrences do happen; for instance, the PACT club event which 10 surrounding schools participated in, including mine. The event was organized by local LSs PCVs and run by PACT members. Our schools’ presentation topic fell under Health and Fitness, but our students specifically discussed heat related illnesses and dehydration; I thought a good way to address these issues since the unfortunate incident at my school. My kids did a great job, had a wonderful time and learned something to boot. Preparing them for this event and coaching them through it, brought us even closer and left me with a feeling I had accomplished something positive.

Over the course of the last term, I also met with the PACT and English speaking clubs to teach them the art of bead making using paper. With this skill, they can make beautiful jewelry which they may keep for themselves, sell or give away. Former PCVs have handed this craft down to new PCVs coming into the country with the intention of providing the locals with a way of earning money. Some PCVs have really gotten into this and have helped students raise money for their school clubs and so forth. Out of desperation, I finally decided to learn the skill myself and have been teaching my students and some of my neighbors. One day, I had a bead making party at my house with the only dissonance being a pair of glasses stolen, but hey, considering what I go through at the school…it wasn’t that bad! Teaching the art of bead making is a great way to integrate with the community. I only wish I had done it when I first arrived. It would have been a much better integration tool as opposed to conducting a needs assessment at my school.

Another positive event was the hike I went on with Kate (Oratile) and her kids from Moruakgomo JJS. After jumping through several hoops, Kate was able to take her PACT club on a hike in Thamaga, another village not far from ours to climb the rock piles known as kjopies, which are some of the oldest rocks in the world.

The PCV in Thamaga also joined us and gave the kids a great lesson on the history of the ancient rocks. [You can view many pictures of these rock piles on my Picasa web album located on the right side of my blog. Just click my Peace Corps pictures.] In conclusion, the kids had a great time, learned something, had a nice lunch which was paid for by their school, and no one got hurt. I call that a success!

Lastly, the grant from the DAC office for the PACT club and mural art project finally came to fruition and we actually received the requested snacks. My kids have been very happy while eating their snacks during our PACT meetings. I may not be reducing AIDS but at least I’m filling their bellies! The mural art project started back in 2008 is currently still on hold, but hey, Rome was not built in a day!
So there you have it…success does occur every once in a while!

There’s no place like home…tap tap tap.. there’s no place like home..tap tap tap

Have patience with all things, but chiefly have patience with yourself. Do not lose courage in considering your own imperfections but instantly set about remedying them - every day begin the task anew.
~Saint Francis de Sales


Early in the term, a teacher asked me what I missed most about America. I was surprised at my immediate reaction as my eyes became watery while I uttered the words, “feeling useful… feeling needed…. feeling wanted.”

For the next few days the question followed me and my mind continued to come up with more answers. One morning during school assembly, while listening to the school head give his typical Monday morning talk (angry rant) to the student body, I thought to myself, I miss feeling inspired; like anything is possible as long as I’m willing to do the work required. It seems the system here creates so much discouragement that it’s amazing anything gets done at all.

In some ways, things are probably even more difficult, though, for us ‘lekgoa,’ as there is little trust regarding our intentions. I guess when one thinks about the history between whites and, backs one can understand why there is so much resistance and lack of desire for our assistance. It seems as if there is a love/hate relationship towards Americans. I have walked into events that I had nothing to do with organizing and been sat at the head table set aside for VIPs solely because I was a white person. In retrospect, I chuckle to myself that I’ve been used as a prop at local events. The message that I’ve received since I’ve been here is that Lekgoa or whites are better seen and not heard. Even our school head who prefers I do as little as possible, makes it a point to have me address all of the parents during PTA meetings.

As I approached my last semester at my school, I wanted to accomplish a few simple tasks before my service came to a close. But to do this, I knew it would require a lot of effort to organize a new counterpart, someone at the school willing to work with me as my supervisor.

