Famil(iarit)y is where the Heart is

The Matching Ceremony is the day us, PCTs, get to meet our host families. The people that will be providing, serving, loving, and protecting us for the next 11 weeks of our PST. When I think of the word family and of what it means to me, I think of support. My family back home provided the support I needed to chase and accomplish my dream of living in humility and service for those in need, and I knew that by the good grace of God a supportive family would be provided for me again. During that first hour or so, I thought I was going to poop my pants.  I nervously sat through some words said by the Peace Corps Country Director, Botswana Director of Programming and Training, Assistant District Commissioner, Chief of Bakwena, and the principal of IHS (my training center that I attend for PST) and I couldn’t help eagerly looking over at the different families that were also staring back searching for their PCT to claim as their son or daughter. 

Anyone who knows me knows it’s not a usual occurrence to see me cry or tear up. It takes a lot for me to show and express that kind of vulnerability. But it happened on this day in Molepolole, Botswana. All the feelings of excitement, nervousness, anticipation, anxiety, and expectations led up to me tearing up at the National Anthem sung by the host families that had gathered at the Matching Ceremony. I was touched and the tears just came tumbling down. The notes of song just got to me, hands down. It was also this moment of realization that I am going to be living here in Botswana, as a foreigner with aspirations to become familiar and find commonality with a country that is not at all familiar to me currently, but will one day be. Everything that my heritage, my roots, and my past has trained me to fulfill my purpose or goals with this special and unique service opportunity. As my racing thoughts and emotions started to wind down with the Anthems (both Botswana and American), one by one we were all called and matched with our host families. It was intense, I kept hoping and wishing that the next name called would be mine and at the same time hoping it wouldn’t be, because of my fears of not meeting my family’s expectations of a stereotypical "American". 

Finally, I heard my name called. Twice. I didn’t quite catch on because I was so overwhelmed with finally having got to this stage of meeting my caretakers for the next 11 weeks. I looked to the side of the auditorium where most of the host family members seemed to have come from, only to be called from the opposite side by my one member. My host sister, specifically. Her name is Bibi. *mic drop*.

How on Earth can someone have the same name as me, or technically my alias or nickname. I have heard of people knowing another Bibiana. But I have never physically met or been introduced to anyone with my name or even my pseudo-name. This is what it feels like when destiny and fate meet up and tango. I just was in utter awe when she told me her name, like hot damn this is awesome. She spoke perfect English fluently, which made it so much more awesome to converse with her and make the small talk before getting into our backgrounds, which we did later when I came home with her. I say the word, home, so casually. But I really think that home is what you make of a place that seems comfortable and familiar to you, just like a family.

I hope to upload a video of my new surroundings aka compound for the next 11 weeks, we have a chicken shed (I’ve been told we slaughter some after the 6 weeks of development are complete and eat them for dinner… for the latecomers I’ve turned back to eating meat again to not limit myself from the Botswana culture), we have guard dogs (Michele and Dubai and a naughty dog that I can’t seem to remember the name for the life of me…) and I have my own little cement compound that loves to soak up the cold from the late nights and the sunshine during the very warm (think around 70-80 degrees). Also for those of you that don’t know, Botswana typically experiences dry and wet seasons. Currently it is in the dry/winter season where it gets up to 70 degrees in the day and 30 degrees at night. Brrr trust me. We have a neat kitchen, laundry line, 3 different houses/huts, and a water line (I use the water filter that Peace Corps has bestowed upon us PCTs for our convenience and safety). Oh did I forget to mention the lovely pit latrine that I use for my pleasant and hopefully regular bowel routines. Yeah, it's been quite an experience, my first time using a latrine ever! Honestly if I can go whenever and not be disturbed, which usually is possible except late at night. Honestly I don’t care if it’s a hole in the ground or what, I will use whatever is available. My host sister, Bibi, also told me this would probably be a good preparation for whatever remote site Peace Corps might assign me, and the site could only have a latrine available. Regardless, I’m thankful it has a toilet seat and it has enough depth where it wouldn’t reek like a porta-potty. 

For what I can call my own, I have my own cozy room made up of cement. It has curtains and windows! I have brought all my pictures of friends and family, but I only carry around one of my family taken during my “Graduation” (taken at my Graduation Crawfish Boil of my dad chomping on a crawfish, brother with that good NOLA blonde brew in hand, and sister and Oma cheesin’ away). I have brought with me a world map to give me a reality check of how small the world can seem, yet so vast (also going to take the educational opportunity to teach locals about South Korea~ yippee!) I was also given a stand-up mirror, a dresser to place some random knick knacks, a lovely two seater sofa, and a cozy bed that already had bedding included. Not to mention in the corner I have a lovely basin and bucket for my own body washing.

My first bucket bathing experience was interesting. I think it will have to be a trial and error of how to efficiently use all of the water and effectively keep it all in my basin. I figure I won’t bathe as often… I mean that’s what baby powder and essential oils are good for, right? Fortunately, I have outlets and my host family has and uses electricity! To my expectations there is no Internet at the house, but there is Internet in the IHS campus library and this lovely internet café not too far from me (an estimated 10 minutes walking distance). To my surprise my host family has cable and TV! I hope to not fall into traps of mindless TV watching, but be proactive in seeking other forms of entertainment. Also for those that worry, I live right across from the Molepolole Police Station, which seems super convenient if I get myself into a pickle I suppose. 

Now the rest of the day was spent chatting with Bibi about life. I mean we covered topics ranging from her early pregnancy, the life she leads as a strong and independent woman who doesn’t just accept cheating men in her life (such as her friends or neighbors she knows that has—this seems very common in Botswana culture), her family, her dreams, her lessons, and her passion and love for God. Many of you know that I have left Catholicism on the shelf to revisit the past and familiar customs and beliefs, but my heart remains Christian. I will always pursue God and my faith as diligently as I can, but I try to find and hold onto strong connections and qualities that lead to God. No matter what. So, the fact that this woman (who again has my pseudo-name) has this commonality and a determined love and faith for and with God has been placed into my life during my journey… This isn’t coincidence. This is definitely to me a divine intervention. I identify with this woman on so many levels, and am so blessed to have her in my life for guidance, care, and support. I also met her son, Jacob*, who is a bright, young, and cheerful 17 years old guy who seems shy, but I can’t wait to get him to open up and warm up to me. Bibi doesn’t seem worried about him at all, but gushes about how he blessed her life regardless of her situation of raising Jacob as a single mother. 

I can’t help but to think about all the research, case studies, and frameworks I had learned about in graduate school on the levels and contributing factors that drive women to become a vulnerable population and have this greater and significant risk to different burdens of disease based on cultural norms and peer pressure based on gender roles and identities. This one person personalizes that model, and I know that I will meet many more individuals that I will be able to place faces to those models, and relationships instead of cold hard numbers and facts.