Week 15: Apparently there are a few leaks in my house...

Its late afternoon on Thursday, I just came back from my run and I notice my land lady is home. I figured I would pop in tell her my plan for tomorrow and see if we were still visiting her friend today. She is showing another friend wedding pictures so we all start looking together, I am excited that I recognize people from the village. Then there is a deafening roar of rain and hail. The roof is tin which exaggerates the already raging storm and the house is not quite finished so we are getting pelted with hail stones through the cracks. Realizing I left my windows open, I sprint over to my place only to discover that it is irrelevant that my windows were open because my house appears to be in no way water proof. My initial reaction was to move my belongings to higher ground until I realized that my bed was saturated and the only safe place may be the fridge. You can bet I put everything in the fridge that would fit (and seemed vaguely appropriate to find in a fridge). Then I realized all I could do was laugh. Botswana is in a drought so really the rain was a gift and I decided that singing and dancing with my mop was a capital way to handle the situation. As soon as the rain let up my land lady came by to see how I faired and discovered the flood, naturally she immediately took the mop from me and set to work. I think my house is the cleanest it has been since I got here thanks to the deep cleaning provided by the rain, there is no dirt/dust in sight for once. My fridge is back to its usual contents and this was the final straw to get me to wash my sheets.

The storm was a good reminder to not get to attached to any plans or possessions. There is never a guarentee how the evening will go and what will be left. Also my landlady is the best and had the holes patched the next day!

Other discoveries of this week include childrens and young adult books. I have found the best way to deal with a frustrating conversation before tea break is to sneak away to the library where it is possible to discover books from childhood like Sarah, Plain and Tall. At 58 pages it is the perfect tea break treat and even provided me with some wisdom. For those who are not familiar with the novel, it is about a father and his two kids who live in rural USA in the late 1800s. The mother died in childbirth wuth the second child and now many years later the father puts an advertisement in the papers for a new wife. Sarah from Main responds and although everyone gets along swimmingly the kids are afraid she will leave because she misses the sea. Sarah in all her wisdom responds that she will always miss the sea but she is happy here with her new family and she would miss them if she left. This rang true for me as I miss home and I think I always will when I am away but if I never leave home there is so much of life I will miss and when it is time for me to leave Botswana I am sure I will miss my life here as well. Emotions are complex. 

Fun fact did you know that donkeys make noise? I might be the last person to realize this, but it caught me by surprise this week. Unfortunately the donkeys have not been inclined to discuss their affinity for parfaits vs. onions however they do like to occasionally make a noise that reminds me of a train whistle that is on the fritz. I can assure you I was quite alarmed the first time I heard it and it took me awhile to realize where and what the noise was coming from.

Week 14: Lesegggggggggggggooooooooo, Welcome to Africa

I like to run to keep myself centered, have a little alone time, and enjoy the beautiful scenery. This also happens to be the kids favorite thing “Ya a gyma?” I have learned to appreciate this and no longer anticipate alone time. I now envision myself as imparting healthy habits which will build a foundation for good life choices. Now that may be a stretch but besides my alone time being compromised I cannot think of a downside to the kids running with me. There was one day this week where I felt like I could get away with taking a new route and have a little time to myself. I turned off the main road and started dodging low hanging branches enjoying a moment to myself when my thoughts were interurrupted by 13 children screaming my name “Lesegggggggggggggoooooooooooo” and running at full speed towards me. It started with three or four and kept multiplying as everyone heard the news, Lesego is approaching. The humor of the situation was not lost on me and by the time the kids met up with me they had already succeeded at melting my heart, how could I be angry with so many happy faces that were excited to see me, impossible.

My other favorite tidbit of this week involved a sun soaked kgotla meeting. The kgotla is a stone walled structure with no roof and thus as one is sitting in the kgotla you are exposed to the sun. After a warm meeting I stepped outside and was exchanging my cardigan for a lighter scarf and my new friend was walking past and all he said was “Welcome to Africa.” This cracked me up and I could not help but agree cardigans are not a great idea in Africa.

Week 13: Motogo and Masimo

Motogo is a soft porridge made of sorghum meal, which is a softer creamier version of oatmeal (it is not very much like oatmeal but its what I eat for breakfast now instead of oatmeal and serves as a great vehicle for cinnamon and sugar). When I first arrived my land lady made me motogo before I was able to go to a grocery store, then when I started making my own motogo it was terribly lumpy and quite sad. However, during a particularly long wait at the bus renk I was able to pick up the trick, (mix the sorghum meal with water before you add it to the boiling water) and now I am eating a delicious bowl of motogo with almond essence and sugar that is lump free. This is a good indicator of my time in Moshana. The little things are starting to demand less energy of me, like bucket baths, pit latrines, and breakfast, and I feel just a little more Motswana.

