Week 10-11: PVB and Inner Peace

It has already/only been two weeks since we returned from short vac. I can't make up my mind as to which of the two words to use. The past two weeks have been the busiest yet for classwork (our CIEE classes, mostly) so our days have passed quickly, packed with project meetings, research, interviews, writing, etc. I've enjoyed CIEE's curricular emphasis on hands-on research and interaction with local students regarding local culture as well as social problems. Last week I completed: one group research paper on waste management in Botswana which included a survey we conducted among students, a presentation about a previous paper on intimate partner violence in Botswana, and a project about relationships in Setswana culture which included a survey of 100 students as well as interviews with local experts-- I was able to interview one of the counselors in the Careers and Counselling Department at UB. Here's a link to the Prezi we will present Wednesday about our research:

http://prezi.com/yx65b_u9df8w/ciee-relationship-research-project/?utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=copy

The week before last I also got to attend a unique and unexpected learning opportunity: an LGBTQ film festival! The courage, tenacity, and openness I experienced were inspiring, as queer people and relationships are highly stigmatized in Botswana, even within the university population. Both female and male same-sex sexual acts are illegal in the country. The festival ran for three consecutive evenings, but I just attended the second night which featured two short films. The first was an excerpt from a full-length Botswana-made production (due out this year) about life experiences of LGBT individuals in Botswana. Honestly, the production quality was pretty poor by U.S. standards, but it was really cool to hear the stories of people who choose to be themselves even in the face of daily discrimination and potential for personal harm. It was also very inspiring to hear about the work of a few support and activist groups that are working toward social and legal acceptance in the country. The second film was a short film from South Africa that, despite a fictional plot line, highlighted a current issue deemed "corrective rape"-- the rape of lesbian women with the explicit purpose of punishing their transgression of heterosexist gender roles and/or changing their sexuality. The film was heartbreaking. It also served as a platform for an interesting panel discussion on gender-based violence to contextualize the "corrective rape" phenomenon. I decided it was most appropriate for me to take a listening role, and I really enjoyed hearing different perspectives within the LGBT and feminist community/communities. Many individuals echoed a critique of violence masculinities as a major issue. Although the second-wave concept of "global sisterhood" has rightfully come under fire from post-structural, post-colonial, and third-wave feminists (among others) I was certainly able to identify with many of the opinions expressed and I was glad to have had the opportunity to show solidarity with women and queer people in a country very different from my own. I also made friends with the event coordinator, Lalah, and her friend Nei, and the two of them, Lexy and I got together and made lunch on Friday at Lalah's place. I really wish I would have met them sooner... making local friends is bittersweet at this point, knowing we only have seven weeks left.

On a more hetero-normative note, last weekend (March 22nd) I was able to attend a Setswana wedding. One of Lexy's classmates invited her to her cousin's wedding and told Lexy she could bring a couple of friends. The three of us took a bus Saturday morning to Molopolole, about 40km outside Gaborone. The service was small and was held at an Anglican church. It seemed like it involved a lot of Anglican liturgy (not that I would know), but was interspersed with the beautiful efflorescence of Setswana songs--one person would start, and then most of the rest of the church joined in with harmonies that reverberated through the tiny church but could have filled a concert hall. Although I understood only about half of what was said--most of the service was in Setswana--I still felt moved by the ceremony. We then traveled with the wedding party through the streets of Molepolole, honking, swerving, bridesmaids dancing out of the sunroofs of a caravan of BMWs. Back at the house, at least 100 people were already there: cooking, and waiting for food. In Botswana, weddings are public events, and it seemed as though the family of the bride was serving the entire neighborhood. Mary, Lexy's classmate, was exhausted when she dropped us back off at the bus rank after lunch, but said she was looking forward to the following weekend when the husband's family in Francistown would host a reception, at which she would be a guest. We couldn't stay for the whole reception, but we stayed long enough to enjoy the amazing food and Mary's wonderful hospitality. We also got to see the bride's first (of three or four) outfit changes for the evening. Different family members pick different outfits; even if the in-laws pick something ugly the bride has to wear it, if only for a couple of hours. The whole event was beautiful and seemed really expensive; it was apparent just how important weddings are in Setswana culture.

