A month.

Yesterday was a phenomenal day. Three things stuck out.

I was given the go ahead to start leading sessions with the kids which will combine Yoga and stress talks.

I got to read Franklin with a little girl. Franklin is incidentally one of the first books I read obsessively when I was trying to learn English. I still remember how great it felt when I found out I could take boxes of Franklin, Little Bear, The Berenstein Bears, etc. home every single day!

Last but certainly not least, I was asked to explain the meaning and point of “erection” during a session on puberty. See, I AM making a difference – one sexual function at a time!

All joking aside, this job is unreal. This life is unreal.

It’s getting harder and harder to put into words all that I’ve experienced here. All that I have learned. The days are starting to blur together. It’s just...mega. And I appreciate the hell out of it.

Some days are hard, most nights are hard. I go to bed every single night feeling relaxed and okay, but invariably about half an hour into trying to fall asleep, some rustle of the leaves outside or a creak in our very creaky house will make me jolt and my heart palpitate. Having been warned many times that break-ins are a fairly common feature in the village I am staying in, it’s not easy to block that thought out. Especially when it’s pitch black and the darkness is consuming me. I can’t describe what that feels like. Ben Howard's "The Fear" was one of my favourite songs before coming here. It has more meaning now than ever.

As with many aspects of life here, it’s next to impossible to get across the feel and shape of this. I struggle with these blogs because as much as I enjoy writing them, I know that a bunch of typed up pages don’t really mean a hell of a lot to many other people. I remember reading others' blogs about life here, and I had this ridiculously idealistic idea about what it would all be like, partly because I think a lot of people think it’s best to talk only about the positives – to make it look like everything is just as vividly exciting as people want to hear. Although I knew the reality would be different and much harder than I could imagine, it’s next to impossible to truly envision it. I remember when I would read about various challenges in others’ blogs, I thought “No wait, aren’t they having the adventure of their life over there?” It seemed incongruous to me that there would be substantial deterrents. As illogical as that may be.

Sometimes I think to myself, what in the hell were you thinking? You’re a white woman trying to be some kind of philanthropist in Africa?! I’m sure I’ve already mentioned this but my roommates and I are pretty much the only Caucasians in the village, so it’s fair to say we haven’t gone unnoticed. We’ve also been told again and again that whiteness makes us more of a target here. And many (not all) of the locals continue to express considerable hostility towards us. So every night I struggle to resist the encroaching terror of wondering if tonight’s the night something might happen.  

Chances are, it most likely won’t. We’re in a “good area,” we’ve got locks, and neighbors. I’ll be totally fine. Even if we did experience a break in, it would probably just involve petty theft. The Batswana do not like violence. I can replace everything I’ve got, and I’m sure I would get over it in time. I came here, into foreign territory, and as I’ve said before…history precedes me. Shitty things which have been done by people who share my skin tone understandably negatively predispose many people towards me. Most of the time I don’t take it personally, and the logic of the situation is comforting. But I must admit, my demons still leave my mind perforated, and I’m weary of fighting them every night with something as practically weak as logic. I do miss feeling safe.

To backtrack, the “African philanthropist” thing was just a figure of speech. I sincerely did not come here for humanitarian reasons. I do believe in what my NGO is doing, and I have utmost respect for the staff who do this work voluntarily year in and year out. This however, is not my calling. I came here primarily to learn. About myself, this work, work in general, this culture, humanity, life.. everything and anything I could possibly extract.

And in that endeavor, I feel I have hit the BIGGEST JACKPOT in coming here. A month in, this life feels almost normal.

That was inconceivable in my first week.  Squishy, 20 person kombis, scorpions in the hallway, the drinking water which used to make me want to vomit, spiders watching me while I shower, language and cultural barriers, multitudes of fingers and arms pointing and flailing in my direction, the shouting of “lekgoa” wherever I go.  These are a few of the little things which now barely faze me. It is undeniably increasingly draining to deal with racial tension. I was not braced for the degree of hostility I would experience here, and it is something that does get to you if you stay a little longer. But like I said, I don’t take it personally, and it is yet another opportunity to learn. Like everything else here, for me this is a transient unreality, no matter how real it feels right now. For countless people around the world, it’s a lifetime. I came to their territory. They don’t know what my motives are, and if they’re anything  like those of hoards of white people who came before me, they rightfully don’t need or want that kind of “help.”

