Top Five Experiences of 2018 (so far...)

My girl Tizzy and I pose after camp ends. 

5: Easter Camp

My current position does not put me in direct contact with kids nearly often enough anymore. As a result, doing Community Camp over Easter weekend was one of my favorite moments of the whole year. We had nearly one hundred children for four days and it was so much fun to interact with and observe them as they participated in ropes course, life skills sessions, and a talent show. Equally inspiring was getting to work with such incredible camp staff and volunteers. I love getting to watch these amazing professionals model incredible youth development skills and I love building strong friendships with them. 

Kayaking in Mozambique

4: Mozambique

In February, my friend Katie and I went on my last big Peace Corps vacation: Tofo, Mozambique. Our prime reason for picking this spot was that it is one of the best places to see whale sharks. It took us three days of travel to get there from Lesotho and we unfortunately did not get to see any whale sharks, however, the trip was still wonderful.

While Katie got scuba certified, I spent my days relaxing and walking on the beach, writing, wandering through the small beach town, and reading. It was the most peaceful and least demanding vacation I have ever enjoyed. Tofo Beach is truly stunning. I also took some time to bird nerd on a mangrove kayaking trip.

3: Herdboy Health Outreaches

My host organization has partnered with the District Health Management Teams in three districts in Lesotho to bring health services to herdboys in rural areas. Herdboys or balisana are a unique population in Lesotho.

They are marginalized from typical communities and social interactions through a lot of unfounded stereotypes. In my experience, most herders are wonderfully caring and friendly men-some young, some old. Due to stigma and discrimination, however, they also often live isolated lives and therefore do not get access to most government services including health care.

At the health outreach in Ha Popa, Thaba Tseka: beautiful views, a crazy bumpy ride in the truck with my colleagues,
the "road" we traveled, and a group of balisana that insisted we take pictures together. 

So far this year, we have done a handful of health outreaches to encourage balisana to get health care in the future. By bringing the services outside of the clinical setting, we have seen larger numbers of herders accessing medical tests including BMI, tuberculosis, blood pressure, blood sugar levels, and HIV testing services. Those that need additional follow up are being referred for additional medical care and the local clinics are following up to ensure that these services are received.

For me, these outreaches have also allowed me to get into more rural parts of Lesotho than I had previously visited. Our first outreach in Thaba Tseka involved a bumpy three-hour drive on something almost resembling a road to reach the village of Ha Popa. It was quite the adventure. The balisana there were so welcoming and fun to hang out with as they waited in line for their various health tests.

Grabbing a late lunch with my friend Pontso on a holiday.

2. Moments with Friends

This may sound like a generic cop out, but it is still true. Whether working or playing, I have had some of my favorite adventures with friends. The longer I live in Lesotho, the stronger my local friendships become and the more I cherish these relationships. The opportunities to catch up with friends over a meal or a football game is something I took for granted in the US. The reality is that making it happen between transportation challenges and rules that require I be home before dark make these moments much fewer and more precious.

With Rets'elisitsoe and his brother,
Ralethola (one of my best friends), after the
wedding. 

1. Weddings!!!

2018 has been the year for weddings. Every year I have been in Lesotho, I have attended a wedding or two. This year, however, I seem to be attending almost one per month!

First, there was my friend Rets’elisitsoe’s wedding in January. Here in Lesotho, the groom must be escorted into the church by a female family member. Due to some travel delays, Rets’elisitsoe’s cousin was running late and so he decided that I would  be his official escort and sit in the front row for the ceremony. It was an incredible honor to be quickly adopted into the family of two of my closest friends in country and to then participate in the wedding activities at his house the next day as well.

Then, a few weeks later, my friends Tori and Mpho-who married in America-returned to Lesotho for the traditional wedding ceremony that takes place with the groom’s family following a wedding. Tori completed her Peace Corps service in 2015, so the opportunity to catch up with her after more than 18 months and to be a part of this special day was truly wonderful. 

With Mpho and Tori at their wedding celebration in March

The third wedding I attended was in my community, but for the sister of someone I have known, respected, and adored for the entire time I have been in Lesotho. It was fun to hang out with the bridesmaids before the wedding, join the convoy of BMWs for the trip to and from the church, and help out with logistics and serving during the reception. 

