Yes.
I realize this is an incredibly cheesy (but you have to admit-catchy) slogan from season 1 of Heroes- a show I certainly never watched at home but could see myself indulging in for hours at a time here in Botswana, given the electricity and the chance… but bear with me…
I was, in high school and generally much to my chagrin when I admit the fact now, a cheerleader. I was of the middle generation of cheerleaders. We existed right on the cusp of cheerleading becoming a sport, and competitive cheerleading becoming an actual athletic event. We also remained a part of the seemingly archaic system of a tradition whose main goal was to look cute and yell for boys, the only activity available for girls pre-Title IX and the implementation of women’s competitive sports in schools. Cheerleading was in the in-between world where it would innovate, evolve and move forward or fall into obscurity. It was a concept and group that struggled to maintain its integrity yet redefine its goals and aims in a modern and changing world.
I can’t tell you exactly why I wanted to dress in a tiny little outfit and jump around cheering for boys athletics other than that it might perhaps get me a boyfriend? Because I loved being the center of attention? Because I like telling people what to do and having them follow my lead? Maybe I was delusional enough to believe that all the screaming in the world could actually impact the game being played on the field in front of me by boys who couldn’t hear a word I was saying, much less obeying my ignorant to the rules of the game and tackily rhyming shouts? I did it for all four years of high school and other than knowing I wanted to be on the Varsity Football squad it’s one of my more unexamined life choices.
Regardless, cheerleading is part of my past, and like every part of my past, I’ve learned a thing or two from it. The first thing I’ve learned is something I’ve come to realize as being my role in Seronga. The purpose of having cheerleaders in the traditional sense is theoretically to encourage the players of a team to do something good, or score or achieve a goal, and to lead the masses in screaming encouraging yet often incoherent rants at the field. In relation to my work here, this sort of ends up being the main task I perform on a daily basis. It may the only act I perform in my two years here that feels like it makes any iota of change.
I run around the village trying to join and support committees that already exist and create ones where there is a lack. I wear a skirt at the kgotla and have cut my hair short to blend in with the people here, to make them believe and understand I’m part of their “team” despite my white skin and lack of much Setswana. I use simple, easily translated language to spread a message that has been repeated countless times in an effort to get people here to do something good for themselves, to make them believe they can perform the tasks of using a condom, get tested to know their status, and demand respect and faithfulness from their partners. Instead of rhyming couplets of sports jargon I shout sexual health encouragement and instead of pompoms I shake condoms and pamphlets. In place of pep fests I perform my routine at sexual health events or really anywhere there is a group of people who might possibly listen to me. I attempt to create events people will attend designed to get people excited about the cause. Rather repeating the same “go team go” cheers I engage in generally ill fated but repetitive conversations about “faithfulness”. Instead of cheering for the “number 1 team” people in the village have taken to holding up their index finger when they see me and shouting “one” as I do to emphasize my point of “one partner” being a key to reducing the spread of HIV. This is their favorite joke with me, second only to yelling “Lorato” and waving and laughing.
In some ways I know I’m cheering for a purpose and game that may or may not be successful. Like being a cheerleader for boy’s sports, you win some, you lose some, often through no lack of effort on your part. Sometimes futility is obvious, and I can see heads nodding with empty eyes behind them, the point is lost. Sometimes I see the struggle behind those same eyes that is the mind of someone possibly being changed. Score one for team life. Yeah Team. I guess I can better understand why it brings you all such joy to send me stuff. Maybe by saving the cheerleader you really ARE saving the world;-)
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