Still have the scabs. now have the flu. its bloody cold as ball in this country. its the country with highest lowland in the world. i live in the lowlands but its like living on top of a mountain. its cold everyday. -2^degrees celcius and i have no heat or electricity. thank god mom that you bought me that expensive 2-1 coat before i left. i would not have survived.
i do not think i will have enough money to make it this quarter. i need to stop sponsering students and paying for that goddamn data time for my computer. my friend gave me a heads up that since i bought my modemn used from another pcv they could be stealing the data time off of it or i could even have a virus that is eating the data time. but it is NOT normal for 100R to only buy me 12 minutes of Airtime. hopefully the our tech guy (who is a genius and one of the nicest people i have ever met) could fix it for me.
i want to take the International GRE in october but unfortunately since ive been in Lesotho my spelling and vocabulary have suffered. So has my math ability. and i dont even remember words sometimes. jordan this is a classic case of language attrition. if you need a case study im here for you.
jody, im really proud and happy for you. i worry about you and moose and bears. but im really really proud of you and what you are doing is awesome and inspirational. if you need a forward to your tell-all book about cycling across the US im here for you.
mom COULD YOU CALL ME. 11pm my time 4pm your time this sunday the 30th of may.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Hei ta da
Lately Ive been coming to terms with a lot of things. In the Peace Corps you learn to patiently live with your problems. Many things here have no visible solutions. If you are like me and you believe that yes for every problem there is a solution than you soon realize that even when there is a solution, in Africa it may take months or years for it to resolve. Months. Its taken many months.
My health has been on my mind recently. Ive had scabies all over my body for the last month and a half. If you don’t know what scabies are you should do some research. But basically they are parasites that live in your skin. In animals it’s called Mange. So ive had mange for a month and a half. I finally got medical attention for it about 2 weeks ago. Another thing you have to understand about peace corps is that the slogan “better medical care than in America” is a complete and total lie. There is no American medical care here. This is host country medical care. So a visiting nurse from Tajikistan finally took pity on me and gave me a prescription. I applied the cream twice. Once more than I should have. And got a severe allergic reaction to it. My tongue swelled up and I got a rash all over my body. So I now have two sweet looking rashes. And one is alive and I swear to god the scabies know when im talking about them… But anyways nothing happened. I now have a more severe and “chronic” form of scabies. Yesterday I saw the nurse again and she told me that if I didn’t try my hardest to rid the scabies from my body I could have them for the rest of my life. They could become chronic scabies and I could have them for the rest of my life. I could have this for the rest of my life. I could have this. For the rest of my life.
So Im dealing with that right now. Im also coming to terms with my school and the fact that some of these easy and doable solutions will never be done. Im coming to terms that my school doesn’t want me to help them get their school water. Or food for the orphans. Or more teachers. So we don’t have 120 kids per classroom. So they don’t have to climb over each other to get to their seats. So they don’t have to sit three to a tiny chair. Im coming to terms with the fact that a lot of these problems will never get solved.
Im also coming to terms that my real family. My American family will never really be there for me. I can never count on them. Ive always known this. But being on the other side of the world and seeing every other American kid here have parents who bend over backward to make sure that their pride and joy has snickers and pert plus and other tiny comforts. And then looking at my own life and seeing it once again completely devoid of parental affection. Its always been this way. My whole life. I will never get one package or even a letter from my mother while im here. I just have to come to terms with that. I will never have any love sent my way. I feel stupid whining about this when half my students don’t even have mothers. Im sorry but it does affect me.
And while im whining I also really miss my Ipod and my camera. Its really unfair WORLD that you broke both of these on the same day and now it feels like my soul is gone.
Im coming to terms with all these. Also, I really wanted to write more about political problems and corruption in Lesotho. But ive been getting hate mail. So im going to take a break. I might even make this private.
Miss you and love you all.
My health has been on my mind recently. Ive had scabies all over my body for the last month and a half. If you don’t know what scabies are you should do some research. But basically they are parasites that live in your skin. In animals it’s called Mange. So ive had mange for a month and a half. I finally got medical attention for it about 2 weeks ago. Another thing you have to understand about peace corps is that the slogan “better medical care than in America” is a complete and total lie. There is no American medical care here. This is host country medical care. So a visiting nurse from Tajikistan finally took pity on me and gave me a prescription. I applied the cream twice. Once more than I should have. And got a severe allergic reaction to it. My tongue swelled up and I got a rash all over my body. So I now have two sweet looking rashes. And one is alive and I swear to god the scabies know when im talking about them… But anyways nothing happened. I now have a more severe and “chronic” form of scabies. Yesterday I saw the nurse again and she told me that if I didn’t try my hardest to rid the scabies from my body I could have them for the rest of my life. They could become chronic scabies and I could have them for the rest of my life. I could have this for the rest of my life. I could have this. For the rest of my life.
So Im dealing with that right now. Im also coming to terms with my school and the fact that some of these easy and doable solutions will never be done. Im coming to terms that my school doesn’t want me to help them get their school water. Or food for the orphans. Or more teachers. So we don’t have 120 kids per classroom. So they don’t have to climb over each other to get to their seats. So they don’t have to sit three to a tiny chair. Im coming to terms with the fact that a lot of these problems will never get solved.
Im also coming to terms that my real family. My American family will never really be there for me. I can never count on them. Ive always known this. But being on the other side of the world and seeing every other American kid here have parents who bend over backward to make sure that their pride and joy has snickers and pert plus and other tiny comforts. And then looking at my own life and seeing it once again completely devoid of parental affection. Its always been this way. My whole life. I will never get one package or even a letter from my mother while im here. I just have to come to terms with that. I will never have any love sent my way. I feel stupid whining about this when half my students don’t even have mothers. Im sorry but it does affect me.
And while im whining I also really miss my Ipod and my camera. Its really unfair WORLD that you broke both of these on the same day and now it feels like my soul is gone.
Im coming to terms with all these. Also, I really wanted to write more about political problems and corruption in Lesotho. But ive been getting hate mail. So im going to take a break. I might even make this private.
Miss you and love you all.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Khotso!
