Safely in Botswana

Week One? Really? It feels like significantly longer, but not at all in a bad way. I’ll skip the details of our journey and the first few days in Gaborone (the capital city of Botswana, pronounced Hab-ore-own-ay) because it’s mostly inconsequential. This is going to be a long one and it’s just about today.

I’m writing this on Wednesday, April 23 but I am not sure when I will have the opportunity to upload it. Today I met my new family for the next 3 months. I am staying in a city called Molepolole (Mo-lay-po-lo-lay). What an exciting ceremony! The families range in demography, as does their level of English and the accommodations that they are graciously providing us. I think I got the cream of the crop in all regards, yay for me. I was met by my Batswana Mother (people from Botswana are called Batswana, not Botswanans… but a singular person is known as a Motswana). THANK GOD she was an English teacher in her younger years so she was one of the few who spoke decent English. And oh she is the cutest little African lady! When our names were called she gave me the biggest hug, grabbed my hand, walked me to our table and said, “You are my son, Kagiso Pule.” (Kah-hee-so Poo-lay) which translates to “The peace that comes after the rain.” It doesn’t rain often in most of Africa, but when it rains it pours. So after a hard African rain, there is such a loud silence in the air. I’m not gonna lie, I think I have the coolest name of anyone in the group J Is it an apt one for me?

After our lunch she drove, yes – drove, me back to my new home in her 1996 Toyota Camry, with leather seats. God bless Africa. The family is quite well off in African terms. The compound (it’s gated) consists of three very small houses, with electricity and running water in the relevant rooms. My room opens directly to the outside and is quite large; I have a double bed, a chest-of-drawers, and an armoire and one outlet for electricity as well as an overhead light… INCREDIBLY luxurious accommodations in African terms. In fact, it is Agnes’ room but she moved all of her things out and into another room so that I could have her room. How sweet is that? I’ll try to post photos soon.

Agnes is a grandmother of three children, two girls one boy, all of whom are grown. The two daughters are at university in South Africa so I will meet them at a later time. The son, Karabo, stays here and he is incredibly welcoming. He is missing about one-third of his skull, which has left a bad scar; I am not sure what happened but I imagine it will come up at some point. He is 31 but as a result of the injury his disposition is obviously not up to speed with his years. Agnes has two granddaughters and one grandson who are staying here right now. The girls, Retilwe (6) and Gosego (4) – precious gems of life! But Gosego is only here because school is on vacation. She will go back to live with her father and attend school in a few weeks. I can already tell that I will miss her energy. The grandson is Keletso, probably just slightly younger than I, and is very soft-spoken but I’m working on him! We bonded over the Rap on my iPod… typical (thanks K for the Akon). And of course my African father, who now that I think about it I have no idea what is name is, but he is an incredibly warm man too. We also have two dogs, a Rottweiler mix named Jack (our bodyguard) and an emaciated Jack Russell puppy named Snoop Dog. In general, people are not nice to animals. They are more for protection than for pets. The yard has a guava tree, an orange tree, and a pomegranate tree, as well as a small vegetable garden. The good life!

Finally, the family has a maid named Priscilla, a refugee from Zimbabwe. There are TONS of Zimbabweans in Botswana as the situation is obviously pretty bad there. In general, host countries do not like refugees (people are the same everywhere you go, eh?) and there is a lot visible hostility towards Zimbabweans here, but Priscilla seems to be treated pretty well. That being said, she does sleep in a storage closet…

She does the wash and prepares dinner. People in Botswana do not really have family dinners, or if they do they just congregate around the TV or radio. I was in my room doing things expecting to meet everyone for dinner soon when Priscilla knocked on my door with a tray of food and water. I playfully scolded her for bringing it to me and told her next time I would pick it up myself. So I had dinner alone in my room. I would have invited her to join me but asking a women into your room is extremely inappropriate (more for her than for me) and likely would have gotten her into trouble since she is viewed as a lower class than the family and especially me. Sad times. But after my meal I carried my tray and dishes back to the main house where Priscilla was washing up, which I probably wasn’t supposed to do. I thanked Priscilla in Shona (her Zimbabwean language), which shocked her – since even the family doesn’t know how to say ‘thank you’ in Shona. A little kindness really can go a long way - she was so touched. She is pregnant by her husband, who oddly lives a few blocks away and not with her. Things like this are common in Africa - Mama & Papa sleep in two separate houses on the compound as well. Culture. Anyway, Priscilla and I talked for a good while, which was so enjoyable for me because her English is excellent and it is clear that she doesn’t get enough social interaction. African women work so so hard: the last to go to bed and the first to wake up.

But the family is so incredible it makes me swell with delight. I was instantly referred to as son / brother / uncle, etc. The little girls calling me uncle is the best feeling in the world (hint hint HJK & HMK!). Within 5 minutes of arriving it was, “Uncle, let’s go play toss”. At the ceremony, some of my unfortunate colleagues were going home with people who spoke no English, and some of their families seemed so aloof and uninterested. I think everyone was envious of my match! Now I have the best American family and the best African family! Maybe Jesus doesn’t hate me after all. We all ended the night holding hands in a prayer (minus Priscilla, of course), which they seem to do every evening.

Other than that things are pretty good, except that nights/mornings are FREEZING and it’s not even winter yet. I will suffer through winter, I am sure of this. Additionally, the language is SO hard to learn. They have several sounds that we don’t have in our alphabet, including the infamous ‘click’ sound of southern Africa… I know you all are jealous that you can’t speak in clicks! Additionally every ‘R’ is rolled so a lot of the whiteys are having trouble with that. Tomorrow I start the real training – language classes 2-3 times a day as well as technical trainings on what I will be doing starting June when I move to my new sight. Training is Monday – Saturday, 8:00-4:30… exhausting, I know. However I do have high-speed internet in Molepolole so do expect to see me on, especially on weekends!

If you sent me an email, I got it, I’ll respond to it at home, and upload the response the next time I am in the café (this saves money as internet cafes are not cheap). Things are great for now, but keep me in your thoughts as the first few months are always the most difficult.

Oh, and boo to Hillary Clinton… a random Motswana informed me of the news this morning. He and I were both disappointed. Love you all.