It's December already?

Time has definitely flown. According to my calendar, I have one week until my vacation starts (the first part involves taking the GRE, so not quite the relaxing experience), a week and a half until I head down south to KZN to the south african part of my vacation (turtles! Beach! Friends!) and a little over two weeks before I head to the USA for my three week sojourn home.

Bundu has been pretty slow these last couple weeks as schools had exams and then closed, a long with most everything else.  I have spent my way too much free time watching lots of tv shows, GRE studying and turning my room into a part time daycare. The kids in my neighborhood love every version of toy story, coloring (both on paper and using microsoft paint) and using the photobooth application on my computer. Surprisingly, they aren't big fans of the lion king.

I've also been spending most of my weekends with other volunteers. Early in the month, I went to a provincial conference in Nelspruit. While small, it was fun and educational and included a huge game of Simon Says in Siswati that involved the whole backpackers, staff included. Needless to say, I was out pretty quickly. The next weekend we had Thanksgiving.  I went to Polokwane with about 40 other volunteers and we celebrated American Style. PCVs can cook! Everything was absolutely delicious and I came out wishing I had another stomach.

Last Tuesday was my birthday! I celebrated by eating a pizza and watching Top Chef at the local internet cafe and eating the last remnants of my care package. I felt very loved as I received so many calls, emails, facebook posts, BBMs and cards from friends in the US and South Africa. Saturday, my friend Alyssa and I had a belated birthday celebration in Groblersdaal, where we got the restaurant to sing to us and give us free ice cream and balloons! Year 23 was definitely the best year of my life so far and I'm think 24 will be even better.

Right now, I'm just getting really excited for my trip to america. 20 days, five states and hopefully tons of delicious food. I'm probably most excited about celebrating my first christmas. As my family is jewish and observant we always celebrate hanukkah . I never gt the big commercial christmas that I see in movies and commercials. But this year I do! I'm even getting my own stocking!

The Things They Carried

Been Rereading the "The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien recently. If you haven't read it, I suggest you stop reading this, go ASAP to your local bookstore/library/amazon.com/e-reader, whatever and read it. Actually I don't suggest, I request. It's a decently short read.

Anyways, the first chapter is about the men in this unit and the things they carried during the vietnam war and how it described them as people. I thought about my own stuff that I carry everyday and thought it would make for a good blog entry.

I'm removing the obvious stuff that I carry (wallet, phone, kindle, keys) because that's pretty darn obvious. And a bit boring. But here are six things I carry with me every day

My Fake Wedding Ring

A week before I went to South Africa, my dad asked me to get a wedding ring. From his research, he figured that it would help keep some of the men away if they thought I was married. I was a little freaked out at the time, as I had just broken up with my then boyfriend and the idea of being married, even fake married, freaked me out. But he kept on insisting and since it was one of the two things he asked during that period* I went out and with the help of my best friend who was visiting at the time, went wedding ring shopping. Going into a jewelry store and asking the salespeople to help me find a fake wedding ring was pretty entertaining. We ended up picking this one out, a simple silver band that I ended up putting on my right hand. However, while in africa, I have never taken it off and put it on my left hand. One reason is that I stayed in my training village. Saying I was married in my training village with 30 plus trainees and lots of gossiping sounded like a bad idea, plus I was always with at least one other trainee, so men hit on us less often. Once I was unmarried I couldn't really be suddenly married. And I guess I was uncomfortable with being married, even fake married. Thus, I needed a fake boyfriend. My friend Wyatt readily agreed, and for the early part of my service, I told everyone who asked he was my boyfriend and showed pictures of him when asked. Wy, thanks for that, I owe you a beer. Around June things started to get complicated...but that's for later in the entry. 

My hair tie

This  is an easy one. It gets pretty darn hot in Bundu, so I tie my hair back in order to get some relief from the heat. Unlike almost every other peace corps girl in my group, my hair is still longer than shoulder length, so this hair tie gets used most everyday. Also my host sister loves tying my hair into knots using this hair tie. She is luckily cute enough to get away with it. 

My Vision Quest Bracelet

When I was finishing up my senior year of high school, half the senior class and I went on a vision quest. I sat in the desert by myself for three days, no food, no communication with anyone save a local coyote (school sponsored. Yes, I went to hippie school). Funnily enough, after three days in the desert starving, I got a lot of insights about myself and how I want to live my life. We all received commemeration bracelets after we came back together as a group. It's been more than five years and I still haven't taken mine off. Ever. Yeah, that was pretty important. Most people mistake it for a hairtie so I very rarely get questions about it. 

My community doll

My sister got me this doll for my birthday right before I left. It's the mascot of greendale community college, based in Colorado...which is the setting for one of our favorite tv shows, Community. I hold on to it because its tiny, reminds me of my family, makes me laugh and reminds me that I'm at least doing better than all of the characters on that show. Except for the people in the Air Conditioning Repair School, but hey they have a guaranteed job for life. You can't beat that. 

My Picture

This is a decently bad picture of my boyfriend. We met in May, started dating in June, he left the country in August...and we decided to keep on dating. Long distance relationships are well acknowledged as idiotic ideas, but we are both confessed idiots. He left this picture along with several other items in my house before he moved back to america (I still can't quite figure out the compression bag and the coffee maker), and I've been carrying around ever since. 

As you can see, I've been collecting many bug bites during my time. Most came during the time I went to see some friends to watch the election results. I'm now calling them obama love bites. 

*the other I didn't do and thus I'm apologizing for here, Dad, I should have been pack 24 hours before like you asked. As usual, you were right. I'm sorry 

Typical Day

Sorry readers (aka mom, dad and uncle gordon) there hasn't been a post in awhile. I actually wrote one October 24 but didn't post it until today. Still relevant

I've been having somewhat of a writer's block in blog posts. Which would explain my lack of updating and amazement at the volunteer in South Africa that I know who posts on her blog every single day. But then I realized yesterday was a pretty normal day and I hadn't talked about my normal day very often, so I'm going to write about that.

I wake up around sunrise. Usually that is anywhere between 515 and 6. My curtains have no protections against the sun, so if the sun is up, than so I am I. If its before 630, I let myself try to go back to sleep. Usually I fail.

Around 630 to 7, I get up, start making breakfastt (and by making I mean grabbing an apple or yogurt or bread) and make coffee. Whoever lovely person sends me a care package, can you please include some of those starbucks via instant coffee? The kind they have here isn't really cutting it anymore.

 I check facebook and the news by my blackberry. Found out the giants are going to the world series!  I usually don't have to go to work until 10, so I sometimes watch an episode of something. Yesterday was different as I had a skype date with a friend of mine. Using a modem, I can actually get on the internet in my little village. Unfortunately the connection is not that great. I think it cut out about 4 times during our hour long conversation, but it was really nice to chat with a friend.

After that, I polish up my lesson plan and start the ten minute walk to school. Two english classes to grade nines, with a lunch in between. My first class is typical. Incredibly rowdy and loud, so much of my teaching is done by walking over to the groups that are somewhat paying attention. The learners got their report cards back yesterday, I see five of them, and all of then have doubled their english scores since I've started teaching. The four who were failing are now passing.