With my dear friend Ototo at her sister's wedding in April

To keep up the wedding theme, I just returned from another friend's wedding. This one brought me out to Quthing, a district I hadn't visited before that is about three hours south of Maseru. Even better, I traveled and spent the day with some of my favorite guys in Lesotho. For once, I already knew both the bride and groom and am so glad that I was able to be there for their special day.

In Quthing with some of my favorite guys; Tlebele, Moseli, Ralethola, and Matseli. 

All smiles with the groom. 

Easter Reunions

Family Photo-Mme Masekila, Abuti Mokhesuoe, Abuti
Thabo, Abuti Polau, and me. We are only missing
Abuti Sekila and my replacement, Ausi Mosa.

People often say you can’t go home again. In December, I stared at the familiar Boston skyline as my plane landed and agreed. After being gone for the last two and half years, people felt like home, but America did not.

Friday, however, I disagreed profoundly. The moment I got out of a car in Botha Bothe, a man greeted me by name. As I shopped for food, people did double-takes, exclaiming when they realized it was, in fact, me.

Once I finally made it to my village—after a three-hour wait for a taxi—the homecoming really began. Within twenty minutes, I had seen my supervisor and another woman I worked with, two of my best friends and my mother. Everyone greeted me with joy, hugs (These are not typical, which only made them even better), and celebration. As my mother and I walked home, people stopped us to comment on my return and to be sure I remembered them after my four and half months away.

Indian Prayers

In early January, I posted a hugely popular post about Natasha and Prien’s Wedding. I intentionally omitted a key aspect of the wedding: the fact that neither Natasha’s mother nor father were present.

Despite the joy the wedding presented, there was a somber note as well. Every time that reference was made to the bride’s father, shadows passed over the faces of all in the ceremony. Natasha’s father had passed away only six days before the wedding.

As a result, my lessons on Indian wedding traditions included a brief foray into Indian funeral traditions. For example, much as there are a series of rituals that occur in the week leading up to a wedding, there are a series of prayers held on specific days following someone’s death. While Indian weddings are brightly colored affairs, white is the color of mourning.

And, much like Basotho grieving customs, the wife of a deceased man must stay home until the first series of rituals have been concluded, in this case, sixteen days, which is why Natasha’s mother was also unable to attend the wedding.

Natasha’s father, George, had been sick and while he was hoping to survive to attend the wedding, he had also been adamant that the wedding go on as planned. As a result, the couple honored her father by moving forward.

The more I learn about Indian culture, the more I appreciate it. Much like in Basotho culture, grief does not end at the conclusion of the rituals in the first sixteen days. There are specific moments throughout the following year for prayers. In June, my dear friend Venilla invited me to join her family for the six month prayers following her husband’s death.

At Venilla’s request, I arrived early for the prayers with my sari in tow. We finished working in the kitchen, preparing the food for the prayers while laughing together. The meals for the prayers are all vegetarian, to maintain mourning.

As we finished cooking, the oldest daughter still at home set up the ritual area. It included a variety of foods for her father, incense, and flame. We changed into our outfits and began the prayers.

I remembered from the wedding that the ritual area is sacred and therefore we approach barefoot-a cold task in Lesotho’s winter months! Starting with Venilla, we each took a turn kneeling and saying prayers.

As we finished, we left the room so that the deceased could come and eat the food laid out for him. It would remain there for a few hours and would be sprinkled with water before being cleared.   

 As we transitioned into the dining room to dig in, our somber mood was released and we celebrated dining together. As usual, Venilla insisted I eat more food than I could manage and her children kept us all entertained.

Finally, just before sunset, after too many photos and too much food, I headed home, filled with joy at being included once again as a part of the Naidoo family, even in the difficult moments. 

Morena Oa Ka: My Chief

On May 9^th, 1968, the Parliament of Lesotho enacted the Chieftainship Act. The Act was

“To make provision determining the nature and duties of the office of Chief, the status and relationship of various offices of Chief one to another ad to the people and the Government, the holding of a succession to offices of Chief, the tenure of office of Chief, the exercise of the functions of an office of Chief during the minority, incapacity or other disability of the holder, to provide for the publication of lists giving public notice of the holders of offices of Chief, to provide for the discipline of Chiefs for the purpose of improving the quality of the Chieftainship as a whole, and for related and connected matters.”

