I have dust in everything. Dust in my bed, in my shoes (and in between my toes), in my notebooks, on my backpack… I can feel little grits of dust sometimes in my teeth when I drink out of my Nalgene. I asked a Sesotho teacher today if her eyes are just permanently dried out after being accustomed to dust storms all the time. She said no. The bucket bathing situation doesn’t seem to help my case. It’s amazing how dirty the water from each bath is, even while I’m bathing every day. I think I’m one of the few volunteers, actually, who still bucket bathes every morning. I’ve mastered the art of bucket bathing! I’m not going to resort to shaving my head!
This week, we started “peer teaching” with other volunteers to prepare for actual teaching next week. We’ll be taking over one or two classes a week at a local primary school. I’m teaching grades 5 and 6 English, three classes in total. I talked to another volunteer and worked it out so I can co-teach a class with her as well, to get extra practice. Today’s peer teaching session got me excited to start what I’m actually here to do. The kids are out for summer break in two weeks, and after that we’ll hold a volunteer “summer school” (I don’t think those two words have ever gone together in American English…?) where kids can come and listen to the white girl lecture. J
In all honesty, the kids here are what has been and what will keep me from hopping on a plane headed straight back to the States. They are so so wonderful. It’s taken the neighborhood girls a few weeks to warm up to me, but now they are outside my door every afternoon, waiting with their notebooks to get homework help. If they don’t have homework, they end up writing verb charts on my walls (what African kids do for fun…) or having me judge cartwheel contests. Two nights ago, I almost shooed them away to work on laundry and fetching water for a bath, and instead they asked if they could do it all for me! Even when my door is closed (a sign I’m busy or napping), they’ll play on my steps until I come outside, or if it’s just one girl she’ll sing loud enough so to make sure I know she’s there and waiting.
My Sesotho class is not getting any easier. I feel as if I’ve got the general greetings down, so when someone sees me walking along the road I can say hello and ask how they are doing. A common question here is “where are you going? What are you going to do?” or “where are you coming from? What were you doing?” I’m still working on those ones. I usually point and say a simple noun. “School.” “Toilet.” “Road.” I sound like a caveman, but I usually get my point across.
Next week, we start cooking for ourselves!!!!!!!!! I am thrilled. The food here is less than average; it’s pretty bland. Every day for lunch I can expect white rice, beetroot, sweet potato, and if I’m lucky peas or carrots doused in mayonnaise. It doesn’t sound horrible, but anything gets old after a few days of eating it over and over. One thing I’ve fallen in love with is the steamed bread, called maqebekoane. I’m apparently learning how to make it with my family on Sunday, so I’ll try to post the recipe. It’s super moist and airy, perfect for soaking up beans or soup. I usually have 6 huge slices piled on my plate every morning at breakfast.
My family has discovered my love for peanut butter, and now it mysteriously appears in different parts of my meals. Peanut butter and cheese sandwiches. Peanut butter and eggs in the morning. A piece of bread with peanut butter, and a tomato on the side. I can tell they’re not sure how to put it in my meals, but I love the effort. Another great meal I had (definitely mandated by the Peace Corps; they provide host families with a flexible American menu to serve, which turns out pretty interesting) was macaroni and cheese. A bowl of spaghetti, and two still-wrapped slices of cheddar cheese on the side. I just kind of tore up the cheese and put it on top of the spaghetti. During these meals, my family chooses not to eat with me and instead eat their usual rice-and-spinach mix. My host mother has a “no thank you” helping to be polite: a few noodles that she pushes around on her plate until I’m finished. But they all still sit politely, watching and smiling until I finish everything. If I can’t finish, which is usually the case, they gobble up my leftovers. They even eat the chicken bones!
I miss you all so much, but I’m finally feeling more and more settled in my new home. It’s even become somewhat charming to wash my hands the old fashioned way, with a pitcher over a basin. I feel like I just time-warped back to the pioneer days. I told Juli the other day, you never appreciate everything you have until one day when you have nothing. It sounds cheesy, but true. So go eat some chips and salsa and have a marg in my honor! J
Thinking of you in Africa , +8 hours ahead. Love you.
Hannah
No comments:
Post a Comment