I Should Do A Caption Contest With This

From L to R: Me, Ebony (Bots 7, Palapye), Brian (Bots 6, Gantsi)
Taken at GLOW (Guys/Gals Leading Our World) Camp last week. All of us in our official GLOW Camp T-shirts.

The look on Ebony's face is priceless. I don't know what Pearl of my wisdom I am saying, but her expression pretty much sums up the response of all the women I've ever known.

The Rainy Season Is Upon Us

We've been getting some rain here in Chuck Hill lately. The pictures don't do justice to the scene of massive storm clouds rising over the Kalahari. The past couple days have seen downpours create a river in my front yard. But of course it's desert, so the water sucks into the sands almost as fast as it falls. The lightning show is spectacular! After almost six months without a cloud in the sky it's a treat.

So...mom...how's the leg?

World AIDS Day

One year ago today I opened my mail and learned I might as well give up my Arabic lessons as I was headed to Botswana. Hard to believe a year has gone by already. Commemorations will be held all over the world this day. We remember those who have died, those who live with HIV/AIDS and those yet to succumb to this terrible disease.

Are we making a difference here? Hard to tell. We may never know. Still we must try.

It's what makes us human.

Sompin' About This Just Ain't Right

I'm not criticizing, but this just struck me as odd.. Christmas doesn't seem the big deal here that it does in America. Of course I doubt it's that big of a deal ANYWHERE else than America. But, this grocery store is owned by Boers. They are white-German-Dutch-Euro-something-or-other (Hey, I STILL can't keep Afrikaners and Boers and various assorted pale faces sorted out here!). Seems like they would have put up a red S. Claus. It IS for sale, something like P1600, which at current rates is around USD$200.

Bet he would look good on my front porch. Here.

Only One Regret

Sure wish Jan Gill-Wigal was around to see Obama's win. She may once have passed as Hillary's double, but she would have LOVED this!

Comes The Dawn!

After eight long dark years I am proud to be an American. Congratulations Barack Obama. Congratulations you and me. I've been up all night cranking my shortwave radio and going back and forth between BBC and Voice of America. WE just made the World a little bit better place.

More Pix From My Maun Trip

OK, Mom said she couldn't see my face on yesterday's photo. So here is one where you can see my beautiful face. When I first saw it I thought "Pete Wigal went to Africa." If you know him I think you'll agree.

Wild Life in Botswana

Had a workshop over the weekend up in Maun. Had the chance to take an evening boat ride. The ostrich was running along the vehicle on the way up. Thought he (she?) looked pretty cool. The hippos aren't included in Africa's Big Five. Still waiting to see one of those. As for me, I MIGHT need another haircut.

More Chez Mothusi

So now that I've had four months to settle in I thought some might like to see what some of my day-to-day stuff looks like. So this first one is my automatic dishwasher. It has a soak, wash and rinse cycle. Oddly so does my clothes washer. In fact they are one and the same. Multi-tasking. The second picture is my "Home Office." Not much different from the one I had in Columbiana. Except there is no wireless internet to steal from the neighbors (Oops! Did I say that?)

Itsoseng Pre-School by my House

Finally I'm getting around to posting about the pre-school. The teachers now love me and the kids think I'm Uncle Mothusi (Too early for Santa Claus. Yes, they celebrate Christmas. Don't know if SC is big here.)

Also Mick tells me a peace organization in Columbia, South Carolina is helping put together another box to send for the kids. Here is their website if you're interested: carolinapeace.org.

This thing is growing so big it I am working to make the materials available to all kids in chuck Hill. The other Peace corps Volunteer and I are trying to find a place like a library (Wait til you see the pictures of it.)or the local medical clinic to have a children's corner. Things take lots of time here to materialize. I'll keep you posted.

Speaking of time, today marks six months since I left Columbiana. Only twenty short months to go!

A Parting of Ways

Some time back I posted about seeing a certain lady who happens to be a Republican (Not that there's anything wrong with that). Well, we have agreed to a mutual parting of ways. Africa, it turns out, is rough on relationships.

But this is a part of my life and therefore I feel the need to post it here, even though it might not rank as "The Best of What's Left."

Fact is it is unfair to ask someone to invest "Emotional Capital" in a guy who is going to disappear for two years. I've made this statement several times to members of the female gender and have uniformly been met with nods of agreement.

I wish her the best and only good things. I'm certain life will be good under the new Obama presidency.

Remember

This must be like what amputees go through. Scratching an itch on a part of me that is no longer there.

