Random Acts of Kindness (Days 1-10)

In November of 2011, I started and almost completed a 40-Day Random Acts of Kindness Challenge. Yes, I said 'almost'...shamefully. In February of 2012, after an awful bout of illness and a few other bad news scares, I made a promise that if everything worked out alright, I would start (and finish) another 40-Day Challenge.

I am currently on Day 51 and plan to continue going, inspired by 366 Random Acts of Kindness which I stumbled across while searching for random act ideas. I wish I taken the time to blog each day's acts as I've been going along, but I didn't and, so, am now going to play 'catch-up'.

Here goes:

DAY 1

Thursday, February 23 - I put spare change in parking meters at the clinic & held the door open for two mothers and their waddling toddlers.

As I walked towards the clinic for my appointment, I promised myself and the powers that be that if everything turned out alright after said appointment, that I would start my Random Acts of Kindness Challenge. In fact, I started the challenge before I even went in for my appointment in the hopes that good karma would come my way. The spare change in my wallet was transferred into random parking meters. On the way out after my appointment, with the good news I was hoping for, I held the door open for two mothers and their just-learned-to-walk toddlers.

DAY 2

Friday, February 24 - I made sure to hold the door open long enough so the people leaving behind me didn't have to re-open.

Today was a rough personal day for me, but thanks to my wonderful mother, I was still able to get into Winnipeg to see a play (The Fighting Days) I had bought tickets for. I didn't feel much like doing nice things for people, but at the very least, I ensured that the door of the Manitoba Theatre Centre didn't hit other people in the face.

DAY 3

Saturday, February 25 - I let a girl go in front of my indecisive self in the Subway (eat fresh) line up & finally picked up the trash in front of my apartment that I walked by every day.

I figured since I couldn't make up my mind, there was no reason to make the girl behind me wait, so I told her to go ahead. As for the garbage, apparently some of the people that live in or visit people who live in my building feel the need to throw their trash on the ground rather than carry it the few extra steps until they get inside to a garbage can. In short, I cleaned up their mess.

DAY 4

Sunday, February 26 - I gave someone a ride across the city because the transit system doesn't run on Sundays & started house/pet-sitting for friends.

Yes, apparently the transit system here fails to operate on Sundays. I guess people don't need to go places on Sundays. I drove down to the south west side of Brandon from my apartment in the north east, picked up this person (sort of an acquaintance, I guess), drove him up to his house in the north east part of Brandon, and then drove back to the south west part of the city to begin my 3-week stint house/pet sitting. Yes, 3-weeks, but I'd like to point out that I am only counting it as ONE act of kindness not 21...just sayin'. Did I mention that I was taking care of their home and 'extended family' because they were in Costa Rica?! But, honestly, I was glad to do it; Jocey's family is my family and I truly treasure them. (I got some pretty sweet swag when they got back too).

DAY 5

Monday, February 27 - I bought a coffee card for a colleague & switched vehicles with a friend so her fuel costs to Winnipeg would be lower.

Today was my first day back at work after being off sick for two weeks (strep, reaction to antibiotics, mono, strep again). Maureen did so much work for my while I was away that I felt I owed her at least a little something. As for Tina, at the time she was driving a huge beast of a Ford F150 that would cost her $100 to go into Winnipeg and back. My little Grand Am costs a small fraction of that at $40. It made sense to switch.

**BREAKING KINDNESS NEWS: As a 'welcome back to reality' gift, Tina brought me a beautiful orchid. (it's still alive)**

DAY 6

Tuesday, February 28 - I posted a link to a friend's blog - here it is again - Postcard Valet - and asked another friend to comment on it.

You see, Arlo and Oksana are travelling around the world, or they were; now they are living in Australia for a while. One of the places they visited was Cambodia and as a part of their travels, Arlo posts a blog with his thoughts on each place they visit. My other friend, Haley, lived in Cambodia for three months so I thought it would be fitting for her to comment on his comments. After doing a quick check, I realise that Haley hasn't actually commented...yet, but at the very least, I'm sure she's read it. She's in law school so I'm surprised she even has time to breathe!