That puts a smile on my face. However, while I'm basking in that, a fight breaks out. Although these learners can get rowdy, this does not look like a play fight. And the learners that are fighting are each at least five inches taller than me and outweigh me by at least 20 pounds. However, some of the larger learners break up the fight. I try to send the learners. That were fighting to the principal's office. But they won't go. I end up running to the principals office myself and getting him to break up the fight. Apparently those two learners are suspendeed.
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Class remains in chaos for the rest of the period. Even some of my best students found some money somewhere (seriously I have no idea where it came from and it wasn't mine) and started dancing around the classroom. I leave class five minutes are, rattled by the fight and their behavior.  Class is sometimes like getting pounded by a sumo wrestler. I go back home and lay on my bed and collect myself.


Leave for class and get there just as the principal is closing the gate. My second class is smaller, has more girls and is usually just better behaved. This time is no different. The lesson goes very well and I finish early, and give the class an impromtu talk about halloween, as its one of my favorite holidays and one that is not celebrated here. A couple of the girls ask about yoga classes and girls club and I tell them we can start again next week.  Finish class and head home.
 Nap time. I take a nap and wakeup around the time the kids get home from school. Play with them for about an hour and talk to my hhost family. Exchanged bbms with friends about upcoming vacation plans. And how everyones day went.

Start making dinner early while watching friday nightt lights. End up spending the rest of the day doing that, while also planning tomorrows lesson. The enduring conundrum of how to improve the learners reading abilities without books keepson coming, but everyday brings a new solution

Progress Report

As of a week or so ago, I finished my 8th month in country and my 6th month at site. Crazy, huh? At least I think it is. I had to fill out my first VRF or volunteer report form, which is to convince the dudes in Washington that it makes sense to have us here (I had a dream last night that everyone was removed from south africa due to violence and given interrupted service...thank god I have never had a prophetic dream in my life) Anyways, I decide it is high time to give some sort of progress report

School: school is out for this week and I wasn't teaching recently due to exams. However, next week, I shall return to teaching grade 9 english and maybe some life orientation classes. I'm a bit nervous, my adventures in the classroom have definitely been rocky. But I've learned some good techniques through trial and error.

Library: My goal this term is to get people to actually use the library, as because of its resources and worry people will misuse them, a lot of the time it sits dormant. So I hope to start some type of afterschool library gatherings a couple times a week

Girls Club: Because of the awesomeness of Sbongile, the Girl's club basically runs itself. My goal is to get it to flap its wings and fly. Its been dormant this term as the leaders have been distracted as have I by teaching. But I hope to revive it and let the caterpillar grow into a beautiful butterfly

Gogo's Group: the gogo's group is its own little butterfly. Right now we have all the materials and even a seller for the vaseline...we just haven't actually made it yet. Every week something comes up. But once we start making it, it will hopefully be a success. The gogo's have also decided to continue the bead work, this time using more traditional ndebele beadwork. The results so far are stunning. We will definitely have customers. My goal will be selling and marketing. The Gog's themselves have picked up exercising like teenagers with Justin Bieber and are now playing soccer and doing other exercises about four times a week. This is all thanks to my awesome counterpart and friend, mama tlou, who if she were born in the states, probably would be the head of a fortune five hundred company. She is that awesome.

I have some other ideas for projects in the works, but I'll see how those go before I post them on the internet. Suffice to say I have broken out of my slump that I was having a couple weeks ago and am now all sunshiney and happy. Teaching the neighborhood kids gymnastics and baseball. Enjoying my time with my host family. Planning fantastic trips for the rest of the year (drakensberg mountains! polokwane thanksgiving! provincial conference in Nelspruit! Turtles in St. Lucia! Beach in Durban!....THREE WEEKS IN AMERICA!) Yeah, not like I'm excited to go home...whatsoever.

I'm almost a third of the way done with my service. Keep on keeping on.

The weird nature of development

When I got home from Permagarden training, my Baba was making a garden in our front yard. The point of the training was to take this knowledge back to our communities...but for some reason, Bundu already had and was taking advantage of this knowledge.

This thing has been happening more and more to me lately. Right before In Service Training, my local HBC started a garden, that is now bearing lots of vegetables. My Gogo's group told me they had started exercising four days a week. When I got to my host family in March, all three host mothers were unemployed. Now they all have full time jobs.

The weird thing is...I really don't think I had very much to do with this. In the beginning of my service, I remember feeling incredibly overwhelmed. I was replacing an amazing volunteer who had done a lot for Bundu. More importantly, she had done a lot of work in behavior change, changing the minds of everyone she had worked with, encouraging them to work harder, that their dreams were doable. I've been here six months and I see the effects of Sbongile's (I'm going to put her South Africa name here because I didn't ask her permission to include her in this posts) work every single day. Her shoes are huge and I'm worried I cannot fill them.

But then I took a step back. Bundu is changing. Bundu is developing. Slowly but surely, I see a changing Bundu, where more people are becoming employed, where more students are going to university, where more girls are starting to believe in themselves and their potential. And it really doesn't matter whether it was mine, Sbongile's or the community itself's effort. It matters the most that Bundu is becoming a better community, not who is responsible for it.

So, I continue to try my best, work my hardest and enjoy myself. I wake up everyday thanking Sbongile and her efforts, because they make my job a lot easier and more fulfilling. I also wake up everyday thanking the weird luck that put me in this wonderful community, where people are committed, care, and most importantly are the kindest people I've ever me

I was talking to one of my friends from America and mentioned I was in a bad mood for no apparent reason. She asked me what had happened that week and after I finished telling her we both realized that my bad mood for no apparent reason...had actually a lot of reasons.

Last week was bad. For many different reasons, some of them I don't feel comfortable talking about on said blog. The main one is that I had to say goodbye to many friends this weekend, the last of my 22 friends finished up their service and left. Two friends of mine in my cohort also left unexpectedly and I wasn't able to say goodbye. I had several bad days at school where I couldn't get the kids to be quiet or pay attention and ended up in tears one day. There was a week long celebration across the street which included very loud music at all hours so I could barely sleep. And other stuff.

But there was good stuff too. Spent a lot of time with my host family, got to see some friends even if they were leaving, took a practice GRE and watched some good tv. And even if it was hard, at least its over.

Peace Corps is hard. Its incredibly hard at times. But there is always good times. Always fun. Even on the toughest weeks I am glad to be here.

Every Sunday, a group of us SA25s would get together by the river. We'd swim, play, chat and relax. Some of my favorite memories of PST include that river. I continued to hang out at that river all throughout the summer

Fast forward six months later. I'm starting to get incredibly sick. I can't keep any food down, my stomach is in lots of pain. I call my helpful PCMOs who tell me to get to Pretoria ASAP. After a couple days of tests in Pretoria, I find out that I have schistosomaisis. http://www.cdc.gov/parasites/schistosomiasis/. Basically, I've got my first parasite.

I'm in some good company, as 200 million people have schisto. However, most schisto takes at least 2 years to turn from active to inactive. I had super schisto, it seems, as it only took six months. Luckily, I caught it soon enough so it won't do any lasting damage. However, Schisto, if untreated, can cause orgtan damage and even death. However, even though I was in a lot of pain, those Sundays by the river were worth it

After surviving schisto, I went directly to Polokwane for Permagarden training. We spent three days learning how to make our own permagardens, which included making our own. It was incredibly fun and educational. My thumb is definitely not green, but with this training, I feel like I can make my own garden. It was also great to see the fellow participants, which included the 25's who live in limpopo and mpumalanga, as well as some 24's. We had a blast.