Fours years. I still have dreams you’ve come back to me. How many times have I looked up and said “What the Hell happened?”

They say “you never forget, but it gets better.” It doesn’t. You just deal with it. Some days I can actually not think about it. Not in September. But some days.

Attended a Peace Corps workshop the other day. They had a Clinical Psychologist make a presentation. Motswana lady. US educated. It was like she was channelling Jan up there. Afterwards I told her that.

I have no higher praise.

I've Been Terrible at Posting Lately

I just haven't had the access or time. as it is I have four minutes left to post this. Here are a couple pix from a couple weeks ago when Bots 7 was in Kanye for Early Term Reconnect.

One day we took a hike in this pretty little gorge. The other was of running with the local kids.

Woolies?

I just wonder if this is the same pre-Wal-Mart business that used to exist in Main Street America. I've seen them in Abu Dhabi. They are all over Botswana. Not a bad place to pick up some decent clothes. The bigger cities have Woolworth's grocery stores. Expensive by Bot's standards, but sometimes you can find stuff the other groceries don't have. Of course getting to one ONLY involves 12 hours by bus.

Hardly worth the effort. But if by chance you happen to be there...

Ahh Spring! I mean, Fall! No Spring! Whatever.

This is an odd feeling. Winter in Botswana is ending. Only because winter here is a sight warmer than anywhere else I've ever been do I feel like it should be cooling down soon.

It ain't. Sure we had some mornings when I'm pretty sure it was below the freezing temperature of fresh water (32 degrees Fahrenheit, 0 Degrees Celsius). But always by 10 AM it was at least pleasant shirt-sleeve weather. The Motswana don't buy that. I'm always amazed when in what is surely 80 degree F. weather people are wearing sweaters, hoods, thick jackets (I saw the same thing in Puerto Rico).

But I tremble to think what lies ahead. Apparently 40s C aren't uncommon. Yikes! At least I'll save electricity by not heating the water.

Still I feel like I should be getting a new coat...

Hey! Primanti Brothers!

I’m not making a political statement. I just can’t see why they would ruin a perfectly good picture of Primanti Brothers (in Pittsburgh) with Cindy McCain’s mug. This was in a recent edition of Newsweek the Peace Corps sends us.

Man, what I would give for a Primanti’s roast beef piled with fries and cole slaw! And a stroll down the Strip to Mon Aimee Chocolate to drop about $70 on dark chocolate, then across the street to pick up some flavoured pasta and up to Mt. Washington for a look see at the city, then a Pirates game, then throw the kayak in the Mon for a paddle, then stop at Starbucks afterward for a Venti caramel Frappuccino, and then, and then, and then…

Oh well, maybe the Engen station has meat pies today.

Amazing what one picture can do?

What They Need

Following my picture of the Pre-School I was asked by a loyal reader (one of six) if the kids needed supplies of any kind.

Sigh! Where to start? The government provides the VERY basics, paper, pencils, etc. but these kids (and even or ESPECIALLY older ones) need EVERYTHING! Those who know me well know I'm not the most sensitive SOB in the world. I tell you when I visited that little school and saw what they DIDN'T have it about broke my heart. By that I mean things you wouldn't ordinarily think about: games, puzzles, coloring books, crayons... Americans would blow a gasket if their kids were supplied as poorly. They mean well. It's just there isn't enough money to get the things little kids, EVERY little kid, should have.

Things that make you have to think to solve, to work together with others.

See, the educational system here is about where the US was a century ago. Rote learning. The teacher drills them and they respond accordingly. When you ask a kid for his/her opinion you get a blank stare. You get that even from the adults. After all, they are products of the same system.

You talk to kids and they are stunned that you consider them as thinking people. If you can send anything along those lines you will be doing a world of good.

We talk about building capacity among the people in Africa. Get them to the point where they can develop without outside help. So, how does a coloring book build capacity? If one child realizes he or she CAN think and DECIDE for themselves you have built capacity.

The other Peace Corps Volunteer in my village recently met the former Botswana Minister of Health, a physician. Female even. She told her she was inspired by a Peace Corps volunteer teacher she had in Science class Standard Nine (9th grade). That volunteer will never know she gave a push to a future Minister of Health for a country. that's like a Cabinet post.

So you never know.

Also, if anyone with IT expertise could give some advise or help. One of the schools actually has some IMacs, circa 1997. They are all of course basically paperweights. The operating systems are so corrupted as to be about useless. The kids are taught typing skills on turned off computers. Does anyone have an old Windows OS Disc to try to re-format these things? I don't even know if that is possible. Even if you let me know it can't be done would be helpful information.

