Guilty

I did a very mean thing today. I'm not happy about doing it, but I would do it again.

I broke the Peace Corps Volunteer Honor Code. I learned of another volunteer who has not been following Peace Corps instructions concerning leave time, and I called headquarters and ratted him out. I did.

It was mean. Very few people actually follow Peace Corps instructions regarding leave time to the letter. Many of us fudge a day or two when submitting forms requesting time off. We live in a beautiful part of the world and want to spend as much time enjoying it as we can. I understand that. Non-volunteers who read this blog may be surprised that we are technically allowed only 24 days off per year. Granted, volunteers who work in the schools are also allowed a certain number of school holidays off. It adds up to a substantial amount of vacation, but in South Africa with its beaches, parks, history and culture it's impossible to get enough time off. Or at least Peace Corps tries valiantly to prevent volunteers from going on permanent vacation.

As they should.

We are volunteers. We live in uncomfortable poverty. We engage in often grueling labor for a pittance. We do not enjoy the perks of the more gainfully employed, so why should we be constrained to their work/vacation schedules?

Because we signed up for this. We knew this was coming.

In America, people are fond of the phrase "You get what you pay for". In my experience, too many volunteers carry this mantra with them. They barely earn enough to survive, so there's no need to actually work. There's no need to go to school or participate in community activites. But again, we agreed to this. We took an oath. We gave our word.

Peace Corps volunteers are often the only Americans that the villagers we live with will ever meet. Everything we say or do is representative of Americans everywhere. It's tough living inside a fish bowl. It's annoying, but it's also an important aspect of our job. We exercise tremendous influence over what people think of Americans as a people. We have a choice. We can show that Americans hold themselves to high personal standards, or we can show them that Americans are purely selfish flakes with no standards at all. We can demonstrate that Americans are men and women of their word, or that Americans put themselves over all else. I like to believe that Peace Corps represents the best of America, and that is the standard to which I hold myself.

Is it fun? Is it easy? No, of course not. There are plenty of days when I don't feel like getting out of bed. Plenty of moments when I want to make a sarcastic or rude comment. Nevertheless, I get out of bed everyday. I hold my tongue. When a colleague asks me to do something I consider useless or ridiculous, I buckle down and do it. I do all of these things because, as a Peace Corps volunteer, as an American, I believe that they are important. High personal standards may not be important in university where everyone's your best friend and you spend days on end in your pajamas, but when you're a lekgowa in a village they matter. The personal legacy Peace Corps volunteers leave in the memory of host country nationals lasts a lifetime.

Not only are most of the men and women employed at the Peace Corps office in Pretoria host country nationals (South African), but they also represent our immediate superiors.

Volunteers cannot be fired, we cannot earn promotions or bonuses, there is no such beast as an annual review, in fact, there is no such thing as direct supervision. No one at the Peace Corps office knows exactly what I'm doing at my site. They don't know what classes I teach or don't teach, the garden I work in, the map I'm painting or the book donation I'm working on. For all they know I sit in my room all day and watch "Friends". To be honest, many a Saturday has passed that way, but no matter. Just because we don't have "real" jobs is no excuse to slack off. Just because no one is breathing down our collective necks is no reason to lose sight of our objectives. We are all adults. We should be able to handle ourselves accordingly, sans supervision.

We are lucky to have the positions that we do. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, the unemployment rate in the United States was at 9.6% in August. It is not inconceivable to think that many volunteers would be part of that statistic were it not for Peace Corps. Instead, we are living abroad with a steady income guaranteed for two years, plus health insurance at no cost to us at all. We are enjoying a care-free existence thanks to the common American taxpayer. If we are answerable to no one else, we are answerable to him. There's a nearly 1 in 10 chance that whoever paid for our groceries last week could now use some help himself. At the very least we can show our appreciation by doing the very best work we can.

Unfortunately, some volunteers are forced into more difficult work environments. I have no sympathy. I moved, so can you. If something's not working, change it. Make it work. Adapting to new and challenging environments is, again, what we signed up for.