Now I'm on my way back to Bundu am excited to go back to normal life.

Teacher?

When I was applying to the peace corps, I remember telling my father " If they assign me to do English teaching, I'm out". The last thing I wanted was to go to another country and teach English. However, as of last monday, I am the newest grade 9 english teacher at Nyambela Senior Primary School.

How did this happen? Partially motivated by boredom. I can do ten or twenty projects between the hours of 2 and 5 p.m. However, because I have no hosting organization, the hours of 8 to 2 have always been...well, empty, except on Wednesdays when I have my gogo's group. I needed something to do during that time. so I went over to the middle school, where I have a good relationship with the staff, and asked if they needed my help. They said they needed a teacher. Specifically 9th grade english. The principal was teaching that class, but many times he couldn't be there because of his principal duties. So they learners suffered. 9th grade english at the school had one of the lowest pass rates; only 37% of the learners passed the class last quarter. And passing is only 30% in this country. So I decided, eh, Why not?

It's been two classes, and already I can tell this is going to be a challenge. How do you help kids read when they have no books? How do you control a classroom of 40 to 60 kids at a time? This is a lot different from my ninth grade english days at Marin Academy (15 motivated kids. A great teacher. Resources abound). I've also never taught before.

But I'm giving it my best shot, and so far its been going okay. I have started the learners doing daily free writing, taught them hangman and ran a debate whether boys are better than girls. The last volunteer started a library which has some textbooks, specifically devoted to english, so I'm going to be combing through them to see if there is anything useful. The bar is pretty low, so if I can increase the number passing to 50%, I'll consider myself a great success. I also probably had the worst that could happen to a teacher happen...my skirt fell down in the middle of class (wrap skirts can be a doozy). But after the laughter died down, I kept on teaching and the kids still paid attention. So, I've already hit rock bottom. Nowhere to go but up.

I've also learned during my seven months that development work is egoless. My job is to help the community the best I can. And if it means teaching English...call me a teacher.

Different things about South Africa, or things about south africa that used to make me pause (part 1)

- When I'm walking or anywhere in the village, I have to greet everyone. Whether I know them or not. It's a pretty defined script "Hello, Hello, how are you, I am fine and you, I am fine" or "lochani, yebo, ninjani, si kona, ninjani si kona",. but skip it and you will be incredibly rude. Greetings also go by age. Younger people greet older first. However since I am the Kuwa (ndebele word for white person), It all goes weird and sometimes I greet younger people (usually because they are too freaked to greet me) and am greeted by older people (because I either forget or am up in the clouds). This doesn't happen outside of my village, but I do greet some people in my shopping town and occasionally accidentally in Pretoria. Also, before you ask a question, like "where is the time?" "where is the bathroom?" or buy something, actually before you have any interaction with people, you must do this.

-The next question after the greeting is usually "uyaphi?" or "where are you going?" This only happens when I'm walking. But yes, everyone wants to know where I'm going. Anywhere. Always. This has to do with pre phone days, so if you were going somewhere, someone knew where you were. Mostly I reply "ekhaya (home)" "eskolweni (school)" "hbc home" "kwagga (shopping town)" "pretoria"  or "emphuleni (river)"

-Khumbis/taxi. Big white 16 to 22 passenger miniwans that will take you everywhere in South Africa. Even my tiny village. When going from the village to kwagga, the taxi just drives around in a circle and picks people up. I usually have to wait anywhere from .5 seconds to ten minutes to get picked up. The annoying part is that when leaving the shopping town or going anywhere else, you usually have to wait until the taxi fills up. This can take anywhere from .5 seconds to....my current record is 4 hours. Many friends of mine have beaten that. Its incredibly annoying, especially when I just miss a full taxi and have to wait forever for the next one to fill up. I always come prepared with a book and if I know its going to take a long time, I usually get out and get a soda or some food or make a phone call..

-Soundtrack. In America, usually, except for a party or something, people play their music with headphones. Music, even in restaurants or stores is usually ambient. Not  in South Africa. In South Africa, everyone broadcasts their own personal soundtrack on their cellphones. Incredibly loudly. Or in their homes. At club level. Or on the khumbis. So I am inundated with loud house/ndebele christian music/70's power ballads (this country loves lionel richie. And Peter Gabriel. And Dolly Parton. as well as many others) at all times. Its...well...annoying is definitely the right word. But I can sometimes use this to my advantage. When I'm walking to different places, you can bet I'm blasting sublime/ratatat/bon iver... a lot of other fun pump up music as my own personal soundtrack. And it is kind of awesome.

Saying Goodbye

Peace Corps is like high school, in many unfortunate and fortunate ways, but I'm just going to talk about one right now. There are anywhere from four to five classes at a time in South Africa, classes meaning the group with you came to Africa with, mine being SA25. The oldest class, the one who has been in South Africa the longest is considered the senior group, while the one that just got out of training is considered the freshman, the two other classes being the sophomore and junior class Right now, the 26's are in training while the 22's are leaving or COSing, which means us SA 25s to make the step up into the sophomore class. Scary eh, to think we have been here more than six months and have done about a quarter of our service.

When I was a young warthog...sorry, when I was a newly minted volunteer, I was placed in area with very few SA25's, but a lot of SA22's. They reached out to me and soon I was part of their family. Which included apple pie bakeoffs, girly movie watching nights, meetups for pizza and grocery shopping in our shopping town, movie trips to Pretoria to see the latest volunteer. They helped me get settled in Kwandebele and became some of my closest friends. They also introduced me to their SA22 friends, and soon I had tons of SA22 friends in several provinces. They became some of my closest friends as well and we spent a lot of time having both heart to hearts and adventures.

Unfortunately for me, out of the original group of four who helped me out, three have finished their service and are back in America. The rest of my 22 friends are soon to leave the country as well. As my closest friend leaves the country on Wednesday, I'm incredibly sad.

However, it's just part of the peace corps process. People come, people bond, people leave, people meet new people and the cycle repeats. Apparently there will be some 26's moving to my area. I'm excited to meet them and hopefully they will help fill the hole in my heart that the 22's have vacated. They just have a lot to live up to.

Comparison is Futile

I spent last weekend with a group of my fellow volunteers on a weekend getaway. We went to a hot springs that was close to another volunteer's site. The fun times included a mexican feast, lots of bathing in the hotsprings, mini golf and hot showers, all for relatively cheap.

What I was struck by the most is how there were ten of us, all peace corps south africa volunteers...yet all having incredibly different experiences. Two volunteers live together in a suburb of a city. They have running (hot!) Water and easy access to a supermarket and good food. Both of them work at ngos doing capacity building and have offices and computers. Compare that to me. My office is my house. No ngo or supervisors. No running water and a thirty minute taxi ride to a supermarket. And yet we are all peace corps volunteers. However, I'm not making any value judgments on whether their experiences are harder or easier (truth be told, I actually think I'm having an easier time) because its very hard to compare.

Another volunteer I was with last weekend lives on her organization's compound and thus doesn't have a host family. Very different. One volunteer is on her third year and spends half the time working for peace corps south africa and half her time working for a private christian school in a large city. Two volunteers I was with were education volunteers.