The Chieftainship Act of 1968 did not introduce Chiefs to Lesotho. Instead, it took a longstanding tradition dating back long before the Basotho tribes joined together to form their own country under King Moshoeshoe I in the 1800s and maintained throughout British colonization and recorded it as law with two years of gaining independence and self government.

Ntate Thamahane and our local councilman speaking at
a pitso or community meeting.

According to the Act, the primary responsibility of the Chief is to “support, aid, and maintain the King in his government and to serve the people in the area of his authority.” The Chief is also responsible for the protection of the people within his area of authority, reducing and preventing crime where possible. Some of the things that fall under his purview include keeping track of livestock and ownership through official entries in individuals’ livestock books and earmarking all animals, providing his official stamp on all manner of correspondence from villagers to government, NGOs, and bills of sale, signing off on birth, marriage, and death certificate applications, officially adding new residents and long term visitors to record books, assigning village land to villagers, and maintaining safety and order in the village. It is an all encompassing job.

As the Chieftainship is inherited, there is great variety in the education and energy of the many Chiefs in Lesotho. In my village, we are blessed to have a brilliant and dedicated Chief. Ntate Thamahane (Taw-maw-haw-knee) is very well educated, completing his university education in Canada. He spent many years working in the professional sector; most recently as the CFO for Telecom Lesotho. He inherited the Chieftainship from his father in the mid-eighties; however, he served primarily in abstentia until his retirement three years ago. His three uncles (including my host grandfather) each served in his stead during that time.

Despite being retired from his previous career, Ntate Thamahane is incredibly busy here in the village. His responsibilities include the job responsibilities listed above, tending to his own herd of goats and overseeing his herdboys, and oversight of the village’s agricultural scheme. On top of this, he also studies law for entertainment and self edification. He takes his responsibilities as a chief very seriously and dedicates the majority of his time to the village.

A local police constable, Ntate Thamahane, and my at
an event in our community.

Ntate Thamahane explains that people must leave his office feeling heard and understood. The “Chief

must be a person who shall be so accommodating of all culture…a man of patience; he must listen and hold his tongue when people talk.” While the Chieftainship Act acknowledges that the Chief must be impartial, Ntate Thamahane takes it a step further, choosing not to participate in vices that might not align with his responsibilities as Chief. He does not drink, smoke, or talk badly about other people.

He is a well-respected Chief and people react to the things he says. He attributes this to his parents, saying, “Fortunately I was taught by parents…to respect the villagers so they will respect me.” It was his father who taught him that the Chief must be a patient and impartial listener and must not partake in bad behavior. His father put great effort into ensuring that Ntate Thamahane was well educated, but stressed that he had a responsibility to use that education in his work as Chief. According to Ntate Thamahane, many well educated Chiefs choose not to return to their villages as being a Chief pays less than most jobs in Lesotho and requires so much time and energy. He, however, used his education and professional skills for the overall betterment of the community, finding financial support for and starting the irrigated agricultural scheme.

Ntate Thamahane in his office on the day
of our interview for this blog post.

One of the struggles of being a dedicated Chief is a profound lack of personal time. Although the Chief’s office is officially open from 8am to 5pm, people will come at any hour they need the Chief. As his neighbor, I can bear witness to this as I have seen people waiting outside his office at 4am and knocking on his door at 10pm. Additionally, it can be hard for people, including Ntate Thamahane, to separate the man from the role of Chief. He has given villagers his own money to visit the doctor, his own food to eat, or his own money for a necessity.

At the same time, Ntate Thamahane is quick to point out, “I enjoy this job because of all types of challenges that come in. It is a good thing to teach people and I always feel good. Even if I didn’t get paid, I would do it.” Later in our conversation, he repeats himself, “I enjoy this job. I would hate to see anyone disturb me in this job because I do it best as I know how.” 

Achaar Project

Wednesday morning dawned warm and sunny, like so many days this summer in Lesotho. By ten, when I left for town, the sun was sweltering as I hid beneath my umbrella despite the stiff breeze threatening to take it from me. 

'M'e 'Matukelo holds MCCC's starter funds with great
enthusiasm as we prepare to buy our initial supplies!

After running a few errands and getting lunch with two fellow PCVs, it was time and I was nervous as all get out. I left my friends and walked down to one of the shops. 