Today was one of the best days of my service. Peace Corps came to my school and sat down with my principal and my host country counterpart and talked about the issues I have been having (mainly corporal punishment and lack of support for orphans) at this school. It was great having my school meet my boss. He is basotho just like them and grew up near my counterpart. Even though I have repeatedly told my school that peace corps lesotho is run by americans and basotho I dont think they believed me. there are many obstacles one has to overcome in peace corps.
the biggest one for me is the "race issue" as I call it. as some of you might know, the history of africa is riddled with racism. i live in a country that was attacked by Boers during the Boer War. I also live in a country that is surrounded by South Africa. And the history of SOuth Africa is something everyone should know about. Nelson Mandela and the apartheid. the history of Uganda, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Mozambique and every country in Africa contains the horrors of what the white man did to Africa. read about it. I dont have time to go into it right now but it might give you a tiny window into what it is like to be white in Africa.
the word for white person in sesotho is Lekhooa(pronounced Li-hu-a) and I have heard this word every single day of my life in this country. people shout it at you everywhere you go. Its more like this "BUHBYE! LEKHOOA BUHBYE LEHOOA! KE KOPA CHELETE KE KOPA LIPOMPOM!". Which translates into "Hello whitey hello white person give me money give me candy!" and even though im not africanz and ive never been africanz, almost all basotho think that because i am white i must be africanz and they continue to speak to me in the little africanz they know even though i tell
them in perfect sesotho that i am not africanz i am american and sometimes i even add "i love obama!" they still think i am africanz. and ive been called a boer numerous times. and people have spit at me. people have yelled
nasty things to me. everyday i get on a taxi i am cheated out of money. everyone thinks you have so much money that they can just steal money from you and you wont notice or care. and its horrible because as a peace corps volunteer i make less than even the basotho volunteers make. i make so little. for example a teacher with my experience and degree makes about 8000R a month whereas I make only 1,500R a month. i make peanuts. and i spend my money on keyhole gardens and orphans not just myself. and its really hard.
but at the end of the day i can only blame my country and myself. you see lesotho receives over half the income of the entire country from America's PEPFAR Grant. it also receives support from Britian and South Africa. Every Basotho since birth has seen lekhooa pour into their country. theyve seen them with their expensive clothing and expensive cars. they are the doctors at their hospitals and the business men who pay their salaries. even though my country means well and so does the other countries that are trying to help lesotho out and help find a cure for HIV, the message that these weathly white people are unconsciously sending is extremely hurtful to this country. basotho can only sit back and watch as white people buy up all the expensive homes and hire basotho as their maids. they sit and watch as crazy drunk lekhooa party at their 3 nightclubs in this country wearing their expensive
clothes and then the basotho see them get in their private vehicles and drive away. ive seen white people talk down to basotho like they were stupid. ive heard the things my own expatriate friends say some very racist comments about basotho. and on top of that they are subjected to western music and television. so if a mosotho is lucky enough to watch television or listen to the radio all they hear and see is "look at me im white and i have so much money!". can you imagine a child who has never had shoes and eats corn meal for every meal, who has never had electricity or running water watching "super sweet 16" on MTV? or this child watching a music video by any hiphop or rap star whose lyrics are basically "look at my money look at my money, i have so much money, just look at my money". so its totally the lekhooa's fault that lesotho is like this right now. and i know why basotho hate white people and why they dont want their help. part of me wants to leave just because i feel offensive just being here! i know! haha.
that is why peace corps is such a good organization. i takes americans and makes them live like the majority of basotho. i dont have a mansion. i have a one room traditional basotho house. i dont have an expensive car, i take public like everyone else. i dont have electricity. i dont have running water. i use a latrine. i teach my students and i live like my students. and thats why i love peace corps. it is the best decision i ever made in my life.
so sorry i havent responded to emails or written on this blog. right after i wrote that last blog on how awesome my internet was, it crashed and i found out that 100R only buys you about 10 minutes of internet. so its a little too expensive for me to use.
Here is an unfinished list of African novels that i am hoping each of you will buy one and send to my school
The Silver Sword - Ian Sherrailler
To Sir With Love
The Concubine - Elechi Amadi
Death is a Woman
The Narrow Path - Francis Seromermey
Love on the Rocks - Andrew Sesinyi
Rassie - Andrew Sesinyi
Sunset in Biafra - Elechi Amadi
The Great Ponds - Elechi Amadi
The Red Pony - John Steinbeck
The Pearl - John Steinbeck
Have Mercy-
Thorns of Life - David Mall
Beyond the Horizon
A Grain of Wheat - Ngugi wa Thiongo
The River Between - Ngugi wa Thiongo
Anthills of the Savanna- Chinua Achebe
Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe
Without a Silver Spoon
Oliver Twist
Rebel
Shaka
Cry the Beloved Country
There are no book stores in lesotho. basotho rarely read. however every test my students take, including the JC and COSC which come from Cambridge University in England, are in English. if my students read books in English they will learn how this language works and they will improve significantly. if they can read english, then they can pass the exams, pass high school, go to the National Lesotho University, and make a life for themselves. by sending a book to my school you will be saving countless lives for generations to come. and im keeping it mostly african books because these kids should be proud of their country and their continent. so please send a book. it cant cost you more than $40. dont you think a african child's life is worth it?
Natalie Nichols/PCV
Mahloenyeng High School
P.O. Box 32 Matsieng 192
Lesotho
the biggest one for me is the "race issue" as I call it. as some of you might know, the history of africa is riddled with racism. i live in a country that was attacked by Boers during the Boer War. I also live in a country that is surrounded by South Africa. And the history of SOuth Africa is something everyone should know about. Nelson Mandela and the apartheid. the history of Uganda, Nigeria, Zimbabwe, Namibia, Mozambique and every country in Africa contains the horrors of what the white man did to Africa. read about it. I dont have time to go into it right now but it might give you a tiny window into what it is like to be white in Africa.
the word for white person in sesotho is Lekhooa(pronounced Li-hu-a) and I have heard this word every single day of my life in this country. people shout it at you everywhere you go. Its more like this "BUHBYE! LEKHOOA BUHBYE LEHOOA! KE KOPA CHELETE KE KOPA LIPOMPOM!". Which translates into "Hello whitey hello white person give me money give me candy!" and even though im not africanz and ive never been africanz, almost all basotho think that because i am white i must be africanz and they continue to speak to me in the little africanz they know even though i tell
them in perfect sesotho that i am not africanz i am american and sometimes i even add "i love obama!" they still think i am africanz. and ive been called a boer numerous times. and people have spit at me. people have yelled
nasty things to me. everyday i get on a taxi i am cheated out of money. everyone thinks you have so much money that they can just steal money from you and you wont notice or care. and its horrible because as a peace corps volunteer i make less than even the basotho volunteers make. i make so little. for example a teacher with my experience and degree makes about 8000R a month whereas I make only 1,500R a month. i make peanuts. and i spend my money on keyhole gardens and orphans not just myself. and its really hard.