Will following the rules, being accountable, and holding oneself to high standards make one happy? Probably not. I would much rather be writing this from a beach in Durban, but I'm saving my leave time for December and have classes to teach in the meantime. Is Peace Corps about being happy?

Maybe... Anyone who says they haven't grown as a person, or learned something new about themselves since coming here is either a liar or very dense. The process of self-discovery is inevitable when you udergo such a rapid change in circumstances that is moving from the first-world into the Peace Corps lifestyle. I am living alone, in a desert, on the other side of the world. Am I really the same person who used to buy coordinating outfits with my friends and drink over-priced coffee as a social activity? Well, no, not exactly. Am I more or less happy? About the same. There are greats highs and tremendous lows associated with my service, but on the whole I am happy and satisfied with my life here.

As much as my family and friends may be heartened to hear that, it is really beside the point. My well-being is beside the point. Coming from a culture where people are drowning in social networking and fancy applications begging for the broadcasting of personal information, it is easy to be self-absorbed. For goodness' sakes, I have the audacity to be writing this blog and expect it to be read! From Facebook to Twitter, modern life is all about ego, most often our own. We are practically programmed to think only of ourselves. With high-speed internet and credit cards, instant gratification has never been easier. Combine the two and we have masses of people whose thoughts revolve almost entirely on themselves and whatever makes them happy. Such people have no place in the Peace Corps.

Fundamentally, at its very core, the Peace Corps is about helping others. Yes, this is difficult, more so than most people reading this in the U.S. can imagine. Yes, it may also be selfish as science has shown some people get their kicks from giving, but no matter what the mission of the Peace Corps is service. That means putting ourselves, our hopes, dreams, happiness and ambitions, aside and serving others. Putting a smile of someone else's face. Deriving the quadratic equation when you really don't have the time because a learner asked. Letting young children help with the painting even though they cannot keep the paint in the lines and you have to go back and fix it. Peace Corps is not an individual achievement, not a box to check off on the list of things you can use to impress strangers and admissions officers. Peace Corps is an opportunity to serve, serve the people of a developing nation and America. It may not be a higher cause, but it's certainly a cause bigger than ourselves. One that deserves our respect and best efforts at doing our job, whatever that may be in your community.

So, here's to high standards and hard work, even in a developing country, without proper sanitation and poor compensation. Here's to leverage, no slack and synergy even when there's no one around to admire and appreciate it. Here's to doing our best when it isn't exactly what we want. Here's to Peace Corps and the people who make it such a great organization, the best of America.

... And that's why I'll never write a book. I ramble. In my defense, have you ever tried to revise a rant of such length on a cell phone?

I will post more about life and the universe in the near future. I have several good blog ideas.

To any PCV readers who may have taken offense: As Dr. Seuss said, "Those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind." I love you, let's do lunch.

Thanks for reading my ramblings. Who knew my moral backbone was so easily offended?

From the Newsroom

The strike has been suspended. Schools and hospitals began reopening today around South Africa. I go back to work tomorrow. Considering that we left off in the middle of exams, I wonder what we'll be doing.

More news on what I've been up to lately, a list of Peace Corps blogs better than mine and some more philosophical thoughts to follow. Stay tuned!

Tedium

A quick update on previous posts:

1) The field trip to Heuningvlei never materialized because the Department of Education failed to make any provision for the transport of 40-some people 80-some kilometres. Was I disappointed? Yes. Surprised? Not one bit.

2) I hunted down the bird in the computer lab (not too difficult considering the loud and continous tweeting). He appeared to have a broken wing. I resisted my urge to find a box, bring him home and raise him to wellness. Instead I set him outside under a tree. I have not seen him since. While I hope he managaed to waddle somewhere safe, it is more likely that some other creature got to him first. Shame.