Although comparing our experiences isn't quite like comparing apples to oranges (we are all peace corps volunteer in south africa after all) it is not one to be easily done.

Community Integration

Dear Readers, sorry to be so inconsistent with these blog posts. I will not promise to be more consistent...because I doubt it's one I can keep, but I will try!

The beginning of IST marked the end of the so called 3 month community integration period, affectionately known to PCVs as lockdown. And at the end of this period, I took some stock and realized that I have integrated. I wouldn't be able to tell you why or how or when, but somehow Bundu became my home and the people there accept me as their own.

I didn't realize how much I had integrated until I had the good fortune to have a couple of visitors. Four of my fellow SA 25's came to visit their old host families who live in my village. I went with three of them to visit one of their host families. While that family greeted their hos daughter and the other americans with hugs and exclamations, I was greeted with a "oh hey Lilly". Other americans visiting them was a huge deal. My visit was nothing out of the ordinary.

I had another friend who was not part of my training class and had never been to Bundu, visit. When he visited, he was struck by how busy and crowded my shopping town was and how he was constantly being gawked at. My response was "oh, I didn't notice". And it was true. My shopping town is busy and crowded and I probably get gawked at a decent amount...but I truly barely even notice it anymore.

On Thursday SA 25 hits its 6th month in country. It has definitely been a crazy roller coaster ride. But now, I truly feel like I belong

IST!

For the last...tenish days, I and my fellow members of SA 25 have been at In Service Training. At the behest of the U.S. taxpayers (thanks mom, dad and others), we have been staying an amazing resort. Delicious food, hot showers, wifi, swimming pool, sauna...the works. Apparently PCSA likes to spoil us twice during service, at IST to reward us for making it through the first three months and Close of Service to reward us for actually making it through the whole service.

Besides lounging around at the resort, we have been attending sessions from about 8 to 5. These sessions have been everything from completely useless to incredibly informative. My favorites have been when outside organizations have come in and presented possible programs that we can use at site. I came away with a lot of new ideas and projects to do in Bundu.

It's also been really fun hanging out with my fellow SA 25's. I've had a great time hanging out with my friends, especially the ones who live in the far reaches of KZN and Limpopo and who I won't be able to see a ton of during my service, unless I am willing to travel 6 to 14 hours. A bunch of us are going to stay in Pretoria for a few days to celebrate 4th of July. My plans for next week include a lion park, a spa day, a trivia contest and lots of good food.

Highlights of IST include a trip to the America Club to celebrate fourth of July. The party included the ambassador, many other ex pats, a cotton candy machine, several bouncy houses, a volleyball tournament, and a clown. Another highlight was meeting everyone's supervisors/counterparts and having some fun cultural exchanges, which included teaching south africans to make s'mores.

Right now, I'm feeling a little stir crazy from being cooped up in the resort for ten days. The sessions are pretty draining and I'm excited to have a little down time. Then I will go back to Bundu, all fired up with all these new projects (not mentioning what projects I'm thinking of doing in order not to jinx them).

Late Father's Day

About 5 to 10 years ago, my dad, for some reason, really wanted us to watch the movie "the great santini". The rest of the family resisted for some reason and I think we ended up watching "keeping the faith" for the twentieth time. However, my dad kept pushing it. And the more he pushed the more we resisted. To the point where we would pretend to put on the great santini...and then the opening credits would start. I think my dad fell for that one only a couple times. About a year or so after this all started, we finally ran out of excuses and watched it. I remember looking at my brother afterwards and saying "that was a good movie". The undertone being "Dad is right, yet again."

My father isn't right about everything. But there have been many behaviors that me and my siblings used to tease him about that we have now adopted. Little things like blotting our pizza with a paper towel, getting to the airport incredibly early, packing the night before, printing out directions to places we are going, not taking food from the mini bar. And larger things, like keeping incredibly detailed financial records, reading every line of every contract we sign, taking a lot of time to find the best or cheapest way to buy or do something.

A word I would use to describe my dad is thorough. While that quite annoying to us when we were younger, and still annoys us at times, my siblings and I have started to realize how helpful and necessary this.

My dad is not just thorough in regards to paperwork, but to people as well. Even though he worked anywhere from 60 to 90 hours a week when we were little, he made sure to come to almost every tee ball game, every dance performance, every hebrew school celebration. When we had to attend saturday services in order obtain our bar or bat mitzvah, he went with us to every single one. He stayed up past midnight to edit our papers even through college. He was our biggest supporter and our biggest cheerleader.

These two plus years will be the longest I have been away from my parents. However, my dad keeps in touch through calls and emails. He seems to spend a lot of his free time researching and learning about south africa and peace corps. That or talking about me and my siblings to anyone and everyone. Even though my parents aren't coming here for at least a year, my dad has started researching hotels and places to go. I'm expecting him to have a full itinerary of the trip very soon. While thousands of miles away, my dad still finds ways to supportsme.

Happy father's day (and late birthday) dad. I love you and miss you so much.

Now that the school term is winding down, my Girls Club is over til Mid July. Since that was my biggest project, it has been pretty slow going in Bundu. I'm using the most of my extra time to write my Community Needs Assessment, basically a document that tries to synthesize everything I know about the town. It is "due" at the end of the week (In South Africa, both due dates and stop signs are just suggestions).  I've been making progress and might actually get it done before the real due date, but I think if I finish it by IST, I will be good.

In approximately 12 days, IST starts. IST is a ten day conference in which we present our CNAs, receive presentations from several outside organizations as well as intra peace corps organizations, and what I am most excited about, A three day workshop with the CDC (Centers for Disease Control). The CDC workshops were my favorite part of PST and I am excited to have more of them.

But mostly I'm excited to see my fellow SA25s! I've managed to see a couple in my travels to Pretoria and am luckily close enough to Alyssa to see her about every other weekend. I'm also lucky to have a cluster of 22s right near me and a cluster of 24s within a couple khumbi rides. However, I spent two months with my fellow 25sw, along with a lot of blood sweat and tears. I am very excited to see their smiling faces and talk with them about their stories. IST ends July 3rd, so many of us are sticking around in Pretoria afterwards to celebrate the fourth. IST plus extra vacation time should be about almost two-three weeks straight out of site, which will definitely be fun, but I'm going to miss Bundu while I'm gone.

What I do

In bundu, I play many different roles. I am a club leader, I am a friend, I am exercise leader, I am a marketing specialist, I am an HIV educator, I am a daughter, I am an ant killer, I am a teacher, I am a sister, I am a peace corps volunteer. But the role I play most is one of a facilitator.

When I came to Bundu, I was inundated with resources. These resources mostly came in the form of people. The previous volunteer, who I will remain forever grateful to, spent a lot of her time training people, especially middle school girls, in areas of health education and self esteem. I quickly realized what these girls needed was not a teacher. They had that in the previous volunteer. What they needed was a place to teach themselves, to teach others, to have fun. They needed support, acknowledgment that their dreams could come true. I think what they needed was someone who would listen to them and say yes.

So with the help of an incredibly supportive principal, I've started clubs. Before school for an hour, and after school for about an hour and a half, a group of about 25 to 40 girls gather in the library the previous volunteer constructed. In the mornings, we do typical peace corps girls group activities, such as self esteem work, goal setting and sharing troubles. The afternoons are more typical club oriented. We've had math sessions, drama sessions, geography sessions and my personal favorite, library sessions. Sometimes I stand at the board and teach.