but at the end of the day i can only blame my country and myself. you see lesotho receives over half the income of the entire country from America's PEPFAR Grant. it also receives support from Britian and South Africa. Every Basotho since birth has seen lekhooa pour into their country. theyve seen them with their expensive clothing and expensive cars. they are the doctors at their hospitals and the business men who pay their salaries. even though my country means well and so does the other countries that are trying to help lesotho out and help find a cure for HIV, the message that these weathly white people are unconsciously sending is extremely hurtful to this country. basotho can only sit back and watch as white people buy up all the expensive homes and hire basotho as their maids. they sit and watch as crazy drunk lekhooa party at their 3 nightclubs in this country wearing their expensive
clothes and then the basotho see them get in their private vehicles and drive away. ive seen white people talk down to basotho like they were stupid. ive heard the things my own expatriate friends say some very racist comments about basotho. and on top of that they are subjected to western music and television. so if a mosotho is lucky enough to watch television or listen to the radio all they hear and see is "look at me im white and i have so much money!". can you imagine a child who has never had shoes and eats corn meal for every meal, who has never had electricity or running water watching "super sweet 16" on MTV? or this child watching a music video by any hiphop or rap star whose lyrics are basically "look at my money look at my money, i have so much money, just look at my money". so its totally the lekhooa's fault that lesotho is like this right now. and i know why basotho hate white people and why they dont want their help. part of me wants to leave just because i feel offensive just being here! i know! haha.
that is why peace corps is such a good organization. i takes americans and makes them live like the majority of basotho. i dont have a mansion. i have a one room traditional basotho house. i dont have an expensive car, i take public like everyone else. i dont have electricity. i dont have running water. i use a latrine. i teach my students and i live like my students. and thats why i love peace corps. it is the best decision i ever made in my life.
so sorry i havent responded to emails or written on this blog. right after i wrote that last blog on how awesome my internet was, it crashed and i found out that 100R only buys you about 10 minutes of internet. so its a little too expensive for me to use.
Here is an unfinished list of African novels that i am hoping each of you will buy one and send to my school
The Silver Sword - Ian Sherrailler
To Sir With Love
The Concubine - Elechi Amadi
Death is a Woman
The Narrow Path - Francis Seromermey
Love on the Rocks - Andrew Sesinyi
Rassie - Andrew Sesinyi
Sunset in Biafra - Elechi Amadi
The Great Ponds - Elechi Amadi
The Red Pony - John Steinbeck
The Pearl - John Steinbeck
Have Mercy-
Thorns of Life - David Mall
Beyond the Horizon
A Grain of Wheat - Ngugi wa Thiongo
The River Between - Ngugi wa Thiongo
Anthills of the Savanna- Chinua Achebe
Things Fall Apart - Chinua Achebe
Without a Silver Spoon
Oliver Twist
Rebel
Shaka
Cry the Beloved Country
There are no book stores in lesotho. basotho rarely read. however every test my students take, including the JC and COSC which come from Cambridge University in England, are in English. if my students read books in English they will learn how this language works and they will improve significantly. if they can read english, then they can pass the exams, pass high school, go to the National Lesotho University, and make a life for themselves. by sending a book to my school you will be saving countless lives for generations to come. and im keeping it mostly african books because these kids should be proud of their country and their continent. so please send a book. it cant cost you more than $40. dont you think a african child's life is worth it?
Natalie Nichols/PCV
Mahloenyeng High School
P.O. Box 32 Matsieng 192
Lesotho
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Wa batha haholo!
I just bought a modem for my computer! Now i can get on the internet. this is amazing! i am sitting in mpho's house watching Trace Channel and MTV Base on his tv with his new South African decoder. and i am on the internet!!!! this is just like america. well earlier today i did wash all my clothes by hand. treat my scabies. wash out my pee bucket. and eat 3 day old cabbage soup. so its not exactly like america.
i have so many things to report on. luckily my mom called today and i told her mostly everything, so i forget something you can just ask her.
lets see here. first the bad stories. when i came home from durban last month, i realized that momma doggy was missing. i asked my family and they said to check behind the barn. i went out there and saw that momma doggy was in extreme pain and dying of rabies. it was a horrifying death that lasted 3 more days. and will always be imprinted in my memory. the thing you have to remember about africa is that these things happen literally everyday and you just get numb to them. its not like im suppressing anything, ive seen 6 dogs die in 4 months. death is a main part of living here. and i know that sounds terrifying but its not really. you get used to seeing people and animals die. every saturday there is at least one funeral in my village. my tiny village. and with the hiv/aids rate so high here everyone knows someone who is dying or has recently died. even peace corps volunteers have had host mothers, host fathers, fellow teachers, neighbors, friends die in their short time here.
oh just so you know. pumpkin is fine. hes fat and happy. probably eating something as we speak.
lets see what else happened. i built a very large keyhole garden with my community last weekend. and planted some nice winter crops.
oh yeah its winter here. freakin freezing. i have to pep talk myself out of bed every morning. like "okay natalie we can do this. its really not that cold. you are a polar bear...you love the cold. you love swimming in polar ice caps and eating fish...". i really dont know about my pep talk ability or why it involves polar bears. it just does. and i eventually do get out of bed.
right now i have a full plate. i am trying to bring water to my village and school. my school currently has no water. and has had no water since it existence. and my students get so thirsty they get sick. right now i make the troublemakers hike an hour one way each morning at 7 to get some water for the teachers and the kids who play sports. i really hate having to interrupt class to ask if a student is okay because she/he is so thirsty they have almost passed out.
in less depressing news, i attended a Lehloenya wedding. i met my whole extended host family and wow are they wealthy. its really irking to be in the middle of a third world country where half the population is dying and the other half is starving and then all of a sudden be inside a huge mansion with maids and butlers and convertibles and terraces. but such is africa and the corruption that has been here since longer than most care to remember.
school is going really well. i get along with all the teachers and i love the students. i wish you all could visit and see how great my students are. they are the best kids in the world. \
hmm many other things happened but i have forgotten about them. miss you.
i have so many things to report on. luckily my mom called today and i told her mostly everything, so i forget something you can just ask her.
lets see here. first the bad stories. when i came home from durban last month, i realized that momma doggy was missing. i asked my family and they said to check behind the barn. i went out there and saw that momma doggy was in extreme pain and dying of rabies. it was a horrifying death that lasted 3 more days. and will always be imprinted in my memory. the thing you have to remember about africa is that these things happen literally everyday and you just get numb to them. its not like im suppressing anything, ive seen 6 dogs die in 4 months. death is a main part of living here. and i know that sounds terrifying but its not really. you get used to seeing people and animals die. every saturday there is at least one funeral in my village. my tiny village. and with the hiv/aids rate so high here everyone knows someone who is dying or has recently died. even peace corps volunteers have had host mothers, host fathers, fellow teachers, neighbors, friends die in their short time here.
