Gardening 101

April 6th, 2012

It only took me 10 months but I have finally started a personal garden.  Having never really gardened before and feeling very unconfident in my ability to successfully do so I asked my Make to teach me.  She eventually suggested that I build a personal garden right next to my house.  A small one that I can manage and grow just what I need rather then try contending with the big family garden.

So I went to town, bought three meters of cheap fencing, a hand shovel, and some gardening gloves.  Blindingly being guided by my Make’s design and with the help of my 4 host brothers (really just the neighbor kids who have made my homestead their permanent residence simple because no one will send them home), we built a garden.  Using the fence I bought, a house wall, some logs, some wire, and some scrap corrugated tin we managed to enclose a small area.  I am doubtful that the chickens will stay out, but we will take on that challenge when we cross it.  My BoBhuti (host brothers) then created a mixture of cow manure and ash from the fire to fertilize the dirt inside.  Now I just need to heavily water the area for a week and then I can start planting.

It actually didn’t take that long, in the matter of an hour or so it was complete, and I am grateful and excited about it now, but I have to saw it was a quite frustrating hour.  I felt totally out of control of what was happening and I felt guilty for mostly watching while this garden was created because I wasn’t really sure how to help.  Yes I needed the help to complete this project but it was a bit overwhelming for me.  Despite my discomfort I could tell my host family didn’t mind helping.  The boys thrived in the building aspect and my Make, I think, appreciated the distraction from idleness.  My Babe (host dad) is on a, for lack of better description, church prayer retreat for Easter, and my host Sisi is at her son’s father’s family’s homestead for Easter.  She wants to get his hair cut now that he is one year old and Swazi tradition claims that the father’s family gets the honor of cutting it.  So the homestead is quiet and Make was looking for something to keep her busy… and now I have garden!

Baby Shower

March 31^st, 2012

My oldest host sister is expecting her second child.  She lives in the capital city Mbabane and kindly invited me to her baby shower this past Saturday.  Turns out Swazi baby showers are the exact same as American baby showers: tons of food, fun games, presents, and an afternoon with your best girlfriends.

They say Americans are loud, but I think Swazi women could give any group of American women a run for their money.  I had never been with so many Swazi women indoors before.  Most Swazi events are held outside and the noise isn’t evident, but inside I would have never believed how loud it could get.  It was all sounds of happiness though… tons of laughter.  It was really fun to just hang out with a bunch of women all afternoon. 

I unfortunately didn’t get to experience the full shower.  Keeping with true Swazi culture the event didn’t start until 3:00pm, when it was scheduled for noon.  Since I had to catch public transport back to site before dark I had to leave at 3:30pm.  Even with the effort I still didn’t make it home until way past dark.

I caught the last bus home and let me tell you once the sun sets public buses basically become party buses.  I am fairly certain every single man was drinking and we even had an aisle dancer.  Of course I didn’t go unnoticed, a loud outburst of excitement roared through the bus as I made my way from the back to exit.  Many “I love yous” and shouts of “white person” followed me.  However, I survived the experience and my host family met me with a vehicle at the bus stop so I didn’t have to walk home alone in the dark.  There just so happened to be some male family members visiting my host family and they had a truck that they let my host mom borrow to fetch me.  She told them she needed to collect her daughter and when they saw me they were perplexed.  The only explanation my host dad gave them was “she has my last name, she is my daughter,” meaning don’t be rude to her.

Sometimes belonging to a family here is the best thing about this whole experience. 

Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls…

March 25th, 2012

Unless you’re in Swaziland… then please go chasing waterfalls.

One of my major struggles here in The Swaz is the lack of appreciation for beautiful things.  Yes the nature of Swaziland is breathtaking, but the lack of beautiful designs, architecture, art, landscaping, anything aesthetically pleasing really is a bit of a downer for me.  I just want to marvel at something.

Well I finally found something to marvel at … a waterfall!!