Sometimes I question my being here at all. Can I really contribute anything while I’m here? Is this just a totally selfish, self-aggrandizing, African “experience” for me? I come for a bit, learn a whole lot for myself, accomplish nothing, get the hell out? How does it make the kids feel, to build relationships with these volunteers who just leave them after a few months, like pretty much everyone else in their lives. I don’t usually think about it when I’m interacting with the children, but almost every single one of the kids in our program have been either abandoned or orphaned. Sometimes I wonder if my presence here does more harm than good.

But. The way they smile at me. The way that little girl looked up into my face, so close, such big eyes, to see if she had correctly read something to do with Franklin’s shenanigans. I don’t think she understood much of what she was reading, but she read it. She got the pronunciation of his name right after a few tries, and she learned what a bear is. I’m not prepared to make deep attachments with these kids, that’s not why I came and I don’t necessarily think that would be helpful. But I think that some aspects of my time here will leave a lasting trace after I’m gone, not least of which will manifest in the lessons I take with me. Helping them to learn how to read won’t go to waste. Neither will the various sessions I help to teach. And frankly, I’m super excited to teach them Yoga. As a program we’ve already run some sessions and they seemed to love it! They didn’t want to stop! And it seemed as though they really did relax. That’s what I love so much about Yoga, it’s absolutely transcendental, and universal. No matter who you are, where you come from, or what kind of body you have.. everyone can benefit and learn from it. It’s amazing that Yoga has become something I can develop and productively use here. My woooonderful roommate Shila, is basically a pro and she has been such a blessing. We practice daily and it’s done amazing things for my body and for my peace of mind. I’m generally a fit person, but the combination of daily cardio (20 minute 40 degree power walk home), Yoga, and healthy cooking for myself, has impacted me so much. I feel invigorated and strong, and it’s satisfying to see new lines of muscle form on my body.

Speaking of cooking, I found Tikka and Curry sauce in the grocery store the other day! I nearly cried. I’m eating so well here! It’s nice to control everything I eat and to be responsible for every single thing that goes into my body. At home I eat a lot with my family..and while that’s easy, delicious, and convenient, it’s gratifying to have to do it on my own, to pick and control everything from what I eat to how and when I choose to prepare it.

Just in case it isn’t clear yet, some people have asked if I can explain again/in more detail the work that this NGO actually does.

It’s highly multilayered; there isn’t just one thing that goes on here. In fact, Stepping Stones is pretty unusual for an African NGO in that you can basically start up any project here if you go through the right channels and it fits in with the overarching agenda of the organization. Our main objective is to provide services to OVCs (orphaned and vulnerable children). Around 70 kids come here after school, where we facilitate fun activities like games and sports for them, let them catch up on their studies, read with them, hold learning sessions on topics ranging from HIV prevention, to nutrition, to emotional health, etc., and at the end of the day they get a warm and healthy meal (the only one most of them receive in a day). So that’s the work we do directly with the kids. But caring for these OVCs entails so much more than what we do when they are here. It involves outreach to the greater community to educate and work with the society in fostering a healthier and safer space for the kids to grow up in. All this is carried out with great respect and sensitivity to local culture and custom. Many of our staff are locals who conduct home visits and run workshops and various groups where the community comes together to discuss experiences and issues which they work together to use in building a stronger community.

For instance, Stepping Stones started a project called Men Care. This is a program which gets men, especially fathers, talking about issues surrounding fatherhood. The men get together and share the things they struggle with, the things they don’t understand, and the things they love about being a dad. My roommate conducted interviews with them which I later helped transcribe and holy shit! They were incredibly interesting. Many of the men felt that this father’s group has taught them so much about being a responsible father, and partner. In fact, this is a fantastic way to target gender inequality because the men get an opportunity to learn about the various challenges women face in dealing with pregnancy and motherhood, and so the fathers develop an enhanced appreciation for the difficult journey women have to go through, and the need to support them. Hell I wish my own father had participated in a group like this before and/or after I was born. Some of the interview questions dealt with disciplining children. It made me tear up to hear some of the fathers' responses, such as: “It’s important to be kind to your children, to teach and guide them in an non-aggressive way. To be there for them.” Or another one: "It's okay for a mother to be a father and for a father to be a mother." I grew up afraid of my father, and longing for his often absent presence. I know that in this society, much like in the one in Montenegro, many children experience something similar. Even though this father’s group is a small sample of the larger population here, it’s an amazing start. And I’m beyond thankful to get to help with that.