DAY 7

Wednesday, February 29 - I bought a Frappe for an unsuspecting friend and brought it to class for her. I also left an uplifting photo and comment on a networking contact's facebook wall.

Carissa is a beautiful person who makes me smile with her simple presence; she was the recipient of the Frappe. The facebook contact is someone I met electronically because we share a mutual love of books. Jennifer always shares cheerful things on her facebook profile so I felt it would be nice to return the favour and tell her that I notice.

DAY 8

Thursday, March 1 - I donated a couple colouring books to the Psychology Nursery at work, filled the communal office photocopier with paper & bought lunch from a campus club (SIFE) that were raising funds to attend an international business competition.

As part of the Child Psychology course at Brandon University (where I work), we have a nursery that children attend. A while ago, I had bought some coloring books for cousins of mine who I realised were far too old for the nature of the coloring books. Rather than return the books, I gave them to the nursery. I really have no idea how many people use the copier in our faculty, but I do know that it never has enough paper in it. I filled all four trays so others wouldn't have to. Chili and a bun was my scrumptious lunch for a good cause.

DAY 9

Friday, March 2 - I made a donation to a friend who was participating in a stationary bike race for Cerebral Palsy & sent the lead actress in a play - "Miss Witherspoon" (who I don't know) a facebook message telling her how wonderful she did.

Judy participates in the stationary bike race every year. This year her team raised something like $9000 (I gave her $20); that's intense! "Miss Witherspoon" was performed by the Brandon University Drama students and, as always, they did a fantastic job. I always feel that it is important to give credit where credit is due and typically means a little more coming from strangers.

DAY 10

Saturday, March 3 - I paid for the woman's order who was behind me in the McDonald's drive thru.

When the day of the challenge reaches a multiple of 10, I try to do something a little above and beyond. I think the smile on the drive thru employee's face was the best part!

DAYS 11-20 - COMING SOON!

Reason #2 I'm Damn Fine - Spinoff

Alright folks, here comes Round 2. First the very much required shout out to Marjorie at Don't Call Me Marge. Her original 5 Reasons. My original 5 Reasons. We're kind of a big deal; you should read us. Moving on...

Reason #2: I jog a.k.a I work out!

My original post consisted of a witty play on LMFAO's, I'm Sexy and I Know It. This post is going to be more along the lines of why I hate to love jogging. It's inspired by yet another fantastic blog post, "An ode to running" on yet another fantastic blog, Bitchin Sisters.

Me and jogging have had an on/off relationship for some time now. We take breaks from each other, but we always find our way back to each other in the end. We've recently rekindled our connection, but let me tell you, it hasn't been easy. First, jogging made my legs hurt, more specifically, the backs of my calves.

For a few days, I could hardly get out of bed without stumbling for the first few steps. Then, jogging made my ankles hurt. I had to take the elevator down one measly floor because my ankles just couldn't sustain the pressure of walking down stairs. I'll have you know, though, that going up stairs was fine; it was just the downward direction that caused borderline paralysis. Finally, jogging made my knee hurt. Just the left one. I randomly woke up one morning and could hardly bend it. But all that pain, it was the good kind. The kind that reminds me of the fact that I am a jogger. There's just something about that feeling of achievement after a jog, that ability to say, "That's right, I just went for a jog," that makes me continue my hate/love relationship with jogging.

I mentioned in my 5 Reasons post that people stare when I jog on by.

Now, I like to think it's because I look like this:

In actuality, it's likely because I look like this (still pretty damn cute, right?!):

In keeping with the theme of how I look when I jog, I'm going to do my best at creating a mental image for you of what I look like when I jog outside in the winter (another reason I hate to love jogging). In our relationship, jogging takes care of me, you see. Before we can go out together, I have to be dressed properly for the frigid weather. Now, here's what I mean by 'properly', first comes the long underwear. It's special long underwear, though, black and made of lycra a.k.a spandex so when I put on the tops and bottoms I kind of look like a ninja (minus the mask). Next, either a cotton long-sleeved tee or a light, fleece sweater.