oh just so you know. pumpkin is fine. hes fat and happy. probably eating something as we speak.
lets see what else happened. i built a very large keyhole garden with my community last weekend. and planted some nice winter crops.
oh yeah its winter here. freakin freezing. i have to pep talk myself out of bed every morning. like "okay natalie we can do this. its really not that cold. you are a polar bear...you love the cold. you love swimming in polar ice caps and eating fish...". i really dont know about my pep talk ability or why it involves polar bears. it just does. and i eventually do get out of bed.
right now i have a full plate. i am trying to bring water to my village and school. my school currently has no water. and has had no water since it existence. and my students get so thirsty they get sick. right now i make the troublemakers hike an hour one way each morning at 7 to get some water for the teachers and the kids who play sports. i really hate having to interrupt class to ask if a student is okay because she/he is so thirsty they have almost passed out.
in less depressing news, i attended a Lehloenya wedding. i met my whole extended host family and wow are they wealthy. its really irking to be in the middle of a third world country where half the population is dying and the other half is starving and then all of a sudden be inside a huge mansion with maids and butlers and convertibles and terraces. but such is africa and the corruption that has been here since longer than most care to remember.
school is going really well. i get along with all the teachers and i love the students. i wish you all could visit and see how great my students are. they are the best kids in the world. \
hmm many other things happened but i have forgotten about them. miss you.
Friday, April 9, 2010
Durban
I just got back from Durban a few days ago. It was probably the most amazing city I have been so far in my life (not saying much since ive only been to 3 countries). it was life-changing. I cant even begin to explain how much I needed South Africa in my life. but i will try.
Try to put yourself in my shoes: no electricity, running water, white people, English, street lights, roads, bathrooms, air conditioning, cold water, fresh water...etc etc for 5 months. and then just a half an hour taxi ride across the border and it's like i am in America again. and its been there the whole time and i had only a vague idea of where it was. it was like i was living in a cardboard box in the middle of the Ritz Carleton and i had no idea. i just had to pop my head up.
but now that i have been in country for 5 months i am allowed to travel. so we traveled to the largest sea port in africa and one of the largest cities. it was only 5 hours away. the trip was long as any trip in the 3rd world would be. but as soon as we got on the first highway i had seen if far too long i was hooked. i was like a tiny dog in the car. i couldnt keep my head in. i was panting. i was running around in circles saying "OMG STREET LIGHTS! OMG PAVEMENT! OMG GAS STATIONS! OMG STREET SIGNS!" we passed a watering hole with zebras and antelope. then we had to slow down so a baboon could cross the road. then we stopped half way to get petrol and it was like i had died and gone to heaven. they had iced coffee and AND the nutrition facts were in calories not kilojoules. they had clean bathrooms that came WITH toilet paper. they had bubble gum, string cheese, and candy bars. just like an american gas station. i was like okay we can go home now i am satisfied.
the next week was a blur of beaches, indians with saris and long gold chains and braclets, Muslims praying in the water wearing outfits ive never seen, zulus dancing in furs and beads, dutch africans wearing cowboy hats, women in full burkhas sunbathing on the sand, dancing to house music until the sun came up, drinking girly drinks on the beach, eating the best mexican food i have ever eaten, skinny-dipping in the indian ocean, and so on. and meeting other gay people. which is whats going to keep me from et-ing (early terminating) lesotho. yes gays and lesbians who read my blog. there are gays in south africa. hallelujah.
i really cant talk about it yet. its still too awesome.
Try to put yourself in my shoes: no electricity, running water, white people, English, street lights, roads, bathrooms, air conditioning, cold water, fresh water...etc etc for 5 months. and then just a half an hour taxi ride across the border and it's like i am in America again. and its been there the whole time and i had only a vague idea of where it was. it was like i was living in a cardboard box in the middle of the Ritz Carleton and i had no idea. i just had to pop my head up.
but now that i have been in country for 5 months i am allowed to travel. so we traveled to the largest sea port in africa and one of the largest cities. it was only 5 hours away. the trip was long as any trip in the 3rd world would be. but as soon as we got on the first highway i had seen if far too long i was hooked. i was like a tiny dog in the car. i couldnt keep my head in. i was panting. i was running around in circles saying "OMG STREET LIGHTS! OMG PAVEMENT! OMG GAS STATIONS! OMG STREET SIGNS!" we passed a watering hole with zebras and antelope. then we had to slow down so a baboon could cross the road. then we stopped half way to get petrol and it was like i had died and gone to heaven. they had iced coffee and AND the nutrition facts were in calories not kilojoules. they had clean bathrooms that came WITH toilet paper. they had bubble gum, string cheese, and candy bars. just like an american gas station. i was like okay we can go home now i am satisfied.
the next week was a blur of beaches, indians with saris and long gold chains and braclets, Muslims praying in the water wearing outfits ive never seen, zulus dancing in furs and beads, dutch africans wearing cowboy hats, women in full burkhas sunbathing on the sand, dancing to house music until the sun came up, drinking girly drinks on the beach, eating the best mexican food i have ever eaten, skinny-dipping in the indian ocean, and so on. and meeting other gay people. which is whats going to keep me from et-ing (early terminating) lesotho. yes gays and lesbians who read my blog. there are gays in south africa. hallelujah.
i really cant talk about it yet. its still too awesome.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
The Wana Sisterhood
Last Sunday was my sister Mabela's 24th birthday. It wasn't much different than most Sundays. Except for the cakes we baked and the amount of wine we drank. but most sundays are the same.
Every sunday, after church, all the local girls come over. the little ones. we play games with them. this sunday it was jumprope. last sunday it was hopscotch. we play until it gets dark and all the little banana(girls) go home.
then we crank up the stereo and bust out the wine. this is how every sunday goes down. the older girls keep my wine glass filled. and then the younger girls steal it from me and take illegal sips. then when they get drunk its a mystery to everyone but me. but they are so adorable i just let them take it. plus i dont need the amount of wine they give me. and they are actually of legal age. which is 16 here. so soon enough 10+ girls are dancing wildly around me. and grabbing me by the hands to dance with. i get so happy here that i sometimes wish my old life didnt exist.
i have a sisterhood here that i never had in the U.S. i dont even remember even having girl friends. maybe one or two. but mostly my friends were gay guys. or lesbians.
but here i have so many sisters.
there is Mpoi who is 30. everyone says she is my favorite. buts its only because she is always in my house. eating my food. complaining that i dont clean enough. but she talks to me about serious things that the others dont. like what her life is coming to. how she never wants to get married. how the basotho feel about me. she keeps me informed. and i love talking to her. she will literally say anything. shes a very blunt thing.
