"Botswana" via ACM in Google Reader

Sala Sentle, Botswana. Dumela Wisconsin!

2012-05-08T21:04:00Z

(Stay well/Goodbye, Botswana. Hello WI!)

Greetings from Wisconsin. It's so green here... and COLD! Okay, so it's like 75F degrees, but compared to Botswana, I feel like it's the dead of winter here. My friends got a kick out of me wearing jeans, a long sleeved shirt, and a blanket... and still shivering.

After some very tough goodbyes, I left Gabs for Jo-burg on Saturday afternoon. My short layovers and travelling with some fellow international students made the 26 hour trip feel like only 3 hours. Saturday night I flew from Jo-burg to London and had about five spare minutes to buy my last Hazelnut Cadbury chocolate bar before catching my flight to Chicago. One advantage of Botswana being a British colony is that they have Cadbury chocolate...

I'm happy to be surrounded by my wonderful friends and family here, but it doesn't make leaving Botswana any easier. I ate my last phaphata waiting in the long customs line for American citizens. As an emotional eater, I tried this (in vain) to help me cope with the impatience that surrounded me and reminisce about that delicious, doughy roll that I will miss so much (among many other things).

I'm happy to be back for the summer... I'm a little bit ahead of the game with my tan (ha... if only). It's great to have a car, a kitchen, a fridge full of "American" food, a cell phone that I don't have to constantly worry about airtime, and convenience everywhere I turn. But Botswana and Batswana will always be dear to my heart. Like my very wise roommate told me at the airport, "It's not goodbye; it's see you later." I certainly hope so.

Until next time...

Trying to smile at the airport

Grace and me

The Last Week

2012-05-03T12:12:00Z

This past week has been quite busy with:

A wedding
Hiking Kgale Hill
Organizing a clothing drive for SOS
Buying school supplies for SOS with a grant I received through Beloit College
Goodbye parties with international and local friends

I’ve been trying to enjoy as much of Botswana as possible in a week. Aka I’ve been spending most of my time hanging out with a lot of friends and eating magwinya.

I have two more days here, so I’m not ready for the emotional reflection entry yet.

Get together with volleyball ladies

Wedding with my friend Maatla in Mochudi

Kgale Hill

"Confusion is the hallmark of a transition. To rebuild both your inner and outer world is a major..."

2012-04-28T10:37:00Z

“Confusion is the hallmark of a transition. To rebuild both your inner and outer world is a major project.”

- Anne Grant

Empowerment comes through determination and patience. I was

2012-04-27T12:15:00Z

Empowerment comes through determination and patience. I was determined to be empowered here and I did it, I really did it. I am starting to come to realize the process of Botswana and the reason I came here. Whenever I found myself somewhere where I had an extra hour to spare I would force myself to walk around and learn the neighborhood. I know my way around town and I look down the right side of the road before I cross the street. I know how to call a cab and who the best cab drivers are. I know how to operate the public transportation system. I say “ko ko” when I walk through someone’s door and I think to ask how someone is doing before I just ask for something from them. I now know where to go to get documents copied or to buy a new computer charger. I know which authority to question. I understand that I have to wait for everything and accept that I cannot plan too far ahead. I ask for extra serviettes with my side of chips and tomato sauce. I accept the chaos of apathetic bureaucracy. I know how the social systems work and how to relate to people in a manner that is somewhat familiar to them. I have become empowered in a world that I was dropped in the middle of without warning and without shame and that is an experience that is hard to duplicate. No matter how many words you say you can never explain to someone who has never been through it how it feels to go from utter dependency and helplessness in a foreign land to becoming fully independent in a familiar environment.

Photo

2012-04-25T21:47:19Z

Dim sum at the V&A Waterfront

Nelson Mandela's Cell on Robben Island

Spirited Foresters at Table Mountain

A view from Cape Point

Boulder's Beach: my new happy place

Kirstenbosch Botanic Garden

Photo

2012-04-25T21:18:17Z

Durban Botanic Gardens

Durban Botanic Gardens

The Indian Ocean!

Having some fun at the Wreck Aquarium!

Harsh cold reality on a warm sandy beach

2012-04-25T20:58:00Z

When I arrived in January, I was shocked by the environment and uncomfortable with the changes that I would have to make to become acclimated to a completely new culture. I am now living in a very different reality; one that I am just realizing will be very difficult to leave. In fact, I tempt myself by visiting the airline website and playing with later flight options. Could I get away with missing May in California and Illinois to see Mozambique, Namibia, Lesotho and Swaziland? What if I flew to Ghana and spent three weeks there? Should I return to Cape Town? Obviously, I am going to get on my scheduled flight at the scheduled time and attempt not to look back. The truth, though, is that it will be incredibly painful.

April has passed quickly and I scare myself on a daily basis by flipping through my day planner and realizing that the days here are numbered. I am ashamed to admit that I have been too busy living to write about my activities; however, I am glad to finally have the opportunity to sit down and recount my last few weeks. If I could put April into three words, they would be the following: stress, relief and sadness. It has been stressful trying to complete so many assignments while also trying to hold onto every last experience here. Having the opportunities to travel outside of Botswana and see different cities in Southern Africa has been relieving. Lastly, the upcoming end to this amazing semester brings with it much sadness.

South Africa is an incredibly beautiful country, and one that I have been fortunate enough to explore over the past few weeks. My “SA” adventures began Easter weekend with a trip to Durban, a coastal city along the Indian Ocean. Three friends and I enjoyed a relaxing weekend of nature, shopping, seafood and culture. It was a nice escape from Gabs and a prime opportunity to dip our toes in the IO. Some of our stops included an outdoor market in a local public park, uShaka Marine World (home of the Wreck Aquarium) and the Durban Botanic Gardens. Please enjoy the small collection of photos that are posted above!

Most recently, I had the opportunity to explore the beautiful city of Cape Town this past weekend. Not only was I able to see some of the most incredible creations on earth, I spent the weekend with the greatest of them all: my momma. After spending 38+ hours in transit, my mom arrived in Cape Town to ensure that I saw all that the city has to offer. We spent both Saturday and Sunday in sprint mode, cramming in more than ten destinations in less than 48 hours. Of course, we also enjoyed some amazing food, shopping and conversation. Cape Town is undoubtedly the most beautiful city I have ever had the pleasure of visiting, and I highly recommend planning a trip to see it. (And, hey, if you happen to have an extra ticket, I will always be available to be your personal tour guide! I will even consider obtaining professional training.)

I have also included some pictures from Cape Town—again, enjoy!

