Thankful Friday, Summer Edition!

 It's been a fun week. 

I'm thankful for: 

1. Summer!

2. Hanging out with friends at Sonja's birthday celebration on Saturday. 

3. My Girl Scouts award and bridging ceremony on Sunday. No photos because they aren't my kiddos, but we now have 3 Cadettes and 6 Juniors! 

4. A successful bell concert Sunday night, complete with moving looooots of furniture.

5. I got to help facilitate some interesting discussions at my church on race and mortgage lending through our racial justice group.

6. More things checked off my to-do list, woohoo!

7. Scouts, bells, and to some extent the racial justice group are winding down for the summer, so I get a nice break for a few months.

8. I squeezed in a hike at the Patuxent Wildlife Refuge this morning before it got really hot.

Thankful Thursday, Weird Week Edition

 This has honestly kind of been a weird week for me. It's had some great highs and some low lows. In some ways, it was really hard to think of things I was grateful for on Tuesday, when I was so worried we might bomb Iran again. But honestly, remembering that I have so much to be thankful for helps when I'm feeling low, maybe even more than when I'm just having an ordinary day or a great day. 

So this week I'm thankful for:

1. Old friends. On Friday I went birding with Kate and we talked for like 6 hours. On Saturday I saw my friend Andrea from college and we also talked for about 4 hours. Then I had dinner with Babs... and talked for 2 hours. I've known all 3 of these women for over 20 years and its just so fun to hang out, talk about our lives and randomness, laugh, and just be. I really hadn't seen Andrea in at least 8-9 years (we were trying to figure that out), so meeting up in Harrisburg was great. Rats for forgetting to take photos!

2. My favorite bookstore, Midtown Scholar in Harrisburg. On one hand, its a bummer my favorite bookstore is 2 hours away. On the other hand, it's probably a good thing because I'd be there weekly buying way to many books if I was local. It's got new and used books, a huge history section, and this cool underground part that goes on forever of rare books. 

3. Birds! Spring migration has started, and Kate and I walked several miles around Huntley Meadows looking for birds. We found what we think was a Coopers Hawk in a nest, red-headed woodpeckers, and tried our hand at identifying lots of sparrows.

4. Easter! Easter service at our church was such a wonderful celebration. We had a full house, great music, and dang, can Joshua preach. 

5. Girl Scout Cookies. I was silly and gave up sweets for lent, so I've been enjoying my stash of girl scout cookies this week. 

6. Conversations with mom. Alzheimers is a tricky thing, but on Friday mom was in a good mood and we actually chatted about a few things. I think she was following the conversation pretty well as I tried to reminisce about things she might still remember (but not too many things or I'd confuse her). We laughed a lot, and that was wonderful. I miss being able to talk to her about things, and this was a lovely small dose of her that's still in there.  

Thankful Thursday, Holy Week Edition

 This week I'm thankful for:

1. My hammock. I got my first 'lay in my hammock and read in the sun' day of the year this week and it was glorious. 

2. A moving Maundy Thursday service at church tonight.

3. Board games with Karen, Garth and Kate on Sunday. 

4. I learned a new board game called 'Age of Comics' and it was very fun.

5. I've gotten more stuff out of my house! Trips to the recycling center, used bookstore, Goodwill, Interfaith clothing, paper shredding and police station (expired meds) all happened this week. 

6. A big AC unit for my not so big house. I finally gave up and turned the AC on this week when it was 76 in my house; it was 85 outside on Tuesday! 

7. I've made an appointment with an allergist. Stay tuned to see how many dozens of things I'm allergic to lol.

The Thin Places

Waiting for the bus to the next village out of the capital, I was beginning to realize it was going to be a long day. It was the end of the month, which in Botswana means when everybody is paid, and therefore when everybody goes out and buys a months’ worth of food and supplies, and often booze. Another guy going in my direction informed me that a bus had gone by 10 minute before and that it was full. 

“An actual bus or a combi?” I asked. The combis are always full by this stop, but I’ve never seen a bus full anywhere near here. He swore it was a bus, but said another one was coming soon. We debated a bit on when another real bus would actually come, and I wondered if I made the wrong decision by not going directly to the bus rank for transport, even though it would be back tracking. That guy caught a hitch with a passing car, and I began to wonder if that was my best option. Another guy sat next to me and showed way more interest in me than I was happy with, and so after some awkward small talk I was happy to flag down a passing bus and literally run away from that situation. The bus was not completely full, but I did make the hour trek standing up. Happy to be on my way, it didn’t bother me at all.