I had a particular person in mind and requested support from Peace Corps to help me with this endeavor. This task entailed several meetings between myself, Peace Corps staff, school administration, and the old and new potential counterparts. Finally, it was time for the PC person in charge of Life Skills to physically come to my school for more meetings between PC staff, myself, school administration and counterparts. During these meetings, plans were agreed upon regarding projects I wanted to get done before my close of service date. Plans were now in place, such as meeting with the PACT club every Tues and Thurs during study, moving forward with the mural art project (that I started in 2008) and getting everything set up before I went on a month long leave. I felt it was important to organize teachers to take over my projects, such as working the PACT club while I was gone because there was a PACT event scheduled to take place at another school as soon as I got back that the club needed to be prepared for. Now all I had to do was spend the next couple of weeks at my school getting the ball rolling so that things would be moving by the time took leave.

BLAM!!!!

Just as plans began moving forward, the MOE & PC informed me that I suddenly had to attend a week long Ministry of Education workshop! For the first time since joining PC, with three weeks of actual work left at the school, I finally said….send me home! “I am not going to the workshop, you can send me home,” I believe were my exact words. In that moment, I was totally prepared to give up my readjustment allowance, all of the work and effort I had spent, leave my fiancé here, pack my bags and fly home. As I was going through this, I asked myself how important the things I was doing were if they could just pull me away at the drop of a hat as if everything I had been working on was meaningless.

The woman from the MOE called me immediately after my request to leave and convinced me to go to, at least, part of the workshop. During this conversation, I developed some compassion for her situation as she explained how she was in a situation having no choice but to schedule things at the last minute…which is always how everything is done around here, there’s really no getting around it. So I figured out a way to attend as much of the workshop as I could, while maintaining my commitments at the school.

During the workshop I was able to explain some of the obstacles I had come up against pertaining to my role as a ‘capacity builder’ during my two year stint. Jane from the MOE commended me on some initiatives I had attempted such as connecting social workers to the schools. Connecting schools with the S&CD office is now a future endeavor on the list of Life Skills goals. I felt good walking out of the workshop that day, like my mission had been successful, I made a positive impact and the MOE took notice and wanted to use my ideas in the future. It wasn’t all a big fat waste! But this feeling of euphoria didn’t last long….the very next day, the woman who had been my acting CP got up and threw me under the bus in front of the entire workshop making me sound like a tyrant, saying I shouted at teachers and alienated myself from everyone at the school.

It was a devastating blow for me, as I wasn’t allowed to defend myself while she was talking. By the time I was given a chance to talk, I remembered there were times when I lost it and I didn’t want to go on in front of everyone like a blabbering idiot, so I sat tongue tied. I have to say, that was one of the worst moments of my life, but it also got me to take a deeper look at myself, my own weaknesses and the part I played in the failed attempts at carrying out projects at the school.

In the following weeks, I went back and forth in my mind trying to figure out if my behavior was really that bad or was it just that this woman felt jilted and was acting out of revenge because I had basically excused her from her job as my CP. In the end, I decided it wasn’t that dramatic either way, there had been times when I responded emotionally and I could probably learn something about myself from this experience, but at the same time, not beat myself up about it because I knew that I had done the best I could under the circumstances. I also knew that if it had been my new or original counterpart who was there, those things never would have been said about me.

As much as I get frustrated about the apathy around here, I’ve learned that it doesn’t do much good to let my emotions get the best of me. I can also see the wisdom in the advice from a former PCV who said, “Don’t want it more than they do.” I guess it is up to me to decide whether this experience is going to damage me or make me a stronger, wiser person. I think I prefer being stronger and wiser….so stronger and wiser it shall be.

Out with the old… in with the new.

Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope
that if you just show up and try to do the right
thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch
and work: You don’t give up.
~Anne Lamott, writer

The 2009 school year has come to a close along with the last general meeting of the year, which I had been dreading. As is turned out, the School Head did not attend and there was no discussion regarding the report I had submitted. Although, one of the art teachers who was responsible for the mural art project had asked (and I paraphrase)’what was going on between the Peace Corps Volunteer and the Guidance and Counseling committee,’ which opened it up for me to say that I had no counterpart so things have been very difficult. This was handled by the Deputy Head suggesting that we (me , ‘my counterpart,’ and the Guidance and Counseling committee) work this out at another time outside of this particular meeting (translation: lets not deal with Lekgoa issues). As a result, nothing major happened at the meeting and I am still alive and breathing.

I spent a good part of the school break watching a fellow volunteer’s house because it’s a prime target for break-ins. There was no running water and the standpipe had even been shut off for much of the time. Other than that, all in all, it was ok because I got away from the school for a while. But now I’m here, back at the school for my final school term (I think). I’ve come to a point where I don’t know what comes next as I await my fiancé’s immigration process to go through. If the process takes longer than 6 months, I may extend my service, but I’m no longer sure I’m willing to do that as the prospect of leaving in May sounds more and more appealing every day.

On a more positive note…

Because I’ve had such a hard time staying consistent with my exercise program, a fellow PCV and I have started a competition to encourage each other to stick to working out regularly and we would like to invite anyone who is interested to join us. The competition goes as follows:

Each person competing sets his or her own personal exercise goal. My goal is to run 5 days a week for at least 30 minutes and to complete 2 strength training sessions per week (that would be a total of 7 exercise sessions). Kate’s goal is the same. It is each of our responsibilities to keep track of how many sessions we’ve completed and to figure the % of our goals that we reached every week. We will do this by dividing the number of completed exercise sessions by the target number we’ve set at the end of each week. For example, If I run 3 days and complete 2 strength training sessions that would mean I completed 5 out of 7 of my exercise sessions, so I divide 5/7=71%. So I reached 71% of my goal for that week. Whoever ends up with the highest percentage wins. We’ll be figuring our calculations out every week and whoever has the highest percentage at the end of the month wins. Kate and I are competing against each other for a movie or lunch, but we invite anyone who wants to participate to submit his or her name and scores to be posted on my blog every month. Send names and scores to my email address : peacemonger08@gmail.com. Anyone who wants to find a partner to compete with for a prize can do so.

The point is, anyone who is having a hard time sticking to his or her exercise program may find it encouraging, due to humiliation factor alone, having his or her name and results posted publicly on my blog every month. If a little extra encouragement is needed participants can also pair up with partners like Kate and I did and agree to treat the winner at the end of each month to a movie or dinner. The best part of this contest is that everyone can set his or own personal goal, so even if your desire is to walk a little extra every week, you can do so. There is no minimum or maximum amount of exercise one has to do—it’s totally up to each individual! Kate and I have been competing for a month, so I can say from experience that it has already helped both of us stay consistent with our workouts. We have both reached 100% of our goal.

Life Skills Concept # 11

Life Skills Concept #11: Dilemmas

Dilemma- a situation that requires a choice between two unappealing alternatives.

This past week I had to make a decision that could be considered a dilemma. A dilemma that was self-invoked that began with an idea I came up with in a moments notice: To ask my students one simple question, “What can the Ministry of Education do to make your school experience better?” The problem is, when I come up with these bright ideas, I don’t foresee the path of headaches that they’ll lead me on. First of all, the 17 pages of comments that needed to be typed into the report, and secondly the consequences suffered from submitting the report.

There I was, holding in my hands, an in depth proclamation of the problems plaguing the school; problems that redirect the blame off of the students and onto the teachers and administration; a place where no one has dared to venture until now….until the ‘lekgoa’ has dared to expose the forbidden domain. I had handed similar reports over to the administration in the past, but this was different. This time I asked a specific question and received very specific answers, some included names of teachers. So my moral dilemma was this: Should I hand the report over to the school administration, which I know would leak out to the teachers, as everything always does, and suffer more alienation and resistance OR should I hold onto it until just before I leave so I don’t have to deal with it?

Hmmm…..

