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Published: November 18th 2009
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The Gender Thing
One has to be creative to come up with Halloween costumes with no money and little time in a country where the holiday isn't widely celebrated. THE CONTENTS OF THIS BLOG ARE MINE PERSONALLY AND DO NOT REFLECT ANY POSITION OF THE U.S. GOVERNMENT OR PEACE CORPS. I returned from IST (Peace Corps In-service training), head crammed full of all the wonderful activities that dedicated Peace Corps Volunteers accomplish, and, well okay, feeling a bit old and out of touch compared to these fast thinking, fast talking, world-saving youth that join the Peace Corps, apply to PhD programs and strategically plan additions to their resumes for the next decade. When I arrived back at site, I found a packet about GLOW Camp (GLOW is for Girls and Guys Leading Our World) just sitting in the school office looking innocuous and patiently awaiting my arrival. In my newbie Peace Corps Volunteer enthusiasm, I tore it open and begin reading the letter and rifling through the application forms. To be held in Gaborone, it read, and all that the facilitators need to arrange for financially is transportation. “Oooh, I think I can manage to get four students to Gabs. It's so near,” I thought gleefully. Alright, I admit I said it aloud because I’m reaching that age of carrying on little conversations with myself that escape my brain a
spill out of my mouth. I read on, a delegation of 3 to 4 teens, either all girls or all boys.
“Hmm. No prob there! It is easier to identify the sex of a teen here than in the States and I was pretty good at it there, except for that one girl, guy, girl, whatever, that my youngest daughter brought home one time, Alex Michel? Mitchel? something, if I remember right. At least they have to wear uniforms here and it’s skirt season for the girls. Yup. Got this one covered.”
A local Motswana to be a second facilitator was the next factor I had to consider, which even for a mosadi mogolo was a no brainer. “I have a wonderful counterpart. She’ll surely go.” I smiled broadly, certain of my success. My counterpart enthusiastically agreed and volunteered to select the delegation. “Great! A super start on my first ‘real’ project!”
Then the whole concept quickly took a quantum leap. “I’ve got it!!” I felt the ole synapse firing like they did in my twenties, or was that the vertebrae in my neck creaking. No matter. I was texting my husband while on my way to
the staff room to find Mr. D. who I was certain would agree to take a boys delegation if my husband would be his Peace Corps counterpart. And there it was, my first project taking shape like implants in a Maiden Form bra. Things rolled along with only a small catch with the school head who was concerned that the venue in Gabs had yet to be finalized. He wanted to be certain that the facilities were safe and adequate for the student delegates. I made a few connections with people in the know and zipped off an impressive letter of reassurance to the school head that the camp would be at a pleasant and safe facility in Gaborone. He then gave his endorsement; the last required piece of the application process was in the bag and none too soon. I was faxing it all on the deadline date, a situation that the ghost of my once type A personality was hoping to avoid. However, my blood pressure medication continued to work well because I never lost consciousness for a moment when the power went out at the school and remained down for the entire day. No power, no fax.
No fax, no meeting the deadline. Yet all worked out okay, paper work was in and I soon received the good news that both delegations had been selected to spend the week in Gabs at GLOW Camp. Yes! I’ve actually accomplished one tangible thing in six months. There is a God and she isn’t angry that I’ve been confused about her gender all these years.
Next came the fun filled facilitator training in Maun. Okay, not all fun. Long ride. No sight seeing, lots of mosquito bites, public showers, no fine cuisine, but we did have fashionably late meals served in plastic wrapped Styrofoam containers. Still, as trainings go it wasn’t so bad, though it did concern me that I never once could see to the bottom of the swimming pool at the lodge where we stayed. We all worked hard and had some awesome presentations for the kids. Yes, I used the word awesome. I can do that as a trained youth camp facilitator.
We came home exhausted, but quickly had all the permission forms signed by parents of the delegates and transportation to Gabs was arranged. It had been a bit over a week since we returned from Maun and all that was left was to polish up my presentations and activities for the campers. I had some great material prepared and was looking forward to co-facilitating with Peace Corps Volunteers and my counterpart. Beep. Beep. My cell was sounding a message alert. I checked the sms and read, “GLOW Camp 2009 at Tsetsejwe.” A lodge in Gabs or is it a school? I asked an HOD. She chuckled and replied, “Gabs! No dear. It’s a little village about five hours from here.”
No! Every piece of paper I received on GLOW said GABORONE! I had a bad feeling about it. Tsetse flies, Tsetsejwe both seemed to stir feelings of dread, and rightly so. My hard work unraveled before my eyes. I now had no transportation, no school head approval, no co-worker support and an equally frustrated spouse. But hey, here in Kopong the power and water come and go and so do plans and dreams. The power was off today, but now it’s back. The water’s been gone for a week, but there was enough of a trickle to do the dishes tonight. There will be other opportunities, as long as I don’t let myself get so down that I miss them. I’ll keep my sagging chin up and look forward to my next adventure.
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Phyllis Hug
non-member comment
I was right!
Now I know for sure that I was right--you are the perfect person for this kind of adventure! Still a sense of humor and still a willingness and hope for more challenges in the future! Yea, Shannon! I sure miss you at Horizon. I think of you and Steve every time I look at my magnificent rock which adorns the corner of my patio! Hugs, Phyllis