Despite my anxiety, I smiled brightly at the seven women from MCCC that were already gathered. They had found a shady spot to congregate and were awaiting their peers, me, and our training. 

In only a few months I had learned about and organized this training opportunity for us. My contact, a doctor from South Africa, was nice enough to donate the training to us as MCCC would be raising money to help orphans and vulnerable children. 

'M'e' Malira teaches MCCC how to prepare and sell the achaar.

As the remaining women arrived, I checked with the shop owner, breathing a sigh of relief when I learned the trainer was already present although not all the necessary supplies had arrived yet. He assured me they were en route. 

Soon everyone arrived and our trainer, 'M'e 'Malira (Mah-deer-ah), said we could start without the remaining supplies.

The one-hour training turned into three. As we wound down, the women of MCCC all expressed their excitement for the project. We bought the supplies with the starter funds they had pooled and made plans to meet on Monday to make our first batch of achaar. 

Bo-'M'e are some of the best students I know!

'M'e 'Malira and 'M'e Jane explain the details of purchasing
the supplies needed. 

The women cut the pickled
mango into smaller pieces.

Monday, the women and I gathered to get started making our achaar; excited to be able to start selling in time for the Festive Season.

What seemed like it would be simple and quick during our training took significantly more time than I imagined. This is partially because we discussed every single step as if we had not been in the training together less than a week ago. Another contributing factor would be that older women have a lifetime of developing strong opinions, which we had to discuss heavily before making any decisions. Should we add garlic to all of the achaar or only to some? How small does the pickled mango need to be cut? What will our pricing for our product be?

This last one created conversation for over twenty four hours! On Monday, we called it a day after five, having not stopped to eat lunch-just have a snack of bread and juice after four. The last hour was spent in heated debate about pricing, during which time I was reminded of just how important the business skills training I am trying to schedule will be to our financial success as an organization. Many of the women were more concerned with making sure impoverished members of the community could afford our product than covering the costs of making the achaar. Finally, we tabled the discussion as we needed to reconvene the next day with more oil and more containers to finish packaging.

Mmmh, spices!

On Tuesday morning, six of us met at my supervisor’s home before going to the community building. We determined the number of containers needed and sent one of the women to town for the necessary supplies. The rest of us gathered at the hall, where we sat and chatted…and waited…and waited. This marked one of two times I have seen Basotho exhibit any outward signs of impatience when waiting. Most people would not have noticed it at all, but having worked with them for a year and a half, I could tell their loud interest in every passing vehicle, interest which grew in volume as time passed, was not simply a desire to know who was going by but if ‘M’e Matukelo had returned from town yet.

Finally, as we were beginning to give up on finishing that day, around half past four, the containers and oil arrived. We quickly cleaned them and packaged the remaining achaar.

Then, we again broached the topic of pricing. This time, I came armed with numbers and a marker for our easel. I managed, in Sesotho with minimal help from my counterpart, to explain the prices I would like to see and what that would yield as a profit. We then discussed the pricing of each of the four container sizes we had and what our bottom line would be. In the end, we settled somewhere in the middle between the prices my contact recommended and the prices the women originally wanted.

Here is our finished product, ready for sale.
Unfamiliar with papa? Check out this blog.

It took a bit longer for everyone to write down the number of containers each of the four participating villages was taking and how much money they were responsible for. Finally, at half past 6, we wished each other a Merry Christmas and headed home as the sun sank below the hills to our west.

The villagers I spoke with on my way home all asked about buying the achaar. They were disappointed to learn that only the women are selling so I did not have any to share with them. In my village at least, I suspect the 29 containers the women are selling will disappear before the weekend.

It is still too early to know how viable our market will be, especially after the Festive Season concludes, however, the anxiety I felt last week as I prepared for our training was clearly unnecessary, which is a great relief! 

Stanley goes to School

Stanley with the fourth graders, the girl in the back is pointing
out where Lesotho is on the world map!

Hello again world! It's still me, Navajo Flat Stanley.

People liked my other post, so Beth is letting me guest blog one more time before I head off to New Zealand via air mail.

Yesterday, Beth and I went to her workplace for a few hours, chatted with some villagers, and returned home with enough time to do her laundry. Between Camp GLOW and traveling, she has not been home much in the last month, so she was oddly excited about doing her laundry.

