Stock-taking

     A perspicuous, good friend recently asked me in an email if anyone had done a study on the changing emotional states of Peace Corps volunteers during their 27-month service.  During training we were given a Peace Corps handout entitled: The Cycle of Vulnerability and Adjustment. On the graph there is a midline separating vulnerability on the bottom and adjustment on above.  After the experiences of thousands of PCVs, the PC can pretty much pinpoint what a volunteer is experiencing from where the volunteer is in their period of service.  At the start of service there is a wavy line from small highs to small lows ... honeymoon, mixed culture shock, did I really sign up for this, etc.  About 6 months in  there is a steady time when volunteers are feeling good, their work is starting to come together.  Then there is a mid-service dip: a year left to go, the newness has worn off; followed by another period from 18 to 24 months when all your projects are clicking and you feel positive about being in your country.  Finally, during the last 3 months emotions dip again as volunteers think about returning home to find jobs, apply to grad schools, pay off student loans or in our case, put our house back together again, buy cars,  and re-enter our lives in Denver. 

      I would say that this cycle fairly reflects our Peace Corps experience.

       Our days vary.  I will be very well prepared to teach something and it will be a flop.  On another day something wonderful and unexpected will happen: from hugs and smiles, to knowing we have connected to a student in a personal, meaningful way. Recently I had a long day of ups and downs.  We have been asked to teach an English Language class for juniors (we teach separate sections).  We teach Day 4 which comes every 6th day.  There are more than 50 students in each section and many do not care about learning, have weak English skills,  and find disrupting the class much more entertaining.  I assigned a long-term project on Designing a Clean High School campaign.  It did not go well, leaving those who want to learn and me very frustrated.  On the other hand,  earlier in the day I had a very heartbreaking conversation (see February 24, 2015 blog entry) with a favorite student which left me sad, but also pleased that she would talk with me.

       We are 20 months into this adventure, so some stock taking is inevitable.  My siSwati is still pretty bad.  I hear poorly and have a bad memory.  Oh, I can say the mandatory greetings and communicate some very basic information, but I will never be able to carry on a conversation in which feelings are communicated.  My value to students is speaking and teaching English which will help them move from poverty to some level self-sufficiency if the economy ever improves here. Mark has been much more diligent than I have in learning the language.  I find I would rather put my time into my teaching than learning siSwati.  I am not very motivated. We will be tested on language acquisition at close of service, and I am resigned to doing poorly. 

       Though hard to prove quantitatively ( a chronic problem for the Peace Corps ) I know we are helping and it feels good.  Will our 27 months here have made a difference?  It certainly will for some young people.  On the whole we would both say it has been worth it, though on any given day the irritations (bug bites, dust, smelly latrine full of cockroaches, the heat, inability of Swazis to plan ahead .... ) can make life hard.  We both wonder what life will be like back in Denver.  We won't have school children running up to greet us on their walk to school  or people interested in us because we are white and from America.  We won't be special any more.

                Many of the volunteers are planning exotic trips ( India, Thailand, other parts of Africa) after finishing here in August.  Mark gave a big trip serious thought, but I persuaded him that the whole 27 months has been a big adventure and that I am tired of traveling.  Besides it turns out our grandson's daycare center is taking a week's vacation, and he will need his grandparents to look after him!  So after a short stop in DC, we expect to be back in Denver in early September.

A beautiful get-away weekend

     The temperatures in the "low-veldt" (lower, flat areas) have been regularly in the mid to high 90s  with no shade on our homestead, except, sadly, over by the latrine, where the flies will drive you mad.  To get away we booked Friday and Saturday nights at an "eco-lodge" in the mountains (highest is around 5,000 feet) in the northwest part of Swaziland.  We stayed in a safari tent,

with a fine hot water shower and adjacent toilet, large cotton towels and cotton sheets, and a good restaurant.

    The place is by a river with fine falls

and tall beautiful trees.     There is supposed to be good birding, but the heavy foliage at the end of summer made spotting a challenge.  We saw two new birds and some fine old friends, but did not see the crimson-tummied green-backed Narina Trogon, for which the place is noted.

      The total cost was about 1 1/2 times a Peace Corps volunteer's $220 (US) monthly stipend for basic necessities, but well worth it for us. (At the end of the 3rd week of each month there are increasingly desperate inquiries on the volunteer WhatsApp string asking if someone has checked an ATM and whether we've been paid, and much jubilation when the happy news spreads; there is said to be a "money dance" thought by some to hasten the electronic funds transfer - could these kids have over-imbibed local culture?  They pay $12 (US) a night for a dorm room in a backpacker's hostel.  Having a little reserve of plastic to fall back on for this kind of get-away or in case of emergency makes living here a little easier; these young volunteers are sometimes in very close circumstances.)