In other news, I'm getting a bit sick of the strike. A few days off was nice. I cleaned, re-organized and de-cluttered my hovel. I went to visit another volunteer (dinner was Sprite and cupcakes - YES). I picked up supplies to complete my World Map project. I re-stocked my food corner. I washed my floor. I'm ready to go back to school! I have no idea when that will happen. I know for certain that the strike will last through Monday, but it could potentially last much longer. The last SADTU strike, in 2007, went on for a month. Oh joy. In the meantime, I will be soaking up the village ambience with as much good humor as I can muster. Right now I'm sitting on my stoop, listening to the sheep baa and squinting to keep the sand out of my eyes. Spring is coming to South Africa. It arrives with a hot, hot sun and plenty of wind. Not the best of weather, but it sure beats freezing cold.

S'mores

After spending the better part of last week in town, avoiding the strike, I spent all of this weekend hanging about in Loopeng. J came to visit and brought supplies for a very important element of my Peace Corps service: sharing American culture through that most delicious of campfire foods: s'mores.

Graham crackers are not available here in South Africa, so we used Marie biscuits (a very thin cross between a cookie and a cracker). A package of biscuits, a packet of marshmallows and a bar of milk chocolate and we were ready to roll. We waited for darkness and then trooped out to a corner of the yard in search of appropriate tree branches. Four branches were selected and sawed off with J's pocket knife. He then sharpened the ends into points while everyone else gathered in the backyard to build a fire. In our little group was J, myself, my host sister R and seven children from the neighborhood who happen to stay with the family (3 are AIDs orphans, the mother of the other 4 is a drunk who ran off).

After a quick demonstration of marshmallow roasting technique and s'more construction, we were off to the races. We had plenty of supplies for everyone, luckily, and photo opportunities abounded. Some day I might actually get some of them online.

Even though it's winter here, I got a little taste of American summer with s'mores that I think everyone enjoyed.

Uhh, there's a bird in the computer lab. Better run!

Toi-toi

The strike is on. Learners have been asked not to go to school, no classes are being held, and educators are protesting. It's a confusing time right now. I've heard the strike could last anywhere from just a day to the rest of the school year. Some schools aren't striking at all, some schools have been on strike already. Eish! I'm following the official Peace Corps line on the strike: I have no opinion and no involvement. I'm staying home until it all blows over.

This past weekend was a one-year party in Kuruman. Volunteers came from across both the Northern Cape and the North-West for dinner at a local Afrikaner cafe and dancing at an Afrikaner bar down the road. It was fun. Nothing like doing a waltz to Afrikaans pop music. This weekend was also host to J's surprise birthday party. I was in charge of locating a cake. It was more difficult than you might think, but I managed to get it done. I was given the phone number of a local woman who baked cakes to order, and wow! It was awesome. It was enormous and dripping in frosting. So. Much. Sugar! Delicious, of course. So delicious in fact that we ordered another cake for no other reason than to eat more of it.

In other news of the weekend, well, frankly, it was all chutney. A bunch of volunteers met at Die Oog (the Eye, oasis of the Kalahari) for a picnic. One of the many conversation topics covered was that of chutney. Had we tried it before coming to SA? What exactly was it? Wikipedia to the rescue! Chutney was defined by the rather dubious internet source as "anything that does not contain raisins... with the exception of raisin chutney". So, everything is chutney? According to Wikipedia, yes, yes it is. One friend commented that she couldn't believe we'd spent the last hour cracking jokes about chutney, but another friend quickly pointed out that really, we've spent our whole lives talking about chutney. I guess you probably had to be there.

Enjoy your week, I'll be spending it at home pending further notice from SADTU.

This Week

Yesterday's post makes my life sound terribly boring, so I thought today I'd list all the little things that are going on this week that spice things up a bit.

On Monday my backyard hosted a donkey slaughtering. Donkeys are primarily used here attached to carts to fetch water, but when they grow old and infirm they're eaten. The donkey was killed and the meat cooked in a big iron pot over the outdoor cooking fire. Because donkeys are considered communal property (they roam free and you round one up when you need one) a whole crowd of people came over to get their fair share. It was kind of distressing. I think donkeys are cute. I passed on eating this one.

Tomorrow is a field trip up to some caves in Heuningvlei in celebration of National Science Week. I'll have more on that later. I'm excited. I've been to Heuningvlei before, but in the summer when it's just too hot to walk anywhere.