then Mabela. who is my same age. she is beautiful. looks very american and trendy. she has this kick-ass attitude that reminds me of my cousin pheobe. like shes never had a day of her life where she didnt think she was the bomb. i love her for that. she mostly talks to me about boys. like i hate that boy. and that boy should die. and do you have any exboyfriends? well i will kill them for you. those are our conversations.
then there is little mpoka. my youngest sister. she is also really cute. so small and skinny. but i hang out with her probably the most. she is a student at my school. and secretly enough she is my favorite.
there are also the girls that board at my house. they are like sisters as well. there is shoeshoe(shiwayshiway) who is like the girl i wish i could have been in high school. shes actually 22. but she is in my 11th grade class. she has the prettiest smile. shes kinda roundish. which makes me think of myself at her age. i love this girl.
there is matabiso. she is 19. quiet. and adorable. she never says anything to me. the others pick on her and i try to give her my attention and tell her how much i like her dress and so on. shes probably my second favorite.
last but not least is the infamous mamachoka. shes tall. skinny. and loud. she always wears the priciest clothes. while the rest of us are in dirty sweats. she talks down to me. which used to infuriate me but now i just know "thats just mamachoka". she is the girl you would hate in high school. pretty and poplular. and if we had cheerleading in this country she would be head cheerleader. i used to dislike her but now i find myself gravitating to her.
then there is my M'e'. my mother. she is hilarious. i caught her trying to hullahoop the other day. she is always there if i need to borrow something. or ask her something. she is also the chief of our village. so shes pretty vip. she calls me "darling" and everytime i feel so warm inside. i love her.
these are the women who make up my family. and i swear to god i couldnt have asked for a better one. ive never lived in an all-woman household but its something that feels so right. like snow during christmas. or coffee in the morning.
and when boys do show up. which they do occasionally. like during mabela's birthday. they are just turned away. like shoo boys shoo. this is an all-girl thing.
Every sunday, after church, all the local girls come over. the little ones. we play games with them. this sunday it was jumprope. last sunday it was hopscotch. we play until it gets dark and all the little banana(girls) go home.
then we crank up the stereo and bust out the wine. this is how every sunday goes down. the older girls keep my wine glass filled. and then the younger girls steal it from me and take illegal sips. then when they get drunk its a mystery to everyone but me. but they are so adorable i just let them take it. plus i dont need the amount of wine they give me. and they are actually of legal age. which is 16 here. so soon enough 10+ girls are dancing wildly around me. and grabbing me by the hands to dance with. i get so happy here that i sometimes wish my old life didnt exist.
i have a sisterhood here that i never had in the U.S. i dont even remember even having girl friends. maybe one or two. but mostly my friends were gay guys. or lesbians.
but here i have so many sisters.
there is Mpoi who is 30. everyone says she is my favorite. buts its only because she is always in my house. eating my food. complaining that i dont clean enough. but she talks to me about serious things that the others dont. like what her life is coming to. how she never wants to get married. how the basotho feel about me. she keeps me informed. and i love talking to her. she will literally say anything. shes a very blunt thing.
then Mabela. who is my same age. she is beautiful. looks very american and trendy. she has this kick-ass attitude that reminds me of my cousin pheobe. like shes never had a day of her life where she didnt think she was the bomb. i love her for that. she mostly talks to me about boys. like i hate that boy. and that boy should die. and do you have any exboyfriends? well i will kill them for you. those are our conversations.
then there is little mpoka. my youngest sister. she is also really cute. so small and skinny. but i hang out with her probably the most. she is a student at my school. and secretly enough she is my favorite.
there are also the girls that board at my house. they are like sisters as well. there is shoeshoe(shiwayshiway) who is like the girl i wish i could have been in high school. shes actually 22. but she is in my 11th grade class. she has the prettiest smile. shes kinda roundish. which makes me think of myself at her age. i love this girl.
there is matabiso. she is 19. quiet. and adorable. she never says anything to me. the others pick on her and i try to give her my attention and tell her how much i like her dress and so on. shes probably my second favorite.
last but not least is the infamous mamachoka. shes tall. skinny. and loud. she always wears the priciest clothes. while the rest of us are in dirty sweats. she talks down to me. which used to infuriate me but now i just know "thats just mamachoka". she is the girl you would hate in high school. pretty and poplular. and if we had cheerleading in this country she would be head cheerleader. i used to dislike her but now i find myself gravitating to her.
then there is my M'e'. my mother. she is hilarious. i caught her trying to hullahoop the other day. she is always there if i need to borrow something. or ask her something. she is also the chief of our village. so shes pretty vip. she calls me "darling" and everytime i feel so warm inside. i love her.
these are the women who make up my family. and i swear to god i couldnt have asked for a better one. ive never lived in an all-woman household but its something that feels so right. like snow during christmas. or coffee in the morning.
and when boys do show up. which they do occasionally. like during mabela's birthday. they are just turned away. like shoo boys shoo. this is an all-girl thing.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
In My Backyard
Yesterday night, I was awoken at 3AM to the sound of many animals fighting. I bolted up in bed. Maybe its just my Mommy dog fighting with our other dog. No. I heard the puppies. They were being killed. I heard their screams. I heard Mommy Dog being bitten. I heard Kali yelp. WHAT THE HELL WAS OUT THERE!?!?! I rapidly went through the different scenarios if i went outside. would I be mauled to death? did these animals have rabies. were they even animals.
A few months ago the majority of our animals had been poisoned. our cat. and most of our dogs. Mommy Doggy had survived the poisoning and had had more puppies a few weeks back. they were just opening their eyes and stumbling around. we had just named them.
One after one I heard the puppies being dragged out of the barn and killed. I was too afraid to save them. i was too afraid to leave my house. the only thing i could do was shine a flashlight out my window. i didnt see anything.
i somehow fell back asleep. in the morning i awoke to the mourning ululations (high pitched wails) and remembered what had happened. i didnt want to go look. they yelled my name. i went outside. "theyre all dead" Mabela said. "all of them". "I know, I heard it last night". Everyone was crying and talking about it. it was a hard conversation. the saddest thing was that mommy doggy wouldnt let us bury them. she kept trying to nurse them. she kept licking them. i told them to let her get tired of them. maybe she would realize they were dead. 4 hours later we buried them behind the trash pile very unceremoniously. mommy doggy literally went insane. she jumped around. tore around the property looking for them. she did this for the rest of the day. no amount of food could sway her determination. thankfully she stopped later that night.
we did a lot of crying this weekend. i had most of my sisters in my house crying in my arms. they like crying with me for some reasons. my oldest sister Mpoi is my favorite. because she loves animals just as much as me. she still blames herself for not being brave enough to leave her house. me too. now we are worried mommy doggy might get rabies.