Once we got to the next village, 1pm by this time, I got groceries and a bite to eat, and headed to that bus rank a little over an hour later. The bus rank was crowded. My usual stop to catch a combi had a line of fifty or sixty people in it. Usually there is five to ten at most. And we waited. And waited. Finally a combi came, and it fit about 10 people and a whole seat of beer, and was off. We waited some more. A guy came up and talked to me and I thought he was going to hit on me, so I wasn’t very talkative. Then another guy came up, proclaimed he was in love with me and wanted a serious relationship. I told him no, I was leaving soon. He kept bothering me. I told him I definitely wasn’t dating him if he couldn’t take no for an answer; yes means yes, no means no. He still bugged me. I finally told him off and turned away from him, and he laughed and left me alone. A third combi came, filled, and let people that wanted to stand come forward, so I jumped at the chance, since it was after 3:30 at this point. Our crammed combi puttered to Letlhakeng, bumping along the 26km of dirt road that will be repaved someday.

Getting off the combi at the hitching tree, there were already 20 people waiting for rides, and as I soon found out, not that many people stopping to give said rides. I let others fight over a truck or 2 at first, thinking it would clear the crowd but combis kept dropping more and more people, so I soon realized I was going to have to fight my way into a truck. Around 6 a truck came and I pushed into it, not caring which village it was going to. Once I got situated I heard a lot of people saying Salajwe, so I knew I scored a ride all the way home. Bumping along the road was chilly and uncomfortable, and a former Lempu student kept trying to talk to me until I basically had to ignore her for her to get the idea that I couldn’t talk to her then, because I kept getting sand in my eyes every time I turned to face her. Hopefully she stops by school next week and I can explain I didn’t mean to be rude.

When we got to the next village, I realized I had been mistaken and the ride was stopping there. It was after dusk although not completely dark, and I was stuck. I could sleep at Aileen’s but I knew she and I didn’t have a spare sleeping bag for this cold night. And I was a little annoyed that people told me the truck was going all the way to my village when it wasn’t, and I said so to the driver, trying to shame him a bit into helping me. He offered to take me in a few hours after he picked more people in Letlhakeng, but I turned him down saying I wasn’t allowed to travel at night. I tried to flag the next truck coming along, and lo and behold, it was a teacher from my school! He said he’d call someone else to pick me up since he was full, but the old women in the back squished and made room for me. This was one of the most uncomfortable rides I’ve ever had. It was freezing, dark, I felt unsteady in the truck like I might get bumped out, and I was sliding off the wheel onto an old lady next to me holding a child wrapped in a blanket. 10 minutes in I thought we broke down, but we started up again minutes later. 

In the midst of all of this, as the dust cleared from passing another vehicle, I glanced up at a magnificently starry sky and perfect crescent moon. I pushed my head scarf back for a minute, forgot how cold and uncomfortable I was, and just gazed. And remembered that God is here, even in this moment. And I said thank you. A minute or so later I looked back into my lap as I braced myself the best I could and tried to stay in the truck, and in my spot in the truck. When we finally reached my village, it felt like we had been in the back of that truck for hours. My teacher dropped me at school, and I made the seven minute walk to my house in the dark, avoiding cows and cow poop as I waded through the deep sand. It was 8 hours after I left the capital this morning, and I had made it 160km, or 100 miles.

My day wasn’t bad, just exhausting. In the midst of all of the chaos and traveling, God showed up, just to say hi and let me know He’s still there. In the middle of the desert, on the edge of the Kalahari, in between 2 small villages on a dirt road, is a thin place. A place where for a moment, the veil separating heaven and earth was thinner than usual, and a holy moment happened. 

Happy Easter!

Today was Ella's last full day in Botswana. We spent yesterday hanging out at the biggest mall in Gabs, me at the coffee shop with free wireless, and Ella window shopping to her heart's content. 

 Today we went to church for Easter.

Took a few cousin in Africa pics.

Ate yummy Indian food for lunch with 

Barbara, a good PCV friend here. 

Tomorrow Ella flies home and I return to my village. It's nearing the end of the school term, so there's not much for me to do at school. I'm planning a big camp for May during the school term break though, so there is LOTS to do for that.

It's been an awesome 2 weeks though, and I'm really happy I got to share my Africa life with my cousin!

