I announced to my friends and family a few weeks ago that I would be extending my service. The decision wasn’t made lightly – on the contrary, I deliberated over it for quite a while. Only when my new position was finalized was I sure about staying. I will be working with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) offices here in the capital of Botswana. The tuberculosis division will be my new home, and I’ll be working on aspects of their research, data management and analysis, and reporting. Their current studies address the challenges with diagnosis and treatment in Botswana. My new job will have structure and a set of challenges that more closely resemble those of a job in the west, and I’m thrilled.

A few of my friends have closed their services a little early and have already left the country. It’s just the beginning of the mass exodus, in which almost all of my cohort will depart. A handful of us are extending our services for the next year, but the majority will leave in about a month. There’s a tinge of this left behind feeling, though of course I am excited to engage in my new job. Regardless, I think closing the door on my current site is going to feel very good.

At this point, most of the members of my support group understand the reasons for my pulling back and out of their activities. Some things will remain frustrating to me, though now I no longer have the urge or duty to fix them. It’s a relief, because this grassroots development work has drained me. The positive is that the members seem to be reinvigorated to take charge, almost as if my involvement was a bit of a crutch. I guess I never found the perfect balance of helping and allowing people to do things themselves – and I don’t know if there is one.

I can take away some final successes in my last couple months here. My building project for the support group is still moving forward, though of course I won’t be with the NGO to see it to any form of completion. I’m still unsure of whether or not the funding will ever go through, but I consider my contribution to be successful. The word at this point is that the US Embassy would like to fund the project and has, for all intents and purposes, approved the grant application I wrote. But it’s still a matter of policy allowing the funds to be used for such a project. I don’t know when that final decision will come through, but I’ll leave it to the next person with some sense of fulfillment.

The other project I have seen recent success with is a grant application I helped write and edit for the junior secondary school environmental club. They are planning to construct a fruit orchard, and the funding should be coming through soon. After all of my trial-and-error experiences with environmental projects in my village, I’m glad to see one taking root.

I have about a month left at this site. After then, I will be moving to Gaborone and starting my new job in June. My lifestyle in the capital will be markedly different from my current one. Village life is something you get accustomed to in a survival sense; it is rarely comfortable or easy, and I don’t think I ever stopped counting the days to when I was done with it. My attitude toward Peace Corps at this point is not that I loved my experience so much that I couldn’t resist staying; this next job opportunity is too good to pass up. Peace Corps made it possible for me and for that I’m grateful.

I’ve heard that a lot of RPCVs romanticize their experiences; sifting out the frustration, discomfort, boredom, and disappointment they endured to portray only the flashes of success. I had both, and while I’m still here, I’d like to acknowledge my complete experience. Talking about these last 2 years will undoubtedly boil down to a few sentences, and over time I hope that I remember the difficulty and joy with some truth.

Cheers

I remember when I created my list of goals back in the beginning of my service. I purposely left them broad so I could accomplish them over time and feel success through my developing perspective. I have seen it and discovered a lot more about myself in the process. There are parts of me that have changed, which is inevitable. Even in a “safe” environment like my home culture I still would experience change. How does adaptation to this place factor in?

Many things in my “job” happen here on a whim. The other day, for instance, I had a small group of peer educators from Debswana drop in on me totally unannounced. They wanted to have a short meeting to discuss the assistance they had provided in the past and lay out a way forward. It wasn’t anything particularly difficult, but the impromptu nature of this way of life has been ingrained in me. I have been asked to present in front of large groups on 10 minutes notice, sometimes on topics I know very little about. Panic doesn’t have time to take over, and I’ve become pretty good at winging it.

Holding a lengthy conversation with a complete stranger is another skill I’ve picked up. Sure, most Batswana pull from a small collection of reused questions: “Where are you from? You speak Setswana? How long have you been here? Where do you stay? Where are you working?” But there’s still a certain comfort in the tempo of knocking out answers to make a fast friend. That’s how you survive here. I think I can read people better, at least well enough to know if someone is going to do the job I ask them to or give me a good hitchhike or to try taking advantage of me.