But most often, I am a participant, letting the girls run the show. They often are the teachers, the older girls sharing their knowledge with the younger ones. In the morning sessions, a few of the girls that were trained to be peer educators by the previous volunteer do all the teaching. In the afternoon, I teach the academics, but sit down for most of the lessons. I perform crowd control when needed (I taught everyone the quiet coyote signal) and also advise. With my gogos group, it is similar. I lead exercise classes, I help with the beadwork and vaseline work, I do some teaching about health but most of it is run by a very awesome woman.

 I don't do much. I say I'm a facilitator. But what I really am is a believer. I believe in the power of these people. And that belief contributes to them doing great things.

Failure

The first time I encountered failure was in college. By failure, I don't mean simple mistakes or pratfalls or things that get fixed. Failure is when you encounter a "Do Not Enter" sign on the road of life you had been skipping merrily along. And it's your fault!

I can't remember when I first wanted to be a doctor, maybe when I was 16 or so. I took extra science courses in high school, did an internship at a lab and generally assumed that was where my life was going.

When I got to college, I started on the pre-med track. I started out in bio 118, which was known as a weed out class. Although I studied hard, my test grades weren't showing it. The culminating moment was when after studying very hard for a test, I received a C. Everyone I studied with had gotten A's.

I remember staring at the bright red 76, thinking in the back of my mind "this isn't going to work". Even though I could have gone on with my medical aspirations (and did, for another semester) I knew I was done at that moment. I had failed at becoming a doctor. Now, I can recognize, that although I probably could have been a great doctor, I was not a good pre-med student and I would not be a good med student*.

And that was the beginning of many failures in college. I failed at several different career paths. Failed at many friendships. Romantic relationships. Tests. I didn't fail any classes, but passed a couple by the skin of my teeth.

Every failure was incredibly hard to take. Several  really knocked me down for the count. But after the initial pain of each failure, I spent a lot of time learning from it. I would examine it, try to figure out why I failed and what I either needed to do better next time or stop doing said thing entirely.

And the result of all these failures (along with successes and a fair bit of really good luck) brought me to south africa.

In South Africa, unlike the U.S., failure is a normal part of everyday life. Kids fail classes, the water fails to work, teachers fail to teach, government workers fail to do their jobs properly... And most of the time the people say "shame" and try to work around it.

For me, these last two weeks had been, not a total failure, but definitely rocky. I had been able to sell my gogo groups jewelry. I had a couple girls sessions where I was not an effective teacher. I had several girls come to me with problems, which I tried to help with, but am unsure whether I did the right thing. I tried starting a new project, but got no one to show up to the first meeting. Two peace corps friends of mine went back to america, resigning from service. Even though they both seem happy with their decisions, I felt like I failed them as a friend.

And all these failures knocked me down for a bit. But not for long. For each of these failures I was able to figure out why they happened and what I needed to do differently (vaseline instead of jewelery! Putting more notice about projects! Speaking to school officials oon I also sought out and received a lot of support, both in south africa and the U.S.Because I had learned how to recover from failure, from lots of experience, it was much easier to deal with. And much easier to get past. Now I look at failure as a learning experience. All of those failures that I mentioned I have learned from and am pursuing new strategies.

 As a PCV failure is very common. This will definitely not be the last time I fail. However, I will learn from each failure and be a better PCV!
To readers, my blackberry seems to be incompatible with blogspot which is why my posting schedule has been sporadic. So far I've been emailing posts to my friend John and he has been posting them (thanks john!) But now I plan to write them on my blackberry and use the computers at my shopping town to post entries. My posting schedule will still be erratic, however, it will be more regular.

*Congratulations to my friend Jamie for finishing her first year of Medical School!

Sweating and Not sweating the small stuff

Hello fellow readers!



It's been almost two months at site. The first month was a rollercoaster of crazy different emotions. However, the second month has been pretty great overall. I wake up happy, I spend most of my day smiling and am usually feel like I'm in this scene from 500 days of summer (http://www.youtube.com/)

There has been some major changes between the first and the second month that contribute to this mood shift. I have a set schedule and really enjoy my work with my girls and the gogos. I have gotten closer with my host family and really enjoy spending time with them. I feel more integrated into the community. I have a solid group of other pcvs that live close by that I can hang out with on weekends.

But one of the most helpful things has been a slight attitude change. I try to no longer let the small stuff get to me. If it takes forever to get a khumbi, if the girls won't get quiet in class, if its bone chilling cold...I just try to move past it. And also find the upside. If the khumbi takes forever, it means I get more time to read. If I get harassed by a local man, I get tell my friends a funny story and also add one to the number of marriage proposals I've gotten (having a competition with a few other pcvs to see who can receive the most number of marriage proposals, so far I'm losing by a lot). If the girls won't stop talking, I get to try out new ways to get them to listen. So far quiet coyote has been working pretty well. And if its very cold in the morning, more excuses to drink more coffee and bundle up. And even though its almost winter, South Africa is still pretty warm most of the time.

On the flipside, if something good happens, its major cause for celebration. A funny or heartfelt text from a fellow pcv or friend back in the states can make my day. Hugs from my gogos or girls fill me with warmth. Finding out that granny smith apples were on sale for about 1.5 dollars for 1.5 kg almost made me do a jig in Shoprite. A couple days ago, my kindle suddenly was able to connect to the internet and I can download books again. One of the highlights of my month!

As all this little happy stuff piles up, it makes it easier to keep smiling, even when the tough stuff happens.

Why I don't have a computer

My computer died my first week in south africa. After taking it to the mac store to get it repaired, I found that my warranty would not cover the cost and I would have to pay 5450 rand to get it fixed (about 700 U.S. Dollars, or to put it into perspective, two months salary) I decided to grab some money from my savings account and buy a netbook.

That was almost two months ago and I still haven't bought one.

For a peace corps volunteer, I think I live a pretty cushy life. I have consistent electricity, a tap that has water most of the time and great cell phone service. There is a decent supermarket a half hour away, a great one an hour away and khumbis that come very regularly to take me to those places (including a pizza place). There is a bus that would take me straight to pretoria that comes every two hours, every hour during rush hours. I mean, I'm typing this from my blackberry.

In the U.S., from june to january of 2011-2012, I would watch at least two hours of television, usually on my computer, a day. Many days I would watch more, up to ten hours on weekends. In November, when I was going through tough times, I went through a whole series, at least 50 one hour episodes, in a little over a week.

When I graduated college, I moved from a small town where I could find twenty friends within a hundred yard radius, back to my big city hometown, where besides two people, the only people I was close with were related to me. Lonely and involved in the limbo that was the peace corps application project as well as an anxiety making long distance relationship, I used tv as an escape from real life.

The more I look back on my life, the more I started to see how often I used tv to try to escape. I started watching buffy the vampire slayer during my 7th grade tough period. I remember lots of high school as a series of television marathons with my family, the sopranos, lost, gilmore girls, the west wing, nip/tuck, the wire. In college, when I had my heart broken for the first time, I stayed in bed rewatching Veronica Mars for a week.