Vacation Part 2: Salajwe continued

While in my village, it’s safe to say my mom and Carol got the full Peace Corps experience.  The electricity went out for a few hours the first night, so we made dinner by candlelight. The water went out the second night as we were going to bed- luckily I had filled all of my storage containers when we first arrived, and it was back on in the morning. Bucket baths, laundry by hand, sand everywhere, and kids playing in my yard. Then the third day as I was finishing laundry, we had a crazy dust storm blow in followed by a thunderstorm… in July. It’s the dry season. But it rained for EIGHT hours that night, which of course knocked the power out again. It also made it impossible to dry everything, since we were running around grabbing clothes off the line as I yelled, Get inside!!! As a wave of dust preceding the rain ominously blew towards us. Nothing like a little drama. I was worried that the rain might delay us from leaving the next day (rain can wreak havoc on the dirt road out of my village), but it actually compacted the road nicely and made for a less dusty ride, although it was pretty cold.

My new house! And nice big yard.

Neighbor's donkey cart, used for collecting water and fire wood.

My neighbors. Note the solar panel leaning against the left hut. 

My school in the background.

My neighborhood kids were thrilled to have a new playmate!

We taught a few kids to catch, and mom taught them all how to high-five.

Making homemade tortillas in my kitchen!

We went on a walk around the village...

The Chibuku (local brew) bar. 

The inside of our general dealer, where I can buy non perishables and whatever random produce he has in the front. Today, cabbage, onions and potatoes.

Goats!

Sheep.

We stopped by the clinic and I figured something out for them on their computer.

Kgotla. This is where the village chief and elders have a few offices, and where they call village meetings to discuss things.

This is where those meetings take place. It's not exactly a democracy, but everyone has a right and a chance to speak and have their voice and opinion heard before the elders make decisions. This sometimes means that meetings can last HOURS, but its a pretty neat process, and even better than colonization didn't trample it like in lots of other former colonies.

Laundry! By the bucket system.

The secret is 2 rinse buckets, and to wash outside. Otherwise I wind up mopping the floor as well.

Hello sir. Can we ride in the back of your truck?

Hunkered down in the back of the truck with Carol. Yes I know I look like a space alien, but this keeps the dust out of my hair. Also, it's cold! 

Mom is amused with the transport and ready to take pictures.

The road out of my village. Sometimes you find yourself amongest the cattle/goats/donkeys/sheep/guinea fowl/horses/ostriches. Today it was mostly cattle.

And so we left my village, back to Gabs, headed to Maun!

Down in the dumps, and climbing back out

I think whenever people picture Peace Corps volunteers, they get images of women with long hair and/or men that haven't shaved in a while, playing with foreign kids in front of their hut in (insert country here).  You hear stories of building libraries and playgrounds, digging wells, starting programs from nothing that revolutionize (insert sector here) of said country.
That happens. Every day I get bouncy kids in my yard playing with some sports equipment donated from an international non profit, and when my mom was here, she took lots of those types of pictures. I live in a cement house instead of a hut, and my hair is in a bun, but close enough.
I haven't built anything. Not really planning on it. I haven't started any ground-breaking programs in my little rural village. Luckily we have water, so I don't need to mobilize well digging efforts.

What a lot of people don't realize is that often a PCV feels like they are getting absolutely nothing accomplished, especially in the first year of service. And then it becomes weird when friends and family back home say things like, we are so proud of you!! And internally I'm all like, for what? I haven't left my house in 2 days. The things I'm trying at school aren't working. I feel like I can't communicate with most of my village. I'm not exactly sure what I'm being congratulated on. Not self-destructing? Hanging on some days by a thread? Usually those things don't merit celebrations. This isn't to say I don't appreciate the support and love from my family and friends in the states- quite the opposite, you guys are my strength to keep going a lot of the time. But sometimes my brain goes weird places.

June sucked for me. A lot. While I felt like a made a little progress my first term of school (Jan-March), I feel like most of that was erased the second term, or at least stagnated. This was because of a lot of things. I had raised my expectations for the second term. My counterpart got sick and spent the whole term in the capital getting medical care. Sports took over the world and made it really hard to meet with kids outside of class. It got cold... which threw off my whole routine and everything that I had adjusted to in country. It made it much harder to get out of bed in the mornings, and all of the sudden my evenings, where I usually had my downtime in a nice temperature, became freezing and I just wanted to get in bed. I got homesick. I was dealing with the stress of moving across the village. And when I briefly pondered the idea of ETing (early termination of my service), I realized that I wouldn't be any happier back in the States, because I'd be really mad at myself for quitting. So then I kind of sank into a depression for a few weeks because I could see no good way out.

During this point, I didn't post much because I didn't know what to say, or how to say it without freaking out people back home. I did reach out to friends and family back home and friends here in Bots. And I decided that if I still felt this crappy a month later, after a family vacation and a GLOW camp, that I'd go to PC medical and talk to someone.

