mirth through hello

Today, I had the unique experience of causing shock through greeting.
At McDonald's this morning, the over-worked teller greeted me, "Dumela Mma. (hello Ma)" I replied, "Agee, le kae? (yes, where are you?)" "Re teng. Jo! (I am here. Jeez!) [laughter]" He was completely without malice, just a little harried and surprised that this lekgewa can greet in Setswana.
At the mall this afternoon, the bag girl said, "Dumela." I replied, "Agee, le kae?" Her eyes stretch to twice their normal size and she starts laughing. "A-ee, wena! O dira eng? (unh-unh, you! What are you doing?" I chastise. "Ke o teste! (I was testing you!) [more laughter]"

most action I've had in. . .

On Sunday I, by chance, discovered a lump in my breast. On Monday, I spoke with medical and they made an appointment for a sonogram for today. I went, really nervous, derobed in the frigid office and laid down to get cold oil spread on my breast. The radiologist was nice and talkative, patiently explaining all of my silly questions. The lump is a fibro adenoma, a fibrous growth that is apparently very common in young women. Within the growth, are a pair of cysts and there's another cyst lurking outside of it. The growth is kinda big (about 2 cm in diameter) and just underneath the surface of the skin. The chances of it being cancerous are very low, but if it is not removed it could continue to grow and I have to get a sonogram every six to eight months to make sure it's still benign. Plus, having a lump in my breast makes me uncomfortable and kinda like a part of my body isn't really part of me any more. Other volunteers (female!) have been asking to feel the lump for their education purposes (I think) but I can't really imagine anyone touching the lump or my breast because they like me. . .I mean, it's a lump, gross. What could be less sexy? Both radiologists that looked at my scan whole-heartedly said, "Remove it!"
I came back to the office and talked to the doctor and she informed me that the Peace Corps office in Washington probably would not ok the surgery to have it removed but that she will write a letter asking them to approve it. It is considered an optional surgery and I'm 'so close' to my close of service (eight months is a long time! That's a third of my time here!). What will probably happen is I will get another sonogram right before I come home in September or October to make sure that nothing has changed and then I have to see a doctor at home and see if he/she suggests removing it. IF he/she comes to another conclusion, then the Peace Corps will not pay to have it removed. If I wanted to pay for the procedure myself to have it removed while I'm here, I could be violating the terms of my service and administratively separated. I was so excited to just get rid of the stupid thing that when I was told all this, I started to cry. To make it worse, the doctor doesn't have kleenex in her office. I've always suspected her being devoid of all sympathy. The doctor ended the meeting, and I rushed down the hall to get toilet paper from the bathroom. Two volunteers comforted me after the meeting, and pressured me into fighting the decision. I can't fight it. I'm just so tired. I just want the lump gone.

next eight months

From last Tuesday

This morning I woke half-covered by my blanket. Instantly too hot, I threw it off and settled underneath my sheet for the last few minutes of sleep. Later, walking to the pit toilet, I contemplated what to wear. The weatherman claimed it would only be 30 C (86 F), I could wear heavier clothes. I laughed. Only 86, my pre-South Africa self would be melting and searching for a fan.
It's been six weeks since I used either a sheet or a blanket and I welcomed the cool morning as an early sign of fall. Ah, fall: those short weeks when it's no longer steaming hot at dusk and dawn, like summer, or freezing at night, like winter. It may be much colder at home right now, but I remember there being leak-proof roofs and windows, insulation and heating.
Fall also means that I'm closer to coming home. My official swearing-in date was October 13, 2005 meaning that my service officially ends on October 13 this year. For unknown reasons, my projected close of service (COS) date is October 6 and there's a rumor that we can COS a month early no-questions-asked. The COS date leaves all of us a few weeks to a month too late for the start of schools, either for teaching or continuing studies.
My back to the United States time-line looks something like this:June 1: earliest date to apply to medical schoolsSometime in June or July: COS conference, where the Peace Corps dispels all myths and fives us the date that we can officially leave this country. PLUS they give us a third of our settling in allowance (the remaining two thirds is sent to our permanent address on record). After the conference, we are back on travel restriction and not permitted to leave our sites. June 30–July 16: Winter school holidays. No set plans, I hope to go to Pretoria for a few days to complete medical school applications and start looking for jobs back in the US. Maybe I'll visit the Kalahari Desert too. . . September 22-October 1: Spring school holidays. I'm not allowed to travel. Sometime in September or October: Fly home! I may stop off and visit other places on my way.
I have four months to complete my application essay, 'Why do you want to be a doctor?' I've had several false starts: writing a page or two and then getting stuck. I have so many pre-Peace Corps experiences I could write about but I can't ignore two years spent in a land struggling with so many health and social issues. It seems fake to write about the country's issues with health when I have little to do with it other than waking to funeral dirges. My experiences here are too fresh and raw; I haven't figured out if there are more positives or negatives to my service, there's not an all-inclusive story when the story's still unfolding and any story I come up with starts with "I want to be a doctor so I can help people." As does anyone else who writes the essay. At that point, I flounder and give up for a couple of weeks.
So far I'm definitely applying to UW-Madison, Dartmouth, Georgetown and Jefferson with George Washington, Temple and Boston on the maybe list. I like aspects of all the schools and the more I research them, the more I realize that I haven't found a school that offers everything I'm looking for. I'm extending the search to Chicago schools this week and then ending my search.
Which brings me back to the present. I'm sitting outside with Orion, Sirius, the Milky Way and Southern Cross stretching over my head. Mma is a few feet away sitting on empty 50 kg mealie meal bags cleaning wash cloths. A dog barks and donkeys move and rattle the bells around their necks. My neighbors are blasting Thobela FM (all Sepedi language all the time), the shebeen (illegal bar) is bopping down the street and another neighbor is competing for the loudest music award. I can hear my host father inside on his cell phone watching the Sepedi news and someone is trying to fix their car. The cool (hopefully summer won't return) air surrounds me and I can smell fresh scones in the air. Good, bad, aggravating; this is Ga-Monyeki village etching itself onto my memory. I look forward to using a blanket tonight.

plastic mabele

There's been a recent up-swing in my demenor coinciding with poor internet connections, meaning that all of you hear from me less. Sorry. Below is my Mma grinding mabele (sorgum) and a bag made out of plastic bags that kept me busy for many nights. Mma has continued to complain about my host father, mainly about how he doesn't like meat and how he's cheap. She also wants me to give her the plastic bag bag!