COS: Cape Town

My Close of Service Trip has officially begun! We did it. I am an RPCV. We had a few nights in gabs, many tearful goodbyes, including my host sibs at the airport <3 tears in passport control, tears on the plane….First stop, South Africa. I traveled here with Joiwyn, and we made quite a few friends along the way. Thank you to Joiwyn who put up with my grieving mess of a soul for days on end. Here are some highlights!

Port Elizabeth
We flew into cold and  rainy PE in t-shirts. We were not prepared for the weather! But we were able to spend the afternoon exploring the boardwalk and started our food tour of the garden route with sushi. We just spent one night and we're picked up by the baz bus (a hop on, hop off bus) in the early morning.

The Crags
We stayed in a beautiful hostel up in the hills and deep in the forest. This hippie collective-esque location had beautiful views and nice little hikes through the forest. On our second day we went zip-lining through the forest! We made new friends and played a lot of cards while being surrounded by the owners cats and dogs. The meals were fresh, healthy, and delicious. With a lot of delicious ice cream. It was so nice to see all of the green!

Mossel Bay
We hit the accommodation jackpot once again staying in an actual train right on the beach! We spent one day going out to Oudtshorn to see the caves, but other than that, we spent most of this stretch of the trip playing cards and eating. It was nice to relax and just enjoy each other's company, while making new friends.

Cape Town
What a city. It was so nice to be in a city. The hustle and bustle of hundreds of thousands of people going about their daily lives. The mixture of culture and language. The food! The shopping! Exquisite. We went on a tour to the Cape of Good Hope with an incredible guide, shopped till we dropped, and ate everything we could manage. We laughed hard at the Cape Town comedy club, treated ourselves to mini massages. I also got to see the grand opening of the spectacular Zeitz Museum of Modern Africa Art. We met up with friends and made new friends. As I type this I'm finishing dinner at The Crypt, a well known jazz bar, waiting for a jam session to start.

Joiwyn left today, so I'm on my own for the next ten days or so. Next stop, Malawi.

What a trip. What a world.

Virgo Season

A monument,

Tall, dark, solid.

She glides forward

For a better look.

Here, is history.

Here is knowledge. 

Here is potential. 

She runs. 

It is too much to know that it might be real. 

An arrow,

Quick, strong, determined.

She bares her chest,

Waiting to be struck.

Here, is fire.

Here is ambition. 

Here is strength. 

She decides

It is too much not to be pierced.

A blanket,

Warm, gentle, comforting.

She wraps it around her,

Breathing deeply. 

Here, is kindness. 

Here is affection. 

Here is trust. 

She smiles

It is too much to remember tomorrow. 

A hole,

Empty, shaking, deep. 

She wraps her arms around it,

Trying to contain it. 

Here, is loss. 

Here is sorrow. 

Here is uncertainty. 

She is. 

It is too much.

"Tell The World, I'm Coming Home"

By the time I fly into Cleveland, I will have taught over 3,200 students, gained two new families, traveled to 10 African countries, completed 4 journals, and spent 775 days calling Botswana home. In my 2+years of Peace Corps service, I have endured endless bad days and countless good days, with the inner monologue of Leslie Knope pushing me forward. I have made incredible friends, many lifelong, with whom I have laughed and cried and laughed till I cried. I tried my best to document the big moments on this blog, and I thank all of you for stopping in to read and support me from time to time. About 15 of you in particular have read just about every post, and for that I am truly touched.

I'd like to send a special shout out to my family. My mom and dad have supported me every step of the way. My mom's voice inside my head has kept me cautious and the mantra "I've promised my mother I'd come back in one piece" has kept me safe. My dad's declaration of pride has kept me moving forward, and always trying my best, even on the hardest days. My parents love, packages, phone calls, and family updates have been the best substitute for their hugs I could've asked for, and it was because of them that I was able to spend two incredible weeks exploring southern Africa with them, and two unforgettable weeks home. Mom and Dad, I could not have done this without you. Thank you. 

Miranda, Rachel, Eric, Jolynn, and Billy: thank you for sending me endless baby pictures, choir concert recordings, surprises in packages, texts, and love. The rare occasions we could call or Skype meant the world to me. Mostly, thank you for helping build my relationship with Kade, Rayne, and Elliot even from 8,000 miles away. 

To the rest of the family: between packages, Facebook, snapchat, and emails, I was grateful for all the moments we could connect. I am looking forward to being home for the holidays more than anything else. 

