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.

Gettin' Down To the Short Strokes...

Well, we're getting down to cases now. I came home last Sunday night and was surprised when I couldn't pull into the garage. While I'd been gone the auctioneers had been busy getting the place ready for the sale next Saturday.

Except for the major pieces of furniture the house was EMPTY! Not a plate, knife or spoon. The only toilet paper left was what was on the roller. I couldn't even scrub the commode because the brush was gone! No food except what little was in the fridge. Everything is laid out on display in the garage and barn.


Even my beloved kayak.

I've been scrambling to disconnect my life from all the things that keep us here, cable TV, satellite radio, health insurance, cell phone, changes of address...every night I remember something else. Today I have a work crew mulching and cleaning up the yard for the open house Sunday. Getting the car detailed tomorrow so it looks good.

Next Saturday is the auction. All my worldly goods. At the end of the day I should know to a dollar figure exactly what I'm worth.

It's a very freeing experience. In a sense it's like I'm dying. In a way I am. In 18 days my old life will end. What follows will be a whole new existence. That's why I'm inviting as many friends as possible to the auction.

It'll be like hosting my own funeral. Only I'll actually be there to say good-bye.

Ya'll come!

My Last Middle East Trip Update

Due to the dearth of free internet I haven't been posting while on this trip. It was a pretty normal tour this time. Had a couple nice side trips.

On my first full day Wes Roy (fellow recruiting tribe member) and I took a quick jaunt over the Israeli border into the West Bank. The crossing was crazy. No signs or instructions. Just follow the crowds of Palestinians and hope you don't get lost. I asked the customs guard NOT to stamp my passport with the Israeli visa. If you have Israel stamped in your passport you may will be denied entry into Kuwait, Saudi and some of the other Gulf countries. They stamp a slip of paper and you carry that until you leave.

Anyway, as it turned out we didn't have much time. The Israeli's decided to close the border at 1:30PM that day and we only got in around 10AM. But we hired a Palestinian driver (blue-eyed! Crusader influence I reckon.) and drove to Masada. In 66CE a band of Jewish rebels fighting against Roman rule captured Masada, formerly Herod's winter palace. Sitting high above the Dead Sea Masada is a near impregnable fortress. The Romans built eight encampments on the desert floor surrounding the heights. You can still see them. Their main assault was toward the western gate. The Romans built a siege ramp and in due course were about to breach the wall.

The rebel leader made an impassioned speech to the 960+ rebels trapped inside the walls of Masada. Rather than live as humiliated Roman slaves they agreed to commit suicide. Since suicide is considered a serious sin what the did was basically count off from one to ten. The tenth man then killed the other nine. Then they recounted and again the tenth man killed the other ten. And so on until in the end only one guy actually killed himself. There were some women and children who escaped the slaughter and hid in the fort. When the Romans took possession they were alive to tell what had happened.

Masada is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Jason tells me I can claim both Israel AND Palestine since they both have their own governments. It may be weak, but I'm taking it. It's no worse than Greek and Turkish Cyprus.

We made it back to the Jordanian border with 13 minutes to spare. A good day.

Here Comes the Peace Corps

Man, it's closing fast. I came home from my last Middle East trip Sunday night. Opened the garage door and couldn't pull in. The auctioneers have the whole thing PACKED with my stuff, ready to sell.

The house is almost empty. I couldn't even find a dish, knife or spoon to eat with. Had to rummage around the barn to find the stuff and retrieve enough utensils for the remaining couple weeks. Got a couple coming to look at the joint this afternoon. This will be their third look.

I think they are waiting until the auction in hopes of getting the place at a lower price than what I have it listed for. There might be a couple other interested parties.

The economic question of the day (and night) is: At what price does "a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush" kick in? With this market and the possibility of putting any profit to work while I'm gone, plus eliminating the need to do upkeep, pay taxes, keep it rented, etc. etc. etc. I'm strongly inclined to sell.

My flight to Philadelphia for the Peace Corps pre-departure training is booked. Pleasant surprise: I get to claim frequent flier miles, even for the jump from JFK to J-Burg. Oughta be worth a couple bucks. Plus we bus from South Africa into Botswana. So I'll claim two more countries before we even get started. That'll make 47. With luck I'll hit 100 before I kick.

The things I think about...

More About Botswana

This link really lays it all out with regards to HIV/AIDS there.