My address again is:

Mike Wigal
PO Box 170
Charles Hill, Botswana

That's in Africa

My First Picture of Wild Game That Was NOT Donkeys!

OK, so donkeys aren't actually wild game. I've seen a jackal, a hyena, a fox and a Springbok (look it up). But those were at night while speeding along the highway. This was taken also speeding along the Trans-Kgadihadi Highway (150 Km/Hr), so it isn't the clearest. I've been spotting them from time to time between Ghanzi and Chuck Hill, but could never get my camera ready fast enough. This was the best I could do.

Africa is famous for the Big 5, Zebra, Hippo, Lion, Rhino and Elephant. No one talks about these guys. The big game is located farther north. Maybe in a few weeks or months when I get sprung from lock-down (Peace Corps requirement for the first three months at site) I'll run into some of the big boys.

More Pictures from the Petroglyphs

Some of these weren't carved in stone. See if you can tell which.

The Mamuno Rock Carvings

Went out into the bush last weekend. The head of the Village Development Committee (George), took an archaeologist from Gaborone (Judge), the other Peace Corps volunteer in Chuck Hill (Lesedi) and her mom and me to view the rock carvings done by whomever it was who lived in this area 35,000 years ago.

It was pretty remarkable. Too bad I'll NEVER have enough internet time to upload all or even the best photos of the petroglyphs. But I'll throw up what I can here.

I've spent a half hour trying to get one more picture up. Forget it. This one was about the best. Pretty self-explanatory

I Need A Favor

I was walking down my road today and was called over by the Cow ladies to take this photo of their day care centre. I would love to give them this picture. But it will be a month of Sundays before I can get to a place that can develop it. It's a big favor, but could someone print this out in color on glossy paper and send it to me?

Again my address is:
Mike Wigal
P.O. Box 170
Charles Hill,
Botswana

MAil takes forever to get here. At LEAST three weeks. But it would give the ladies and those kids a thrill.

Thanks in advance

Good Bye Baba

Word has reached me that Betty Gill, my mother-in-law has passed. She was 84. And another link to Jan fades away.

Baba (as she was affectionately known) was the Gazda in the Gill family. I don’t know exactly how Gazda translates, but Sloko, my late father-in-law, called her that. Undoubtedly it was Ukrainian in origin and meant she ruled the roost.

Betty was a great lady. She had more than a little influence on raising Mick. Jan’s dying hit her hard of course. It’s tough enough to lose one’s spouse. But to lose your child, regardless the age, it’s just not in the seeming order of things.

Words cannot express my sadness at her passing. She had a big heart and was proud of her Slovak heritage. She accepted me into the family and always went out of her way to make me feel at home in her house.

I’ll miss her and I know Mick will miss his Baba.

I’ve been reading “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying” lately and it has made Betty’s passing and Jan’s too even more meaningful, if that is possible.

Tsamaya Sentle Baba(Travel Well)

What I Miss....

It has been asked what I miss. To tell the truth not much. I have pretty much everything I need on a day to day basis. Sure, access to a decent pizza parlor (or just A pizza parlor!) would be nice. But all in all I'm pretty happy with my situation.

I neither have nor want a TV, although a Seinfeld rerun would be enjoyed now and again. If I had the series'DVDs I could play them on my laptop (hint, hint.) But otherwise it's all good. I have a fair-sized stash of books. But I'm always on the lookout for more. ANYTHING by Paul Theroux! I read his "Dark Star Safari" a couple years ago and knew I wanted to go to Africa. Read it again about a month ago and it merely confirmed how glad I am that I came.

A few eons ago, when I was in Korea with the army, I used to absolutely fantasize about drinking Mountain Dew. But there's none of that sort of thing now. I hear other younger volunteers going on about this or that specific thing they crave. Maybe it's a function of age, but there's nothing really that comes to mind.

One thing I have realized is that I am basically stuck (if that's the right word) in Botswana for the next couple years. I'll be able to travel around southern Africa during leave. But my usual jaunts are out for a while. To relieve the travel itch a bit I hiked five miles to the Namibian border last weekend. Just to go through customs, have lunch and walk back.

It was a good feeling just to get a new stamp in my passport. Funny thing, the guy on the Bots side of the border took my passport, looked up and asked "Mothusi?" I tell you I'm famous here!

Anyway, I stopped at a petrol station just over the line, grabbed a bite (love the meat pies here) and crossed back. By 12:30 I was back home. But it counts: Namibia is in. I think number 46.