Another PCV lives about an hours trek to an amazing waterfall.  Of course this also means there are mountains to marvel at as well.  It was amazing.  Myself and some fellow PCVS spent the better part of Sunday morning soaking in the sight and sounds of cascading water.  It’s a popular spot for Swazis to come to also, but thankfully it was Sunday and they were all at church so we had the spot all to ourselves. 

The waterfall is also a religious site for Jericho’s, a religion originating in Swaziland, and they hold a pilgrimage here every year.  Remnants of their last visit were evident in candle wax dripped over rock and trees, wherever a suitable candlestick holder was found.  They also believe it is where the seven headed snake lives, however the snake never made an appearance while we were there.  Aside from bugs and a frog, the only wildlife we saw was a village chicken looking very out of place struggling to climb the boulders.

Reflection

At the grief and loss workshop one of the exercises was to create a reflection of a loss we had in our life.  Like everyone I’ve experienced loss of family, friends, and pets, but the only thing I could think of to create was a torn out collage of an orange cat.  Now many of you know I have a particular fancy for orange cats starting from when I bought my orange and white tabby when I was 11 years old.

So I’m missing my cats, is what your probably thinking.  Well yes I do miss them in a sense but that was not the message my little collage was giving.  Why am I telling you this, well I guess the reflection was surprising for me.  I know most of you come to this blog to read about my adventures in Africa and with the Peace Corps in hopes that I ate something weird, participated in a bizarre traditional ritual, or singled handedly eradicated HIV.  Well the Peace Corps experience is much more then eating worms and talking about safe sex.   It’s teaching me way more about myself then I ever thought it would.

So back to the cat reflection, it actually represents my 11-year-old self.  At 11 I was desperate to be passionate about something.  I thought 11 was much too old to be passionless so I decided to take up liking cats.  I bought a cat and became obsessed.  Embarrassingly, talk about cats all the time, obsessed.  I would share stories about my cat’s daily doings everyday during my 6^th grade share-and-tell moment.  I didn’t care what people thought of me or my intense passion for felines. However, as soon as 7^th grade hit I realized my passion was socially unacceptable and I quickly shut it down, unfortunately closing down most of myself that was ever genuine.  I’ve been struggling to find my 11-year-old self ever since.

However there is more to the story.  I was 11 years old the very first time I ever traveled abroad.  My parents blessed me with the opportunity to travel to the UK.  I remember my mom asking if I wanted to go and no questions asked I said yes.  I was fearless at eleven.  If that opportunity has come to me at twelve I may not have taken it, I may have never gotten the “travel bug,” I wouldn’t be here in Peace Corps.

So as you can tell the Grief and loss workshop has opened up another path on my road to self-discovery. I am finally figuring out just who I am, and it turns out I’ve been hiding the better part of myself for a long time.   Yep the Bethany you are all going to get when I come home is not going to be who you last saw… she is going to be better.  

Grief and Loss Workshop

March 21^st-23^rd, 2012

To finish up our week long training we had a grief and loss workshop with our PCMO (medical officer).  Talking about grief and loss sounds like a whole lot of crying and sadness but it wasn’t entirely about that.  Yes there were tears, and sad stories, and surprise discoveries, but for me it was much more then that.

As Americans we tend to forget to take time for ourselves.  There is always something to do for someone, somewhere to go, some responsibility pushing at us.  Having packed my American work ethic I struggled as many volunteers do to adjust to the slower pace of life the majority of world operates at.  If we are sitting it means we are wasting time, or at least that’s what I thought before this whole experience.  Here sitting really is no waste of time at all, its time to recharge. 