A short clip from the ceremony I took on my iPhone:

After missing the Son of the Soil cultural festival I was so excited to have to opportunity to finally wear my traditional dress!

Lexy and I 

Gabby and I 

This weekend (yesterday) I got to run a half-marathon as part of the Steinmetz Gaborone Marathon event. A handful of exchange students, myself included, left UB at 5am, and watched the sun rise shortly after the race started at 6am from the Grand Palm Hotel. There were a lot fewer people than I expected; it was fun to be so close to the clock at the start line, and for like 10 seconds I pretended I was an elite. During the race we got to see parts of the city we'd never seen, and definitely saw Gaborone from a different vantage point-- although the fear of being hit by an erratic combi driver is apparently inescapable, as the drivers did not appear to have altered their routes and periodically cut onto the course to drop off or pick up passengers. Overall, the event was well organized and I had a lot of fun running it with Kelly. It was her first half marathon and she/we beat her goal time by 13 minutes! It was also cool finish with a half marathon, and realize that I felt really, really good. And if someone made me (or I had mentally prepared to do so) I could have run another one. Someday soon, hopefully! Obviously we refueled with chocolate milk and beer. (photo cred: Kelly Hart and Dana Sherman)

Our friends made signs for us! Also cheap beer has never tasted better.
I finally understand the appeal of beer after a run. This could be dangerous... 

Dana, Me, Kelly

Emotionally, the last couple of weeks have been a journey. Right after spring break I definitely had major Post-Vacation Blues (PVB). It wasn't just coming back to Gabs, because I get PVB back in the States too. But after all of the anticipation and all of the fun we had over break, I was not looking forward to coming back to UB (rather than actual home). A few days into the old routine though, I found myself out of the slump and with a rejuvenated mind. Of course I've had my ups and downs over the past couple of weeks--"downs" mostly being frustration with the usual incidences of inconveniences or poor service--but I've surprised myself with how content I typically am. Although I still experience "culture clashes," where my environment doesn't match my expectations, I'm no longer shocked when these occur. Although I still don't like it, I don't waste my energy being upset about the way people look at me or talk about me. And it may sound cynical, but when I get frustrated with a situation I just remind myself that I should have known better, that I should have known something would have taken longer than expected, that something would go "wrong". I've tried to learn from Batswana--of course they dislike when things go wrong, but I've found that most locals are so much more easygoing about these inconveniences, and don't force such rigid time constraints on achieving their goals.

I realize that in many ways I am a product of my culture--functionalist, productivity-oriented, etc. But in many ways I'm also more flexible than I would have imagined before I arrived. My clothes permanently stink because I have to hand wash all of them in lukewarm water and I haven't quite mastered it. The only coffee I have is instant, and only when I can borrow the hot pot from my neighbors (because the one Lex and I bought broke after a month). Forget about lattes. I often can't get vegetarian food. I can't remember the last time I had a salad. I have diarrhea at least once per week. I have at least five actively itchy or bleeding mosquito bites every day. I get lucky enough to have a warm shower maybe once a week. The power and internet go out at least as often. I can't be around the people from home that I love...

I could go on, but I don't really want to. Because for whatever reason, I'm content. I don't need the external comforts (indulgences). I feel like people from the U.S. (myself included!) use these comforts to deal with the excessive amount of stress we accept into our lives and psyches. But beyond a few basic needs (not exactly Maslow's hierarchy, but what I would consider the essentials)--sustenance, security (physical, economic, health, emotional), human connection, sense of belonging and/or purpose--what do we really need to make us happy?

People who were random strangers 12 weeks ago are now dear friends, and together we laugh through our culture shock, our embarrassing moments, our frustrations. As my friend Kelly likes to say: "there's nothing left to do but laugh." I accept who I am; I accept my cultural background; I accept that I am biased; I accept that I am not as "worldly," "open" and "educated" as I'd like to believe, an that that such egotistical self-beliefs can be dangerous for those less privileged than myself; I accept that Batswana have cultural backgrounds much different from mine; I accept that different does not mean better or worse; I accept that people don't have to agree in order to respect and love each other; I accept that I can never know what I know until I know what I don't know. Humility is beautiful. Discomfort is good, it means I'm learning. And I love it.