Beth's village does not have running water or electricity. She and many villagers use solar chargers to keep their phones charged or listen to the radio. They carry water from the five taps to their houses in buckets...on their heads! Instead of carrying all the water needed for laundry, Beth and many other women go to the natural springs that appear occasionally down the hills from the village. So, that's what we did.

At the spring where we did Beth's laundry.

To actually do the laundry, Beth puts the soapy water in a basin with cloths then handwashes each item before wringing it out really well. Then, she washes it again, in a different basin without soap in the water. She wrings it out again before putting it in the final rinse-this time in a natural pool formed in the rocks. She uses her feet for this part; stomping on and stirring the clothes before hanging them next to the small pool to drip dry as she continues washing.

Today's adventure was extra special. We visited the school that Beth teaches Life Skills at! I got to meet students in grades 4, 5, and 6. I talked to them about my home and explained how the Navajo Nation is an indiginous tribe in America just like the Basotho are an indiginous group in Lesotho. I then asked each class to teach me about Lesotho so I can share it with my friends back in Crownpoint.

I learned so much! Lesotho is known as the Mountain Kingdon because it has so many mountains. The indiginous people here are the Basotho and Beth says they make up about 98% of the population today. The primary language is Sesotho, but secondary school and university are both taught in English. Before King Moshoeshoe (mow-shway-shway) One, the many clans in this area were not unified. He unified the clans and this formed what is now known as Lesotho. Lesotho used to be a colony of Britain. They got independence almost fifty years ago on October 4, 1966!

In Grades 4 and 5, the kids made lists of things that are good to know about Lesotho. From their lists I learned:

Food: Basotho food sounds great! They typically eat papa and just about anything! Leafy green vegetables, milk, pumpkin, beet root, carrots, tomato, potato, beans, peas, eggs, meat. If they are not having papa, they might be eating sorghum, samp (another corn-based food), or rice. Most of these foods they grow themselves, although rice is not grown in Lesotho.

Clothing: Kids wear uniforms to school, each school has different color uniforms. Much of what people wear is similar to America-shirts, sweaters, pants, skirts. But, Basotho also love to wear blankets. The women wear one around their waist called a Charlie. When it is cold or people are dressing up, they also wear a blanket called a kobo over their shoulders. The way men and women wear the kobo is different.

Play: Most Basotho children do not have many toys so they become good at playing games using what is around them. The play jump rope, usually making the rope out of plastic bags. They play liketoana (dee-ket-wa-na), which is like jacks but uses rocks. They also like to play house and to play ball and will make balls out of plastic bags if they do not have one.

Trees: There are a variety of trees in Lesotho. Many people have trees in their yards to provide things like peaches, plums, oranges, apricots, grapes, and apples.

Animals: People keep cows, sheep, goats, chickens, and pigs for food and wool in the case of the sheep and goats. People also have donkeys, horses, cats, and dogs; although unlike in America, most Basotho do not let their dogs into the house.

A few brave students in Grade 5 were will to share the lists of trees and animals in Sesotho and English. It was tricky for those speaking Sesotho as the lists were written only in English but they did a great job!

Grade 6 taught me more about the history and culture of Lesotho, they were even willing to sing their national anthem for me. They made a list of what Basotho people like and of the different clans that King Moshoeshoe One unified in the 1800s!

I had so much fun, I hate to leave this great place, but it's time to continue my journey around the world! Wish me Bon Voyage!

Cheers,

Flat Stanley

Love and Marriage? My Top Five Pick Up Lines After a Year in Lesotho

Rocking the twins look with 'M'e Lineo-
black shirt and skinny jeans.

“When it comes to Basotho men and PCVs, you're the one I feel the worst for. I know how much you must get hit on because African men love curvy women. Add your Sesotho ability and your friendly personality and you are irresistible to men!” 'M'e Lineo (din-ay-o), another PCV's counterpart, said to me recently.

I do not feel the need to compare whether or not Lineo is right about me getting hit on more than the average female PCV in Lesotho. The reality is, we are all hit on...a lot. Basotho culture allows men to be more forward than American culture and as Americans we are considered particularly desirable. Being “curvy” is considered particularly attractive here as it implies one is wealthy enough to eat well and is healthy (being skinny is thought to denote diseases such as HIV).

As a result, it is quite common to hear things like:

“Kea u rata” (Kay-ya u rah-tah) or I love you.