I knew the peace corps was going to be hard. It is. Somedays are harder than others. But, for the first time I'm not using television to cope or escape. I take long thinking walks around the village. I talk to friends in america. I try to work on what is bothering me.

If I need a computer, I go up to my shopping town and use the internet cafe. I occasionally catch episodes when I'm with friends, but not that often. When I'm with friends, we are usually too busy doing stuff to watch tv. I can get by for internet mostly by just using my blackberry.

Peace Corps has provided me with many challenges. But in removing one of my main coping methods, I find myself more able to handle them.

Yesterday, two khumbi rides and an hour and a half later, I arrived in my friend alyssa"s shopping town with my jaw dropped in shock.

My shopping town is a plaza with about 20 or 30 stores, including a pizza place, a grocery store, and several clothing and furniture stores. It has almost everything I could need. But not much else.

Alyssa's shopping town, was an actual city. Many streets filled with different restaurants, shops...there was even a library! Even more weirdly, there were white people there!

We ended up meeting with two education volunteers at spur, a native american themed restaurant. A native american themed restaurant... in south africa. Cacti, both painted and real, covered the walls, american music and television were playing and the menu could fit right in at a chain restaurant at home. Sitting with three other americans in the restaurant, as I ate cheese quesadillas and watched espn, it didn't feel like I had left home.

However, my real moment of culture shock came as we left the restaurant and went to the supermarket. Again, it felt like we hadn't left the U.S. I stared open mouthed at the twelve different varieties of feta cheese, the fruits and vegetables that you could buy pre sliced for some extra rand, the rack of magazines that went across the store. "Who needs all that choice?" I wondered.

But I was happy to pick up some soy sauce and pasta sauce. I contemplated buying some other stuff, like slivered almonds and tahini, but after consulting my budget I stuck mostly to the basics.

I also wondered if this made a huge difference in alyssa's and my services. But after talking to her, it didn't seem that way. She lives in a village similar to mine, working at a home based care, with a similar family structure. The only difference was that she had more choice in her shopping town.

I found a shortcut which made the return trip only about 45 minutes. I arrived home the same way I usually feel after a trip, tired, overstimulated and very very happy to be home in bundu.

I like my small town life here in south africa. But it was very nice to learn that a sliver of america exists pretty close by

For my primary assignment in south africa, I, like all other CHOP volunteers, was assigned to an organization. During training, we were told numerous times that our orgs would probably be low functioning, that they might see us as their "savior" and expect us to do everything, that they might have very little in the way of organizational structure and policy. I thus mentally prepared myself to be assigned to a low functioning organization that could use my help.

However I was assigned to a high functioning, well run organization... that seemed to neither want nor need my help.

For the first two weeks, I think I spent one or maybe two useful minutes there. I spent most of the time crouched between two file cabinets, trying to stay out of the way. I was told by my supervisor that I shouldn't ask questions to anyone but he, because my curiosity would be seen as negativity towards the organization. I was not allowed to look at any documents or talk to any clients. The only thing I could do was observe the waiting room. All of my offers for help were refused.

Let me say, that this clinic is very well run, highly functioning and a great resource for the community. The staff seem incredibly good at their jobs and extremely busy with their work. It is a great place.

Just not one that wanted or needed me.

Last Tuesday, after two weeks of sitting, trying to help and always being refused, I went to my supervisors there in tears. My supervisors were sympathetic. They are two wonderful people who have really helped me a lot They understood why I was so upset, however their busyness and the political structure of the clinic prevented them from being much help to me inside the walls of the clinic. So they suggested I do work outside the clinic, doing an assessment of Bundu. I spent the next week doing that.

And it was the best four days I have spent as a pcv. During my walking around, I found that the last volunteer here had left a lot of secondary projects that could use my help. So I spent this week following up on them.

I led an exercise class for a group of gogos and strategized with them on how to sell their beautiful beadwork. I saw a community garden being deweeded and learned about plans to increase food security among bundu. I met with the ward counselor and heard about the need for youth to have something to do after school. I found all the members of the last volunteer's girls group and planned an introductory meeting. I learned about a library that had been started in the junior high school and scheduled a meeting with the teacher in charge.

The most common thing I heard from the people I talked to was "We've been waiting for you"

I met with my supervisor on friday and made a plan to continue this work and community assessment until IST, also known as the end of June. While exciting, it is incredibly scary. The only structure I have during the week is what I create myself. My supervision is very minimal. It will be a challenge for me. I'm going to need a lot of courage, drive, initiative and maybe most importantly, I'm going to need to ask for a lot of help.

But I think this will work out fantastically.

"I would often fantasize that maybe someday I could be one of those stoic badasses whose emotions are mostly comprised of rock music and not being afraid of things"

Two weeks ago, I accidentally poured boiling water on to my hand. It led to a pretty decent first or second degree burn that I now show off proudly. However, it didn't need to have happened.

After I burned myself, I was too afraid of inconveniencing my host family, that I didn't ask for the help I needed, this time, access to cold water. Instead, I spent much of time afterwards trying to convince them I was fine, while trying to find cold water...without them realizing that I was in pain.

To say that was completely idiotic would be putting it lightly. And now I've got a scar to remind me of it.

I've always had a problem with asking for help. This hasn't manifested itself as much when I was in the US, because I knew how to do most of the things I wanted/needed to do. In south africa, everything is completely new.

And instead of asking for help...I've tried to act like a stoic badass. And it usually hasn't worked that well. Besides burning my hand, I've gotten incredibly lost on the streets of pretoria, really messed up doing my laundry, gotten sick in several cars, got caught in a thunderstorm... And that's just off the top of my head.

But I can see right now, if I continue this, I can't be a good peace corps volunteer. I need to ask for help from my counterparts, from my host family, from peace corps, from my friends, from the clinic, from bundu. And truth, that almost paralyzes me. I am incredibly scared. Maybe of rejection, maybe because I fear people thinking less of me, of failure.

But in order to get where I want to go, in order to be a good peace corps volunteer, in order to be the person I want to be, I got to face my fear and do it anyway.

Time for the 80's pump up music!

"I would often fantasize that maybe someday I could be one of those stoic badasses whose emotions are mostly comprised of rock music and not being afraid of things"

Two weeks ago, I accidentally poured boiling water on to my hand. It led to a pretty decent first or second degree burn that I now show off proudly. However, it didn't need to have happened.

After I burned myself, I was too afraid of inconveniencing my host family, that I didn't ask for the help I needed, this time, access to cold water. Instead, I spent much of time afterwards trying to convince them I was fine, while trying to find cold water...without them realizing that I was in pain.

To say that was completely idiotic would be putting it lightly. And now I've got a scar to remind me of it.

I've always had a problem with asking for help. This hasn't manifested itself as much when I was in the US, because I knew how to do most of the things I wanted/needed to do. In south africa, everything is completely new.

And instead of asking for help...I've tried to act like a stoic badass. And it usually hasn't worked that well. Besides burning my hand, I've gotten incredibly lost on the streets of pretoria, really messed up doing my laundry, gotten sick in several cars, got caught in a thunderstorm... And that's just off the top of my head.

But I can see right now, if I continue this, I can't be a good peace corps volunteer. I need to ask for help from my counterparts, from my host family, from peace corps, from my friends, from the clinic, from bundu. And truth, that almost paralyzes me. I am incredibly scared. Maybe of rejection, maybe because I fear people thinking less of me, of failure.