I arrived here with essentially no network, but now I can say it is pretty wide. Much of it is populated with acquaintances and familiar nameless faces, but that’s life in the village.

Pointing to concrete accomplishments is tough. Not because I don’t have quantifiable evidence to show for my time here, because I do. But I want to be able to boast about my recycling project – that one never got off the ground. Or the times I stepped outside my comfort zone to work with young people in that scouts troop, except it fizzled out. Failure is the most important part of this job and I have learned to embrace it. There’s just no space for it on my résumé; I guess that’s what this blog is for.

I can talk about the large numbers of men I helped get circumcised by mobilizing with my hospital’s team. I can also point to the people in my support group, which have come along over the past two years. The grants I have written, the travels I have taken, the partnerships I have built, the new things I tried, and the friends I have made will not be excluded when I talk about these 2 years.

The scary part of right now is that I still do not know what comes next. There are ideas and scenarios, but nothing is final. Only 72 days until my supposed departure date and I’m still not sure where I’m headed.

Last week, my intake group – Bots 10 – got the chance to reflect on how far we’ve come and to celebrate together. It was our Close of Service conference, affectionately known as COS. There was storytelling and reminiscing about old friends who have left us. I took a few moments to let the sentiment set in and enjoy the company of these people. The group is very diverse, in such a way that makes me think many of us would never have met or interacted in the “real world.” But that is what is part of what is special about them. There really will not be another group like them in my life – one that has experienced the lifestyle we have together for a length of time that requires a high level of endurance… one you don’t get in other volunteer or study abroad trips. We have learned and survived the types of things that make this thing hard: not the power outages, pit latrines, or bugs but the boredom, loneliness, and existential search for purpose. These people provided a sort of sanctuary from the rest of the culture and are my friends. I will miss them and will always appreciate their essential role in this experience. Godspeed, Bots 10.

Cheers

I have made some great friends here, with whom I’ll always hold a bond. What can you say about a group of people who drop everything to live in rural southern Africa for two years for no money? It’s not normal – some of my friends here have left high-paying jobs, sold their houses, and dealt with long-distance (thousands of miles) relationships. All of it, of course, is done in the name of virtue and service. When I reminisce with my friends over how we’ve adapted and how different our lives are, I realize how much we’ve all changed. We have spent a long time in the village and earned an intimate understanding of grassroots development – one that you can’t get from an office at an international aid agency, venturing into the bush occasionally for fieldwork. It’s evident that the clichés is true: we are biggest product of this experience.

Here I have experienced some crippling lows and questioned my self-worth. I’ve learned that as Westerners, we hold our productivity and success as benchmarks for our happiness. And I’ve learned how dangerous that is here. These two years have been anything but flashy for me – aside from the images of bathing in a bucket and using a pit latrine – I have grinded through my work thanklessly. I was talking with a friend of mine in the village, a fellow Westerner who has been here for more than 20 years, and he asked me how I felt about my service. It’s a loaded question to anyone in the same line of work and I had to be honest: the people and my organization have been very challenging. He followed up and was not surprised to hear that I felt my progress was slow and often invisible. There are few moments that capture me “changing the world” or will fit onto an advertisement for Peace Corps. It just doesn’t work that way. In Botswana it seems common for your praises to be sung after you’ve gone – without being too presumptuous, I think that the Volunteer who follows me will hear some of the good things I’ve done.

A couple weeks ago I got an email from a future volunteer, as I sometimes do, asking some questions and seeking advice. It’s so hard to compress my experiences or generalize them since every volunteer’s life is so different – even people within my district have much different lives. But in answering her inquiry, I realized how much of the story is left out of pictures and stories. This is such a personal experience, that in some ways I don’t want to share the whole thing. Likewise, I don’t think others can understand through asking questions or reading books – the unhappy discoveries you make during these two years, as well as the way you handle them, are your own points of pride, and indispensible to your experience.