It really depends how cold it is outside. Then, thick, fleece pants and a hooded sweater. Finally, after wiggling around and adjusting the many layers of seams involved in my get-up so that I am at some level of comfort, I put on a toque (linked in case you're unfamiliar with the word), gloves, and then wrap a scarf around my face. The final stage is just a little more complicated, though, when it comes to the scarf. I wear glasses (one of the Reasons I'm Damn Fine that didn't make it into my 5 Reasons post) which means that I have to position the scarf just right so that when I exhale my glasses don't get all steamy from the chemistry that occurs when my excessive hotness meets the extreme cold. Of course, when I leave the house, every article of clothing is in its proper place looking fine. By the time I get about half way through a jog, however, everything has shifted to the point that I look like a hot mess. Really, though, there's only one kind of sweat hotter than workout sweat...

My educated (I'm smart, remember) guess is that my relationship with jogging will only get stronger as time goes by. If we happen to take the odd break every now and then, well, absence only makes the heart grow fonder. Me and jogging, we're the real deal!

--Photos from papertastebuds, Running For Weight Loss, peace love happyknits, Clan of CIOCC

Reason #1 I'm Damn Fine - Spinoff

Thanks to my muse, Marjorie McAtee at "Don't Call Me Marge", I took it upon myself to write a copycat blog post. Hers. Mine. Since that post was so much fun to write, I've decided to do spinoffs of each of the 5 Reason's I'm Damn Fine.

Reason #1 was as follows: I'm an English Honours Student a.k.a I'm damn smart!

The fact that I tend to register in the upper levels of intelligence quotients is indicative of the fact that I am also inveigled to other homo sapiens that find themselves there as well.

In short I am a sapiosexual, a person whose sexual ori.entation is characterized by a strong attraction to intelligence in others (Urban Dictionary). Another definition that I quite like, perhaps because it is

prevalent to my undergraduate discipline, reads as follows: "Traditionally the attraction to intelligence, however it can also be extended to the attraction of proper, full sentences and the use of grammar" (again, Urban Dictionary, and no, I'm not citing properly because this is a blog and, frankly, I can't be bothered). Grammar is simple folks, really, it is!

Improper spelling and punctuation just isn't sexy, not at all, neither is suggesting we should eat grandpa. Use a damn comma would you?! On a lighter note, there are few things in life sexier than a man who reads. My mother once told me, "If you go home with somebody and they don't have books, don't fuck 'em!" - Ok, that wasn't my mother; it was the American Filmmaker, John Waters, but none-the-less fitting advice. Reading expands imagination, improves knowledge, and increases oratory skills, among other things. Each of these 'reasons you should read' leads me to one of many requirements when it comes to a suitable partner.

I, without a doubt, need intellectual stimulation in a relationship. I'm not entertained by conversation about the weather, the latest twitter trend, or what you had for breakfast (unless, of course, you're a gourmet chef and can explain, in intricate detail, the recipe and techniques you used; now that would be stimulating!)

This man, for instance, makes love to my mind every time he opens his mouth.

As does this man!

(Side note: BBC's Sherlock Holmes' real name is Benedict Cumberbatch) With a name like that, how could I decline an invitation to his mind-castle?! (Mind-castle is a reference from Series 2, Episode 2 The Hounds of Baskerville - watch it!)

Closely related to intellectual stimulation is social intercourse. A few random useless facts that have replaced any legitimate knowledge base you may have possessed at one point are not impressive. Random tidbits of knowledge do not make acceptable conversation topics. If you can't hold my attention by engaging my brain and interchanging thoughts with me, you don't stand a chance at being able to provide me with the thing I ultimately seek...