The road was the Trans-Kalahari Highway, fortunately for me a (more-or-less) major thoroughfare past Chuck Hill.

JOHN LEY YOU HAVE REACHED ME!!!!

Use my email, John.
mike247worldwide@gmail.com
It's more direct.
Mike
Charles Hill, Botswana

And While We're On The Subject...

The subject being foodstuffs, They have this catsup here (They call it "Tomati Sous") called All Gold. I'm sorry, but this stuff puts Heinz to shame. I know that is sacrilege to those of us who come from near Pittsburgh. But it's true! It's a little bit spicy (They have a hot and spicy sous too). I tell you I could eat this stuff on applesauce! When I'm finished in Botswana I'll be shipping All Gold to the States by the case.

Why Coke is King

I’ll say right from the start I’m a long time Pepsi fan. And you can get it here. But, in the Developing World Coca Cola is the 800 kg gorilla. For one thing, at least in Botswana, they have the 440 ml monster King can. Maybe a Pula or so more than your standard 330 ml dosage. But well worth the price.

PLUS, it just tastes better than that found in the US. Why? Check the label. Second ingredient: sugar. Not corn syrup or fructose, blah, blah blah. Real 100% Sukiri. The good stuff.

Hey! In Charles Hill it's the little things that help you keep it together.

My Postal Address

It has been requested and I am hereby delivering my postal address:

Mike Wigal
US Peace Corps Volunteer
P.O. Box 170
Charles Hill, Botswana

That's it. Mail takes at least three weeks to get here. PLEASE send me something. Anything! (Well, not ANY thing.)

The box cost me 82.50 Pula for the rest of the year. (So OK, that's only about $13US. But still...)

Mail only arrives in Chuck Hill on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I keep checking. But so far...Nada!

I Need To Learn More About This

OK, the most common "community" or tribe in Botswana is the Bakwena. They speak Setswana. But out here in the west are a group called Herero. I don't know what the whole story is, but apparently they were driven out of Namibia years ago by the German colonists. From what I gather they are largely involved in cattle raising. In fact wealth in Botswana is kind of measured by the number of cattle you own.

So clearly from looking at the Herero women there is some kind of cow influence. I've been told it's an honor to wear this outfit. You see them all over the place. These two ladies I met in Ghanzi at a kind of county fair. Kind of interesting along the lines of the Amish.

Mi Casa Es Su Casa...

All you have to do is get here. The donkeys are available as transport for small fee based upon hay burned per kilometer.

Actually I don't know what these guys were doing outside the house the other day. But this is my humble abode. The yard is pure Kgadihadi Desert sand. It's common for "yards" in Botswana to be skinned down to bare dirt. Deters the things that creep in the night.

But it's now home. Three bedrooms, ELECTRICITY(!), water, even a water heater. Kitchen, bath and a half, living room with ceiling fan, PLUS a fireplace (doubt I'll ever use it).

Why Soccer Rules the World

Soccer (Futbol) is THE game in this part of the world (“This Part” meaning from the middle of the Atlantic Ocean east and the middle of the Pacific west, plus everything south of Brownsville, Texas).

On one of my first runs around Chuck Hill I caught this moment looking into the setting sun. It’s just my opinion, but all the soccer leagues and all the soccer moms and dads in the whole entire United States won’t produce the kind of players that these fields do. Barefoot. Thorny. Rocky. A plastic bag stuffed with rags for a ball. Hunger. Passion. Desire. That’s why the best players in the world come from fields like these.

Playing Catch Up

Time to play catch-up. I’ve been here in Botswana a little over two months now. Early on I journaled my thoughts, feeling and observations. But til now I haven’t had the chance to post them. So here is how it went:

What a whirlwind! It’s hard to recall everything that happened from the time I left Columbiana to finding myself in Africa.

I pulled out of Columbiana (for the last time?) at 4:15AM the 16th of April. A last look across Arrowhead Lake at the home I once had brought tears to my eyes. It was there Jan died in my arms, Mick grew up and I moved out on this journey. I left a lot there. But Columbiana will always hold a special place in my heart.

On to Cleveland. After driving around the airport in the dark I finally located an Enterprise office to drop off my rental. It was 5:30 and the place was closed. There was a key drop which I found with no problem. A few days earlier I had checked it out online and learned though the office itself didn’t open til 9 a shuttle bus to the airport departure gates passed by every 7 to ten minutes. After 15 minutes and no bus I called the Enterprise 800 number. Wading through the various voicemails and helpful, but helpless operators took another thirty minutes.

