Now my TV loving I think feel is only temporary, as I’ve been able to peel myself away at least a few times a week (and once for an amazing two-day hike!). You see; even without electricity, I am somehow managing to watch at least two or three movies a week. And at the end of the day I can’t quite ignore the chorus of relief chanting inside my head “OH! Let’s watch a movie!” I blame this entirely on having an interesting life. More specifically on having such an interesting life that I come home at the end of the day utterly exhausted. It doesn’t matter if I spend my day in a workshop intently listening to every syllable of siSwati being spoken, or spend my day talking about computers and reading Dilbert. Lately these mornings I am blown away by how quickly I fell asleep the night before. I put my head under the blanket and pull it up by my teeth (Swazi phrase), and *BAM!* it’s time to make the emafethis. (hint pronounced ema-.fatties)

Don’t know the emafethi’s yet? Delicious fried dough, incredibly scandalous. And our family has brought me a few plates for breakfast in the last two weeks, and my saturated-goodness index pegs out for a few days afterward. Just when I think the day can’t get any better, I step out of the hut and the radiant African sun winks a small hello over the horizon of Mozambique. I put out my solar lights, and come back into sip my coffee and read some more Dilbert. Occasionally I look up and remember that I’m incredibly lucky to be experiencing everything around me.

After my coffee I lock the door, and the rest of the day couldn’t play itself any better. Sometimes it rains on my painstakingly washed by hand, and line drying clothes. I just laugh and take comfort in having at least two pairs of pants. (You win again Nature!) I shake off the laughter and hear the sound of water dumping from our rain gutters into our water tank. “Water in the tank is like money in the bank!” It’s kinda a theme song for Krista and I. There is something beautiful and relieving to know that whatever else happens, you know you’re going to be able to drink water for the next several months. And with rainy season coming, whenever I think about the water level a content smile can be felt on my face. Oh water… how I love you. It’s the simple things in life right?

I continually recognize how fortunate I am, and how life is less stressful here. There’s stress but it doesn’t have the same bitter taste in the mouth, it’s more of a sensed urgency than stress really. Maybe something like biting into your first piece of really tart lemon meringue pie. You know the pie has a reputation for jabbing your taste buds on the initial encounter, but you unhesitatingly accept the fate of sharpness. It’s like that kind of stress. I had an email conversation with Ryan recently. I say conversation meaning that more than 3 emails were exchanged in less than 48 hours. I think that is my new Peace Corps record.

Anyway the conversation has been an attempt to reconcile the two worlds that I have come to know. As per our usual maturity, at least one of the emails had a serious note to it. I simply can’t understand the world I came from anymore, in the same way that I did before I left. As Americans we have life so incredibly good, and if you were to conduct a poll, most Americans would probably say yes. But I want to know how many Americans actually know first-hand how good we have it. The old phrase you can’t see the keyboard for the keys (I mean trees…) feels like it applies. When I’m calm (and before the movie starts) I think about America and what I loved, what I wanted to change, what the BBC says about it everyday, and what I view it as now. And all I can think of is the mindless hours we spend in front of the television. I think it’s obvious:

We as Americans are exhausted.

We need more vacations.

I talk a lot about the cultural side of Peace Corps. How we sing with our family, play with kids, and try to speak SiSwati. What I don’t really talk or write about is the incredible opportunity for personal growth that Peace Corps has given me. When I wake up in the morning, I have stopped believing I know what any single day will hold. I can of course have lose plans, and I still enjoy my morning routine (thanks for all the coffee Ryan, Karen, and Pop!) There is no plan, no schedule, and nothing for certain once I get outside of the hut.

One thing I have often said to my dad on the phone is “day’s are long, weeks are short.” It is incredibly difficult to convey even in words how true that is.I do not work 9 to 5, I work sunup to sundown. Today’s early morning started relatively normal. The only routine I have really is in the early morning. My first chore is to take down the solar lights and put them out to charge. The second task is to make coffee. After a bit of time, usually 8 or 9 am I usually make my way to either the KaGogo center, or to the primary school.