Today was the last day of negotiations between the government and the teaching unions. A strike, if it happens, will begin this Friday. We should know by the end of school tomorrow what's going on.

This weekend is another Kuruman shindig/fiesta, this time in honor of our first year of service. We will eat, drink, make merry and shower. I'm excited about the shower, the food is a close second. I had instant soup for dinner. I look forward to chewing something with substance.

Judging from my blog, Peace Corps is all parties! It's tough out here in the Kalahari, but we manage.

In other news, I've just finished another round of antibiotics and other pills. It was exhausting, but the good news is that with all the pill-swallowing practice I can now swallow my elephant-sized multivitamins no problem!

One more thing: I forgot to post about last weekend! So here goes...

It had been months since I last saw my dearest PCV friend. Months! She doesn't live far from Kuruman and spends most weekends in town. It was quite ridiculous that we went so long without seeing each other. We decided to meet for dinner on Saturday night. I arrived in town in the morning. With nothing to do for most of the day, I wound up at the usual PCV hangout where a couple of PCVs were chatting with some locals. The conversation turned to horses and before we knew it, we were all given a lift to the local Rugby Club. The Rugby Club was also home to stable housing three horses belonging to our hosts. We saddled up and went riding. It was a complete and total disaster. I was in a dress and ballet flats, so I was hanging onto the horse with one hand and trying to keep my skirt down with the other. J's mount had a spasm and he was tossed to the ground. N proved to be a decent rider, but his horse kept heading home (back to his stall). Horse whisperers we are not. Dinner was great though (and J is uninjured).

The Rugby Club in general was a bit surreal. The atmosphere is so European, and yet the acacia trees and black groundspeople remind you that you are, in fact, in Africa. It felt very colonial. Interesting, but also uncomfortable.

Everyday

Usually when I post on this blog, I'm posting about something unusual or exciting. As delighted as you likely are to read about all my awesome vacations, perhaps more enlightening would be a description of my everyday. Here it is:

6:30 am
My alarm goes off. I go back to bed.

6:45 am
My alarm goes off again. I can hear my host father building the cooking fire outside and my host mother bustling the younger children out of bed. I get up too.

7:00 am
I am not happy to be awake, but I boil water in an eletric kettle for a quick wash. I dress, gather my school things and generally putter until...

7:30 am
I walk to school.

7:35 am
I arrive at school. I hope the gate is unlocked. If it isn't, I wait for the security guard to let me in. Don't ask me why we have 24-hour security personnel. I haven't the faintest.

7:40 am
There is a morning staff meeting. Sometimes it's long, sometimes short, almost always boring. The principal leads it in English. The educators come from all over southern Africa and not all of them are familiar with seTswana. English is used at school.

7:50 am
On Mondays we have assembly. The learners line up, and there is singing, announcements... Every other day of the week classes start at this time (Mondays are delayed 10 minutes).

From this time until 4 o'clock or even later, I will be at school. I teach my classes, assist other educators, and generally act as a potentially useful hanger-on. I fix computers, tutor learners, attend meetings... It's all very boring once you get used to it, and I am nothing if not used to it. I leave whenever the other staff members do.

5:00 pm
I fetch water. It's a long walk to the tap. It's a longer walk back.

6:00 pm
I cook. By "cook" I usually mean boil water for pasta and smother it in butter and cheese. It never gets old.

7:00 pm
Wash dishes. Empty water basin outside.

8:00 pm
Get ready for bed.

9:00 pm
In bed, maybe with a book, maybe a movie, maybe with 10 episodes of Friends, or maybe with nothing... No matter what I'll be asleep before 10 pm.

Then I do it all over again. On the weekends I substitute trips to town, laundry and washing my hair with attending school.

Just finished Don't Let's Go to the Dogs Tonight by Alexandra Fuller. Excellent! I highly recommend it for anyone interested in the experience of white Africans.

Just started At Bertram's Hotel by Agatha Christie. Peace Corps South Africa has a great library, huh?