February has been good to me so far. I went to Lesotho for some hiking and relaxation (and to use the remainder of my vacation days) – it was picturesque. The mountains and greenery made me envious. I also got into graduate school! Actually, I’ve only heard from a couple schools so far, but I got good news from one of my top choices so I’m excited: Emory University’s School of Public Health in Atlanta. I’ve been so anxious about what comes next, so I’m relieved that my options are starting to materialize. Within the next few weeks I’ll probably be able to start planning my move.

I guess this is the point when times speeds up again. I’m ready for it.

Cheers

I told my organization I would be reducing my role with them over the next few months, starting next week. Of course, if this last project gets approved it means I’ll still have a lot to do in the way of physical labor and organizing. But I’m leaving the other grunt work to my members. This is the point when I remember that I never was the executive director (although I often was) and someone else must take responsibility for this organization. If it crumbles, then it is not my job to glue it back together.

I’m still here, and I have other things to occupy my time. I started a computer class last week, which should be kind of fun because the students are enthusiastic. So far it seems like my class will consist mostly of older women – it seems to be the demographic I’m destined to serve here.

After this week my service will change as I enter detach mode. I’m taking the stress off and preparing everything for my departure. In a few weeks I have my close of service (COS) conference and that will really start the countdown.

Cheers

This post is born out of some of those difficulties in the final (and biggest) project of my service. I’ve written loosely about it before and have avoided definitive terms because it has always been shrouded in uncertainty. The project is a building for my NGO, and it represents the largest amount of funding the organization has applied for to date. “Logistical nightmare” doesn’t accurately describe the pangs we have endured in the journey to this point, a week before the board makes a final decision about our application.

Anyone who has worked in development knows that disorganization comes with the territory. In Botswana, the residue of the British protectorate years manifests itself in bureaucracy unlike anything I’ve ever seen in the US. Furthermore, no one – no one – knows how to navigate it. I have dealt with this for quite a while, but I am still astonished by how many barriers there are to progress. Without intention to generalize, aspects of this project seem to center around me willing people to learn how to do their jobs or overcome their laziness. There are good partners in my life here, and some of them have fallen victim to the ineptitude of people around them. Orchestrating people in time here has been horrible.

At this point, I am unsure of this project’s potential for success. After all, I am leaving in about 4 months and even if the building is funded, it won’t be complete until long after I close my service. I can hope to get a foundation of the work done before June and push the people of my NGO to take charge of it, setting up some semblance of sustainability. First, however, is the matter of securing funding. My organization received a site visit from the donor in November, and has since been working hard to position itself to be eligible. I honestly don’t know that we will be ready in time.

I have spent a large part of my service being frustrated, but this is the last time I will do so. By this time next month I should know whether or not my NGO was successful in its application for funding. If, we succeed, I will have a very busy 3 months. If we fail, then we fail – but I will not hold any regret about my end of the project.

Failure is obviously not something I enjoy, but I recognize that it’s essential to the Peace Corps experience. We learn most from our missteps, whether we are to blame or not (in many of my failures here I was to blame). Some things are not within our control and I guess that’s an important lesson, too. Either way, it is emotionally draining and I am almost through.

With or without this project, I am satisfied with what I have done here. I may not be in the right mood to convey that sentiment, and I can reminisce later, but I know that I have experienced moments of fulfilment. I’m ready to get back to an environment that doesn’t oppose me at every turn the way this one does. The first world has its problems too, sure, but at least I don’t feel singularly defeated there. After this project I am done failing in my service, and that feels pretty damn good.

I’m now facing the impending, uneasy reacquaintance with that life. There’s so much of it I’m looking forward to, though: I can easily call my family and close friends again, visit and travel with them, eat and drink with them… There’s comfort in that and a lot of love to be shared. People with whom I’ve kept in touch from this side have an idea of what my life has been like these past two years and have kept me updated on theirs. It will be seamless and easy to renew our bonds.