A bit of a wrench was thrown into my new level of comfortability as the water went out this week for a few days. I have a stand pipe on my compound which went out but just up the road there is a boar hole with water that the cattle use. Thus my landlady and I went with our empty buckets in hand and came back with them full on our heads. She was of course balancing hands free while I felt a bit precarious and did not dare to remove my hand, a few more days without water and I am sure I will be a champ as well. In the end I was only with out water for two and a half days which is not long, however, not knowing when it was going to come back was what worried me.

Botswana has a three land system where many people have a home village, a cattle post, and lands (masimo in Setswana). This weekend I went with a friend to her masimo. It was just a bit of a walk outside of Moshana and I learned about boroku along the way. Since I was born and raised in the city of Chicago I do not know the American equivalent and perhaps we don’t have boroku exactly but it’s a type of tree sap and tasty treat. The boroku crystallizes as it saps out of the tree and you can just peel it off and enjoy! Although truthfully I did not particularly care for the taste, (it was not sweet enough to satisfy my taste buds) it was a magical moment to have snacks on the way provided by the trees. Less magical was learning more about the drought in Botswana and how this is killing the animals and consequently peoples livelihoods.

To close out the week, I woke up at 2am on Saturday and was confused, was I still dreaming what is that noise? Then again at 3, nope this is not a dream I am having, I definitely hear people. At 4am, I am not curious enough to get out of bed, but still confused. Finally at 5am, encouraged by the sun I get out of bed mosey to the pit latrine and finally understand the noise was simply the all night prayers complete with full body singing that my neighbors were holding, naturally why didn’t I guess. Botswana is a Christian nation and there is a heavy religious influence. Most meetings or events will start with a prayer and the all night prayer vigil that caught my attention is not uncommon and another friend of mine attended a different such vigil that same evening.

Week 12: Constantly Readjusting to a New Norm

I live in a beautiful country with a wide expanse of sky. My friend was walking me home the other afternoon and I said “Ke rata loapi” (I like/love the sky). This is not only something I am able to say in Setswana, but also something that I feel on a daily basis. The sky here never fails to fill my heart with joy, as I wake it glows with a gentle yellow and by the time I have made tea it is an intense orange. Through out the day it never losses its power over me with its seemingly never ending reach. Some days a glance at the sky is my saving grace and other days it is simply the cherry on top of a heaping delicious sunday. To my Setswana, my friend replied, “AH it is because you are new, because you are not from here.” This may be true, but I hope that this deep awe of the sky at any given moment never wares off. I may be constantly adjusting to a new normal but I never want to see the sky as just whats above me but instead to take it in and enjoy it for the privilege it is.

Not all of my interactions here are as poetic and another norm I am adjusting to is the lack of anonymity I have. Previously I was a resident advisor at my University and on occasion I would introduce myself to someone and they would say, “I know who you are.” This always struck me as a bit funny however now I am surprised when this is not the response I receive. I can take people’s actions personally and need to remember that the world does not revolve around me (and as my friend would say “everyone had a morning” which is dictating how they are acting). However, here I have to ask myself if the action was related to me, and more often then not I find out it was.

I had a frustrating afternoon the other day and on top of it all I was out of vegetables and on my last piece of fruit. This would just not do so I decided to go on a vegetable hunt, aka go to Kanye my shopping village to pick up some groceries. The combi (bus) does not have a set schedule and I was in no mood to wait so like the insolent child I was feeling I starting walking. Soon after a teacher friend of mine driving past picked me up and took me to just outside of Kanye where I then decided to walk to the grocery store instead of taking a taxi. This walk was refreshing and I finally felt a little anonymity, not everyone I was passing knew who I was, and this felt good. Although not everyone who passed me knew me that did not mean that a fair number did and the next day I was asked where I was going? Why I was walking? And a slew of other questions. I guess it was a false sense of anonymity, but in the moment it was what I needed. Other lessons learned included: walking an hour to the grocery store is a bad idea because then all I want to buy are cold sweet things, never be too tired to be polite because the next man to approach you may not be harassing you but instead the Kgosi coming over to see how you are, and although you may not understand the conversations on the combi, they are probably about you and someone may tell your land lady who will then tell you. All in all I now have fruits and vegetables in my fridge, know that I was proposed to yesterday, and all of Moshana knows that I went for a long walk yesterday, I feel content.