A simple task here equals the effort, emotional stress, and physical drainage of several tasks back home.  My job at home was 5 miles from home and it took me 10 minutes to get to it.  I didn’t have to talk to anyone on the way, I could listen to music of my choice, and I could control my temperature with air conditioning or heat.  Here one place I work is about 5 miles from my house.  It takes me an hour to get there.  I walk, take transport, and then walk again.  I walk when it’s hot, I walk when it’s raining, I walk when it’s windy, and I walk when it’s cold.  I talk to every neighbor I pass, everyone at the shops, the transport operator, the person I am sitting next to, the bomake at the market, all the neighbors on the way to my destination, and then eventually the people I work with; all while caring my lunch, my materials for the day, a first aid kit, water, a book, and my umbrella for protection from the sun.  And after I’m done with work I do it all over again to get home.  One simple lesson takes all day and is exhausting.  So moral of the story, take time for your self and don’t feel bad about it.  It’s a struggle for me every day even here, but I think once I master “the art of doing nothing” my life will feel much more complete.

PDM (Project and Design Management) Workshop

March 19^th-21^st, 2012

We have reached our mid-service training.  While we still have a few months until we hit our actual mid-service, its still feels like a major accomplishment.  Most of our “Mighty-Fine Group-Nine” converged at Thokoza Conference Center in Mbabane once again with visions of showers and catered meals in our heads.  However we weren’t alone this time. 

For the first three days of the training we had our PDM workshop with our counterparts from the community.  Addy, Ryan, and I brought two counterparts with us.  We had Bashin, our Kagogo Center Manager, whom we all work with and is our link to the inner council of the local community government.  We also had Amnesty, our counterpart from the refugee camp.  I am giving Amnesty a major shout-out here.  He agreed to come to this workshop where not only was he be surrounded by Americans speaking English, but also Swazis speaking siSwati, neither of which are his first language.  And he did fabulous!

We spent two days working with our counterparts on the step-by-step processes of identifying, developing, implementing, and evaluating a project.  It was really nice to be able to work with our counterparts with PC right there to answer any questions we had.  I think it gave everyone a boost of energy to get projects going.

It was also really fun to bond with our counterparts out of the community.  We could hang out in a neutral environment; get to know each other outside of just working with each other.  We taught Amnesty how to play some American card games, and he taught us and Bashin how to write our names in Arabic and is educating us on Islam.  The great divide between cultures is melting away slowly and the laughter and smiles that replaced it is infectious.

Me, Amnesty, Addy, Ryan, Bashin

New Wheels!

New Wheels!

March 7^th, 2012

Peace Corps has approved about 10 of us volunteers to purchase a bike.  Based on our need, the terrain of our site and our desire we were each allotted money for a bike and a helmet.  So I am now the proud owner of a bike… and its pink.  It’s a bit hot for biking at the moment but once it gets cooler I hope to bike from my homestead to Mpaka where the clinic and the refugee camp are.  Right now I take local transport because it would be about a two hour walk from Malindza Highway where I live.  It only cost 4 rand each way but after several times a week it adds up.  However that being said, biking here is not as easy as it sounds.  Sure I have no hills to encounter but the only option to bike on is dirt path.  A packed down dirt path no problem, but a loose dirt path, kind of hard.  And then you have the attention factor.  Seeing a white person is cause for commotion enough.  Seeing a white person riding a bike creates a lot of excitement.  I think I will finally discover the back paths through my community as to avoid as many people as possible when biking.  Its just some days you cant take everyone laughing at you when your tired and hot and just want to get to where your going.  Besides the embarrassment of riding, and the rough terrain, there are also the thorns.  Almost every plant here in the low veld has vicious thorns.  Roll over one of those and it’s a guaranteed popped tire.  We will see how long my tires last until I’m walking again due to a flat tire.

I Can Bake a Cake and Eat it to!

March 6^th, 2012

So many volunteers decided to invest in a mini oven with a stovetop.  I haven’t as I’m not much of a baker to begin with and with the whole gluten free issue there aren’t many options of things to bake.  However, I was sent some g-free all-purpose flour and my Make (host mom) just so happened to borrow our neighbors oven that a past volunteer left them.  Two days ago I went into the house and said “Make I want to bake something sweet.”  She just looked at me and held up her dessert cookbook, we were on the same page evidently.   So we decided to try out one of my recipes from my PC cookbook.  We baked a coffee cake, and get this friends, it actually turned out looking and tasting like a cake.  Can you believe I baked a cake made from scratch?  Not only did I bake a cake from starch but I also made frosting from scratch to go with it!  Granted my Make, who worked at the one coffee shop/bakery in Manzini (my shopping town), helped me, but still this is a miracle.  Many of you know of my past baking struggles and failures.  I always would resort to boxed cake and frozen cookies.