My dilemma was solved one day while I was sitting in the computer lab typing up a letter, when a teacher asked me for some help correcting the grammar and spelling of the minutes of the last general meeting. While doing this, I was reminded that the last time I handed my report over to the School Head, it made a difference. He had met with all of the students to confirm what was written in the report and discussed their feedback at this meeting. After that meeting, corporal punishment was significantly reduced…..for a little while. But it didn’t take long before things were back to normal. The truth was, though, it had made a small impact and at least started a discussion. So as I helped the young teacher correct the minutes, I made a decision to hand in the report that day regardless of how it would affect me personally. I could then be the great martyr and think of myself as the sacrificial lamb. Fun stuff!

So here I sit, a bit frightened, anticipating the final general meeting of the year. It will be all of them….and me….with no counterpart or any other support system. I never imagined my Peace Corps experience to be like this. When I used to read the Peace Corps mission statement, it seemed like all or at least most interactions with fellow workers would be peaceful and harmonious, a nice cozy situation of people helping people, if you will:

*To help people of interested countries in meeting their needs for trained men and women

*To help promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of people served

*To help promote a better understanding of other people on the part of all Americans

Yes indeed, it all sounded so cuddly.

To be continued…

A Day in the Life

Learn to Fail or Fail to Learn

The time has come for the form 3s to take their final exams along with the form 1s and 2s who will be taking their end of month exams. The students seem to always be taking exams without much classroom teaching. As I walk by teachers correcting exams, I look at the papers and sometimes see… 6%! The only tests that really count are the final exams that are taken at the end of form 3. The final test covers everything on the syllabus since form 1 and will determine whether the student will make it to progress on to Senior Secondary school. Sometimes the syllabus is not completely covered, so much of the time, kids are taking tests on topics they’ve never been taught.

I went to school last Monday thinking the kids would be taking exams. I would not be teaching, but once I got into school, plans had changed because no one ordered paper to print the tests on. Suddenly, my day went from having no classes to having four. As I sauntered along to my first class, which would take place in the pavilion, I was taken by surprise by a group of children standing outside the classroom. They were form 3s waiting to take their exams. On the other side of the pavilion, there were more students coming and going in and out. There was no divider up today to separate the pavilion into two classrooms-it was just one big open space. I entered my classroom to attempt to teach, but soon realized it was an impossible situation….now mind you…I try not to use the term impossible loosely..but this..I have to say... WAS an impossible situation! I exited the pavilion and saw a teacher who directed me to go to classroom # 4, where he said, my class would move to. As I walked to the classroom, I noticed what looked like, an African version of Woodstock. Kids were everywhere…carrying chairs and desks over their heads, socializing and creating lots of noise. There were no teachers around that I could see.

I entered classroom# 4 and there was my class sitting around the perimeter of the classroom without any desks. ‘Ok,’ I said to myself, ‘this is where being flexible and creative comes in.’ So I asked one of the students to read out of the Life Skills book. As she read, there were mobs of students walking all around outside of the classroom. Many students were still coming into the classroom late. Other students were knocking on the windows. Being the stubborn PCV, I had the girl continue to read, but all of a sudden, a group of students started knocking on the door wanted to come in. My students said, “they want to use this classroom.” I said, “no.”With this response…everyone stood up and exited classroom! This is when I said to myself….’I’m going home.’ And home I went to take a nap.

Tuesday the students were scheduled to resume writing exams, but were told once again that they would have regular classes and take tests on Wednesday. I had planned to go to an appointment that day which I had previously made at the District AIDS Commission (DAC) to apply for funding for the school, but now I was supposed to teach because of the last minute changes. I decided to stick with my original plan and went to the appointment. Maybe this is part of the reason why teachers are missing classes so frequently.

I won’t get into too much detail about the confusion that went on for the rest of the week with the day changes and so forth. The way the schedule works is by scheduling the same classes on day 1,2, 3,4,5,6. So if Monday is day 6 and Tuesday is a holiday, Wed will be day 1. If tests are given, the day will also be skipped. So when I came in on Monday, I thought it was day 3 but it was really day 5, so I missed another 2 classes!