I think my lowest point was actually on my birthday. This was because I was super homesick, I stupidly decided to spent the day alone (dumb. very very dumb.), I had kids climbing my fence and bugging me, and I had no water, electricity, or internet. But I was able to talk to my mom, and that helped a lot. I visited friends a few days later for the 4th of July. And then Mom and our friend Carol came and we had an amazing vacation. I was a little worried that I'd be even sadder when they left, but luckily I had a GLOW camp to run 2 days later, and that turned out to be the thing that pulled me out of my depression the most. I finally felt like I was doing something really special, making a difference with kids, and having a lot of fun to boot.

I feel like myself again now. I'm excited for school starting up again, and I'm trying to take more initiative to interact with kids at school- teaching some classes, clubs if they happen, and just -being- on the school grounds more after hours to hang out with students. I tried all of the formal structures before, and now I'm adding my own informal ideas, because I can't always get formal stuff to work on a regular basis. I'm trying to plan a big camp for my school at the end of term, since I've realized that's something I love doing.

Basically, I'm a little more aware of my mental health now. I'll call people to talk if I need to, or ask friends to pray for me. I'll take a mental health weekend in Gabs if I need civilization and good food, even if I spend a small amount of my own American money. I'm planning future trips and trying to remember that I haven't failed at life if something I try doesn't work.

It also helps that I know I've made it 11 months, and that I have 15 months to go instead of say, 22. I'm enjoying my time here, but I also don't want time to stop. I am a little happier with each month that passes, knowing I've made it another month, and I'm another month closer to being home. But I am also trying to live in the moment as well. I don't want to wish away my time here, because I chose to come, and I am enjoying what I'm doing and the experience overall.

I don't know how to end this, except to say I feel like I'm in a good place, mental health wise, and in my service. May was rough, June sucked in a lot of ways, but things got way better in July and August.

It’s 6:15 and I’m not at the beach.  I’m sitting in my apartment for almost the last night, surrounded by piles of boxes and things that should be in boxes.  I’m coming off the high of a church retreat and the low of the reality that I’m leaving so many people I love, again.  When I look at my life, I don’t feel like I’ve actually moved that much.  Not counting the bagillion places I lived within Blacksburg, I’ve lived in 3 places during my almost 29 years.  It feels like I’ve said so many more goodbyes though.  At the end of every summer in high school, I had to say goodbye to the summer interns and face the reality that the summer couldn’t last forever.  I changed schools and said goodbye to friends multiple times.  I graduated, from 3 schools now, and each time left a group of friends to scatter to the wind.  I’ve been on multiple short and long trips ending with goodbyes and the reality that that I knew I’d never see all of those people again all in the same place.  It’s not that anyone died, but there was a change.  The group dynamic is greater than the sum of the people.

I knew coming to Atlanta that this was most likely only for two years.  I wasn’t sure how attached I’d get, and I was planning on doing the Peace Corps from the beginning.  I’m not doubting my Peace Corps decision (at least not yet), but I do want to take about 75 people with me, from school and church.  I’m actually not that much a fan of the city of Atlanta itself, but I’d live here permanently in a heartbeat if I knew I’d have this community of friends.

I can come back after Peace Corps.  I’d like to.  I hope to.  But not everyone will be here.  The dynamic will undoubtedly be different.  The babies will be in preschool.  More of my friends will have phDs and will probably be working somewhere else in the country.  I’ll be different, after 2 years in Africa.

And none of that is bad.  It’s just different, and it’s change.  And I kind of hate change, even though I grudgingly admit that without it I wouldn’t be here, and none of the amazing things I’d experienced in my life would have happened without it.  But right now I just want to grab hold of my life and cling to it for a minute, and I feel like time is rushing on instead.

It’s my decision to leave.  I could stay and try to find a job here.   I think in the long run I’d be upset with myself for not doing Peace Corps, because at the same time I am excited about that.   And I’m thankful I made the leap to move here from Blacksburg and go to grad school, even though I was unsure at the time that it was the right decision.

The Pollyanna in me knows that missing people is an indication of how blessed I am, that I have people to miss, good times to remember, and new opportunities to look forward to.  But every time something changes, I always go through a hard transition where I’m sad that I can’t be with everyone I love at the same time.  That sounds like a lot to ask, except that I feel like that desire is so wired in me that it’s not really my fault.  I think a part of me periodically longs for heaven, where I will not be missing anyone.