after i had helped with the cleaning up of dog blood and i had counseled Mpoi as best i could. i decided i needed to get the hell out of there. so i decided to take a long walk. i walked down our field towards our gate. out the gate and down the dirt path. past the sunflower fields (i wish i could take a picture of it), taking the dirt road towards the mountain. i pass the maize and mkopu fields. i see molipi birds and dung beetles. its an hour walk to the waterfall with the quartz crystals that i keep a huge collection of. and i keep on walking up the mountain.
about 2 hours up, i am stopped by some herd boys who had been following me. herd boys are boys that dont go to school but tend to their cows and sheep instead. they dont speak english and most girls are afraid of them because some of them do rape younger girls. but i am not scared of them. i am too big and loud and aggressive compared to basotho girls. i actually enjoy herd boys company. if they have a horse i try to get a ride. sometimes they have homemade guitars. these herd boys seemed like they were warning me of something. they kept yelling and telling me to go back down the mountain.
i guessed it was an initiation school. they kept saying basotho nation, boys not girls, and do not go over and over again. they even said in english "people beat you". so i kept asking "initiation school?? initiation school???" but they did not understand me. i have no idea how to say "initiation school in sesotho. but i decided that they probably knew more than me, so i gave up on reaching the top and started back down. they herd boys seemed relieved. when i turned to look back they were gone.
an initiation school is the traditional male rite of passage. for six weeks small boys go up to the top of a mountain and live in a makeshift village with some men who teach them how to be men. they get circumcised and then they come back down. some of these boys die. and if a female or uncircumcised male were to accidentally venture onto this place they would be beaten. so its best to avoid the tops of mountains. and its true that i did hear the boys singing one night when it was still and i could hear for miles. i guessed it was a initiation ceremony up on one of the mountains.
i am kinda upset that i can never reach the top of my mountain and look around. i love climbing them and i hate having to worry if i will accidentally walk in onto one of these things. i also wish peace corps would have given us the name of the initiation school in sesotho.
other than that my weekend was okay. i had a nightmare last night. ive had some anxiety lately. because of the dog thing. also my teaching is getting progressively more frustrating. they just hired 6 volunteer basotho teachers who are definitely not qualified. and the teaching schedule is just a huge mess. i really hate it. no one informs anyone of any changes. friday i went to go unlock the assembly hall for my drama club meeting and when i came back with my supplies another volunteer teacher was using it to do a traditional dance lesson. and he doesnt speak english. i yelled at him anyway. and then i cancelled my drama club meeting.
i dont think i ever told you some important things. like they changed my name 3 months ago when i started living at this village. its Neo Lehloenya. Neo means gift. and Mahloenyeng is land of the Lehleonyas. so i like own this village.
also the king lives near me. he lives in Matsieng which is the larger village that my village falls under. he lives right up the road from Ed and Carol. he drives back and forth from Maseru everyday and you can always see him because he is in a sudan surrounded by security jeeps with blinking blue lights. our kombi pulled over to let him pass on the way over here.
i was going to tell you other things but i forgot. i very lonely lately. and all of my electronics are dying. my ipod died this week. hopefully i can get it fixed. thats all for now.
A few months ago the majority of our animals had been poisoned. our cat. and most of our dogs. Mommy Doggy had survived the poisoning and had had more puppies a few weeks back. they were just opening their eyes and stumbling around. we had just named them.
One after one I heard the puppies being dragged out of the barn and killed. I was too afraid to save them. i was too afraid to leave my house. the only thing i could do was shine a flashlight out my window. i didnt see anything.
i somehow fell back asleep. in the morning i awoke to the mourning ululations (high pitched wails) and remembered what had happened. i didnt want to go look. they yelled my name. i went outside. "theyre all dead" Mabela said. "all of them". "I know, I heard it last night". Everyone was crying and talking about it. it was a hard conversation. the saddest thing was that mommy doggy wouldnt let us bury them. she kept trying to nurse them. she kept licking them. i told them to let her get tired of them. maybe she would realize they were dead. 4 hours later we buried them behind the trash pile very unceremoniously. mommy doggy literally went insane. she jumped around. tore around the property looking for them. she did this for the rest of the day. no amount of food could sway her determination. thankfully she stopped later that night.
we did a lot of crying this weekend. i had most of my sisters in my house crying in my arms. they like crying with me for some reasons. my oldest sister Mpoi is my favorite. because she loves animals just as much as me. she still blames herself for not being brave enough to leave her house. me too. now we are worried mommy doggy might get rabies.
after i had helped with the cleaning up of dog blood and i had counseled Mpoi as best i could. i decided i needed to get the hell out of there. so i decided to take a long walk. i walked down our field towards our gate. out the gate and down the dirt path. past the sunflower fields (i wish i could take a picture of it), taking the dirt road towards the mountain. i pass the maize and mkopu fields. i see molipi birds and dung beetles. its an hour walk to the waterfall with the quartz crystals that i keep a huge collection of. and i keep on walking up the mountain.
about 2 hours up, i am stopped by some herd boys who had been following me. herd boys are boys that dont go to school but tend to their cows and sheep instead. they dont speak english and most girls are afraid of them because some of them do rape younger girls. but i am not scared of them. i am too big and loud and aggressive compared to basotho girls. i actually enjoy herd boys company. if they have a horse i try to get a ride. sometimes they have homemade guitars. these herd boys seemed like they were warning me of something. they kept yelling and telling me to go back down the mountain.
i guessed it was an initiation school. they kept saying basotho nation, boys not girls, and do not go over and over again. they even said in english "people beat you". so i kept asking "initiation school?? initiation school???" but they did not understand me. i have no idea how to say "initiation school in sesotho. but i decided that they probably knew more than me, so i gave up on reaching the top and started back down. they herd boys seemed relieved. when i turned to look back they were gone.
an initiation school is the traditional male rite of passage. for six weeks small boys go up to the top of a mountain and live in a makeshift village with some men who teach them how to be men. they get circumcised and then they come back down. some of these boys die. and if a female or uncircumcised male were to accidentally venture onto this place they would be beaten. so its best to avoid the tops of mountains. and its true that i did hear the boys singing one night when it was still and i could hear for miles. i guessed it was a initiation ceremony up on one of the mountains.
i am kinda upset that i can never reach the top of my mountain and look around. i love climbing them and i hate having to worry if i will accidentally walk in onto one of these things. i also wish peace corps would have given us the name of the initiation school in sesotho.