I certainly would not have gotten through PC without my friends back home as well. Thank you to everyone who sent letters and packages. To those who messaged me with updates or to check in. To those of you who kept me laughing with pictures and outrageous stories. I certainly felt the love, and it helped me be a better PCV. So much love to Ali, Allison, Britt, Glenna, Lisa, Rachel, SJ, Vlk, Glew, Carolyn, Becca, Molly, Samantha, Philip, Clay, Austin, and others, who were always there with words of encouragement or just to listen.

Bots 16s & Staff at our Close of Service Conference

I wish I had words for what my fellow PCVs have meant to my service. For now, I'll say thank you, and I can't wait to see you That side. 

*******

There was a blog post a few years back joking about how to take care of your newly returned RPCV. Some of my favorite points include allowing them to hide when they are feeling over stimulated and to not let them into a Walmart alone for several weeks. I am returning from service a different person than when I left. I have softened some of my edges, both literally and metaphorically, and it will take me time to adjust back to the high paced, individualistic, consumerist mecca that is America. I am used to having nothing to do but go to work every week day and wash my laundry by hand on the weekends. I am used to being inside my house by dark and waking up with the sun. I am used to only seeing american friends one weekend a month and spending most of the weekend talking about bodily functions. I can react strongly to violence in movies that others see as normal, not because I'm too sensitive, but because I've seen how violence impacts my students. I'm extra cautious around new people after spending two years being asked if I'll either give someone money or marry them due to my white skin and young appearance. I spend much of my time in self reflection or talking endlessly to other PCVs about condom olympics, gender based violence, or one of the 1000 acronyms that rule our service. 

On any average day I am grateful, grieving, and anticipating the future. I am overjoyed to be so close to seeing the people I love in America, but struggling to say goodbye to the people I love in Botswana.

I ask that you are patient with me. Understand that I may move a bit slow, need a bit more sleep, disappear from time to time. Understand that I am of the same essence as before, but much has also changed, and is still changing. Know that I will start 9/10 conversations with "this one time in Botswana." Try to listen and ask questions about my last two years, and I promise to try to listen and ask questions about yours. Be gentle with me when I don't understand pop culture references or I haven't tried the latest food craze. Be patient.

I can't wait to see you all. 

Cleveland, I'm coming hOme. 

A Love Letter

Dear Batswana,

I don't know how to leave you. I don't know how to say goodbye. How to walk away from this gorgeous country. To not hear the birds when I walk to work or the cows when I'm falling asleep. I don't know how to say goodbye to you, without knowing when we'll say hello again. I don't know how to be okay with giving you one last hug. With getting in the car to drive out of this village. With walking through airport security. My heart has become a mosaic: shattered by goodbyes and messily glued together with kindness. I don't know how to leave you, but I know I must thank you.

Ke a leboga. Truly. From the bottom of my heart. Thank you.

You welcomed me into your country with warm smiles. You welcomed me into your homes without question. You fed me and tended to me. You checked in on me when I was sick. You showed me how to draw my bath, walk to work, cook paleche. You took me to community events and church services.  You introduced me to friends and neighbors. You helped me.

Ke a leboga.

You taught me Setswana. You drove me or sat next to me through hundreds of kilometers of roads in busses, sprinters, combis, taxis, and cars. You greeted me on my walk. You offered me traditional foods and drinks time and time again, until I loved (almost) all of it. You took me to see masemo and you brought me your extra goat, or corn, or melon. You called to check on me when I was quiet. You helped when I was lost. You protected me.

Ke a leboga.

You helped me understand cultural differences. You brought me to the fun. You let me crash and drove me to and from the airport. You had me over for family dinners. You watched movies and went dancing with me. You kept me company. You had braiis with me. You traveled with me. You stood up for me. You made me a part of your family. You embraced me.

Thank you to the Keatshabe's for teaching me everything I needed to know to be a Motswana. Thank you to the Pholoba's for watching over me and letting me tag along for two years. Thank you to my coworkers for your friendship and enlightening conversations. Thank you to my Mma K and Mma Diepo for letting me try out new ideas and always supporting my projects. Thank you to my students for being my sunshine and purpose for two years, and for certainly teaching me far more than I could have taught in return. Thank you to all the other friends I met throughout the village and beyond for showing me the good heart of Batswana. And thank you to Vicky for always, always being there for me, from day one.

Ke a leboga, ditsala yame. I have grown so much in the past two years thanks to your love. As I get ready to leave Botswana, it is not goodbye, but see you next time.

Love,
Mpho

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.

- Maya Angelou