My flight was at 7:30. So I had time, but was getting antsy. Dark as it was I could see the airport in the distance. My problem was no closer to being solved. Finally I said “screw it” and headed off, dragging two unruly rolling duffels, a back pack and laptop briefcase along an unlit highway with no real shoulder. “This is great,” I muttered. “I’ll be killed before I even leave Ohio.”

It turned out to be less than a mile to the gate and I was safely at the ticket booth in time.

Reaching Philly for three days of Peace Corps pre-departure training I took a shuttle into the historic district and my hotel. Along the way we passed by a homeless guy pushing an old battered grocery cart, piled high with bulging black plastic trash bags. All his worldly possessions. Then it hit me. That guy owns more “stuff” than me!

The Holiday Inn was busy and I couldn’t check in til the afternoon. So I kicked around a couple hours until eventually I began recognizing some faces from my Boits 7 facebook group. For a while there it was Old home Week. I kind of felt bad for those who hadn’t joined that online group. It made intros much warmer. Almost immediately I hooked up with my Scrabulous nemesis, Antonia, from Boston. The day before leaving I somehow managed to best her in our last game. (She probably threw it to make me feel good.)

As a group we spent the next couple days in pre-Departure Training, beginning the transformation process that resulted in our being sworn in as actual Peace Corps volunteers on June 18th.

The morning of the third day we tossed our bags aboard a couple buses for the ride to JFK, actually passing by some of our companion’s homes as we drove through Brokklyn (which by the way DOES look like “Welcome Back Kotter/”The Jeffersons”/”All in the Family”/”The Sopranos” territory).

Waiting for the evening flight I called Mick only (of course) to get his voicemail. It hit me as I was leaving a message that I might not speak to him again for over two years. That thought again had me choking back tears as I croaked out my good-bye. Fortunately he called back, asking if I had been coughing or something. [Mick update: My first text message to him from my new cell number in Botswana brought this response: “Who are you and if youre my father a buffer zone means NO CONTACT”. Nice. Also, Mick has been nominated for Peace Corps service starting next March in either Central or South America for eco-tourism. Good luck getting a CARE package from me!]

After last calls to my parents and “The Republican Girlfriend” I contacted AT&T to shut down my service.

Last plug pulled we boarded the South African Airlines Airbus (Much preferred over Boeing equipment) and took off into the night. We made a quick stop in Dakar, Senegal for passengers, but never left the plane. So, no new country!

The second hop brought us to Johannesburg, South Africa. Jp-burg. The city is considered too dangerous for us, so we were limited to the confines of a very nice hotel for the night.

After a magnificent buffet and glass of South African merlot I hit the sack. My first night in Africa. So far it could have been Pittsburgh.

Next morning we jammed onto another bus for the six hour run to Botswana with a stop along the way for lunch. Important because it qualified me for another country.

Shortly after crossing the border (I much prefer land crossings to flying in. It gives a much better sense of “going there”) we pulled into the Oasis hotel in Gaborone. I was pleasantly surprised to see the hotel faced Tlokweng Road, made famous in the First Ladies Detective Agency novel series as the home of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors.

Again, however, we were confined to the hotel property for the three days training there. My roommate, Derek, and I did manage a three mile run by making 12 laps of a set of bungalows within the hotel property. My first African run.

While there we began our Setswana lessons, the language of the Batswana.

After three more days we dropped all our valuables and one of our bags to be held in safe-keeping for the next two months and rolled out to the city of Molepolole where we lived until late June.

Moleps (as it is sometimes called) is a fairly large, sprawling city with a distinctly country feel. The main paved (or tarred) road has a kind of shopping district along it, but most roads are dirt.

That pretty much brings it up to the earlier posts about my home and bathing situation. As I write this I am finishing my first week in Charles Hill. I’ll post a lot about Chuck Hill in the coming two years. But I wanted to finish off the initial impressions first.

Hard to believe it’s been nearly three months since my auction. The house appeared to have been sold on that last day. But alas, the deal fell through. So the place is back on the market. Other than that I am happy as a pig in manure here. Sometimes I feel like I wouldn’t care if I never came back. Of course I will.

Mma Kolane

My Host Mom and Me at the Host Family Dinner
Woman served up a mean plate of Nama Ya Dipodi.

That would be goat meat for you English speakers.

This is Mma getting her hair "Done Up" by Niece Dhumbo (Yeah, I know...)

My Home for the Last Two Months

I wrote about the bathing situation earlier. Here is the house. Three room starter, with no basement, no furnace, no A/C, no insulation, no GRASS(Awesome!), corrugated steel roof, no electricity, no water.