All of this confusion got me thinking about the student’s perspective on all of this. If I was confused and frustrated…how must they feel? So on Monday when I finally made the last 20 minutes of a class, I decided to ask the students that very question. I explained to them my whole experience over the last week and asked them if it was confusing for them as well. I asked them to write an anonymous comment on a small piece of paper, what makes it difficult to learn. What can the Ministry of Education do to make it easier to learn? I continued this activity with my classes for the rest of the week and these were some of the responses:

*It is difficult 4 me 2 learn because some of the teachers here are mean and this becomes difficult for us to be comfortable in class. We are always asking ourselves, “What will she to this time around?” We live in fear and discomfort.

*I am really concerned about the time that we are given to write tests. We write test two days which means that we are not given enough time for a single paper and as a result we do not have time to finish up the test and fail the tests.

*How can we learn when there are no chairs, tables and even teachers for some subjects in school? Sometimes we spend the whole two periods of our lessons with the teachers absent. Where is the teacher? We really don’t have a clue coz we are not being told but at the end of the year expected to pass with flying colors. Even the teachers at times are the ones who make us fail.eg if the teacher who teaches you a certain subject hates you there’s no way you can pass. TEACHERS HATE US PEOPLE!!

*I’m afraid to ask teachers questions when I don’t understand

*The food that we eat at the kitchen is not good sometimes when we eat we find cockroaches, small warms in this food and this lead to some certain disease and we cannot also concentrate on our education. Why can we do can we stop eating school food

*There is no need for Saturday study, we just come and sit here and go home empty brains and sometimes get beaten. What worries a lot is that some students didn’t ever manage to come to the study and no punishment is given to them, but those who come are beaten by the teacher just because they talked during the study but that doesn’t make any sense because you can’t study with out getting help from other student, for example, mathematics you can’t study math without getting help from friend (you don’t understand a maths problem during the study you ask someone behind you, you get beaten) HELP! Masa we are abused we are looking up for you now. What can we do?

On Nov. 5, I had no classes to teach, but planned to go into a classroom during extended registration to do a Life Skills activity. The school is still in mayhem from writing exams. What is supposed to happen is ---I go into a class during extended registration to co-facilitate a Life Skills activity with the class teacher---but what actually happens is-- the teacher is no where to be found, so I administer the activity by myself-- so much for capacity building!

As I begin my lesson, the students are hard to manage. They continue to talk while I’m explaining the lesson. Kids are outside the classroom coming and going. The reason this happens is because the kids are left unsupervised much of the time. A good portion of the class teachers are not in their classrooms, the kids are left ….helter skelter. The teachers and administration wonder why the kids are misbehaving and try everything except supervise them. I continue to attempt to teach this Life Skills lesson, but suddenly, a group of boys enter the door of the classroom located next to a closet. I see a teacher out of the corner of my eye. Something is going on in the closet which is distracting my class. I look over and see a metal object flailing around attempting to hit a student. My assumption is that the students are fighting, so I walk over to take the metal object away from the student…..but when I look in……it’s a teacher who is hitting the students with the object! The only thing I could do was exclaim….”oh, it’s a teacher!” With this, I walked over to my belongings, gathered them, and decided once again…. to go home. And home I went, but this time I did not take a nap.

I shouldn’t complain about my school, though, The Junior Secondary school down the road is preparing for a riot on the form 3’s last day. The PCV who works there is being blamed because she has been trying to limit the corporal punishment. Another school I know of is planning to release their form 1s and 2s early because the forms 3are planning to beat them up on their last day. So I guess it’s all relative.

For me to get through this, I always have to keep in mind that I’m here for the kids. During one of my classes, one of my students asked, “Masa, when are you going back to the US?” “Why,” I asked. “Because we are going to miss you,” she replied in a shy soft-spoken manner. ----This is why I stay.