other than that my weekend was okay. i had a nightmare last night. ive had some anxiety lately. because of the dog thing. also my teaching is getting progressively more frustrating. they just hired 6 volunteer basotho teachers who are definitely not qualified. and the teaching schedule is just a huge mess. i really hate it. no one informs anyone of any changes. friday i went to go unlock the assembly hall for my drama club meeting and when i came back with my supplies another volunteer teacher was using it to do a traditional dance lesson. and he doesnt speak english. i yelled at him anyway. and then i cancelled my drama club meeting.
i dont think i ever told you some important things. like they changed my name 3 months ago when i started living at this village. its Neo Lehloenya. Neo means gift. and Mahloenyeng is land of the Lehleonyas. so i like own this village.
also the king lives near me. he lives in Matsieng which is the larger village that my village falls under. he lives right up the road from Ed and Carol. he drives back and forth from Maseru everyday and you can always see him because he is in a sudan surrounded by security jeeps with blinking blue lights. our kombi pulled over to let him pass on the way over here.
i was going to tell you other things but i forgot. i very lonely lately. and all of my electronics are dying. my ipod died this week. hopefully i can get it fixed. thats all for now.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Palama!
This is going to be a long post because I finally found a computer that has working internet and it won't kick me off in 30minutes.
I don't think people in America realize how hard it is to get on the internet in a third world country. This is what it takes for me to write to you:
I woke up at 5AM this morning. I took a bath and rehung my laundry from yesterday (because clothes can't "sleep" outside since they will get stolen) then I made my breakfast and fed my cat. Then i got dressed and walked the mile down a mountain to get to the bus stop.
Then I waited at the bus stop for 10 minutes before a Kombi arrived. okay let me tell you about these Kombis. Picture in your mind the most decrepit looking van you have ever seen. It has missing doors and seats. It's windows don't open or are made out of cellophane and duck tape. It smells of gasoline and goes 3 mph up hills. That is a good Kombi. more often that not i ride in the bad ones. also they blast horrible basotho music (accoridians and yelling need i say more) and drive back and forth along the same route trying to pack 20 people into a van that sits 12. once you cant breath, hear, or feel your legs they finally begin the 50km drive to the capital. also since i am white there is usually 19 pairs of eyes on my the whole time. sometimes they ask me for money.
then once i get here. i am dropped off at the taxi rank which is a field filled with makeshift shacks and other kombis and taxis. its smells. its hot. people hassle you. and today a tiny basotho dwarf grabbed my breast as i shimmed past horse poop and ancient piles of trash.
then i walk 2 miles to the peace corps office. which internet may or may not be working. and this time the doctor spotted me and made me get 2 SHOTS. in my arm. and my arm hurts now. and i feel dizzy.
so thats what i have to do to write on this little blog. oh and palama is what they yell at you from the kombis it means "ride". like "do you want a ride?"
in other news. yesterday i found out they do indeed have snakes here. they have cobras. http://www.kingsnake.com/elapids/cape_cobra.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Cobra
i was coming back from a swim at the moshoeshoe II pool when i noticed my dogs barking at something infront of my door. i walk over and see this huge snake. its ready to strike. probably the scariest thing ive ever seen. i yell for my family. they come running out the door. my mother throws a rock at it. she misses and it comes slithering at a fast pace (faster than i could ever think snakes could move) toward her. my sister comes running from the back door with a shovel and throws it like a javelin. it slices the snake in half. it still moves. we throw rocks on top of it and my mother pounds on the rocks with other rocks. then they burn it. it was terrifying. i just read that it is one of the most venomous snakes in the world.
oh and i found a waterfall the other day! it has geodes around it too. cooooool.
heres some photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2411230&id=12307651&l=747264fa97
I don't think people in America realize how hard it is to get on the internet in a third world country. This is what it takes for me to write to you:
I woke up at 5AM this morning. I took a bath and rehung my laundry from yesterday (because clothes can't "sleep" outside since they will get stolen) then I made my breakfast and fed my cat. Then i got dressed and walked the mile down a mountain to get to the bus stop.
Then I waited at the bus stop for 10 minutes before a Kombi arrived. okay let me tell you about these Kombis. Picture in your mind the most decrepit looking van you have ever seen. It has missing doors and seats. It's windows don't open or are made out of cellophane and duck tape. It smells of gasoline and goes 3 mph up hills. That is a good Kombi. more often that not i ride in the bad ones. also they blast horrible basotho music (accoridians and yelling need i say more) and drive back and forth along the same route trying to pack 20 people into a van that sits 12. once you cant breath, hear, or feel your legs they finally begin the 50km drive to the capital. also since i am white there is usually 19 pairs of eyes on my the whole time. sometimes they ask me for money.
then once i get here. i am dropped off at the taxi rank which is a field filled with makeshift shacks and other kombis and taxis. its smells. its hot. people hassle you. and today a tiny basotho dwarf grabbed my breast as i shimmed past horse poop and ancient piles of trash.
then i walk 2 miles to the peace corps office. which internet may or may not be working. and this time the doctor spotted me and made me get 2 SHOTS. in my arm. and my arm hurts now. and i feel dizzy.
so thats what i have to do to write on this little blog. oh and palama is what they yell at you from the kombis it means "ride". like "do you want a ride?"
in other news. yesterday i found out they do indeed have snakes here. they have cobras. http://www.kingsnake.com/elapids/cape_cobra.htm
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Cobra
i was coming back from a swim at the moshoeshoe II pool when i noticed my dogs barking at something infront of my door. i walk over and see this huge snake. its ready to strike. probably the scariest thing ive ever seen. i yell for my family. they come running out the door. my mother throws a rock at it. she misses and it comes slithering at a fast pace (faster than i could ever think snakes could move) toward her. my sister comes running from the back door with a shovel and throws it like a javelin. it slices the snake in half. it still moves. we throw rocks on top of it and my mother pounds on the rocks with other rocks. then they burn it. it was terrifying. i just read that it is one of the most venomous snakes in the world.
oh and i found a waterfall the other day! it has geodes around it too. cooooool.
heres some photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2411230&id=12307651&l=747264fa97
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Laundry
Doing laundry here is an ordeal. Well for me, it was an ordeal in America too. And there I had a wonderful machine to do all the scrubbing and another wonderful machine to do all the drying.
Here all I have is my own two hands.
If you have ever lived with me, you will know that I wait until the very last moment to do my laundry. I will wait until I have nothing clean but some random sock and a pair of pants that I don't wear because I can't even fit my leg into them but I keep them anyway.