Now that I have returned to this current state of reality, I am busy working on the last few assignments and errands before packing and saying goodbye to Botswana. While I was truly swamped by assignments, I barely stopped to realize just how quickly the days were passing. If I have one piece of advice for anyone who studies abroad, I recommend trying to be present in every moment and to refrain from wishing away time. As a very wise person told me before I left, lean into the uncomfortable moments and grow from the experience. I only wish that I had put this advice to full use long before April 25^th.

I will end this post with the following declaration: growing up is not easy. Over the past few days, I have felt a keen sense of sadness. I constantly think of the quote that goes something like this: “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.” Whoever first uttered those words missed one thing: there is quite a bit of adjustment to be experienced between crying and smiling. It is not easy to simply step back and be happy that something happened, especially when all you want to do is stall the experience and relive it again and again. I wish that being twenty could last forever, or at least I wish that I could stay in this reality for just a bit longer.

I may be days away from the United States, but mentally, I am not even close.

Sharing Knowledge

2012-04-23T21:52:00Z

Knowledge is the only form of wealth that grows by sharing – African proverb

Last Friday we at ACM had our research poster fair in the lovely mezzanine of the UB library. Each of us made a research poster, which our program director Bill took somewhere to get printed, and then we presented it at the public poster session. My peers did a very nice job with their research, which spanned disciplines such as anthropology, politics, health, and economics.

I wish I could say I came up with the aforementioned quote on my own, but rather Bill mentioned it in his introduction speech. With Bill's knowledge, experience, organization, and patience, he is a huge reason why this program has been so successful overall. I really like his emphasis on non-extractive research: too often people go to exotic places, conduct research, and never share their results with the community they researched! This public poster session was one attempt to combat that.

ACM Students

Poster Session (photo credit to Firas)

So I guess it’s about time to end the suspense and reveal my revolutionary results (kidding…). First off, let me say that my research had a lot flaws, but I think it was valuable nonetheless. For those of you who haven’t read my past entries, my research was about the nutrition transition, which is occurring all over the world but is especially evident in developing countries. The nutrition transition is a phenomenon that can be characterized by the following:

A result of urbanization and industrialization
Increased consumption of sugar, fats, and animal products
Decreased consumption of grains and cereals
Decrease in physical activity
Increase in chronic and degenerative diseases

So why should you care? Well, non-communicable diseases such as cardiovascular disease, cancer, and diabetes are the leading causes of death worldwide. No joke… more so than infectious diseases like HIV/AIDS, which usually receive more press and resources. Poor nutrition is a major risk factor for non-communicable diseases and is of particular importance in rapidly-urbanizing Botswana. As people move away from villages where traditional food is dominant and into urban areas like Gaborone, unhealthy convenience food is readily available.

I conducted a comparative study of patterns of food consumption in Mochudi, a peri-urban area of Botswana, and on the campus of University of Botswana, here in the capital city Gaborone, to investigate how diets vary between rural and urban areas. I asked participants qualitative and quantitative questions about what food they eat, how much they eat, their sources of food in Mochudi and Gaborone, their perception of healthy food, and risk factors for non-communicable diseases other than nutrition such as smoking habits and alcohol consumption.

I found many interesting results but do not want to spoil the surprise here, especially after providing not much context. I hope to present my findings at Beloit College Symposium Day this fall, though, and you’re welcome to get in touch with me if you can’t stand the suspense!

On a different note, I had a nice time celebrating the near end of Bill’s classes with him and other ACM students at News Café on Friday night. Among the many things I am going to miss about this fantastic place are them, as well as the ability to order drinks legally!

My Roommate Grace's 21st Birthday Dinner

This is going to be one of my last blog entries.

Internships, School, Vacation, Life

2012-04-15T12:32:00Z

Axum, Malin, and me in Mozambique for Easter break

This entry is long overdue. April has been crunch time with assignments here, and I have been having difficulty accepting that I will be leaving this wonderful place in a couple of weeks. Here are some things I’ve been up to recently:

Interning at the Botswana-UPenn Partnership Clinic. They’re pioneering the “see and treat” approach for cervical cancer, which is the second most prevalent cancer in women worldwide. It’s pretty neat because unlike traditional practices where the multiple visits that are required jeopardize success, with see and treat patients are treated the same day they are examined.
Conducting research for my independent study class. I interviewed people from Mochudi and UB about foods they eat, grocery stores they visit, their perception of healthy food, and risk factors for non-communicable diseases other than nutrition like smoking, excessive alcohol consumption, and lack of physical activity. I’ve gotten to talk to some key stakeholders here, like researchers, food scientists, indigenous foods specialists, professors, and the Director of Public Health. I just submitted a draft for my final paper, and I will be presenting a research poster at an event on Friday.
Searching for materials requested by SOS Children’s Village. I received a study abroad enhancement grant from Beloit College and will be able to purchase things SOS needs like soap, pencils, spoons.
Going on a wonderful vacation over Easter break (+3 extra days!). Two friends of mine, Axum from CO College and Malin from Sweden, and I stayed a night in Jo-burg before venturing to Mbabane, Swaziland, where we stayed with the family of one of Axum’s friends. Swaziland has the highest HIV/AIDS prevalence rate in the world and is the only country in Africa that is an absolute monarchy. It is also a beautiful, mountainous kingdom with lovely people. From Swaziland, we traveled to Maputo, the lively capital of Mozambique, which was colonized by the Portuguese. We spent a night at a backpackers' place in the city. The next night we camped outside the city on a stunning beach along the Indian Ocean before heading home to work on all the assignments we have!
Studying for finals: 2 big papers, a poster presentation, a powerpoint presentation, an exam for my HIV class, a written and oral Setswana exam, and a take-home exam for our geography class. Wooee. Sometimes I’m jealous of the other study abroad programs that don’t have as much work, but I've been really happy with ACM, and I know that this will make the transition back to the workload at Beloit College much easier.

Learning how to make diphaphata (English muffin-shaped rolls) and paletshe/papa (maize meal), dancing to house music, getting a dress made at the tailor, going to church, and just hangin' out.

Kids at SOS showing their clean hands after we did a lesson on hand washing

The valley in Swaziland

A pão (bread) vendor in Maputo

Batik paintings Mozambicans are famous for

Macaneta Beach in Mozambique (Thanks for the last 3 photos, Malin!)

Our journey: Gaborone-Johannesburg-Mbabane-Maputo

Going to church

Also, here’s something I wrote a couple of weeks ago but didn't get around to posting:

I just got back from my volleyball match… three months of practice and this was only the second match I’ve played in! We’ve had more; I’ve just been on trips (Jo-burg, Okavango over spring break) so I guess I shouldn't complain. I was very happy to make it back from the ACM trip to the Jwaneng diamond mine in time for the match.