But in order to get where I want to go, in order to be a good peace corps volunteer, in order to be the person I want to be, I got to face my fear and do it anyway.

Time for the 80's pump up music!

Saturday evening, I was playing a version of pictionary with my six year old host sister (she, using a stick, would draw something in the dirt, and I would have to guess what it was) when I heard a noise. It was coming from the pile of logs. When I went to investigate, I found a kitten. It was an orange tabby, probably less than a week old, its eyes barely open. It was the same color as one of our two cats. Further observance of the log pile found another kitten, the same age, this one pure white. It was the same color as the other of our two cats

In rural South Africa, it is very rare for children to be raised by both their mother and their father. Because of many factors, lack of employment in rural areas, the commoness of multiple concurrent relationships, the age of sexual debut and other, most children are raised by their grandmother. Their mother and sometimes father, live and work in the nearest city and come back when they can. The grandmother usually has many grandchildren living with her, from many of her children. This situation also has a monetary benefit. In South Africa, if one is raising your own child, one receives 250 rand a month per child from the government. But if you are raising someone elses child, you receive more than 1000 rand per month per child. Sometimes one of the mothers also lives with her children and the grandmother. And in one family I know, the father lives with his children and his mother. But in the village of bundu, I only know of one family where the children are being raised by both of their parents.

My first instinct when I found the kittens was to bring them to their mother. However, when I brought them to her, she seemed startled, but not interested. My host mother brought a large bowl and put a blanket in it and made the kittens a new home. Their mother ignored them. I started to get angry at the mother. I grabbed the mother by the neck, and held her down in the bowl, and guided the kittens toward their mothers nipples so they could feed. "You are a bad mother!" I yelled at the cat. "This is what happens when you have sex. You have to live with the consequences! You can't abandon your children!"

In rural South Africa, the kids take care of each other. They play together after school, a mix of ages, no adult supervision. The older ones help the younger ones out. Kids take on much more responsibility here than in america. One of my favorite sights has been watching my six year old neighbor teach his three year old cousin how to ride a bike. However, grandmothers, who have huge houses full of children can only do so much. As many of my fellow volunteers found out, children can be dropped off to live with their grandmother at any age, without any warning. Grandmothers have to triage. So kids seem to grow up without very much adult supervision or help. Makes it much easier to fall through the cracks. Especially since many of the children, most usually the girls, run the household, starting as early as ten. A fellow volunteer told me about how when her host brothers mother left him at his grandmothers for a year, to follow a man, he failed several classes. It takes a toll on kids.

When I was holding the mama cat down to feed her kittens, I misunderstood directions from my host mom. My grip slipped and the cat ran off. After chasing her for awhile, she evaded our grasp. Its been 24 hours and she hasn't come back. We wrapped the kittens up in a blanket and hoped for the best. When I was chasing the cat, before it got too dark to see my host mother told me "You can't make her into a good mother. She abandoned her kittens." I knew that, instictively. But I also knew these kittens needed food and the only way to get it was through her. I didn't want these kittens to die because she was a bad mom. Not under my watch. But she evaded us. The stores were closed, the khumbis had stopped running and there were no shelters to take them to.

When I woke up this morning, the kittens were dead.

Once in a lifetime

"And you may ask yourself, Well, how did I get here?"

In 7th grade, my class went on a backpacking trip. While the experience was memorable in many ways, the one that stands out now is that it introduced me to the band The Talking Heads. During that 7 hour car ride to Sierra Canyon, my car must have listened to "Psychokiller" at least 30 times. Psychokiller remains a favorite, but when exploring the disography of the Talking Heads, "Once in a lifetime" always stuck a chord in me emotionally.

"And you may tell yourself, This is not my beautiful house"

I moved into my new house on Friday, the day after swear in. My house is not particularly beautiful. Or large. Truthfully, I've lived in dorm rooms larger than it. But it's mine. I spent most of yesterday and today putting together a kitchen. Tonight, I'll be cooking my first meal.

The house is part of a large family compound, the mashiani family. There are eleven family members who live there, a grandmother and a grandfather, three sisters and six children. Have definitely not gotten everyone's names down yet. But they are all incredibly nice and welcoming, while still letting me have my independence.

I met my last supervisor (I apparently have 3, its going to be a bit confusing) and I start work tomorrow. By work, I'm not exactly sure. I plan to do what I did during site visit, which is to follow one of the nurses around. According to Peace Corps, I'm not supposed to do any major work for the first three months, just integrate and study the community. We'll see how it goes.

Bundu is still lovely. It's a tiny village, population of maybe 1000, surrounded by beautiful rolling hills. Sometimes the views take my breath away. There is a strong community here, it seems like everyone knows each other and says hi.The community seems very receptive to me. Even more than receptive, I keep on getting asked about projects people want help on, groups people want to start. It's a bit overwhelming, but very fun. I'm a replacement volunteer, the last volunteer just left and I was lucky enough to meet her and talk to her about Bundu.

"And you may tell yourself, this is not my beautiful wife"

On Thursday and Friday, I had to say goodbye to the 32 other members of SA 25. Because of geographic distance and peace wcorps regulations, the likelihood that I will see any members of the group for the first three months is slim.
Its going to be pretty hard, as I have gotten close with many volunteers. But hanging out with american friends is not why I joined peace corps. Ill just become best friends with my blackberry and think back on good PST memories, knowing that there will be many more to come in the next two years.

These past two months have been incredible. Not without lows, but on the whole, an amazing experience. I have to pinch myself at least once a day, because sometimes the fact that I AM a peace corps volunteer, this is my real life. It seems very surreal at times.

But sometimes as "once in a lifetime" says, this really is my life. And I'm just going to enjoy it

Today was a long day. SA 25 had its host family farewell party, which involved at least six hours of cooking as well as other preparations, speechwriting, dance learning, costume making/dressing... Our group worked hard. The event went off with the usual hitches that I've come to associate with south africa (Too many people! Transportation is late! Not enough food! Everything takes longer than it should and starts late! Why is there six different groups doing the same dance to the same song?). But eventually everyone got fed, we went through the entire program and no fights escalated beyond some yelling. Like most south african events, it ended in a huge dance party, so I'm calling it a success.

Today was one of the last times our whole group will be together for awhile. 33 of us will swear in on thursday and then spread out across the limpopo, mpumalanga and kwazulunatal provinces. For three months, I will probably not see another member of my training group.

I love my training group. The 32 other members are incredibly fantastic individuals. Unfortunately, even after the 3 month lockdown period, many of my closest friends are going to be 6 to 15 hours away.

But although I'd love to live much closer to some of these fantastic people, that's not what peace corps is about. Its about changing communities, changing lives and integrating fully into my community, which is much harder to do when surrounded by other americans.

So when the vans come to take everyone away, I will be sad. I might even cry. But for my community and for myself, this is necessary for growth. And when it gets bad, I can chat with people using my blackberry, as well as planning trips with friends. Thank god for blacberries.

" You seem to get sick a lot"

That quote came from one of my peace corps medical officers, or pcmos for short. As of today, I can award myself with the dubious honor of being the sickest person in my training class. I have been down for the count with 3 different illnesses, as far as I know, the most times someone has been sick besides me is once. Or twice with the same illness both times.