A nerdgasm!

--Photos from Zazzle, Desert Dog Decals, xyFace, Collider--

5 Reasons I'm Damn Fine and Why You Can't Have Any, Unless...

I wish I made the time to blog more, I really do. What I do find at least some time to do is follow other bloggers. After reading Marjorie McAtee's (don't call her Marge) "5 Reasons I'm Smokin' Hot and Why You Can't Have Any", I knew I had to take the time to do a similar post of my own. So, here it is...

Reason #1: I'm an English Honours Student a.k.a I'm damn smart!

I'm not just your typical undergraduate. I've been doing my degree part-time while working full-time for six years now (this is my last year). What I'm saying is, I work my ass off. The 'honours' part of my degree means I'm one of the smart kids. The highest my GPA could be is a 4.3. Mine's 3.85.

This also means that I read (a lot) and write (a lot). I either have my nose in a book or my fingers to a page...sometimes it's both, as in simultaneously (that means at the same time).

Why You Can't Have Any, Unless...

This one's really simple; you're just not as smart as me. Physical stimulation is simply not enough for this damn fine chick; I need intellectual stimulation. Unless you can name two Shakespeare plays other than Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet and at least one Jane Austen novel other than Pride and Prejudice, just forget it. Don't bother.

Reason #2: I jog a.k.a I work out!

Anyone who jogs is sexy and they know it, me included. When I jog down the street, pimpin' to my beats, people stop and stare. These are what I jog in.

Perhaps not as sexy as, say, animal print pants or a speedo, but pretty damn close. In sun, rain, snow, my Vibrams are on my feet as I jog on by.

Why You Can't Have Any, Unless...

When you walk on by, because I'm sure you don't jog, people don't say 'damn you fly'. My guess is you also know absolutely nothing about Vibrams and why people who are fine, like me, wear them. Unless you're seriously considering participating in at least a half marathon, forget it. You can't keep up.

Reason #3: I piss people off when I stand up for things I believe in a.k.a I'm a passionate bitch!

I only argue when I know I'm right, which is most, if not all, of the time. Actually, I wouldn't even say that I argue, I just state my opinion with every ounce of my being. What makes me even finer is that I'll actually give you the benefit of the doubt and listen to what you have to say. I won't even necessarily disagree with it. Just don't tell me I don't deserve the things I've worked damn hard for. Don't suggest I should just sit down and shut up when I become the voice for those who are unable to stand up for themselves. And for pity's sake, don't give me some half-assed sob story that's supposed to be worse than the stories I've heard from the African refugees I work with. Those things, among others, just piss me off.

Why You Can't Have Any, Unless...

You say 'bitch' like it's a bad thing. You think I'm dramatic. Rather than standing up for what you believe in, you just sit back and hope other people will do it for you. Unless you're going to listen to me and Betty White and grow a vagina (balls are weak and sensitive, vaginas, on the other hand, can take a pounding), fuck off and forget it. You and your baby balls aren't worth my time.

Reason #4: I'm saving the world one day at a time a.k.a I have a huge heart!

I already mentioned the African refugees so now I'll add HIV/AIDS awareness, fair trade promotion, and gender equality advocation.

I recently spent four months in Gaborone, Botswana preparing university students for their new lives in Canada. I visited families in rural Botswana who lived fifteen people to a house that was spacially smaller than my living room. I had the opportunity to pay for a tour guide to take me through a 'township' (that's the nicey nice word for a slum) so that I could show the people at home the atrocities that 'people in Africa' had to live through. I also had the opportunity to throw up in my mouth a little bit at the thought of exploiting these people and the way they live so that a fucking tour guide could make more money in an hour than the people in the township make in a year.

Did I mention I rocked a damn fine bald head after raising over $4000 for the Stephen Lewis Foundation?

Why You Can't Have Any, Unless...