However, there’s a certain amount of awkwardness and guilt associated with others. I did seek a sort of “reset button” when I left, and I have felt relief in closing some chapters of my US life. But I didn’t necessarily prepare for that with others. The world is small and I wonder how some encounters will play out. The US is fast-paced and busy (that’s part of the reason I left), but I have been so fortunate with relentless support from some people. Friends and family have kept in email contact and some even buy Skype credit to call me regularly. It has been an incredible display of commitment and encouragement, which has been a crucial grounding throughout this experience. Comparing that with the relative indifference I’ve felt from others is the challenge.

What should I expect from people who were formerly central to my social life and identity? Living in the bush is like a get out of jail free card: my relative lack of access to internet and resources (I’m a poor volunteer) removes some guilt from my end. But how much time does it take to send an email? Or put a post card in the mail? I can ask these questions of myself, for I certainly haven’t been the best at this. This severed (or weakened) tie was not deliberate. Was our relationship one of convenience and proximity? Maybe the line isn’t so finite – I didn’t exactly ask everyone to maintain a long-distance friendship with me, I just thrust it upon them. Neglect was made on both ends. Shall we just call it even?

Homecoming should be absent begrudging hostility. I’m excited to go home, after all, because America is a place of wonderful people, infrastructure, food, productivity, live music, showers, big cities, central air conditioning… the list goes on. Before I get to all that, I need to reconcile that imbalance, and leave behind any bitterness. Readjustment is going to be hard enough.

Cheers

Reaching such a point in my service has left me with fewer reasons for reflection. There is no novelty, because I’ve done everything (twice). The hardship factor has lost its luster and instead serves as a tantalizing reminder of how close the comforts of the US are. Toward the end of her service, I remember my predecessor talking with some local colleagues – they asked her why she wasn’t staying longer, moving permanently to Botswana, and she said simply, “I’m tired.” It’s getting to that point for me as well, and I’m counting my days left of life in the bush: shopping a 2 hour bus ride away, carrying water, living on the poverty line, being constantly dirty, killing millions of giant bugs, using the pit latrine. I’m just tired of it. And I’m sure you are tired of hearing about it.

The bright spots are in my projects, which I’ve learned to navigate well. I’ve recently been in contact with an environmental club that has ambitions to start a fruit orchard. My last bout of tree planting had mixed success, but this attempt promises to be grander and better prepared. I’ve also got my hand in another safe male circumcision campaign, and am hoping the departure of my doctor friend won’t hurt our ability too much. My building project is still among the top things on my list, though final confirmation won’t come for a couple months. I did get a site visit this week from a potential donor. It went well, though there’s still a lot to be done before it can materialize.

Looking forward is competing with the stresses of the present. I have travel plans in the works (Moçambique!!) and graduate school applications to complete. Farther in the future are COS travel plans, which are starting to come into focus – though the final stop is Detroit. There are so many things I want to see, and I only hope my budget can meet the needs of my wanderlust.

Cheers

October has been much wetter this year than last. Lately I’ve seen pretty frequent, albeit fleeting rain. There’s nothing I dislike about rain – no, make that water in general. I often find myself standing outside, like I did today, to soak up storms. They’re irresistible.

Yesterday began the district’s annual evidence-based planning meetings. Last year I was the lone volunteer in my district and endured the frustrations of this process on my own. Although there are other volunteers around this year, the data used to construct the local response to HIV/AIDS is still out-of-date or simply bad. Protestations don’t seem to permeate, and the committee pushes forward on the unstable foundation of imprecise information. Inquiries about improving the quality of statistics are met with dead-end finger pointing. This takes me to the root of why I decided to only engage people when asked. Laboring over something so wasteful saps both my energy and willpower.

Frankly, I can no longer consume myself with things I find so pointless. The amount of time I have left places me in a do or die situation. I want to finish certain things and that can only happen by sacrificing the bullshit. It’s very easy to empathize with people who find service unfulfilling (I’ve oscillated across the line). Part of me envisions some sort of grand, ceremonial end to my service, but the reality is that I’ll probably just take a quiet bow.