1.5 weeks in, I woke up with angelina jolie sized lips. My lips kept on swelling up so it looked like I had gotten into a fight with a plastic surgeon. Then my eyes started swelling up as well, so I could barely open them. When a rash started to accompany this, I called the pcmo. The culprit was mangos. Turns out although even though I had eaten and enjoyed mangos in the states, nicaragua and vietnam, these south african mangos made my immune system go haywire

4 weeks in, one night I could sleep, my whole body was itchy. I woke uop to an angry red rash on my neck, chest and face. Aafter a four hour wait at the clinic, I was diagnosed with a photodermatitic reaction. Sun exposure had given me a rash. So I am now allergic to mangos and the sun. And I'm in africa. Great.

Then last night, after a day with a dull headache I wake up in the middle of the night shivering. I have a fever... And the only prescription is more cowbell! That or asprin. I sleep walk through most of today, with my temperature bouncing between 102 and 96 (I didn't even know it could go that low) until I finally call my pcmo who tells me its probably a virus and I just have to wait it out.

With all that, and the immense number of scrapes/ bugbites (so much that I have been asked what happened by a couple trainees), the common joke is that I'm allergic to south africa. And I have two more years here

My response is bring it on south africa.

But truthfully I can only say that because our pcmos/peace corps health care is fantastic. Rides/chaperones to the clinic, two fabulous medical professionals on call 24/7, meds delivered to my door!

So may the force and fabulous health care be with me!

Sanibonani! That is hello in zulu, the language I am now learning. I'm typing this from my newly acquired smartphonen so this is slow going. Its been about six weeks in south africa. I've lost about five pounds, developed allergies to both mangos and the sun, have met many fabulous people, both american and south african.
I'm on mý way to polokwane for a conference to meet my supervisor. I'm going to be working at goederede clinic in bundu, mpumalanga province. It's the same place as our training site, so I'm hitting the ground running, with tons of contacts I've made already and ideas for secondary projects coming at warp speed. -'m really happy. And excited about the next two years!

One Week To Go...

And I haven't started packing. Maybe tomorrow? I lost a bet to my dad recently and as penance I have to be completely packed at least 24 hours before I leave.  However I did order a nifty swiss army knife, a camera and I think I have pretty much everything I will need. Hopefully.

Peace Corps Timeline

I found it helpful to look at others timelines when I was applying, so I'm going to post mine.

December 2010- Start seriously trying to think of post grad opportunities. By opportunities, I meant, anything that will involve me not living off my parents. After several hours of frustration, I stumble on to the Peace Corps website at about 3 am and start filling out the application. I do it in bits and pieces until March

March 8 2011- Peace Corps Recruiter gives talk on campus. I show up a half hour late (This is actually very unlike me, I show up ten minutes early to everything, but I had work scheduled for the first half hour). Talk to the Peace Corps Recruiter after, Annabel, and tell her that I'm pretty close to being done with my application. I finish the application later that night

March 8-15, Finish the Medical part of the application, line up three awesome people to do my recommendations (my boss, my favorite professor, one of my best friends) all of them who complete it within the week and fill out supplemental applications. Annabel calls/emails and schedules my interview March 29th, the day Spring Break starts

March 28th Find peacecorpswiki and see that all the questions that the interview will ask are posted. A smart person would spend that time preparing answers. I just spend that time freaking out, until a friend gives me some food and tells me to calm down. Decide to wing it.

March 29th. Interview Day. Show up in my suit, which was a good choice. Fill out secruity forms and give my fingerprints their and the interview lasts about an hour and a half. I don't remember much about what I said, except it was recorded, when I asked for my geographical preferences I told her 1. Pacific Islands 2. Africa, that I qualify for both business and health positions, and tell her that I took five years of elementary school spanish, four years of high school spanish and was an Amigos de Las Americas Volunteer. My thoughts after that were "Well, I guess I'm going to Central/South America" we end the interview and she says I'm a great candidate, its just been really competitive and very few slots, so she doesn't know if she can nominate right now. She tells me she will call the next week and give me a better timeline

April 3rd- She calls (I'm getting a manicure and run out of the salon I'm so excited) and tells me she can't nominate me now, but there are spots opening up in May and she will tell me more information then. Bummed, I spend the next two hours grumping to my parents, until the bad mood wears off

April 22nd- In graphic novel class, receive an email from Annabel asking if I am still interested and if I can adjust to a 5km commute to work. I reply "YES"

May 2nd: Wake up to an email telling me that I have been nominated! Central/South America Health Extension Volunteer leaving in January! I call my parents screaming (it was 7 am their time)  I celebrate by skipping class and getting drunk later that night. Medical Kit is being sent to my house, I need to practice my spanish before I go

June: Graduate, move back in with parents, start internship, and start medical kit. After I think 8 appointments, maybe 10, four different medical professionals and thanking my parents for their amazing insurance which has me paying very little for all of this, it is over!

July 13th- Send in full packet
July 21st- Dental Clearance! No wisdom teeth extraction necessary! YATTA!
July 22nd- While in the airport at 6 am going to milwaukee, I getConfirmation that they had received my medical packet (received after dental clearance...all right)

August 22nd- Receive a letter that tells me I am one of the 85% of applicants that didn't fill the forms out correctly the first time. A couple days, a polio vaccine, a new ferritin test (stored iron), and explanations on both my low ferritin levels as well as how I'm not going to be a vegetarian in the peace corps, I finish the medical packet. Again
September 19th- In the airport, this time at the more human time of 8 am, I receive the email that peace corps has updated my application status, and I shall receive a letter in the mail with the determination soon. Spend the next two days freaking out worrying that I didn't qualify

September 21st- receive an email from placement telling me that, among other things, I had passed medical clearance. Another YATTA! The biggest hurdle for peace corps has officially been conquered! The actual letter comes the next day. Placement asks for an updated resume and official transcript, which I send as well as a quick thing saying that I've been using the rosetta stone program to improve my spanish. Placement emails me back saying that a placement specialist will contact me shortly.

September 29th- Contact from Placement! We schedule a final phone interview for the next day
September 30th- Final phone interview. Get asked if I would be able to deal with long distances riding my bike and no electricity and no plumbing. I reply yes. She then tells me that she is going to invite me to Sub Saharan Africa program leaving in Mid to late January. She is unable to send the final invitation then, because they haven't gotten the final numbers on the program, but will be letting me know in about a week. I give her the go ahead
And then I start freaking out. Call all my friends, goober, parents. I had been pretty set on Central/South America and it was a blow to have that taken away. I also was worried about being able to stay in touch with people. But after a couple hours and ice cream, I feel a lot better, and feel excited about Africa. Check with peace corps wiki and it looks like its down to two countries, Zambia and South Africa. From placement specialists questions, it seems like its going to be Zambia.

October 7th- Invitation is in the mail! Spend the next week leaving early from work to check if the invitation is here. Doesn't come. Leave town to visit friends

October 14th- Drinking the girliest cocktail of my life (pepto bismol pink with whipped cream) with my best friend, I get a call from my dad. He opens the envelope...and its South Africa! Leaving January 23rd I scream, drink more, and spend the rest of the trip in a daze!

My timeline was pretty short compared to many others. I was very lucky.