So g-free flour works fairly well.  The cake is crumbly as is to be expected but tastes like real cake and after not having cake for 9 months it was heavenly.  It wasn’t intentional but this cake could have been baked in celebration of having been in Peace Corps for exactly 9 months now!  We actually had really cool weather today also, around 27C, so it felt good to heat up the oven and get the whole kitchen smelling delicious.  The cake was cooled, frosted, and ready to eat just in time for everyone to come into the house to watch Generations.  Nothing makes a day great like dessert!

February 29^th, 2012

Lion King reference:

“Hey kid why you look so blue?” – Timon

“I’d say he is more of a goldish brown.” – Pumba

While my skin may be turning a very nice shade of golden brown, I am feeling really blue lately.  It the natural emotional cycle of a PCV to go in waves of extreme highs and extreme lows.  I’m in a low and not entirely sure how I got here.

One reason is the heat.  I think I have SAD (seasonal affective disorder) but because of too much sunlight, rather then the typical not enough.  I just need winter, and I need it to come now now (in Swaziland ‘now’ means sometimes in the future, ‘now now’ means at this very moment).  We have had a week of extreme heat with no breaks and its tearing me down.  Today I had to walk to the High school to teach the Health Club.  I was already grumpy and after the 30 min trek I was miserable.  I was dripping sweat, I couldn’t see from the sweat in my eyes, my clothes were stuck to me; my legs from the knees down were a shade darker from the combo of sweat and dirt.  My hut had been sprayed with indoor pesticide (that I was told it more poisonous then DDT – great) to prevent Malaria and I was having a not so good reaction to it.  My nose would not stop running and I felt like I had a mid-winter MN cold, but it’s the middle of summer.  I felt so out of control of everything. 

Once I got to school Addy and I found a shaded step to rest on in the back out of sight.  It seemed like the perfect place until I heard the whack of the punishment stick coming from the library.  Seeing the tear stained faces of the students emerge was enough to send me over the emotional edge I was teetering on.  I looked at Addy and said “I’m loosing it,” and tried with all the effort I had left to stop the tears from running down my face.

Addy, being the awesome person she is did help me by reading a blog post of a PCV in Ethiopia.  I have attached it below and want you all to read it.  He expresses what needs to be said.  Being a Peace Corps Volunteer is amazing, but it’s also the hardest thing I have ever done, its not all frolicking baby goats and rainbows (but frolicking baby goats are seriously one of the greatest things ever).

http://waidsworld.wordpress.com/2011/08/07/the-real-peace-corps/

Goodnight Moon

February 28^th, 2012

One of my favorite parts of my community is being able to look at the night sky.

My community is in a very flat part of Swaziland, in the Lowveld.  We can see hills in the distance in every direction but its flat for miles all around.  Makes you feel like you’re at the bottom of a bowl, always looking up.  Since the maize is almost ready to harvest when walking through the fields, which are everywhere, you literally get swallowed up in the scenery.

Being “below” everything has its advantages.  The sky seems very broad with nothing to break it up.  At night it makes you feel like you are at the Omni Theater at the MN Science Museum, completely surrounded.  That first moment when the screen opens and the first image appears, that feeling of complete awe at such an engulfing sight.  Often I also feel like I’m in a snow-globe, however it’s more of like a summer globe at the moment. 

Since there are no city lights to pollute the night sky the stars are phenomenal.  The moon, in its various stages of weaning and waxing, is extremely noticeable.  When it’s full it lights the entire community in a silver glow, but when new, it unbelievable dark out.  When its new is when you get the best star show.  At this time I can see the Milky Way, which runs right over my hut.  I sit on my steps, turn out my outside light and just take it all in.