“Ke batla u nyala” (Kay bah-tlah u knee-ya-la) or I want to marry you.

“Na, u na le monna?” (nah, u nah-lay moan-ah) or Do you have a husband?

“Ke tla u nyala” (Kay tlah u knee-ya-la) or I will marry you.

“U na le moklankana, kae?” (U nah-lay mow-clahnk-ah-na, kie?) or You have a boyfriend, where?

“Mosali oa ka...” (Mow-saw-dee wa caw) or My wife....

Having multiple concurrent partners or multiple wives is not uncommon, especially for men. (This is one of the reasons Lesotho's HIV rate is so high) I have also been told by my language tutor that people here believe that once women are in their thirties, they need to be having regular sex. As a result, it is simply incomprehensible that I do not need a man or men during my time living here.

Men constantly want to know if I have a boyfriend (always yes!*) and where he lives. If I say America-as I often did when I first arrived-they insist I need one here as well. If I say Lesotho, they ask where and then want to know if he is Mosotho or American. If he lives too far away or is American, I also need a Mosotho, the one I am talking to in particular. If he is Mosotho, I am told he probably has more girlfriends so I should have more boyfriends. When I have tried to explain that in America we have only one partner at a time or that we do not tell people we love them when it is only lust or interest, I am told I am in Lesotho now and need to live like the Basotho.

Thus navigating conversations with Basotho men can be tricky. Just as I do with all people, I aim for friendly and relaxed conversation, usually in Sesotho. Maybe twenty percent of the time, a man will try to steer the conversation towards marriage or sex, at which point I either pretend I do not understand or try to explain that I do not want a husband...or a boyfriend...or an overnight guest. Usually that ends the discussion but sometimes a man is more creative and more persistent.

While these men still do not get what they apparently want-me-I feel they should get some acknowledgement. So, here are the top five from the last year:

Number Five: A taxi drive spent the entire ride to town trying to convince me we should become involved. He ignored every reason I was turning him down, instead insisting that I would not give him a chance because he is African and I am white (As opposed to blowing him off for already being incapable of listening to me!). When we pulled up to a regular police traffic stop, he talked the police officer into telling me I had to be in a relationship with the driver!

Number Four: At a large event in a neighboring community, a drunk grandfather came over to demand I become his wife. I told him my bohali (bow-ha-dee or bride price) was two airplanes,** he scoffed and said I did not want planes but he would give my family two taxis instead. He then told me it was time for us to go home together. Apparently, in addition to not being worth the planes, I was also not worth a daytime wedding, just a night marriage. This is a less formal wedding with no ceremony or party. By publicly staying together overnight, a couple is considered married.

Number Three: I got a lift with three men and the driver was insistent that he wanted “the sexual relationship with” me. Admittedly his honesty was unusual and refreshing. When I made it clear I had a boyfriend* and do not believe in multiple partners, he insisted I should have clandestine sex with him for a month to make sure sticking with my current boyfriend was the right choice.

Number Two: At the taxi rank, a man tried to get me to come over to his taxi. When I shook my head, he came to me clearly wearing eau de beer. “Ausi,” he said, “did you know the Bible says a man should have seven wives? I only have six wives because God has been saving you to be my seventh!”

And the winner! Number One: As I explained to a group of women and one man why I do not want to marry, the one man chimed in. “I hear what you are saying about not wanting a husband, so I will give you what you really want: a child. I will make a baby with you and then give you money to take care of it.”

As entertaining as these creative and persistent individuals are, I have been equally amazed when completely honest comments of mine have stopped a man in his tracks.

• A nice guy from my village and I were chatting when he asked my age. Upon learning I am three years older than he, he said, “Oh never mind, I cannot marry you because you are too old for me.”
• A man in town stopped me for the second time that day. As I told him I had to hurry to get my taxi home, he asked what I was doing the next day. I replied I would be at church. He immediately dropped my hand, stating that he could not believe I was one of those girls!

I feel the need to stress that most Basotho men are very kind, wonderful, respectful men. I have had many productive and positive interactions with men around the country. At the same time, turning down marriage offers is a regular part of my daily life and too funny not to share!

*Sorry, Aunt Betsy, do not get excited about my boyfriend comments. I use that excuse a lot. This is by no means a wedding announcement!

**Witty comment borrowed from Lesotho RPCV Ann S