So I waited until I had a huge Bo-M'e bag (the largest of large bags) full of clothes. Then I lug them out to my washing table (it's a huge concrete block outside my door that i wash my clothes and dishes on and sit occasionally and enjoy the sun). I fill a plastic bath tub up with water from the oil drum. I fill two other plastic tubs. I put my soap in. and start to feel a sun burn coming on. So i go back inside to get some sun screen. when I come back out there are three women standing around.
this is how it starts. everytime i have to do laundry i hope and pray no one notices. i do it in the early morning, on sundays when everyone is at church, hoping i can just do it by myself. but no. never. never have i done my laundry alone.
my sister comes out of the house "hey ausi are you washing your clothes?". "yeeeeees m'e" i groan. then my other sister comes out "Neo! why are you washing your clothes?". "because they are diiiiity!" I almost yell.
Soon enough there are 4 women washing my clothes. scrubbing my underwear. fussing over the stain on my shirt. telling me what not to do next time if i dont want to ruin my clothes. then they are admiring my dresses. asking if they can have them. then they are hanging up my bras in plain sight of the whole village.
I am going to do my underwear in my house next time. but they will probably catch me.
Here all I have is my own two hands.
If you have ever lived with me, you will know that I wait until the very last moment to do my laundry. I will wait until I have nothing clean but some random sock and a pair of pants that I don't wear because I can't even fit my leg into them but I keep them anyway.
So I waited until I had a huge Bo-M'e bag (the largest of large bags) full of clothes. Then I lug them out to my washing table (it's a huge concrete block outside my door that i wash my clothes and dishes on and sit occasionally and enjoy the sun). I fill a plastic bath tub up with water from the oil drum. I fill two other plastic tubs. I put my soap in. and start to feel a sun burn coming on. So i go back inside to get some sun screen. when I come back out there are three women standing around.
this is how it starts. everytime i have to do laundry i hope and pray no one notices. i do it in the early morning, on sundays when everyone is at church, hoping i can just do it by myself. but no. never. never have i done my laundry alone.
my sister comes out of the house "hey ausi are you washing your clothes?". "yeeeeees m'e" i groan. then my other sister comes out "Neo! why are you washing your clothes?". "because they are diiiiity!" I almost yell.
Soon enough there are 4 women washing my clothes. scrubbing my underwear. fussing over the stain on my shirt. telling me what not to do next time if i dont want to ruin my clothes. then they are admiring my dresses. asking if they can have them. then they are hanging up my bras in plain sight of the whole village.
I am going to do my underwear in my house next time. but they will probably catch me.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Ke Tichere.
I started teaching this week. It is absolutely the most rewarding experience. These children are the most polite and willing to learn children I have ever met. They sit quietly two to a chair. When you enter the room they stand and greet you with "How are you madam?". They hang on my every word which i say in the slowest, clearest way possible. They scramble to answer my questions. They oooh and aahh over my diagrams and giggle uncontrollably at activities and almost die with excitement when we play board races or other games.
This is because the education in this country is horrible. The teachers hardly ever teach the students. Instead the students sit in the bare classrooms alone with nothing to do. The teachers here only lecture. No one has any textbooks. They teach science without any diagrams, any microscopes, even any pictures. They teach literature without any books. When a student speaks in class without permission, or is caught speaking their native language, or they answer the question wrong they are whipped on the head, hands, or back of the legs with a stick. They are whipped so hard they scream. Sometimes they are brought into the office and whipped in front of my desk. The other teachers demand to know why i do not whip them. "Where is your stick" they say. When i told the students I do not whip and will never whip. They asked me if i could stop the other teachers from whipping them. I almost cried. I told them i wish i could.
Right now i teach my english, literature, biology, and geography. I also teach life skills from my peace corps life skills manual when the other teachers fail to show up. Today I taught for 6 hours straight. I told this to some other volunteers and they told me to not overdo it. but i dont even notice the time. i only notice when it is up and i do not have time to say everything i want to say to them.
but i love teaching. i love it. and i also have a new best friend. his name is mpho and he has hundreds of american sitcoms to watch at his house. and a refrigerator. it is bliss.
This is because the education in this country is horrible. The teachers hardly ever teach the students. Instead the students sit in the bare classrooms alone with nothing to do. The teachers here only lecture. No one has any textbooks. They teach science without any diagrams, any microscopes, even any pictures. They teach literature without any books. When a student speaks in class without permission, or is caught speaking their native language, or they answer the question wrong they are whipped on the head, hands, or back of the legs with a stick. They are whipped so hard they scream. Sometimes they are brought into the office and whipped in front of my desk. The other teachers demand to know why i do not whip them. "Where is your stick" they say. When i told the students I do not whip and will never whip. They asked me if i could stop the other teachers from whipping them. I almost cried. I told them i wish i could.
Right now i teach my english, literature, biology, and geography. I also teach life skills from my peace corps life skills manual when the other teachers fail to show up. Today I taught for 6 hours straight. I told this to some other volunteers and they told me to not overdo it. but i dont even notice the time. i only notice when it is up and i do not have time to say everything i want to say to them.
but i love teaching. i love it. and i also have a new best friend. his name is mpho and he has hundreds of american sitcoms to watch at his house. and a refrigerator. it is bliss.
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Daily Life
So I've finally settled into my village and everthing is going well. I have a daily routine that is not too challenging and have finally figured out how to feed myself.
it turns out I am super super close to volunteers Ed and Carol. They are a married couple and I've visited them twice already. I can walk to their house. Their school is 10x bigger then my school and has a gigantic swimming pool. i know? i still cant believe it. there is a beautiful gigantic swimming pool super close to me. i still can't believe my eyes. i will take pictures of it. hopefully you can access the pictures i already took: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2404739&id=12307651&l=48c75c8f39
in a few days i will begin teaching for real. i still dont know what grades or subjects. but im sure it will be fine. you really cant screw up teaching here. showing up already puts you ahead of at least half of the teachers.
next week i will put up pictures of my house and village. also my school. and thats all i have to say really. oh and happy birthday to mela and myself. yay. i will be alone in a rondavel. feel free to call me though. you can get my number from my mother if you do not have it.
it turns out I am super super close to volunteers Ed and Carol. They are a married couple and I've visited them twice already. I can walk to their house. Their school is 10x bigger then my school and has a gigantic swimming pool. i know? i still cant believe it. there is a beautiful gigantic swimming pool super close to me. i still can't believe my eyes. i will take pictures of it. hopefully you can access the pictures i already took: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2404739&id=12307651&l=48c75c8f39
in a few days i will begin teaching for real. i still dont know what grades or subjects. but im sure it will be fine. you really cant screw up teaching here. showing up already puts you ahead of at least half of the teachers.
next week i will put up pictures of my house and village. also my school. and thats all i have to say really. oh and happy birthday to mela and myself. yay. i will be alone in a rondavel. feel free to call me though. you can get my number from my mother if you do not have it.
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