Home Sweet Home

*Originally published in Peace Corps Botswana's newsletter, Ditiragalo.

Over the most recent holiday season I returned to the States to visit my family. In short, my trip was awesome. I ate everything I saw, hugged as many people as I could and took multiple showers a day.

During my two weeks in America I talked about Botswana a lot. I told people about the culture, the traditions and my work as a Peace Corps Volunteer. I showed them lots of photos and videos of my time in Botswana. However, none of my descriptions came close (in my opinion) to conveying what it actually felt like to live in Botswana and to be part of the small village I now call home: Sefhare. 

A view of the hill surrounding Sefhare.

Sefhare (pronounced like the word “safari” but instead of an “ee” sound at the end, add an “ay”) is located in the eastern part of Botswana, near the South African border. Sefhare has about 5,500 people and is about two hours away from Palapye, my shopping village. Because of inadequate transport I often have to hitch to get places. I have running water about 25% of the time and electricity most of the time. Sefhare is surrounded by beautiful hills and because of this the bugs in Sefhare are super sized. When I came back from leave I found 11 cockroaches in my house. Despite these challenges, I love my village. And when I returned to Sefhare, my re-acclimation wasn’t as difficult as I expected it to be. It felt familiar, and it felt like home.

At my landlady's lands in Sefhare.

A few months ago I was having a very bad day. The bus I wanted to take home from my shopping village was not on time so I ended up waiting five hours — with 50 pounds of groceries on my back — for it to arrive. It was about 85 F outside, and the butter I purchased melted all over the grapes I just bought. Once the bus came, it took about two hours to get back to my village. While I managed to get a seat, the bus was so packed that people standing in the aisle were forced to lean over the seats for some space. The man leaning over my seat happened to be eating Chicken Licken and during the two hour bus ride he proceeded to drop about a quarter of what he was eating all over me.

By the end of two hours I wanted to cry, and as soon as I got off the bus in Sefhare tears started streaming down my face. However, a few seconds later I heard shouts of “Mpho! Mpho! Dumela Mpho!” In a little under a minute about 10 people from my village (not knowing that I was having a bad day) had come to greet me and see how I was doing. Despite the challenges getting to my village, once I was there I was welcomed and embraced as a part of the local family. I was cared for.

One of my favorite pastimes in Sefhare is my daily run. On my runs, villagers like to yell out greetings to me as I run through the streets, kids love to give me high fives and I race with primary school students on their way home from school. I love running in my village because I get to interact with the people who live here and I get to show them how much I love being part of their home.

The Condomize Campaign, which came to Sefhare, encourages people to use condoms.

A good friend recently told me that as humanitarian workers who live and work abroad, we often feel “adrift” managing two different lives: the life we had previously and the life we have now. I understand. Being part of the culture in Sefhare is incredibly unique, and I can’t imagine living and working someplace else besides my village. At the same time, I still miss and want to be a part of my old life, family and friends before Peace Corps.

My trip home helped clarify this feeling of being “adrift”:  For now, I have two homes, both with people who love and care for me. One is in the States and one is in a tiny village in eastern Botswana called Sefhare.

Close friend and Red Cross coworker, Cecilia and I, posing together at a birthday party event Red Cross held for the children at the Stimulation Centre.