     Getting back to our site was a challenge.  We got a ride 2 1/2 miles up the steep little-traveled dirt road  to the main road with a young French couple who had stayed at the lodge for whom I had translated a little in a French, English and siSwati polyglot, then we were passed by a dozen or more cars and trucks - that never happens!  Few here can usually drive by the elderly white couple with backpacks hitch-hiking by the side of the road; sometimes I think they stop just because they are curious.  And it was starting to drizzle!  Finally a police pickup stopped for us; I have ridden in the back of a lot of pickups in this country, but this was a first.

Those benches are padded - nice!   A few more khumbi rides and some shopping in the main town and we were back to our homestead by mid-afternoon.

    We knew Monday would be a particularly heavy teaching day: two 1-hour classes for the 5th and 6th grade sections at one school on hand washing, which we had taught to 4 other primary school sections last week and 7 sections a year ago, so we know that pretty well.  Then a 50-minute class with 50 high school juniors in English language, and another 50 minutes with a special group of high school students from the refugee camp for supplementary help in English.  We have no background in teaching English-as-a-Foreign-Language, but we got some manuals and I think we're catching on.  Then Tuesday we start the primary school students on puberty, as an introduction to the reproductive system and then HIV, our core topic, towards the end of the first term.

    So our conversation over the weekend was dominated by TEFL  (e.g.,do we go next to pronouns or conjugating verbs?), and how we would present stages of puberty in mixed English and some siSwati - part of our goal is to try to get the kids used to using the names for things, because that helps in negotiating condom use.

       In covering puberty I plan to say in each of our classes that, in a class of 60, there are probably 2 to 5 students who are gay, and that I have many gay friends in the US whom I like a lot, who live happy, productive lives, with strong lasting relationships.  But, I will say, in Africa people who are gay need to look very carefully for support, and they need to be careful of the hostility they will find in a rural community such as this.  I was less clear last year on the acceptability of homosexuality.  The community knows us now, and if they don't like what I say . . . too bad.  The two classes I taught this morning were horrified by what I said; all the more reason to say it.

Heart Breaking

     I wanted to cry this morning.  Sitting under a shade tree with two of our favorite students during lunch break at one of our primary schools, I noticed one of them was eating her beans and samp with spoon.  This was unusual, because almost everyone here in rural Swaziland eats with fingers.  Just making conversation,  I mentioned that she was eating with a spoon.  Then she showed me her finger tips.  They were raw and bloody.  She said the rats at the camp had bitten her while she was sleeping. 

       

     These girls were our best students in grade 6 last year ... smart, eager, motivated, and just fun, cute girls.  Their families fled Burundi.  One of their mother's is the pre-school teacher at the camp.  Education is a value in her family. Life is hard at the camp:  cramped living spaces, no privacy, limited water and bathroom facilities, very little income, and yet these girls and many others like them make the very best out of so little available to them. The unfairness of life for these young refugees breaks my heart. We will keep trying to give them as much attention and knowledge as we can before August, but I fear it will not be enough.  Some of the refugees like these two young women will find a way to succeed, but many will not.  It just breaks my heart.

                The photo shows refugee girls from several central African countries after performing a dance. 

A letter from a young friend

     Walking to the tougher primary school near us where we teach twice a week, Katherine was stopped by one of our students who pointed out that her backpack was covered with ants.  This was after a rough morning with some tummy trouble - a challenge magnified because the latrine is 68 steps away (but the baking heat we've been having has made us grateful sometimes for that distance),  It turned out a bag of peanuts in Katherine's ubiquitous backpack had opened.  (A lady standing nearby in the school courtyard, sheltering from the broiling sun under a tree, urged us not to discard the bag of nuts, saying the ants would make the children enjoy them more!  We threw them away.)

     As she cleaned her pack Katherine was handed the following handwritten letter from a girl (14) whom we had taught in 5th grade last year; the outside of the letter was smudged at the folds, where it had been carried in a pocket, or backpack.  The girl is a refugee in the nearby United Nations refugee camp.  The spelling is hers.

                                                                                                                04 February 2015

Dear Catherine and Mark,

I write this letter to tell you that we will miss you when you go to United States of America.

You have been so kind to us.  You were my bests friends and teachers that mayed me to like you guys.  I would wish to see you again as my teachers.

You have been so kind to us refugees.  You helped us in the examinations.  In the examinations you helped us to study.  That mayed us refugees to love you guys.