I loved it. My host family couldn't have been nicer. I loved walking home from class in the evenings. Mma Kolane would fix tea (Those Brits did have SOME good ides). It would be pitch dark shortly after 6PM, so I would read by the light of a paraffin lamp (They call it paraffin. I'm wondering is it's just kerosene.)

Chez Mothusi

I found my house in Chuck Hill on Google Earth. Can you see me waving?

The big building in the upper right is the Rural Administration Centre. That's where my office is.

The Long and the Short of It...

Alright, I've tried posting multiple pictures of this. But my internet is so slow the stuff will grow back before I get them all posted. So here's the before and after.
Hope it works:

Check out the car battery powering the clippers...

Not bad for ten Pula (about $1.67).

Short Update

Two months ago today I left Columbiana. Peace Corps training is officially finished. I swear in on Wednesday. The two year count starts then. I'm hoping to get internet hooked up in my palatial suite in Chuck Hill. Then I'll start posting photos big time!

I am well and happy and in a really good place in my life.

What remains is the hunt for my personal White Whale, the rare and elusive Pygmy Giraffe. Adapted to the low trees of the northwest Kgadahadi Desert.

And the Winner IS....

Charles Hill, Botswana. That's where I'm going to spend the next two years. It's way over west near the Namibia border. A smallish town, the nearest town of any size is Ghanzi a two and a half hour bus ride away. I'll head up there next week for a one week shake down tour. Another week of pre-Service training remains after that. On June 18th we get sworn in and away we go.

I had no expectations on where I was to be assigned. Hadn't asked for any place in particular. But, as I was walking up to learn where I was to go the thought "Charles Hill" popped into my head. I read a book last year about a British school teacher who found himself in Charles Hill for a year. Can't remember the title, but I'll have to run it down.

So it's Chuck Hill for me. I'm entirely good with it. Sadly I'll be far from most of my Peace Corps friends.

BUT, my house will have electricity and running water. Back in the lap of luxury!

And Oh By The Way...

That bucket I wash in? It doubles as my honey bucket.

Continuing On...

Got a little internet time so I figured I'd update. Can't log in to facebook for some reason.

Anyway, I'm in Shoshong this week "shadowing" a current Peace corps Volunteer. The guy is a Community Capacity Builder, mainly working with the local PMTCT (Preventing Mother To Child Transmission) clinic. He has a nice house with electricity AND hot and cold running water! Gloriosky! The lap of luxury.

In my first post I neglected to mention that my host family lacks these modern conveniences. My host mom gets up around 5AM each day to start a fire outside to heat my daily bucket of water. I drag a huge galvanized vat into my room and set up for the morning prep. Toothbrush, toothpaste, shaving cream (goes into the bucket to warm it up. I maintain SOME standards!), razor, soap, shampoo. I'm able to do the needfull each morning with less than a full bucket of warm water. ONE bucket. That includes rinsing everything off.

Usually I have an inch or two of clean water left to water the melon we have growing out front. I then empty the soapy water from the vat back into the bucket for disposal in what they call the pit latrine, but we commonly call the out house. It is, in fact, build like a brick privy. More adobe actually.

It amazes me to consider the relative efficiency of all this. Time-wise it's not much more than when I was in the States. On average Americans flush 25 GALLONS of water down their toilets every day. Add showers, shaving and teethbrushing alone and you can see how much we waste.

To say the least I'm quite satisfied with myself.

But it was nice this morning to have running water.

Botswana is heading into Winter now. The Batswana (what the Bots people are called collectively) think it's getting very cold. Personally it's still T-shirt weather. The skies are clear almost every day and I would guess the high temps to be in the 80s. Nights maybe upper 50s. It's not humid, so even running during the day is comfortable. A guy could get used to this.

A couple of us have found a little running route near our homes that takes us out into the Bush. Running the high veldt. It feels like we have left civilization out there. From one hill top you can see for maybe 30 miles. I really feel like I'm in Africa out there.

I'll post pix when I can, but right now it looks like it may be almost two months before I'm able.

Meanwhile my Setswana is coming S L O W L Y! I'm rated Novice Low. Go gona mathata! (No problem!)

They Had Me at "Dumela!"

That's Setswana for Hello. I've been here two weeks already. I live with a host family of three women and one man. It ain't Kansas, but I love it. The night skies are incredible. And I live right under the Southern Cross.

Classes are long. My days are full. Heading out to an actual site to shadow a current Peace Corps volunteer. In a month and a half we will finish our training and hit our actual jobs. Can't wait.