Another thing SSI set up is the Aunties and Uncles Group. In the interest of saving your time (haha as if I’ve shown any regard for that) I’ll just say that incest and other forms of sexual abuse are a thing here, as they are in many parts of the world. And the group is a group of responsible adults who meet and work together to maintain a more vigilant presence in the community in order to help fight this horrendous thing and to ensure that children don’t have to experience it. It’s a fantastic way to get people talking about difficult and sensitive things, and to join forces in battling it. I swear, some of this stuff has got to spread to Canada and the rest of the world. I’m impressed!

Anyways, enough bragging about my NGO. I just wanted to share a little bit about what this organization actually does, and to show that some NGOs here really do have a robust and long-standing platform. I’m very pleased and feel so lucky that I get to learn from and participate in a project like this. Some of my days are largely unstructured, and I end up sitting around a lot. This feels tortuous sometimes, especially for a person like me who hates sitting down and needs to be productive. Everyone warned me about the “different pace” of life and work in Africa, but for the first couple of weeks I didn’t really register that because it felt SO good to not always be stressed out or in a hurry to produce something concrete. As I got more used to the way of life here, and as the inertia-inducing heat started to settle in, it continued to and still does frustrate me when I end up sitting around doing next to nothing for large chunks of the day. But that’s part of what is interesting about working here. You absolutely have to have immense initiative and creativity to survive. No one is going to supervise me and tell me I’m doing something wrong or not enough of it. No one is going to give me a set project or expect a report of the results. It’s all up to me, and I can do as little or as much as I want to.

This kind of freedom lends itself to a very relaxed atmosphere in which I could easily do nothing all day if I so chose. I wouldn’t be able to stand that of course, and as I get more and more informed about and involved in the various operations here, this work feels increasingly rewarding. I’m in the process of starting up my own big project which I’ll tell you about if and when it takes off. So overall, although there is still ambiguity and several other inevitable issues, I’m feeling a lot more at home here and gratified to see how far I’ve come.

This is unconnected to anything else, but I'm squeezing it in because I want. I do not miss the stress and awkwardness of North American life. I feel like socially, that culture is so.. awkward and disjointed. People are disconnected, and life often feels shallow. It's like my senses are increasingly being numbed the longer I am there. And as someone who originates from a high watt, intense, rich culture... I feel like my spirit has been heavily crushed by life in the glorious first world. It's nice to be able to recover some of it while I am here. AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR AWKWARD HERE!

One more thing I'd like to admit to is dealing with my commitment issues. I'm not a long-term anything kind of person. I can be in the moment as long as it's a transient one. Any project I take on, I like for it to be relatively brief, intense, challenging, and lastingly rewarding. Unrealistic? Definitely. I always readily move on to the next thing, the next trip, the next job. And with a gig like this, where challenges abound and are in your face (and there's no getting away), sometimes I have the urge to contemplate being elsewhere, counting down until I'm doing something else. Even being fully comfortable and somewhere familiar is something I often miss. But I've become aware of the pattern at this stage in my life, and it's interesting to see my mental state shift. Whereas before I would often waste time on wishing I was somewhere else, now I can generally halt those thoughts and marinate in the moment. There is so much to learn when you tell your brain to shut up for a second.

I could try to talk about my trip around Botswana and Zimbabwe two weeks ago. But I won’t. Words will never convey it satisfyingly. I’ll just say that it changed my life, and that if I died today it wouldn’t be so bad because I got to see and feel unimaginably beautiful things. Of my considerable travels, nothing parallels Africa (though Montenegro will always be my number one love). Perhaps I’ll upload some pictures but even they are frustratingly weak depictions of what it felt like to stand on the edge of the world's largest waterfall, breathing in its moisture and feeling it absorb into my skin. Or how my heart stopped and my whole body petrified in excitement when I saw a family of elephants roaming around in their natural habitat in Kasane, the north of Botswana.

So there it is. I think I did (surprisingly) well in cohesively drawing together the major things I wanted to share about my life here one month in, even if it is ridiculously long. I considered not attempting it at all because I figured no one wants to read that much about experiences which aren’t personally relevant to them. But I figure, if I don’t put it down on paper, it stays forever just in my memory. And my memory is shitty as all hell.

Who knows, maybe these blogs will be of some use to someone some day.

Thank you to whoever reads them,

It helps me feel not so alone and crazy in this gargantuan cosmos. I've said that before, and I truly mean it. I appreciate every ounce of support I've received!

love,

Milena 

here, just for the hell of it

                    I can still feel the voltage of 2 million liters of water per second pumping and vibrating through the earth