So recently I’ve written a lot about big activities I’ve done. I wanted to outline a typicalday, though, just so you realize that yes, I am going to school, and no, my life is not full of safaris.

Wake up, eat Corn Flakes, and go to the UB business center for internet and Five Roses, the black tea that is very common here. We usually have internet in the dorms, but it has been mysteriously out for the past couple of days
Go to Demographic Aspects of HIV in Botswana class
Go to the library to work on one of my two big papers for my ACM class (one of mine is on food security and famine in Botswana)
Go to the internet café to print interviews for my research about patterns of food consumption in urban and rural areas
Lunch at a vendor outside the UB gate: setampa (aka samp and dinawa aka corn kernels and beans), butternut, chakalaka (a spicy vegetable and bean dish), and beet root salad, all for P12, or about $1.50!
Meeting with Dr. Malete, a food science researcher at UB who specializes in indigenous foods
Sit outside the library to get internet to send some emails about Beloit College course selection and housing (yes, I am coming back to Beloit…)
Go to the student center to buy snacks: apples, cereal, juice, and the irresistible hazelnut Cadbury chocolate
Volleyball practice
Homework

Okay, let's be honest: this is a day that is a little heavy on the academic side. I had a paper due this past week, so I tried to focus on school. Let’s just say that I haven’t been letting school get in the way of my education. We’ll leave it at that.

The art of saying nothing in as many words as possible, that is

2012-04-15T11:13:00Z

The art of saying nothing in as many words as possible, that is the culture here. As the end of the semester nears there are a lot of projects and presentations going on around campus. In my Politics of Southern Africa class each group has to give a presentation on one of the 14 countries who are members of SADC (Southern Africa Development Committee) on the specific benefits of that country of being a member in the organization. In America, the culture is to say things as efficiently as possible in as few words as possible. The academic culture in Botswana is completely the opposite. People are judged by the number of big words they can say when saying essentially the same thing over and over again without fully explaining anything. The more you can confuse your audience the smarter you are. It makes sitting through presentations really challenging for me growing up in an academic setting very different from this one where efficiency and saying things in a manner your audience can understand is key. From my perspective it makes the presenters seem like they do not know what they are talking about when they do not explain big words or terms or do not even explain what the Angolan civil war was. I personally view it as a way for presenters to hide behind not knowing everything about their topic but here everyone assumes that the presenters are so knowledgeable about their topic that they do not have to explain it in a way we can understand.

Everyone here is also very broad about their topic I’ve noticed. When explaining that SADC helps improve Malawi’s economy they do not say how it does this. They just say that is does and that is that and they have nothing to back up their assertion. I have no idea what I will be asked on the final exam because there are only so many ways of saying that development is a two sided coin and that the Western world is only able to be developed due to the exploitation and under-development of the African countries. It is a very different academic style from the one I am used to and it has been very hard for me to adjust to as an American student.

Another thing I have learned is that people don’t write papers here. There are many students I have talked to that have never written a paper in their entire career as a student. There is no emphasis on writing skills at the University. This is so weird for me coming from a small liberal arts college where writing is a requirement in almost every class in almost every major. Another international student said the first few days in her Public Administration class were spent on how to write a paper with an introduction, a body, and a conclusion and how to indent paragraphs and capitalize sentences. One of the biggest reasons why a lot of students will fail papers here is not because they don’t have anything to say (unless they didn’t do the research for it which a lot of them don’t) but because of spelling grammatical errors that are so extensive it is impossible to get the message across.

Another big problem for students is not to abbreviate words like they do in text messaging. So mny stdntz r uzd 2 using abrv wrdz tht they hv no idea how 2 wrt propr englsh. I have found out that this does not mean the students here are stupid. A lot of the students I have met in my classes are really smart and have a lot of insight but there is just no emphasis on writing here and they were never taught how to write. I personally think that is a shame. This is just one of many many things that are different about Botswana that I have struggled with as an American but if there is one thing I have learned, as cliché as it sounds, all the things that are different about a culture does not make them worse or not right.

Check out my pictures!

2012-04-12T15:45:00Z

Check out my pictures!
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.3723616097441.167282.1487015446&type=1&l=d5adf34782
http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.3662975701469.165987.1487015446&type=3&l=dfca7afbc7

I’ve reached the point where Botswana no longer feels like a

2012-04-12T15:30:00Z

I’ve reached the point where Botswana no longer feels like a dream to me it feels like a real place where I live. The same African sun shines down on me every day like it does everyone else and I pass the same buildings and the same people every day just like everyone else. I had a conversation today with a fellow Motswana student about homosexuality. He held the traditional Botswana extreme anti-homosexuality stance and I argued my contemporary liberal support for gay marriage. It was very interesting as I politely smiled at his argument that all gays should be contested and cured and as he worked himself into a fury at my view that it is none of my concern how those people choose to live their life. I walked all over town by myself today and did not feel out of place at all because I know where everything is and I enjoyed the sunshine and did not think anything I passed seemed unusual because I now understand how everything works here. I interviewed a Motswana lady today that runs the Women’s Finance House of Botswana and she was absolutely wonderful and inviting and so intelligent. She has traveled all over the world and she started up this organization to help women all by herself. She manages her organization very efficiently and no one will be able to adequately replace her. I will never think of Botswana as my home but it will definitely be a place that left its mark on me and a place I feel a connection to because I fully inhabited it for my short period of time.

Photo

2012-04-04T05:20:50Z

Jwaneng Diamond Mine

LFC girls posing in protective gear.

Photo

2012-04-03T20:23:06Z

My beautiful sister, Boitumelo.

Tea Time with Nkuku.

Traditional dress with my nieces.

A view of Mochudi.

Ice cream!

Mochudi, Men and Mysterious Illnesses

2012-04-03T20:02:03Z

Number of hours I spent sleeping last week: at least 75

Number of Powerades I had to drink: 10+

Number of mediocre (well, downright awful) papers I produced: 1

After escaping and eluding so many bugs, viruses and vicious little mosquitoes, I finally succumbed to illness this past week. I still don’t know what was wrong, but my body gave out and I was forced to slow down. Slow way down. Actually, I just lived in a fog for seven days and could not process much—especially not the things that were going on around me. Therefore, I must use this mysterious illness (I am still waiting on the results of the blood tests!) as my excuse for not posting an update on my life for the past two or so weeks. With that, I apologize for keeping all of my faithful readers in the dark as to my various activities here in Botswana.

Due to the fact that the last update included pictures from a trip that occurred in early March, I must rewind to mid-March to explain my weekend in Mochudi—the weekend I became a part of another incredible family. As if carrying the Beckman name around wasn’t already enough of a pleasure, I was recently dubbed Keitumetse Ratsatsi. In Setwana, Keitumetse means, “I am happy.” This makes complete sense to my mom, who often refers to me as “happy child.” It’s a rare moment when I am not wearing a smile and thinking about how thankful I am for the life that I lead.