So far I've loved the whole experience. At times I don't care if I never come back.

Oh and by the way, my name is now Mothusi (Mo Two' See) Kolane (Ko lan' eh). It means "helper."

Every kid in the neighborhood knows me by that. Yesterday at the grocery store I was checking out and the clerk asked me if my name was Mothusi!

I'm famous in Botswana.

Internet is scarce. Will chat later.

Out.

Last Post

We've been in Pre-Departure Training the last couple days. Lots of team teaching techniques as seen in the picture above. Tonight we are going over our packing AGAIN and nervously waiting the morning move out.

We bus from here in Philly to JFK for the flight to Johannesburg, South Africa tomorrow morning. It's a whole "Joseph" move all over again. I feel right in my element. I'm one of six team leaders to enable the process. All those flights in and out of Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Oman, Bahrain, Saudi, etc. are finally paying off.

By the way, the cemetery holding Ben Franklin's bones is right behind the hotel. Turns out he died 218 years ago today. For some reason visitors to his grave feel compelled to toss coinage onto his tombstone. Go figure...

Game On

So I'm in Philly for pre-Departure Training. Turns out there are 61 of us going to Botswana. Of those with my job title (District AIDS Coordinator) there are 16.

Thanks to our facebook group it was almost like old home week for many of us.

Tomorrow we fly.

End of Days...

My Worldly Belongings That's my pal Jeter in the background.
...Not counting the stuff stored under the stairs at my parent's house.

It's all about "Lasts" these past few days. Today I said my last good-byes to my old work mates (especially Lee T.) at the hospital where I once worked. Even though I left there seven years ago I still have a fondness for many of them.

Took my last five mile run around Lake Newport in Youngstown's Mill Creek Park.

Had my last Elmton's pizza. Elmton's was my first Y-town (Struthers for the cognoscenti) 'za back in 1978. Still good and greasy!

Last this. Last that. It's time to go already. I always dislike "getaway" day, where you have to keep an eye on how much time until you need to be at the airport. You count back everything.

Lately it's been getaway month, then getaway week, now comes tomorrow. THE last day.

It'll be a relief to get going. I'll have at least one more post before the jump.

Local Man Gets Ink

With about two minutes remaining of my fifteen minutes of fame, here are two links to stories about my departure that appeared in the local media this morning. Salem (Ohio) News and the Columbiana Morning Journal interviewed me last week.

Meanwhile, back to REpacking!

It Was Either the First Day of End of My Life or the Last Day of the Beginning of My Life...

It's been about five days since the big auction went down. I'm still recovering from it. It's a little eerie to walk through that big EMPTY place and hear my footsteps echo. Fortunately one of my yoga friends has lent me a spare bedroom to crash in until I blow out in six days.

Before the auction even began I knew it would be an odd weekend. Friday, the day before the sale I get a phone call about a quarter til two in the afternoon. This lady wanted to know if I was available to show her the house since she had called the realtor and he was otherwise occupied. I said sure, when would you like to see it? She says now. Well, I had a 2:00 o'clock appointment to have the car touched up, but she said she'd follow me in her car and give me a ride back to the house. It was raining anyway, so I was good with that.

I proceeded to show her around the place. We spent about two or three hours. She's telling me she is opening a specialty bakery in Columbiana and has an extended family AND a live-in nurse for her health problems and needed a big house pronto. the bakery would be walking distance from my house. After the tour we are standing in the living room talking and I can see she's wanting to talk turkey. So she asks me what is the lowest price I'll take for the whole enchillada. I'm thinking this ain't how you do it. So I threw it back to her. What's the HIGHEST price you'll pay. And she says "I'll have a certified check in your hands tomorrow morning at 8AM for $250,000 for everything, including my chattels (that's all my stuff I had out for auction!). I was stunned! But not stunned enough to talk her up a few thousand more. But I'm thinking if I can get out of this at one fell swoop for that price I can go to Botswana clean.

So I agree. She says she has to get a hold of her financer/boyfriend (I think) to get the go ahead, but she'll see me in the morning.

As I said I'm stunned. Of all the scenarios I've run through my head this wasn't one of 'em. I call the auctioneer and ask him what would we do. He said he'd never had this happen before, but we could stop the auction and wave everyone off if need be. But until we see the green we'll go ahead as planned.

Good thing. She never showed, never called. Nothing. Admittedly entertainment is hard to come by here in Columbiana. We don't even have a movie theatre. But that was a lot of work for a few hours modest entertainment.