I'm a better person than you. In short, ask yourself what you've done in the name of altruism lately? If it took you longer than five seconds to think of something, ask yourself what's wrong with yourself. Also, you likely spent more money on Christmas gifts (one fucking day) than you donated to charitable organisations all year. Unless you're willing to save the world with me by giving of yourself until there's nothing left to give, you're wasting my time. I don't waste time.

Reason #5: I don't believe in monogamy, I've taken lap dance classes, I prefer porn to rom coms!

Ok, so you actually got lucky; I gave you 7 Reasons I'm Damn Fine.

Monogamy is like reading the same book over and over - Mason Cooley. Typically, I don't read books more than once. If I like them, I buy them and put them on my bookshelf to cherish forever, but likely never touch them again. I wonder if I could do that with lovers?! Back to my

point, monogamy, it's not natural. That and according to the uber smart scientists on The Big Bang Theory, "when your prefrontal cortex fails to make you happy, promiscuity rewards you with the needed flood of dopamine."

Songs I can do choreographed lap dances too: Motivation, S&M, Pour Some Sugar On Me, and anything else you request if you give me some time.

Rom Com...guy meets girl, guy fucks up and loses girl, girl forgives guy, (ok, sometimes it's the girl that fucks up, but rarely), and then there's the epic make up make out session. BORING! "Why don't they ever make a movie about what happens after the big kiss?" - "They do. It's called porn." - Friends With Benefits (and ya, that's one of those lame Rom Coms, but at least it had some laugh-worthy lines). My point, PORN wins and what's hotter than a damn fine chick that digs porn.

Why You Can't Have Any, Unless...

You actually thought I would link to a real PORN site. Really?! If I asked you to give me a song request to which I would then give you a lap dance to, you'd say something like "I'm Too Sexy" - Really?! You think you and you alone are enough to please me. Really?! Unless you have an impeccable eye for films, an incredible ear for music, and are willing to share like you learned to in Kindergarten, don't even start. I'll get bored.

--Thanks cafepress.com and dreamstime.com for the sexy silhouettes--

Back from Bots and Battling

It's been a long time since my last post, I know. My last day in Botswana was August 19 and I landed on Canadian soil on August 20. I've been 'home', and I use that word lightly, for almost three months now. I should have written this post a long time ago, but I didn't. Maybe it's because I was lazy, but more likely it's because I couldn't bring myself to bare my soul and break the wall I've put up around my heart since I've gotten back.

If you've been following my bustlings, you know that the turning point for me was the weekend I spent in Maun, Botswana and the children of Motse Wa Tsholofelo. Remember these two little divas? Well, they changed my life. From that weekend forward, each day that brought me closer and closer to leaving Botswana and the incredible work I was doing, was increasingly difficulty. I spent my last day, packing and crying, cleaning and crying, taking care of last minute business and crying, saying good-bye to such amazing people and crying. Did I mention I was crying? I was privileged enough to be in Botswana long enough to see my students off at the airport. As I watched each of the thirty-eight students say tear-filled goodbyes to ten plus members of their extended families and friends, I had to turn my back, take a deep breath, and tell myself to keep it together. Seeing grown men and women with tears streaming down their cheeks, knowing full well that this was the last time they would be seeing their families for at least two years, was almost too much for me to bare. Urging the students to say those goodbyes and get through airport security was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. As I waved to the last student I felt an overwhelming sense of pride and inspiration. I was on the same flight as half of the group from Johannesburg to London. As I lead them from one Heathrow terminal to the next, to the Air Canada counter to get their next set of boarding passes, and then to the main departure area, my heart was full and the feeling of accomplishment was indescribable. As I waved good-bye for the final time, I assured them all, "You're going to be fine, next stop, Canada!"