Mochudi is a large village located approximately 35 kilometers away from Gabs (that’s roughly 22 miles). Consisting of several thousand people and an array of different socioeconomic situations, Mochudi is vibrant, beautiful and a nice escape from Gabs. The rapid urbanization of Botswana has turned Gabs into a city that can feel cold (not literally—it’s actually quite warm here!), harsh and impersonal. Escaping to Mochudi was an opportunity to learn about life in Botswana away from a large city. And an escape it was!

The weekend began on a Friday afternoon during which we were introduced to our host families and whisked away to their homes. I was greeted by my 22 year-old host brother and taken back to the family’s lovely home to meet my grandmother (Nkuku, in Setswana), sister, auntie, nephew and another brother. I felt my discomfort ease as Nkuku pulled me into an embrace and immediately started referring to me as “my baby.” I was indeed her baby, and I felt blessed to have been invited into a family mere minutes after arriving on their doorstep.

Apparently, I entered Mochudi with “Single and Available” stamped across my forehead. I was proposed to three times alone on Friday afternoon. After trying to explain how I enjoyed being an independent woman, have an education and career to focus on, etc., I had had enough. Enter Mark, my 26 year-old boyfriend (fiancé, actually!) who doubles as both an artist and a doctor. (He likes to be creative in his spare time.) Mark and I have been dating for two years and we are going to become engaged right when I graduate from college next May. Or, at least, that’s what several men in Mochudi think. It’s a good thing that I am quick on my feet. In case any of you ladies are wondering, Mark is tall with dark hair and gorgeous blue eyes. It’s amazing how you can paint whatever picture you want when you are desperate to come up with a reason NOT to get married at 20. ;)

It is difficult to remember everything that we did. Between Friday afternoon and Monday morning, I met over fifteen members of the extended family along with several neighbors and friends. Easily blending as a member of the Ratsatsi family, I spent time with my nieces and in-laws who had come from Gabs just to meet the newest addition to the family. A highlight of the weekend was sharing ice cream with my nieces (aged from 9 to 18) and answering their questions about life in the United States. The best question came from Mimi, my 18 year-old niece, who inquired about how American women respond to break-ups. Her exact words: “Is it true that women in the U.S. sit around and eat ice cream all day when they break up with their boyfriends?” I quickly assured her that while some women choose to immediately start a new relationship with Ben and Jerry, most deal with their emotional complications in other ways.

During the weekend, I was given a traditional dress to wear and bring home with me. As my sister mentioned that she had spent a great deal of time trying to determine what to give me, I was overwhelmed by the amount of love and care that had been devoted to my short visit. Boitumelo mentioned that her friend had sewed the dress by hand, and I have a sneaking suspicion that she completed the project within a day—the dress fits exactly right in every place. I have included a picture of my first appearance in this beautiful gift, as well as a picture with my wonderful sister.

Sunday brought with it the longest church service I have ever attended. Four hours after we entered the church, Nkuku and I emerged to face our last full day together. I have been truly relaxed at several points during this semester, but I had never relaxed like I did on the porch that afternoon. Armed with a book and delicious ice pops, I sat there and read for at least three hours. I was only interrupted to run down to the tuck shop with my nephew to buy more ice pops. As I learned more about Jane’s first weeks at Thornfield and her admiration for Mr. Rochester, I couldn’t help but appreciate those wonderful moments. As has become a common phrase for me here, it was “sheer bliss.”

Monday came quickly—much faster than I had anticipated upon arriving on Friday afternoon. Heading back into Gabs, reality hit and I was once again preoccupied by the long list of things that needed to be completed that week. It is astounding how quickly one can go from relaxation to panic. At the end of the week, I was once again reminded that everything gets done and always will. A recent devotion mentioned Ecclesiastes 3:1—a verse that is devoted to the timeliness of life. If I were to ever have a verse tattooed on my body, it should probably be this one. More than anything else, it is good to be reminded that everything has its time and I need to stop trying to work things out before their time has come.

I have one of the most incredible families I have ever encountered. Do I say that because they are mine? Perhaps; however, I can’t help but acknowledge the fact that many families do not experience the same joy, unconditional love and sheer gratitude that mine does. Growing up, I don’t think that I ever really stopped to appreciate the precious people by which I am surrounded. Now that I am “growing up” and living away from home, it is difficult not to notice how blessed I am. My cousins are like my siblings. My siblings are my best friends. And my parents—wow, don’t even get me started! Those two are absolutely fantastic. I don’t think that any other pair could shower me with more love, forgiveness, encouragement and pride than my mom and daddy. That being said, I have to admit that I experienced a great deal of love while spending a weekend with my “new” family in Mochudi. They accepted me as their granddaughter, auntie, niece, sister and friend. It is rare to be blessed with two families—for that, I will always be grateful.

At this point, my weekend in Mochudi seems so far away. I am currently caught up in all of the experiences of this past week and of the week to come. On Friday, we had the opportunity to visit the Jwaneng Diamond Mine—the richest diamond mine in the entire world. It was absolutely indescribable. Unfortunately, we were not able to see any real diamonds, but driving into the pit where they are mined was experience enough. After seeing how diamonds are mined and the amount of work that goes into each one, I completely understand why they are so expensive. During the tour, we watched a DeBeers/Jwaneng promotional video (or, at least, that is how it should be regarded) that insinuated that love is not love without a diamond. If/when the time comes, I will be more than happy to receive a single silver band. After all, love cannot really be captured by a stone that came out of the ground…no matter how much DeBeers wants us to believe that.

As I sat down to write this, I glanced at my phone and noticed a text from my sister. The text wasn’t from the incredibly gorgeous, brilliant and loving college student living on the beach in San Diego, but from my hardworking, giving and incredibly loving sister in Mochudi—my Boitumelo. (For the record, I will welcome a text from either sister any day!) She just wanted to check in with me to tell me that she misses and loves me. The blessings continue, and I realize that a weekend will likely turn into a connection for a lifetime. I am definitely going to have to come back to visit, and now, I know exactly where I will be staying.

The weeks continue to fly by here—the official count is 32 days until New York. While I am thrilled that I am almost within a month of being back within the reach of the people who hold my heart, I would be lying if I said that I am not going to miss certain aspects of being here. Will I miss my room in Las Vegas Dorms? Let’s be honest—probably not! However, I will miss so many little things. Without a doubt, this experience has changed who I am. I am still the type-A, go for everything student I was when I left; however, I am noticing that small changes have taken place. I have let several things go, and I am realizing more and more that time is the most valuable currency in the world. The time that one can stop and spend with others is truly invaluable. I hope to take more time to just live when I return. I am learning to enjoy being in the moment, even if the moment is not exactly what I want it to be. Life will continue on once I leave Botswana, but I am interested to watch how I continue on in this life. As the only two on earth who know me inside and out, I am sure that my parents will instantly pick up on the subtle changes.