I will never forget you Catherine and Mark.  You will be always in my heart.  I wish to see you again.

Your best friend

      Here is a picture of the writer:

When this picture was taken last week she had been at Friday afternoon "church practice," attended solely by the children of the refugee camp, all from central Africa, typically twice a week.  They sing hymns, distinctly different from the Swazi gospel music.  Lead by an insistent drum beat and sometimes a guitar and, this time, line dancing with arms gracefully swaying, the appeal for these teenagers could be similar to American bandstand, from the 50s.  This time a girl was drummer, lower right, but that is an eagerly sought role.  The drums in Africa I've seen are a section of oil barrel with fabric tightly stretched across both ends.  The sticks are . . . sticks.  Their church, to the left in the picture below, was originally and still is sometimes, a warehouse.

Melanie and Musa's wedding reception

          Saturday night we gathered at Swaziland's main live music venue, House on Fire, where the Bushfire music festival occurs each May, and had drinks and then dinner at the really nice restaurant there to celebrate the marriage of a volunteer from the group ahead of ours (she had extended her service for a 3rd year) to a Swazi man who is building manager for construction of a youth facility for an NGO.

 They exchanged vows:

 The PC volunteers had a picture

We had drinks as the long summer evening waned:

They had planned to have the civil wedding part done on Wednesday, but we ran into the bride in town that day;  the necessary government functionaries had not come to work that day.  They got it done on Friday.  When Melanie's service ends this year they will go to the US.  Musa is very fluent in English, which is helpful in his work here.

      After dinner

we got a taxi to the homestead of a volunteer in our group, where she and 4 others of us crashed.  She insisted on sleeping on the floor, giving Katherine and me her bed!  She has a really nice house, with indoor plumbing and a separate kitchen, windows that seal, an insulation layer below the metal roof, and a spacious living room; when our group first gathered after we had been to our sites it was quickly reported that Patty's is the place to crash if you can't get back to your site.   We had bought food on our way to the reception Saturday and we fixed up a fine breakfast in her lovely home.

     School should finally start Tuesday, January 27, after a week delay.  The official reason for the delay was that the "regiments" (men who participate in the "first fruits" ceremony to celebrate the summer, who are organized into military-style units, which are more like fraternal order than a militia) had not finished the last stage of that event - weeding the King's fields, but now we are hearing that the delay may have been because the government lacks funds to open the schools.  Upon return to site Sunday I visited the nearby Refugee Camp and learned that the camp manager lacks funds to pay school fees, and the High School Principal is saying students from the Refugee Camp cannot attend school until the fees are paid.   But I think that face-off between the Principal and the Camp management has occurred at the beginning of every term, so maybe that will be quickly resolved.  It would be nice if the students and all others in education here could start soon to focus solely on education.

Our Summer Vacation Part III: Cape Town and Jozi

       Knowing we would need some fun to look forward to after our return from our oh-so-brief visit with our grandson Matthew and family over Christmas, the Minister of Fun[i] booked 9 days in Cape Town, Stellenbosch (the wine region 2 hours drive north of Cape Town) and Johannesburg, South Africa.

      Cape Town is a city of stunning natural beauty, interesting history and culture,  and European standards of cuisine and infra-structure: comfortable, dependable and safe public transport; clean hotel with running water, clean floors and clean soft towels and cotton sheets; and wi-fi all around!

         We had dinner at sunset on Table Mountain,

toured the Cape of Good Hope Peninsula south of Cape Town  and saw new sea birds, including the African Penguin

and made the obligatory visit to Robben Island, marveling at the hardships Nelson Mandela and other political prisoners stood up under for 18 years and at the nobility and generosity with which he managed to emerge.  We ran into his name, image and legacy throughout South Africa; this country was most fortunate to have him at that critical time, and wise to follow his way.  His successors have been much less inspiring. 

     On our way to Stellenbosch we walked through the magnificent Kirstenbosch Gardens

Its high summer in Cape Town, the hot dry season, so not the best time to see flowers or birds! We were hopeful to see the Cape Sugarbird, but he needs flowering proteas. But magnificent and varied trees, and a majestic location.

      Our private room in a backpackers hostel in Stellenbosch had a lovely balcony

from which we spotted another new bird, a spotted pigeon, featuring a gaudy patch of bright red bare skin all around its eye.  Also lots of mosquitoes,  but that's not a malaria area, and we are both on our meds, because our area of Swaziland does have a little malaria.

