Goodbye to Goodhope
We have
been saying our goodbyes to everyone we’ve met over the past 26 months. It’s a
long list.
There are
the 33 other volunteers who entered Peace Corps with us on September 11, 2012.
We have been through a lot with them. Nine weeks in Kanye enduring long days of
classes topped off with the tensions (and rewards) of staying in homes with
host families. Bidding farewell to each other as we scattered to our unseen
sites in remote villages around Botswana. Becoming close friends – either by
choice or by necessity -- with volunteers living nearby (i.e. an hour or two away
by combi or hitchhiking). Working on projects together, going on vacation trips
together and coming together at training conferences. Becoming surrogate
parents for some of the younger single volunteers, including hosting them for
Thanksgivings, Christmases, birthdays, etc.
Our cohort
(known as Bots 13) did pretty well: over 80% of us made it all the way through,
and most of those who did not had medical reasons for leaving. People say we’ll
remain lifelong friends. That has certainly been the case for Stephanie’s Kenya
Peace Corps compatriots from 40 years ago.
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| Bots 13 field trip to the Gaborone Peace Corps office during training in 2012. We still looked fresh faced. |
There are
the people in Goodhope whom we’ve come to know as friends and neighbors: tribal
chiefs and preschoolers, government bureaucrats and hospital workers, police
officers and grocers, farmers and widows. We’ve learned the importance of
saying hello to everyone and first asking in Setswana how the day is going
before getting down to business. During our first weekend in Goodhope two years
ago, we attended an outdoor wedding at a neighbor’s house, introducing
ourselves to the locals. Yesterday, we attended a funeral at that same house,
saying goodbye to many of those same locals, now our friends.
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| We're the Goodhope Donovans. We're even in the phone book. I kind of feel like Steve Martin in The Jerk. |
Then there
are the workers at our schools. The cooks, groundskeepers and guards were my
first friends. They were patient in helping me improve my spoken Setswana. They
always asked about Stephanie. They delighted in seeing our children come to
visit. Our fellow teachers were friends and compatriots. They helped me to
become a half decent teacher. We spent afternoons under the hot sun coaching
sports together. We laughed at the antics of our students and complained about
our work schedules. Our teaching comrades each hosted us for going away parties
this past week, lavishing us with presents that will challenge our baggage
weight limits.
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| Lots of Botswana themed gifts at the going away party. |
Finally, and
most important, are the students at our schools. We taught them to develop the
skills to avoid HIV and live healthy, productive lives. I taught math to two classes. Then of course there was track and softball coaching…. Building on
all of those relationships, I was able to convince a number of boys to get
circumcised: a tough ask for adolescents, but it reduces the risk of spreading
HIV. Many of our students lack one or both parents, either due to abandonment
or AIDS. For some, we acted as parental figures, gentler adults who do
not use corporal punishment to enforce discipline in school. Saying goodbye to
them was the hardest. There were plenty of tears on all sides as we said
goodbye on Friday at assemblies at each of our schools.
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| My Form 1 math class. I wish they were as enthusiastic about solving word problems. |
We leave
Goodhope tomorrow, Gaborone the day after, and Africa the following Monday.
People want to know when we are coming back, and the best we can say is the
verse they recite to us: “re kopanela go kgaogana, re kgaogana go kopanela”,
which means “we meet to part, we part to meet”.