The Durbs is upon us! This weekend, three friends and I will be setting out to begin our vacation to Durban, South Africa. It is hard to believe that it is already April, and even harder to believe that I will be swimming in the Indian Ocean by this time on Saturday. It will be a nice escape, but I am already anticipating the presence of several notebooks and paper drafts in my beach bag. I am hoping to simultaneously capture a tan and some inspiration for the completion of my research project. If nothing else, Jane Eyre and I will have a fantastic time loading up on our Vitamin D.

I will upload some recent pictures from both Mochudi and the Jwaneng Diamond Mine. Please enjoy and accept my deepest apologies for the lack in communication. I will try to be better this month!

With love,

Sprite and Tonic, Make it a DOUBLE! (2 of 2)

2012-03-26T12:21:00Z

Refers to the sunset cruise in Zimbabwe…I’ll get to that in a bit. Now, we left off with...

Nants ingonyama bagithi baba! (Part 1 of 2)

2012-03-25T20:01:00Z

If you’ve never actually known the opening lyrics to Lion King’s Circle of Life, now you...

Staying Home

2012-03-23T13:20:00Z

Last weekend I had an incredibly insightful homestay experience that was coordinated by ACM. Each one of us from the program was paired with a family in Mochudi, a small village close to Gaborone in distance but not much else. Gaborone was built to serve as the capital city when Botswana gained independence from Britain in 1966, so the city is still coming in to its own, whereas Mochudi is over 150 years old. Also, most people live in Gabs for work but were not born here and thus identify with another place as their home village. And even though most people call Mochudi a village, keep in mind that it has about 40,000 people and boasts many grocery stores, malls, and other modern attractions.

We left for Mochudi on Friday morning, spent three nights with our family, and left on Monday morning. Although I would have loved to stay longer, seeing a different part of Botswana, especially a more rural area, was extremely valuable even for just three nights. I got to make casual observations for my research on nutrition, take part in a different way of life, and connect with a family.

I tried showing off my (very) minimal Setswana when meeting our families at the welcoming reception lunch. It’s nice being able to make people laugh, even if it is at me versus with me (because when they laugh at me, I laugh with them, so it’s all good). My mother spoke minimal English, but our respect for each other transcended our language barrier, and we definitely made use out of hand gestures.

From my family’s simple cinderblock home I could see the very modern house of the family who hosted the welcome lunch—an interesting juxtaposition of the modern/convenient/paved with the simple/time-intensive/unpaved. In my home, there was no fridge or indoor plumbing, and there was no electricity. But there was a very nice outhouse, a tap in the yard, a bucket for bathing with water warm from the fire, an outdoor kitchen (which I’ve always wanted), and all the time in the world, at least for me. Even though I didn’t “do” much over the weekend, I was constantly doing something—cooking, cleaning, meeting people.

My family consisted of mom, Dipuo (46); son, Barati (26); and daughter, Modia (12). Dipuo’s husband died a couple of years ago after being sick for two years. My guess is that this is a result of AIDS because the prevalence rate in Botswana is the second highest in the world and because one can only live about two years without anti-retroviral medication. Barati spoke the most English and is training to be a security manager. He took me to a bar on Friday night for a taste of Chibuku, the local sorghum beer that was mighty gritty. I also went with him to a friend’s house to watch the Kaiser Chiefs and Orlando Pirates play. Soccer is such a big part of life here—listening to games on the radio, playing in the yard with a soccer ball, or watching the game if you have a tv.

Dipuo is what I see as a typical Batswana mother—traditional, strong, firm, versatile, entrepreneurial, considerate, hard-working, and thick-skinned (in the literal sense too---she picked up hot pans from the fire like it was no one’s business). She took me to Spar, a grocery store in town, where I loved making informal observations. We went to the rice and pasta section first, then vegetables, meat, bread, sweets, soap, juice, and chocolate, in that order. We bought greens for morogo, a cooked spinach dish with tomatoes and onion, from a vendor outside. While in town, we also bought paraffin from a gas station to cook with in addition to things we cooked on the fire. From my observations, it seemed like much of Dipuo’s life revolved around buying and preparing food---whether for the family or to sell at her tuck shop. Tuck shops line nearly all the streets of Botswana and usually consist of cheap sweets, airtime (minutes for cell phones), and sometimes bananas, pop, or other snack foods such as fat cakes or chips.

All of the traditional foods I had with my family were so much better than the traditional foods served at UB. I loved learning about the food most people eat and how to prepare some staple dishes. We made morogo, bogobe (slightly sour sorghum porridge eaten for breakfast), dinawa(beans), samp (made from dehulled corn kernels, it is similar to hominy), papa (fluffy maize flour that can be eaten with one’s hands), phaphata (delicious rolls shaped like English muffins cooked over the fire), magwinya(fat cakes, or phaphata dough fried in oil over the fire), and mosukujane tea (refreshing wild mint tea). From my experience with my family and through interviewing people in Mochudi, I can see why it makes sense from a public health standpoint to recommend eating traditional foods opposed to typical city food (sweets, fatty snacks, and fizzy drinks aka pop). This is kind of what my research is about… more on that later.

There is so much more to talk about: wealth discrepancies, power dynamics both with me and among family members, perceptions of white people, gifts we gave each other, aspirations to travel to America, my guilt for being wealthy, and the struggles the family faced despite their perceived contentment with life. I cannot express how valuable my experience in Mochudi was. Even though it was just one weekend with one family in one town, I at least have a somewhat better understanding of rural life.

Here are some pictures:

The beautiful house and garden

Dipuo and Modea

Mogobe le dinawa le pap: Cooked spinach with beans and pap

Modea and the magwinya (fat cakes) we made

Dipuo walking to work

I should write soon about my internships at the Botswana-UPenn Cervical Cancer Clinic and SOS Children’s Villages, my research about food security and nutrition, and life in Gaborone. Until next time...