Although this sounds like it could be routine, it really isn’t. The locations are the same, but sometimes the teachers will be there, sometimes they won’t. Sometimes they will all be in a room together buying Tupperware or planning a cooking party. Sometimes the Gogo Center Manager is there, sometimes he is already at a meeting. Sometimes I see the goats sleeping by his door and I know I could just turn around and go home.

Today was Sunday and therefore it was a little bit different. Occasionally I will go to church, but I usually find my interest more in tune with personal development. A few weeks ago I told myself that Sunday would be my “reading, writing, and reflection” day. It would be reserved for me to correspond with friends and family, and catch up on reading. Reorganize also sounded good, so I lumped it in for good measure. To my surprise I have actually been able to do these things on Sundays now. It is a quiet day where I can reorganize my head.

The Peace Corps experience starts with travel to a remote country, but that is only the beginning. I laughed at a phrase from a PCV friend the other day. Reid said “Now we are going to explore space; now close your eyes.” Regardless of the original context of the phrase, it strikes me as relevant to the exploring of my interests and passions. I am finding more and more that my lofty ideas of what the world were are being honed into a sense of purpose. It isn’t good enough for me anymore to expect someone else to change with world. I have been watching as many episodes of TED as I possible. I am continually renewed that I am not alone when I feel that the world can be a better place. I am reminded that it is up to me to make a difference, and I can’t wait for government, businesses, or other people to do make a difference for me.

I feel positive right now and stronger in my convictions that joining Peace Corps was the right thing to do. I have seen first a completely different way of life than I was raised with. I have experienced a culture that is incredibly unique. I am living with people that do not say ‘hello’ when passing you, they say "I am seeing you.” The intimacy of the greeting, and good nature of my company speak to me of a better place for humanity. In our digital and fast-paced age something as simple as real human contact has been overlooked. It’s not that you can talk to a person through an infinite number of methods, it is what you actually say to that person that has meaning and substance.

Substance is a trait that I find lacking when I look back at many of the relationships I had at home. Most people I know are mysteries to me. I may know them from a single context, at a club or from my childhood. But what substance do I have with these people? What am I contributing to their lives by being their friend on Facebook? What value am I contributing to people that don’t read what I write, and what value can I bring to someone that is shut-off from conscious and rational thought.

Peace Corps is a growing experience. I am growing further apart from people that I was never close with in the first place. My substance with my greatest friends and family is what is most dear to me. I can’t reply to every email Ryan writes me, but I read and reread them. I can’t explain to my dad how much his phone calls mean, but I will continue to try. I appreciate Karen tagging me in photos on Facebook, at the end of the month I have something else to look forward to.

We are coming upon the one year mark of being away. Just two weeks to go before our first Peace Corps anniversary. I have learned so much about myself, humanity, and the world that I understand my inner substance will never be the same again. If you are reading this I hope maybe you will set aside some time for yourself. Maybe you can use Sundays as you reorganization day. There are some many phrases in Americana that tell us what to do.

Stop and smell the roses.

You only live once.

Tomorrow may never come.

It is important to remember that while passengers on spaceship earth, hurtling through the cosmos of our lives, we are truly the masters and commanders of our destiny.

“What happens in a meadow at dusk?” : Everything.

Babe wetfu was a gentle man who I yearn to have known better. When we first arrived at site my unease of what my next two years would be like was palpable. Within days it was clear that Babe’s company would make me happy for the homestead to which we have been delivered. One day early in integration, Babe looked up at me and said, “Majaha, why did people stop going to the moon?” I was excited that one day I might be able to show off pictures of the moon, distant galaxies and all points in between.

Regrettably, I was never afforded my chance to satisfy his curiosity about so many things. Our babe suffered daily from a stroke he had a few years before we came. This left him in a much weakened condition and he wasn’t able to get around much. At the age of 72 he was fighting the good fight against time, but was unable to fend off his physical ailments.