My favorite piece of advice to give about Peace Corps is this: be selfish. Most volunteers want to make an impact and leave a legacy of positive change, but disregard the fact that this work is about personal development as well. A lot of time is spent training on the proper way to approach development, but it doesn’t always work and we never talk about the backup plan. There comes a point when you have to do what you want to do in order to be happy. Sometimes it isn’t as drastic as constructing a building or planting an orchard. It can be learning how to play the guitar or writing a novel or getting into crazy good physical shape. It can also be about saying “I don’t want to do that.”

Cheers

This person was a doctor at the hospital in my village. We worked together closely for the past few months on circumcision projects. It’s common for volunteers to have a variety of counterparts for different activities – this doctor was one of the best counterparts I have had throughout my service. He is passionate and hardworking, which are not the most common qualities even in the developed world. I’ve written a lot about my involvement with circumcision here, and none of the success I’ve had would have been even remotely possible without his help. Although he will still be in Botswana I am going to miss having him here, both as a counterpart and a friend.

The news of this departure came during the visit from my shadowing trainee. Halfway through pre-service training, Peace Corps trainees in Botswana travel to visit a current volunteer. I enjoy hosting shadows because it offers a chance to pass on some of the wisdom I’ve gained since arriving, plus it’s an interesting gauge of how far I’ve come. The trainee I hosted was an older gentleman; it made for an odd dynamic to be a sort of teacher to someone with so much more life experience than myself. But we have a lot in common and consequently had some really thoughtful conversations. I always like having visitors, and they get the rural village experience in Rakops.

Having this Peace Corps neophyte in my midst showed me the unique place I’ve reached in my service and some of the challenges to which I have adapted. The reality is that I’m on the downward slope of my 2 years. It’s an accomplishment to be sure, but also indicates a change in attitude toward my organization. Most important is the need to instill some sustainability and wean the NGO off of my help. And of course, that means saying more good-byes. Will we either of us be ready? This won’t be quite as abrupt as my doctor friend’s departure, so I can hope.

Cheers

I’ve finally taken a break from travel and can settle back in to village life. Constant disorganization has marred the past couple of months because I have spent so much of it in flux. Staying put will help me focus and give my bank account a break. Independence day is coming up Monday, and country will take a couple days off to celebrate. A large number of government workers are employed away from their families, so holidays in Botswana represent opportunities for them to head back to their home villages. Rakops will probably empty out today, but I’ll welcome the quiet.

It’s strange that I find comfort in solitude now. I suppose it means I’ve truly achieved some of my original goals, because the isolation of my site was once my biggest fear. I do have a good reason for appreciating the alone time: I’m studying for the GRE. Like many other things, I’ve procrastinated in my preparation so I’m left with about a month to buckle down. The whole graduate school application process has stirred up uncertainty about what I will do after May. Living in the African bush has revealed to me that I can live almost anywhere and do basically anything. Though I will say that the next place I live will allow me access to better food, and hopefully a shower. That’s still leaves me with too many options.

The rains came yesterday for the first time in about 7 months. Incidentally, it was a planting day at our garden. The same sort of thing happened last year when my group received our orange saplings. The weather gods smile on my village once in a while. With all the difficulties the garden project has faced in the past, I think it now has what it needs to find some success.

My projects are coming along, and I’m working more on the circumcision campaign over the next few weeks. Having done this project before provides a little more confidence for me, and I know I can do more with it than last time. I’ve also started to prepare my counterparts at my support group for my departure by teaching some of the more basic things I do, like typing letters and networking. After I leave, the organization will be without a Peace Corps Volunteer for almost 6 months, so they need to gain a little more self-sufficiency. I’ve written before about my predecessor and how I’m compared to her – in this way I’ve had to separate. I can no longer fill the commanding role, so I’ve started to delegate more and more. This kind of growth is difficult, but it’s more important than most other things. Hopefully it will translate in sustainability.

Cheers