It was brought to my attention that maybe some of my posts were

2012-03-22T19:33:00Z

It was brought to my attention that maybe some of my posts were a little critical of Botswana and only pointed out the bad things I observed about the culture. I want everyone to know that that was not my intention and that I am in fact acutely critical of everything around me in my life. I always have to questions the things around me and I do this by making generalizations about what I observe in order to make sense of my surroundings. I want my readers to know that Africa has infected me. Beautiful, dynamic Africa will always be with me from now on where ever I go. It is a part of me. The people are colorful and lively and know how to make you laugh. They emphasize greetings and concern for well being before getting right down to business, a trait I have not often observed in America. We often go about our daily lives in a coffee stupor and have no concern whatsoever for the well being of daily people we encounter. The people here care for simple happiness over success and how can we say that this is bad? The landscapes of southern Africa are breathtaking and remind me every day of the wonders of nature. Africa has consumed my soul. I will miss it dearly when I leave but I will carry it with me all the same. I can’t say if I will ever be back again because my heart truly lies in the land of the stars and stripes but Africa has definitely become a part of the person I will be wherever I end up.

My stay with a host family this weekend was one of the most

2012-03-21T12:39:00Z

My stay with a host family this weekend was one of the most valuable experiences of my life. It really helped me understand the Botswana culture in a rural village setting and gave me insights on the cultural differences between Botswana and the US. My host family consisted of a husband and wife in their late thirties and their young son Geoffrey (which is ironic) who is eight years old and very fluent in English. They lived in a modern house compared to some of the other houses the students from my program stayed in. They had electricity and plumbing with an indoor toilet and bathtub. The house was small and cramped with things stuffed in every corner of the house. You had to step around and over stuff to get to any other room and random party favor stuff was stacked from floor to ceiling in every room. My host mother ran a business out of her home doing children’s birthday parties. She had lawn chairs and tables and decorations and plywood cutouts you stuck your face through and blow up jumping castles and a blow up swimming pool all stored in this tiny house. But the house was not dirty. It was organized chaos but the floor was swept every day almost everything in the house was dusted. This was because granny lived in the same house, my host mom’s mother. She did most of the cleaning and feeding the chickens. My host mom’s brother also lived in the same house but was staying at a cousins for the weekend so I could have my own bedroom. He would show up every once in a while high as a kite to get a meal or grab some clothes or something. He smiled kind of creepy at me whenever he was around but I never felt unsafe. I stayed in granny’s bedroom and she slept in the bedroom where the brother normally slept.

Extended families generally all live together in the same house in Botswana. Many of the host families that the other students stayed at were even bigger than mine with cousins and aunts and uncles and grandparents all under one roof. They are just used to sharing everything. Members of the immediate family all sleep in the same bed. It is so different from our culture where we are used to having our own space and our own bedrooms. Many of the families thought it was odd that the program requested that we at least have our own bed if not our own bedroom and many of the families were concerned and asked if we would get scared. At my host house the son slept in the same bed as my host parents and that struck me as odd but that is how they do it here. When I learned that my host brother slept in the same bed as his parents I asked my host parents didn’t they ever want alone time and they were so confused. I would soon find out that culture clashed like this would happen a lot over the course of the weekend that I was staying there.

When I first got there I met granny and my mom and my brother and my mother’s cousins kids were there as well. In Botswana everyone is relatives and they will just drop their kids off at random relatives houses if they need to go somewhere and you have no idea when they will be back and they are just used to it. So I met my two little cousins, a boy who was five and a girl who was one. They were just dropped off at the house for the afternoon and granny was watching them. The little girl was scared of me and the little boy didn’t know any English but they were soon enamored by my digital camera that took videos so they warmed up to me really quickly. I played with the kids in the gravel yard for most of the afternoon and they showed me tricks and wanted me to take their picture. My host family had hosted a couple other American students in the past so Geof was totally comfortable with white people. My host parents pay for Geof to go to a very expensive primary school in a nicer suburb of Gaborone. They teach only in English and Geof is very intelligent for his age. He had to finish all of his homework for the day before he was allowed to play with me.

Then the kids wanted to take me on a walk around the neighborhood. The village was so much different than the city. It was exactly the scene you would see of Africa on the TV. There were tiny shack houses fenced in a dirt yard with chickens running around everywhere and clothes hanging out to dry on all of the fences. Kids were running around in the streets playing and women were carrying baskets on their heads or sweeping the yard and younger adults were loitering in the doorways. The people in the village are not used to white people like the people in the city are. They all stare at me as I walk past. They do not yell rude things to me like the people in Gabs do. They simply stare. The stare the whole time I am walking past. I would smile and wave and they would be so stunned they wouldn’t know what to do. A couple of them would be able to force themselves to do a half wave back. They were so taken aback. The little kids running around in the streets with little cars made out of empty pop cans would freeze where they were and their mouths would gape open and they would stare. Many of the kids had tattered clothes or simply no pants at all, their little boy and girl parts just hanging out for all to see which just made it all the easier when they would just squat in the street to pee pee when they were in the middle of playing. Some of them would shout “lekoa! lekoa!” which means white person and point. The little girls would blush and giggle when I would wave at them and after I had passed would run up to the fence and shyly shout ‘hi!’ and when I would smile and say hi back they would say “you are pretty’.

Geof would always proudly display his white sister and confidently tell me that the other kids freak out when they see a lekoa but he doesn’t freak out because he has had five white people stay at his house before. I bought Geof and my little boy cousin and I each a bag of Simba chips at the little tuck shop on the corner and we ate them on our walk back. Geof had to carry my little girl cousin the entire way because she refused to let me hold her and Geof was starting to struggle under her wait so we had to stop numerous times to rest while the younger boy cousin would run up ahead. The boys of course threw their chip bags in the ditch when they were done with them and licked their grimy fingers clean and it was very tempting to do myself for convenience but I had an intense inner conversation with myself and decided to hold onto my chip bag until I got back to the house.

We got back to the house and my host mom was cooking dinner. I offered to help but she wouldn’t let me. I think she was relieved that I was there to entertain the children so I continued to do that and the little boys tried to teach me a card game that I could not get the hang of (mostly because the rules kept changing) and they would laugh at me when I would play the wrong card. They little girl was just roaming around the house getting into trouble and messing up our cards. She went outside to check on granny who was sweeping. After a while my host mom (her name is Tshepo) came into the living room and asked if I wanted to run to the store with her. We snuck out so the kids didn’t realize we were leaving and hoped on a combi the couple of blocks to the supermarket down town. We got some eggs and bread and Fanta and rode the combi back to the house. The cousins were gone by then and my host dad (Peter) was home from work. Tshepo continued to cook dinner while I chatted with Peter on the porch.