When we awoke to the new of Babe’s passing, our entire service was frozen in time. What should we do? Do we go hug our make? Do we give money? Our immediate thoughts were to find out from our incredibly patient Swazi staff what our next step should be. I asked babe Musa 20 questions before I ran out of breath and paused long enough to let him respond. Very succinctly he asked, “Is it difficult for you right now?” We had called looking for some help with Swazi tradition, and what we received was warmth and understanding that helped bring our world a little closer to “normal.”

Peace Corps didn’t waste any time taking action. The day was April 19^th and was a Swaziland national holiday. Within a few hours of the phone call we were being picked up from our home and were taken to Mbabane. The car ride provided enough time to reflect a bit and try to start the difficult process of understanding what comes next. I’m sure by the end of the drive back home I asked the same questions five more times. Although we could have stayed put if we had insisted, they let us know that the family would be making incredibly difficult decisions for a few days, and that our time away would let the family concentrate without having to make sure we were doing ok. Thanks again to Day, babe Musa, and babe Mfanafuthi for their incredible patience and understanding.

After two days in the capital and a basic understanding of what was to come, Krista and I agreed that I would come back to site and she would come in time for the memorial service. I was briefed during this time that Peace Corps would come out and pay their respects to my family. The morning I was to return home babe Vilikati, babe Malaza, babe Ndzabandzaba, and make Mkhabela all jumped in the car! It was an honor to have so many of the PC family bring me back. They explained to me what I could expect over the next several hours, and the following days leading to the service. And when we arrived, the staff and I went into indlu yagogo and prayed. My host family sang and my Peace Corps family joined them. They passed condolences onto the family and thanked them for everything they did for us. I am still unable to convey completely my sincere thanks to the staff for their coming.

All during the time we were in the gogo hut, the household was a flurry of activity. Bomake and bosisi were cooking and cleaning mass amounts of food. Bobhuti were helping clean the homestead to prepare for company. After I exited the hut and Peace Corps departed, I immediately found myself absorbed into the work at hand. I put a door on the maize shelter, cleaned the yard, helped paint, and learned how to glaze windows. I was told the hardest work would be on Saturday as the tent needed to be erected, and the grave needed to be dug.

Since I’ve talked about my experience over the last month, I have heard other people’s experiences when a member of their family has passed. My experience has been vastly different from every account I have heard. As we build our relationships with our friends and family here, each of our experiences are personal, and will be different from other PCVs. At the end of the day each of Peace Corps experiences is our own, and we will all come away with incredibly different stories of living the both good times and the bad.

Our babe had been suffering for many years, and was particularly bad over the last several weeks. Although the family was necessarily sad, there was an air of relief around the end of his suffering. There was more laughing and smiling than I anticipated. We played cards and told jokes. The children danced and sung loudly. I met many new family members and strengthened existing relationships.

While we were digging, the process was to grab a digging tool and prepare to be made fun of. Although I speak SiSwati fairly well, I could not follow the insults and teasing coming from the gallery of onlookers. The task was to poke as much fun as possible at the person digging, until they broke out in laughter and couldn’t dig any further. It seemed the direct opposite of being teka’d. Standing under the starry dark sky with 20 bobhuti and only a Nokia phone as a flashlight, we dug. Staring at the stars, I closed my eyes and focused on the laughter, spirit and camaraderie of the men around me. It was in this moment that I felt the closest to my family and community.

The night vigil and subsequent funeral in the morning was as anticipated. The tent became a habitat for bogogo and bomkhulu from as near as next door, to as far as Zimbabwe. It served well through the windy Lomahasha night, and only partially crashed down the next morning. People prayed and sang throughout the evening, interrupted only by full meals, followed by tea breaks. In an effort to discourage this potentially health-affecting practice, Krista and I did the night vigil in shifts. I was up until midnight; she awoke at 3am.