I had a horrific trip home. After almost missing my connection in Johannesburg because my flight left late from Gaborone ("No Hurry in Africa"), I also arrived late in Chicago due to one incredible thunderstorm. Let my trip be a lesson to myself and everyone, DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT leave yourself less than a two-hour layover if you're transferring internationally through the Chicago airport. First of all, only one of my bags actually made it Chicago. The one that did make it, the bigger one that weighed about sixty pounds, had a broken pull handle meaning I had one heck of a struggle lugging it through the airport, or should I say getting lost in the airport. By the time I made it to the proper counter, I was already late for my flight. It is necessary to mention here that I had been traveling for approximately thirty hours at this point and that this particular flight was the final one in my trip. I had one more two-hour flight and I would be in Manitoba.

When the woman working at the ticket counter told me she couldn't find any record of me in the computer system, I started crying, just a bit. By the time they finally found record of my existence, I had about twenty-minutes to make it to my gate. Twenty-minutes might have been fine, except the check-in woman didn't have the necessary clearance (or something) to allow me to check-in to my flight with only twenty-minutes left to boarding. I had to see an agent. So, instead of taking me directly to an agent who did have the necessary clearance, she directed me to the back of another long line. I started crying a little more as I played out possible scenarios that could occur when I missed my flight. I could sleep in the airport. I could check into a nearby hotel. I would definitely need to try and get a hold of everyone anxiously awaiting my arrival at home, but I didn't have a cell phone so I would have to convince someone to let me make a long distance call with their phone or spend a fortune on a payphone.

An angel (because that's what she was) in front of me kindly asked me if I was ok. While attempting to hold back tears, I sobbed that I really wasn't and explained my entire scenario. She put her hand on my shoulder and told me I could go ahead of her. See?, angel. There were still two people ahead of me, but I figured if one person could be so kind, maybe a couple others could too. I swallowed my tears (and my pride) and begged them to let me go ahead. It is times like these that reiterate to me the reason I believe in the inherent goodness in people. They graciously moved aside and I was first in line. As the agent at the counter asked how she could help me, I let it all out. By 'all', I mean the pent up buckets of saline solution that my eyes were holding onto. I bawled and, between sobs, pleaded with the woman to just get me home. She made me sign a release on my luggage declaring I was a late check-in and I was off, running, yet again to catch my flight. As I sat in my seat on the final plane of my journey, the tears just wouldn't stop.

Looking back, I suppose they were tears of relief, but they were also tears of sorrow. The same tears of sorrow I've cried many nights since I've returned to Canada.

They come from an emptiness inside of me, a dark and lonely place that Botswana once filled. I miss the place; I miss the people, but most of all, I miss the work. I want to spend the rest of my life working for the betterment of the lives of those less fortunate. There is such a significant lack of human capacity in the world's developing nations. It is easy to get people to contribute money to build a new playground for a not-for-profit pre-school, but to get someone to provide the necessary funds to employ a teacher to instruct the children, is nearly impossible. What is even harder, is convincing people to venture outside of the safety of their comfortable bubbles to give of themselves for the benefit of others. I know this first hand; it took me a few years to conjure up the courage to get on that plane to Botswana. Once I got there though, it ripped me apart to get back on that plane and come back to Canada.

And now it's time to be brutally honest. I struggle everyday with the overwhelming sense that I am wasting my life here. I sit at my desk, stare at my computer, and think about the work I could be doing in Botswana or in any developing nation for that matter. At the same time, I know I have to be here for a number of reasons:

1. I need to finish my undergraduate degree. So many more opportunities will open up for me once I have that official piece of paper and can sign my name with a BA (Honours) behind it.

2. I spent all of my savings over the four months I was in Botswana. In order to financially sustain myself, I need to save more money before I can afford to work again without monetary compensation.

Ok, so I guess the 'number' of reasons is really only two.

I've been back in Canada for three months now and the thought of buying anything I don't absolutely need still sickens me. When I say 'sickens', I mean I physically feel sick to my stomach. When I walked into my apartment after being half way around the world for four months, I didn't feel a sense of comfort at finally being home; I felt nauseous. The ridiculous amount of stuff I have is disgusting. I lived happily with the things I could pack in a suitcase for four months. Some of the people I met in Botswana lived with less than that. In short, I don't need anymore things.