Somehow I’ve gotten through graduation and the Last Call Retreat without crying on anyone.  I think that’s because it hadn’t hit me at graduation that we were done, and the tropical storm on the retreat sort of distracted me.   But if you are reading this, Atlanta people, know that you mean the world to me, and it’s really, really hard for me to leave.  Please keep in touch!

Musings on Friendships

Dear future potentially married self,

I'm not trying to make any assumptions here, but there is a chance that you'll be married in the future.  And this IS something that your current single self wants (in the future).  That being said, please remember that you have freaking awesome friends that you have made as a single person.  And please don't ditch them when you get married.  I know that when people get married they sometimes say, 'I didn't know what love was until I got married', etc etc, or stop spending time with their friends because all they want to do is look googly eyed at their true love. There might be a separate letter to you asking you to please not do that too much in public. But I digress.
Don't forget your friends.  They are seriously awesome.  They have laughed with you, cried with you, carried you through hell and back, worked with you, played with you, tried to change the world with you.  These are the people that you can build silly gingerbread houses with and form the group that bursts out laughing in the middle of studying scripture.  You've said you can call me at 2am and they did, and then they returned the favor.  These are the people you sat in the hallway of your apartment and talked for hours on end with.  These are the people that supported your decision to go sledding in a shopping cart, and to do hurricane relief work after Katrina.  The ones that know the crazy stories from your childhood, and college, and grad school, and are also good friends with your mom.  The ones that challenge your beliefs and make you grow as a person.  They are your co-workers, roommates, mentors, and the people of all ages that fill your life.  These are people your current single self hopes you will spend the rest of your life knowing, and growing with, and spending time with and keeping in touch with.
So if you fall in love and get married, don't say you didn't know what love is until that point.  Because that's really not true.  Romantic love is different, and so please remember to throw that adjective in there.  Because agape and philos love, the love of God and friends, you've know your whole life, in ways that many people never even glimpse.   Hang on to that.  It's just as if not more important than a spouse.
You've got the best friends on the planet and then some.  Don't throw them under the bus for a boy.

Love,
(Single) Me

Faith as a Poster

I cannibalized a poster today to preserve it.

Back in the late 90s/early 2000's in my youth group, we would write affirmations to each other each retreat on poster boards. Being the sentimental pack-rat that I am, I kept them all through at least part of college, slowly getting rid of them (or maybe they are just hidden in a pile somewhere). I'm down to my last one, and it hasn't been on my wall in years - mostly because I'm lazy about decorating my bedroom. As I am moving in 2.5 months, I'm trying to weed through my piles of unnecessary possessions and today I started on the posters. If it's not actually going on my wall in Atlanta, it's not going with me, at least in poster form. So this particular one I cut into pieces by paragraph and made it into a scrapbook page.

Its weird, but it was almost painful cutting into that piece of paper. I'd had it for so long, and it's meant so much to me for so many years, a reminder of my friends and faith during high school. And while I'm not disowning that, it's no longer necessary to be on my wall. But since I want to keep the words, it made since to make it portable and put it in my scrapbook. As I cut it, I was trying to convince myself that I wasn't ruining it. I mean, the words, the important part, were still there. But as I cut it, I knew it wouldn't the be same. My poster fit into my hand when I was done.

In some ways, this sort of symbolizes my faith journey lately. I'm not who I was at 17. Which is okay, good even...! It wouldn't be healthy to not have changed and grown in almost 10 years. But as I take my beliefs from then and try and fit my life into them, it's not the same. It looks different. And I have to remind myself that although it looks different, the words are still the same. The important part is still there. It's not that I've left my faith or changed what I believe drastically, it's just that my walk with God is going to be different at 26 than it was at 16 or 17.

Instead of keeping my poster under my bed for the rest of my life, I cut it up to be able to read it often with less dust and clutter. In the same way, I need to rework some parts of my faith so that I'm walking with God now, not trying to act or feel like I did at 14, or 17, or 22. I like the idea of making memorials, or remembering where I came from and all of the good (and bad) things in my life. This is one reason I love scrapbooking so much; its an opportunity to remember and preserve the good times I've had with family and friends. Especially for my faith, the idea of remembering is even Biblical, like when Joshua built a memorial to remember God's provision in getting them across the Jordan. Built a monument, remember the good that God has done... and keep walking. It's also important to not get stuck in the past and trying to keep living there.

So as I weed through stuff, I'm trying to simultaneously built memorials and keep walking. And to remember that its better that my faith change and grow, as confusing and painful as that can be, than to remain forever 17, as good as that year was.