After the entirety of the previous week, I was told that our make was not to leave the house for 30 days and 30 nights, all the while cloaked in black. It is culturally appropriate for women to see and talk with a mourning wife, and inappropriate for men to do the same. It was during this time that I was not to see her or speak to her, as I was not “family.” I was later told the origin of the 30 days in the hut was born out of necessity. Before motorized transportation, it would take days or weeks for the news of a death to reach distant family. It would then take days or weeks for the family to come visit. Having the widow stay in one place guaranteed those traveling would find the person upon arrival. Although mobile communication and better transport have bridged this gulf with time, the tradition of staying in the hut is still alive.

As time went on, Make began joking with Krista about how “Majaha is afraid of me.” I would run around the homestead shielding my eyes and screaming loudly so she could know my location at all times. On day 29 make told I shouldn’t have avoiding her as I am her son. We had our reunion during a prayer service and she told me how my avoidance made her sadder than anything else that happened since Babe passed away. Sometimes I find myself struggling to articulate the warmth I receive from our host family. The only way to understand Ubuntu seems to be through a direct encounter with the serene beauty that humanity can emanate.

Although our make is not a traditional woman, she has said she will follow the rules and wear black for the next six months or more. When we asked her how she felt on the first official day outside, she chuckled as her eyes shined. She responded to her confinement by saying, “It was killing me.” Our make has survived for 70+ years and seen countless things that I will never know. Life has returned to what it was, and up at dawn I can see make tending to the chickens, and wandering the fields, satisfied at a life well lived.

I have been teaching computers at the Primary School for a few weeks now.  At the end of last term I pushed several teachers through an intense crash course on everything the XO computers could do.  In case you aren’t familiar with what the XO is, I can tell you a bit of what it is.

The One-Laptop-Per-Child program (www.laptop.org) was started by Nicholas Negroponte about a decade ago.  Nicholas Negroponte was the director for the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s Media Lab for many years.  The Media Lab is one of the most prominent and advanced technology centers in the world. MIT’s Media Lab could be considered a rocket-powered space station on an intergalactic voyage.  The mission of this voyage is to create new ideas and new technologies, and then applying these ideas and technology.  I’ve been a fan of Nicholas Negroponte for a number of years, particularly after reading his book Living Digital.  After Professor Negroponte left MIT he started working on the OLPC project, whose aim was to enable all children of the globe to have access to information technology.  Focusing on economically poor countries and students, the OLPC foundation created the XO.  The XO was designed to be a low-cost computer, low enough to be put in the hands of every small child in the developing world.

It’s not a great computer by the standards we expect today.  It wouldn’t have been an icon of powerful computing 5 years ago either.  It has a 266 Mhz processor, which is slower than most of our phones.  It has 1GB of memory which actually is the short-end of what many new netbooks are coming with.  It has roughly a gigabyte of storage.  These all might be seen as shortcomings in a computer for us.  If we saw it on the shelves at Best Buy most of us would walk away, or at least the sales guy would try to get you to move on.  These features are only describable to the children using one word.  A word that is continually overused in modern society, just ask Bill Engvall.  These computers are Awesome. I can share with you a glimpse of the joy children experience with these computers, only because it has been captured in a few photograph  An unrelated survey was given to a 5th grade class this week.  In the survey it asked the children what is their favorite class.  So many of them answered computers, I’m honored.

The first class was fun.  It consisted of trying to get children to point out the various part of the XO.  What are the speakers, where is the camera.  Almost everyone has played with a cellphone here, so it became “the camera that is just like the one in the cellphone.”  And the speakers were “just like the ones on the really loud buses.” Most children memorized the parts of the computer pretty fast, but lacked mastery in approaching the mouse.  The mouse in the case of XOs a touchpad.  I still feel obligated to call it a mouse, because 30 years after its creation, the mouse is no longer a pointing device.  It is a concept.  And it is a concept that I took as granted.  I somehow lured myself into believing that mouse usage was universal, and had somehow already established itself in the collective unconscious of children all over the globe.  The lesson learned by me was not to skip anything with these children.  Any knowledge I have is completely new and foreign to them, including the simple word “click.”