Don't get me wrong, I am proud to be Canadian. I love my country. I know a lot of great people here who support me in all that I do. My heart, however, is just not in my life here. It's buried in the vibrant red soil that stains my shoes, floating on the warm dry wind that wraps the sand around my skin, with the little girl who played with a stick and bottle cap until I gave her the doll she now cuddles. Ke rata Botswana. You and I will be together again someday, but not soon enough.

Tears and Tuli Block

After three months living together, adjusting to a new country together, dealing with culture shock together, and sharing our most intimate secrets with each other, Angela Dore, Emma Dickson, and I held back the tears as best we could as we said goodbye...for now. It's my hope that November will find me in Ottawa (where both of them are living) for a reunion. These two girls are the only ones who truly understand the experience I've had in Botswana and how bittersweet it is to be going home. I need them like the deserts need the rain!

That's a photo of our last night out together in Gabs at Bull N Bush. It was a wild night, full of entertaining antics, and a plan to stay up until Angela's taxi arrived at 5:45 a.m. I think we made it until about 4:30 or 5:00, fell asleep, and were up again to say one last goodbye...for now. Now Angela and Emma are both back in Ottawa and I am sitting at the desk in my office, looking at their photo and wishing things could just go back to normal...the normal I've been used to for the last three plus months. But, those thoughts are for a whole other blog post that is soon to come. For now, let's move from tears to Tuli Block.

After my girls left, I was thankfully able to distract myself from the loneliness by taking a trip into the eastern part of the country. I tagged along with a volunteer for Ark n' Mark Trust while he went to meet a group of Canadians with a plan to bring thirty high school students to the area in March 2012. The project the students will be assisting with is the construction of Camp Ark, a retreat site for orphans and vulnerable children in Botswana.

The program run at Richmond High School in BC is called Global Perspectives Canada and it is one cool initiative. It's a program that I think should be run in all high schools; if only everyone thought like me! Now, the camp itself is going to be amazing. It's going to take one heck of a pile of work, but it's going to be fantastic. I'll most definitely stay in touch and follow along as the project unfolds.

I had a lot of quiet time to reflect during this particular trip and many times I found myself lost in a surreal sense of reality. As I traveled down back dirt roads coloured vibrant red from the iron-rich soil, paused to allow a group of zebras, impalas, baboons to gracefully cross, gazed at the vast expanse of stars stretching on for eternity, and marveled at the opportunities that abound on this continent, I found myself constantly wondering: Is this truly my life?

It's All Built Up to This

For a while now I've realised that my blogs have mostly been consisting of my personal "playtime" adventures here in Bots rather than the real reason I am here, my volunteer placement. For the most part, that is because the day-to-day happenings of my placement would be quite boring, I imagine, to any regular Joe. It involves a lot of office work and research which is really not all that exciting. Of course, I love it, but that's just crazy li'l me! My entire placement here with WUSC-Botswana and the International Scholarship Management team builds up to the Pre-Departure Orientation in late July. I play a major role in developing the programming for the orientation as well as facilitating sessions and acting as the token Canadian student. Basically, I've spent my summer processing study permits, police clearances, medical examinations, loan documents, and doing research on Canadian universities. July 21 and 22 had me and my fellow staff members in a conference room with 39 Batswana students. The two days were full of interactive information sessions on everything from Canadian lifestyle to the inner workings of the students scholarships. Of course, with any orientation like this, some of the sessions were boring, but for the most part, the students were engaged, participating, and having a lot of fun. At the end of the two days, I was exhausted, but filled with pride and inspiration.

On August 17th, 39 Batswana students will leave their homes in and around Gaborone, Botswana, get on airplanes for the first time in their lives, fly over 12,000km, and land in Canada; their new, albeit temporary homes. Bon Voyage and Live It Up!