Lucky for me my host dad Peter was from Kenya so he didn’t know any Setswana either so the family mostly spoke English in the house which I learned was very different from other student’s experiences. Many of the students in my program families were uneducated and spoke Setswana the entire time and the language barrier was very hard. I am glad I didn’t have that problem because of Peter. Peter was an accountant and taught at a business school in Gaborone. He was very well educated and had studied in the UK for two years. He asked me how I felt about Obama and told me he came from Kenya and that they are much harder workers in Kenya and he had ten siblings on a farm as a kid. He sends money back to Kenya to his family now that he is a successful business man. He had a lot of insight since he had lived in three different cultures in his life so I learned a lot from him throughout the weekend and we bonded when everyone else around us was speaking Setswana and we couldn’t understand a lick of it.

Peter and Geof and I were chilling outside when Tshepo brought us out plates of food. People generally eat the same thing here every day for every meal. I have been here long enough to realize this so I wasn’t taken by surprise. They eat pap or rice with either chicken or beef and either beets or serobe. It is always a combination of two things. The plate had a huge mountain of pap on it with the other half full of beef and a tiny little scoop of serobe. Serobe is a combination off spinach and cabbage soaked in an awful tasting juice. I am glad I only had a tiny scoop of it so I didn’t have to waste it. Pap is made from sorghum which is related to corn. The food here is really heavy and people generally eat two big meals a day. Peter commented on how he almost died of hunger when he was in the UK for two years. He said the food there was so light it had no substance. He could not eat enough to get full. He was used to heavy food that would fill him up. He said people in the UK love toast. (I love toast) He couldn’t understand it, he thought it was awful and he swore when he left he would never eat toast again. He also swore off cereal. It didn’t fill him up at all he couldn’t find any food that would make him feel full. I explained that in my culture people generally eat lighter meals more often.

Tshepo also was very confused at the grocery store when they first moved to the UK. She said all they had at the store was pre-cooked stuff. They thought it was absurd that you could cook an entire meal in the microwave. Nobody in the UK cooks. I agreed and said people don’t usually have time. They said it was absurd. That is was not real food. I ate pap and beef for every meal for my stay in the village. They were right it was really heavy food. I would usually eat only one meal a day because it filled me up for the entire day. They were so concerned and asked if I was hungry when they would eat their evening meal and I honestly wouldn’t be. I am used to snacking all day so I even surprised myself. Geof fell asleep on the couch next to me watching TV and Peter carried him to bed and I went to bed as well.

We woke up early to go to a funeral the next morning. We drove to the family’s house for the ceremony and there were so many people there. Communities are really close in the villages so everyone shows up to pay their respects. It is tradition for women to have their hair covered at funerals so my host mom let me borrow a scarf to wear on my hair. She was trying to tie it but she was getting so frustrated because it kept slipping. She said my hair was so slippery and Peter and I were laughing. With the assistance of three people she finally got it wrapped up the traditional way. All the roads in the village are gravel and all the women had their high heels on walking on the gravel road like it was something they did every day. Everyone dresses a lot nicer in Africa than people in the US do. They were all in their best outfits and head scarves. The entire service was in Setswana but I was enamored just watching all the people. The service was in the front yard of the house so people had to sit on the ground. I think American’s are babies because all of these ancient old ladies would sit down on the ground sit there for a long time. I would never see an older lady in the US getting up and down like that without a chair or any assistance or anything. These people were tough and were just used to having to do it.

We then drove to the cemetery and everyone gathered round as the person was being buried. The lady who died was a neighbor of my host family and was young in her thirties and had died from being very sick for almost ten years. They didn’t say of what. The songs they sang at the burial were so beautiful it was a very emotional moment for me. Everyone was singing with such emotion and with such full harmonic voices as they were shoveling the dirt back in I kind of had a mini break down. I thought what if one of my family or friends back home died and how much I loved everyone and missed them. I felt so bad for this girl who I never knew and now she was dead. It was very intense.

There were two other funeral’s going on at the same time in the same cemetery and I asked Tshepo if that was typical and she said there were multiple funerals every weekend here. In fact three other students in my program were at the other funerals going on that day. One of the girls in my program actually had a twelve year old neighbor boy die from HIV next door that weekend when we were there. After the burial we drove back to the family’s house of the lady that died and everyone ate. They served food to the entire village almost and I asked Tshepo if it was very expensive to have a funeral and she said it was very expensive. You usually slaughter a whole cow to feed everyone and this funeral was so big they had to slaughter two cows.

After the funeral we got in the car and went to check on the party my host mom was hiring that day. She had hired hands that had gone to the house early to set everything up but she wanted to make sure everything was set up right and get the payment from the family. The party was in the next village over and we got there and a giant blow up slide was set up and a trampoline and kids were already jumping on it and an awning with little kid sized chairs and tables was set up under it with streamers hanging down for the birthday party. After that we went around the town to the tuck shops and primary schools to hang up flyers for my host mom’s business advertising her upcoming family fun day. Besides hosting birthday parties, the last Saturday of every month my host mom holds a family fun day in their yard. They set up everything they have for parties out in the yard and cook food and families can come and have their kids pay and play. It is always a big event in the village and they make pretty good money on it.

Then we drove back home and for the rest of the afternoon did nothing. Geof and I hung out in the living room or I just sat out on the front porch with Peter. There is a lot of down time in Botswana culture. People just don’t work very hard. They put more emphasis on family time or sleeping and eating. It is very different from Western culture. Peter talked about how much he hated the UK. He originally went there because that is what everyone dreams of doing. In the UK you can work and go to school at the same time. In Botswana you are not allowed to be a student and have a job at the same time. All of your school is paid for and you are paid to be a student and you get a monthly allowance. Everyone asks me who is sponsoring me to come to Africa and I say I am paying for it all by myself and they think I am crazy. Then they ask who is sponsoring me to go to school and I say I pay thousands of dollars of my own money to go to school and I am in debt and they are flabbergasted.

People in Botswana complain that they are poor and don’t have jobs but I learned this weekend that that is not the whole story. People are paid to go to school and they say there are not jobs but actually there are plenty of jobs but no one wants to work. They won’t take a job that they think is beneath them or that makes them work too hard. They get jealous of family members that make more money than them and refuse to do their share of the work. In Botswana there is no culture of capitalism and if you are trying to get ahead then everyone will bring you down because you think you are better than everyone else. The culture just breeds onto itself and it is no wonder why Botswana cannot develop beyond what the luck of diamond wealth will allow them to do. They are a very entitled and lazy people. Not all of them of course but the majority of them.

People in Botswana don’t get it. They have never been outside of Botswana so they can’t comprehend a different culture. They assume that everyone in America is rich because that is what they see on TV and they think we have the same laid back culture as them but somehow we are all super rich. I explain to them that we all work three jobs and go to school and never sleep and that is why we have money. They don’t get it. I explained to them that they do not have any more than I do. They all have houses and electricity and clothes and food just like I do. I am actually in debt even though I work constantly and they do not understand. They think I am lying because they only know what they see on TV. They ask me to take them back to America with me and I say they have to buy their own plane ticket and they don’t understand why I can’t just take them back with me. So frustrating.