       Stellenbosch is the heart of the wine-making area of South Africa, and noted also for its University, previously predominantly Afrikaans, but now more reflecting the diversity of what Archbishop Desmond Tutu calls The Rainbow Nation.  No visit to Stellenbosch would be complete without a wine pilgrimage; ours was with a newly-wed German couple who didn't care for red wines - we did not make that mistake, although the whites were delicious!.

      On returning to Jozi we took the train up to Pretoria, which was kind of forgettable, took a bus tour of Soweto - a vast sprawling varied city of 4 or 5 million people, where the tourists were the only whites, I'm told - and spent an afternoon at the compelling and haunting Apartheid Museum.

      While we were in Cape Town we got a message on the WhatsApp string by which our group of volunteers communicate[ii] that Swazi school openings would be delayed a week, so not till next Tuesday, January 27, to allow those participating in the Swazi traditional Incwala festival celebrating the "first fruits" of summer to complete the final stage: weeding the King's fields.    Seriously.  In a country with 40 to 60% unemployment.  We haven't had regular class time since early November, when classes stopped for administration and then grading of exams, and then many schools closed a week early.  Very different priorities than mine.

     Coming back through Mbabane we stopped by PC HQ for Katherine to catch a Books For Africa planning meeting.  There must have been 8 volunteers in the Volunteer "Lounge" using the free, relatively high speed 'net - no schools, so what else are you going to do?  At one point I asked one from the group that arrived last June, whom I did not know well, if she had seen Katherine after the BFA meeting broke up and started to describe her, forgetting that Katherine had addressed all of the new group at the end of their "Pre-Service Training" about the initial stages of a BFA library application.  The volunteer broke in "Oh I know her, the happy one."  Yup.

---

[i]   Our positions have reversed in many, many ways in Africa.  For instance, in Denver, Katherine planned all our vacations and I tried to make money.  Katherine has a keen instinct for what might be fun, how things work, and how to get to the beating heart of a new place.  When we got here Katherine threw herself so  completely into the work that she could hardly be troubled with plans for us.  Knowing we both needed to "get out of Dodge" sometimes, I started making our plans for fun things.  With our limited internet availability, that can be arduous. 

     Bet you didn't expect footnotes in a PC Blog.  But, consider the source.

[ii]    WhatsApp doesn't use 'net; and is cheaper, and generally more available for many of us than email, but takes a lot of maintenance and blows up a lot, at least in this environment.

Our Summer Vacation Part 2: Hlane with our protogée John

     We went on Friday, January 2 to Hlane, a nearby game park that we like a lot, with John Koffi, the head boy last year at our local high school, who will now start his “A Level” or “Matric” year (which is pretty standard in the South African system, and I think in the British schools; kind of like a post-graduate year after high school in the US, but much more standard, and required for South African and maybe British and other international colleges and universtities) at a good school in the capital of Swaziland, St. Marks. John's family has just moved out of the nearby Refugee Camp after 2 night-time tent fires resulted in the deaths of 2 children, bringing back the trauma after John's father's store was burned and his 2 brothers murdered precipitating their flight from the Congo 5 years ago. It is now clear the tent fires were set intentionally, apparently hostilities between national groups. It is just as awful as it sounds.

     The upshot is that, after a year when we saw and worked with John nearly every day, we won't see him now very much, and we wanted to go over decisions and issues we could anticipate for the coming months, partly because we are probably going to have to pay for his St. Mark's turition and board. That kind of payment is made here by depositing cash, which will take us some traipsing around, so we wanted those events on our schedule, to the extent we can. And John has some other school possiblitilies cooking, and deadlines to meet.. Also he's fascinated with Africa's natural treasures and had never seen lions. And because, having been with no one who needed my advice for nearly 2 decades, John got the expected list of suggestions, questions and cautions. Handled it well. Seemed attentive. Application essays. Interview techniques. What lies beyond A levels. What the future may hold, and what could derail it.

Enough chatter:

One of the things we like about Hlane is there is a very nice restaurant, with fine impala and wildebeest grill:

John had been on a school trip to a game park in Malawi, where his family stayed 2 years after leaving Congo, but had never seen a lion. Now he has. He took most of the pictures we have of our trip:

     On Thursday we leave for Cape Town (said by all who have lived or visited to be one of the world's great cities) for a week, plus 2 days to further explore JoBurg. Then school.

      I think our last blog on returning from seeing Baby Matthew sounded a little sad. We were. But as we walked up our road, on our way to Hlane, a bright-eyed lively little girl called out “Teachers!” We try to stop when we hear that, or our names, from a child. Turns out she had done really well in 4^th grade tests, and she wanted us to know that we will teach her in the new school year. That's why we're still here.