At the end of the first lesson, after getting the children to turn on and immediately turn off their computer, I asked them an interesting question. One of the more popular questions asked by Peace Corps volunteers to their students is “what do you want to be when you grow up?” Because the question has been asked here by plenty of volunteers before I got here, I was prepared for the answers.  Almost all students answered one of a few things.  Police, soldiers, teachers, and nurses.  One student wanted to be a banker, and the other an accountant.  It is true that children want to grow-up to be the occupations they are exposed to.  The children are ready and ripe for something as intense and powerful as computer and the internet.  I feel there is a critical mass of curiosity building in these students, and computers are the perfect relief valve.  Not to be caught in a trap of dismissing the children’s interest as ‘status quo’ or ‘to be expected,’ I asked them an additional question.  “How do you think computers would be used in the job.”  A few kids muttered some answers, but one hopeful policeman said “it would help me catch thugs.”  These kids were ready for computers and I was ready to get them working.

The first class was an introduction to me as to what my service could actually look like.  It wasn’t until my second class though that I felt my own awe at what I was experiencing.  Our second class consisted of a review from the first class, including “phone cameras” and “bus speakers.” My main focus was trying to get the students acclimated to moving a ball through a maze in a very simple game.  It is literally a maze, such as the ones we find on the back of cereal boxes.  The object is simple, get the ball to the end of the maze.  Movement requires the use of the arrow keys.  Up, down, left, right.  Simple concepts once you have been exposed to them, and had time to experience just what “left vs. right” might mean.

And it was in that moment when I was looking at the different faces in the room that I realized I was engulfed in the “help” I had so incredibly wanted to bring.  I was aware of the physical presence the silence of the students had on me.  I heard nothing bu intensity from the students. I immediately went to the front of the room, something told me I needed to see this from a beter perspective.  The silence of the students was they key for me to recognize that something was happening.  The students were entranced by the glow of the screen, and completely absorbed in the decision of going “left vs. right.”

Knowing that I was there and I helped these students engage a part of their brain that up until that moment was untouched, gave me the incredible satisfaction of helping.  And it gave me my first real Peace Corps experience.

With that in mind I have set out looking for the easiest way to distribute information, updates, photos, and notes online with the least amount of effort.  It’s difficult to want to type and maintain multiple social networks, when I know that the point of technology is to enable more efficient processes.  With that in mind I have set about a slightly complicated yet hopefully worthwhile attempt to maintain as much useful content as possible in one single upload.  If I have an internet connection once a month, it would be nice to have to write one post that reaches all my friends, and not have to write something for every network. 

This all starts with the blog at www.briandeyo.us.  I can use Windows Live Writer to compose blog entries offline, and will be able to post them when I am able to.  Once I post them to the main blog they should also update MySpace, Live Spaces and Facebook.  The biggest issue with this is any comments that are made on one network will not transfer over, so comments will still be disparate.  The easiest way around that is to ask all of you to check the website for updates and photos.  When I post something on the site it should update my status and write on my wall that I have posted something new.  It should be a link that you can follow to see the complete post. 

Sounds great in theory, but I’ll wait to see what happens after I publish this.  I haven’t fully tested this wonderful mass-publishing yet, so the results will be unpredictable for a few days.  In the meantime I will say that I am completely without a phone, check email a few times a day, but otherwise I’m very hard to get a hold of suddenly.  Additionally I’m starting to understand how debilitating it is in modern society to have the option of constant contact revoked.  Please look for me on Skype and check the site for any news or pictures that are worth seeing.  I will be more vigilant in my communications through this medium as long as an internet connection exists.