Never good enough...

Another project that I’ve been working on since 2008, is a mural art project that was funded by Population Services International (PSI). After about 1 year of corresponding and meeting with a man from the organization, we were finally awarded P4000 in art supplies for our school. The art supplies have now been sitting for several months waiting to be used. One art teacher was particularly enthusiastic about the project and has been working with me. She hyped up the students, telling them that Botswana television would be here to cover the story…and what a big event it would be.

After many letters written and signed by administration to request media coverage, applications for grants applied for to cover snacks for the artists, meetings held with community members, announcements made during staff meetings, articles written, requests for suggestions for the theme of the project, letters signed by the school head----Our kickoff date was finally scheduled for Saturday November 7….

…..but when I arrived at the school there was no one around except one student. I waited about 30 minutes then finally sent an sms to the art teachers to let them know I was there.

No response.

One more student arrived.

About 10 minutes later, I rang one teacher, but got no answer. Then, a woman from the Daily News arrived to cover the story, so I sms’d the teachers again to let them know and asked them to grant the person an interview about what our project was about. The teachers arrived---one (the teacher who was originally enthusiastic about the project) talking on her cell phone and the other, wearing a long face expressing that he wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t going to come. About 10 minutes later, the woman who is supposed to be acting as my counterpart approached me to remind me that whatever I do, I need to go through her first and that I didn’t tell her about the media, therefore we cannot grant the interview because the School Head was not informed (Even though I had given him the letter I wrote to request them to come and had the Deputy Head sign it). At this point, I pretty much lost it because the woman never talks to me and refuses to give me her phone number. I can never find her, and when I can, it’s apparent she wants nothing to do with me.

The art teachers, the two students, the reporter and I met in the art lab to discuss what we were to do-and to conclude that we were not to do anything that day. I did not have the letter on me that was signed by the School Head, therefore, we could not grant the interview. The other excuse was that there was another event at the school taking place later that day. During this meeting, there were grand plans regarding what will happen on Monday. Everyone is always enthusiastic while talking about what will happen at later date…as long as we don’t have to deal with it now! The male art teacher went on to describe how he will work on sketches for the rest of the weekend, put them on a large board and bring it in on Monday to get everyone’s approval [Translation: criticism, verbal abuse and disapproval of the project].

Monday has come and gone….nothing

Tuesday has come and gone…nothing

The originally enthusiastic Art teacher has not been talking to me and the other one looks at me as if someone has died.

Can’t say that I blame them when they know they are destined to fail.

This is just one more project I need to let go of…and let go of I have…



If you think your life is plagued with inconveniences…


I remember the days when I’d roll out of bed, meander over to my computer and connect to my high speed Internet. I’d check email while sipping a freshly brewed cup of coffee and have the news on in the background with a copy machine, printer and fax at my finger tips.

Things are very different in Africa. To make use of the Internet today, I first walked for about a ¼ mile from my school to the street carrying a heavy backpack to catch a taxi. The taxi driver dropped me off at the Internet café where I had left my memory stick last Saturday because I had to make a copy of one document. Luckily, my memory stick was there, but to save money, I now got back into another taxi to use the Internet at one of the schools. The taxi driver dropped me way up on route 6, where I would begin my journey walking along the dusty-dirt path in the blazing-hot sun to the school. About 20 minutes later, I arrived at the school and walked through groups of children who often sexually harass me as I walk by. Today was my lucky day, though, and I didn’t encounter any offensive behavior by the student body.

I finally arrived at the computer lab, walked in and was informed (after the traditional formal greetings) that there is no Internet; “there’s something wrong with the modem,” they replied in their easy, laid-back tone. “It may be a few days” [Translation: It could be anywhere from a few days, a few weeks or a few years].

I accept my situation, meander slowly over to Kate’s house, let myself in and do the only thing I can think of to comfort myself…..invade her refrigerator and indulge in a trash People magazine to read what a horribly difficult life Heather Locklear has had.