Nonetheless it was a bit of an adrenalin rush.

So now comes Saturday morning. The auction started at 10AM. People were snooping around at 7:30! By 10 there must have been at least 300 people there. Folks were bringing their own lawn chairs and setting them up in front of the auctioneer's stand. The auctioneer starts off by saying for those without chairs I have several on hand to sell. So the first thing he sells (for $2.50) is a couple really old folding chairs with nylon backing. The lady who got them happens to come right beside me to set down. As she sat the dry-rotted webbing gave out and she dumped her ass SPLAT on the driveway. Even though I was cracking up it wasn't a good start.

So the sale gets started in earnest. Things are moving apace. I sell my trumpet for $420 netting me a nifty $35 profit after owning it a mere 44 years. My Nissan XTerra goes for $6100. But, to tell the truth, even though it's all my stuff, I found the thing incredibly boring. I can't imagine wanting to root through other people's junk hoping to find some kind of treasure. I'm sure it happens, but all in all it's still ends up being junk for a new owner.

My yoga instructor canceled the Saturday morning class so everyone could come support me. In fact we all went out for coffee. I was growing ever more nervous because at noon the house would go up for auction.

Comes the witching hour I am so nervous I could chew iron. The auctioneer is giving the run down on the particulars. How it's appraised at $350,000, but the owner is asking only $295 and will offer a bridge loan until financing is secured, the recent values of neighboring property, etc., etc. I tell my dad I can't believe all these nights of sleeplessness worrying comes down to this.

So the bidding starts at the appraised value. Nothing.
It drops to my asking price. Nothing. I'm not too worried, because I figured no one would jump at that level.

Then it drops to 250K. Nothing.
Two hundred. Nothing.
One fifty. Nothing.
A hundred thousand? Finally a nod from someone in the crowd. OK, now we'll get rolling.

One twenty-five? Another nod.
One fifty? One fifty? One fifty? Nada. Nil. Nyet.
$125 grand is the top bid. I'm in shock. Sick to my stomach. In two days I've had two scenarios that I never imagined.

We stop the auction of the house and go back to selling the rest of my junk. I'm wondering what the Hell am I gonna do now? I have ten days to maybe find renters, get the dump cleaned up...CRAP!

About an hour or so later a couple comes up to me and asks to look around. The guy's uncle was at the sale and called him on his cell, telling him to get down here ASAP.

Loooooong story short, they fall in love with the place. Even as I write this they are setting up their finances to buy at a price I can live with. Happily live with.

It won't close until after I leave next week. But, Inshallah, my accountant, who has my Power-of-Attorney, can get it done.

People expressed to me that I would have a hard time emotionally seeing all my belongings leave my life. But to tell you the truth, it hardly bothered me at all. Things I'd owned and enjoyed for over thirty years went out the door without a twinge.

Except for one thing. When the buyer was loading up my beloved Dagger Crossover kayak onto his truck I got a little choked up. I had paddled that thing everywhere. Spent MANY wonderful hours beneath the stars and on the open rivers in it. Great memories. That surprised me.

But when I come back I already have plans to get a new ocean kayak. Which means I must be going to live near a sea...

But for now I haven't got a pot to piss in nor a window to throw it out of. It feels like freedom.

ALL RIGHT! ALL RIGHT!

I'll update the blog! I've been a little distracted and it will be a big post.

So give some time. I'm still internalizing everything.

Botswana Update

I have it on good authority the following will be my postal address for the first couple months in Bots:

Mike Wigal
U.S. Peace Corps
Private Bag 00243
Gaborone
Botswana

I accept cash, checks and money orders. And cookies...

My Yoga Group Says Good-Bye

So my yoga class had a little going away party for me Saturday night. Youngstown Sports Grill. These people have been my local social support group for the past couple years. I'm gonna miss them and my three weekly yoga sessions.


The "King" performing Tree.

To their credit none of the girls yelled "Whoo!"

Bud demonstrates his "Man Crush" on Bob. Bob was into it.

Open House

Had an open house today. One hour only, from 2 to 3 PM. Must have been over a 100 people show up to go through my stuff. Many of the neighbors came over too.

Crazy feeling to have complete strangers go rooting through all your stuff. But in the end it's all just "stuff." I've made my disconnect. My renter, Karen, told me she got a little emotional when she saw the old bucket of baseballs I used to pitch to Mick for batting practice. Funny how the mundane flotsam of our lives sometimes unwittingly impacts others.

Hope whomever shows next Saturday brings their wallets.

Here's the ad for the sale of my worldly belongings.