Peter and Tshepo are the only ones who know. They lived it and they complained about it every day. They said it was their personal hell on earth. Tshepo worked three jobs and Peter worked two jobs and went to school full time. They said life moved so fast they were always catching trains and they never slept. They said that that life was not worth it to make money. It was funny because I Played the role of quiet observer all weekend. All weekend I listened to them complain about life in the UK when they were complaining the whole time about things I missed so badly. I miss being busy all the time and surviving solely on espresso and never sleeping and having appointments all the time. It was such an interesting dynamic to come here and force myself not to be restless for the weekend and just live the life of a Batswana for the weekend. I felt dumb actually. Living this life didn’t challenge me at all. I didn’t have to think about anything, I just ate and slept and sat on a lawn chair on the porch and watched people and cars go by. I tried to reflect on my life and culture a lot while I was there. It was really nice actually not having high blood pressure and there were so many times during my life when I wished for this. Being able to sit around and do nothing and not have any responsibilities. I learned to be careful what I wish for because I fully embraced this life for the weekend but I could not have continued with it forever. I could see how if someone grew up with this life they would never be able to handle Western culture but my life has been moving so fast since I was born I feel dumb and idle in this new life.

Tshepo and Peter wanted to take me out to a pub that night. They do not drink usually but previous host students they had had had been big partiers so they thought I wanted to go get drunk. I explained that I wasn’t a big partier which confused them but they insisted I let them buy me a beer so I nursed my Hunter’s Dry while we listened to music at the pub. Peter went and bought some beef slabs at the counter and they have a big pit where you braai (Botswana term for barbeque) it yourself so he braaied us up some beef with pap. I thought there was no way we could eat all of that meat that he bought but that is all they eat here is meat and carbs and somehow we finished the whole stack. After that weekend my body was craving produce so bad I had no nutrients in me. At the pub there were some younger drunk guys and they yelled at me ‘that white girl I want her’ and ‘hey white girl!” I was obviously used to this type of behavior but my host parents were appalled. They couldn’t’ believe that they acted like that. I told them that happened to me all the time in Gaborone and they couldn’t believe it. They were disgusted and said that the people in Gaborone forgot where they came from.

Tshepo and Peter and very educated people by Botswana standards so it always took me by surprise when they would say something that seemed very uneducated but was simply a cultural difference. The gender relations in Botswana are changing but still very much traditional in the villages. Peter was so intelligent and he seemed like he respected his wife but he still had the notion that women were inferior. They would talk normally but then as soon as Tshepo would say something that Peter didn’t like he would scold her and say ‘why do you speak of things you know nothing of” as if that was final and she just accepted it. Also, Tshepo and granny did all the cooking and cleaning and brought Peter out his plate of food and took it away from him. I asked Peter about it and he said it suits the man better to have it this way. I thought to myself duh it suits the man better because he doesn’t have to do anything and it doesn’t even register in his mind that there is anything wrong with it at all. It is so strange to me coming from the Midwest where gender relations are very equal generally. When the power went out one night Tshepo had to wake up early the next morning to iron for Peter and Geof which did every night. She just accepted that that was her job and she needed to have it done. She is also a very educated person so little things like that really surprised me.

My favorite part of the weekend was going to church on Sunday morning. Tshepo was a church council member of one of the Dutch Reform Churches in town. Dutch Reform Church is the original missionaries that came into Southern Africa and supported apartheid. But this church was long abandoned by the missionaries and was all black people. All of the families came in all dressed up and the Sunday school kids filed in and sat in their rows and all of the old ladies showed up in their Sunday best. The congregation was mostly women. There was only a small section of men in one corner which I thought was interesting. The service started late of course and I sat next to Tshepo and Geof in one of the front booths. The preacher was at the altar up front saying things in Setswana and someone would randomly stand up and start singing a song and everyone would join in and sing along. The songs they sang were so beautiful. They were all in Setswana but everyone knew them all by heart because they couldn’t read music and knew all the different harmonies too. They had such full voices and such devotion they all stood up and swayed and clapped.

Toward the beginning, one of the church ladies was up front and made all of the visitors stand up and introduce themselves. There were two other students from my program there with their families and it was very apparent who the guests were because we were the only three white faces. They asked us where we were from and they welcomed us and told us they were glad to have us. This is why it was my favorite part of the weekend because everyone was so welcoming. They all came up and said hi and smiled and I felt like one of them. It was the first time I hadn’t been stared at or harassed in three months so it was very refreshing and no one looked at me funny and I just joined in with the rest of them and swayed to the rhythm every time they would break into a halleluiah song in the middle of the service.

The preacher was so nice too. He would smile at us during the sermon and usually the entire service is in Setswana but he had someone translate the sermon into English for us just because the three of us were there so we could understand. He would say a few lines then they would translate it into English for us. It was so nice. I even went up and put a few pula into the offering basket and everything. They don’t have communion like we do in the Lutheran church, just a lot of preaching and singing.

After church we had a lazy Sunday afternoon and literally did nothing. I sat out on the porch and watched Geof do tricks and sat in the living room and stared at the ceiling. At home I am so grateful for days like these when I can take a break but when it is an everyday thing I know I would get bored very quickly. When people in the States go on holiday they go and do things like go camping etc. Westerners are always doing things. When Africans go on holiday they stay home and do nothing. That is their idea of a holiday. It is so different.

It is funny how people are just the same everywhere in the world. There are the extra lazy people, the educated people that stick together and the smart kids and the dumb kids and the lady at church who runs the place and the one old man who tells bad jokes and everyone is annoyed at and the high teenagers and the sweet old grannies. It is basically a replica of small town Kenyon plopped right in the middle of Africa and everything is the same but so different at the same time. The skin color is a little different and the houses aren’t quite manicured so nicely but all the people are essentially the same and play their roles in the community. One moment I am reminded of home and the same time it is a different world completely. It is so surreal and hard to describe to someone who has not experienced it.

On Monday morning I sat with Geof at the end of the driveway at 6 am waiting for the school bus and gave him a big hug and then hopped on my own combi back to downtown where we were being picked up by the bus to take us back to the University. Granny sent me off and waved goodbye as I drove off in a combi stuffed full of school kids. I never would have done something like this on my own and I specifically chose a study abroad experience where I didn’t have a home stay but this was a perfect little taste of the real culture of Botswana and I will keep that experience with me the rest of my life. I am so grateful for it. For one weekend I became a part of this small little corner of the world and I existed in it not as an observer but as an active participant and I would hope that everyone gets to do something like that in their lifetime to enrich their soul.