Lots of Food and Twelve Baboons

Sorry I've been out of touch for a while!
On Thursday, I had hospital visiting at 2:15 and tennis at 4 o'clock. We went to the public hospital in Gaborone, Princess Marina. Health care here at the public hospital is practically free. But the private hospitals are frequented by the better-off sector of the population. I'm not sure if the "better treatment" is real or imagined; the children we visited seemed happy and pretty healthy. Of course we didn't visit any children with infectious diseases, just those with broken bones or burns or something else non-contagious. We colored and did puzzles for about 45 minutes. I had an okay time - kids aren't my cup of tea, but the time went quickly.
Tennis was very fun. I was moved from the beginners' group to advanced, which was exciting. I may drop badminton and go to tennis for two days each week instead.
On Friday after school, the girl at whose house I stayed over last weekend took me to the No. 1 Ladies' Opera House - a bizarre name for a little cafe owned by Alexander McCall Smith (author of the No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency series) and his friend who lives here in Botswana. The service was slow (typical of Batswana restaurants) but the food was wonderful, and a good price: my meal, a creamy spinach crepe, was P25, or about US$4. We also had bush tea - which is marketed in the United States as rooibos tea - and cinnamon sugar crepes with lemon (P10 for both). I returned to the girl's mother the three books I'd borrowed from her, and borrowed two more. My friend's mother also gave me a small gift: a compact book about Batswana culture and a brief history. The chair of the MaP board is the author, and apparently it is very well-written and very true!
On our way home from the No. 1 Ladies' cafe, we decided to drive past the set where the No. 1 Ladies' film was shot. (More info: http://www.bbc.co.uk/drama/no1ladiesdetectiveagency/) On the way to the set at the base of Kgale Hill, we saw a couple dozen baboons, just crossing and eating on the side of the road! Quite a few of the females had babies, which were adorable. We sat - in the car, for an adult baboon can easily kill a human - and watched them for about 10 minutes. I had never seen a baboon in the wild before, maybe only once or twice in a zoo, and was very impressed; however, my company had seen them many times before, as they often descend from Kgale Hill and relax beside the road.
On Friday evening, all of the exchange students, teachers' aides, new teachers, teachers who had helped welcome us, and our student hosts were invited to the headmaster's house (on-campus) for a braai - an Africaans word for a barbecue. I had a good time, and really enjoyed talking with the people who have helped me settle in.
Saturday morning - today - I went to a sponsored walk for a new day care/community center, yet to be built. Many of the people who were at the party last night came as well, so we were able to continue our great conversation. And since the event was run partly by Indians, great vegetarian Indian food awaited us at the end!
As if I hadn't eaten enough samosas at the walk, around mid-morning I went over to a Pakistani friend's house and met four of my Indian friends there. We ate, and ate, and ate. One girl's father owns a pizza shop, so we had great pizza; someone made a cake, and someone else apple crisp; vegetarian tea sandwiches were present; and one girl made these great bruschetta-ish hor de'voures. We spent a few great hours together, and then I came back to campus.
I'm looking forward very much to a few travel opportunities. Next weekend, I'm going to Ghanzi, a town to the northwest of Gaborone, where the girl-who-I-stayed-with's uncle owns a cattle post/game reserve, with giraffes, zebras, hippopotamuses, and a few other animals. I'm very excited. We will leave on Saturday morning at 6 o'clock, take an 8-hour bus ride to get to Ghanzi, and then leave on Sunday morning in order to get back for school on Monday. It will be a quick trip, but I'll bring a few books and sleep on the bus, and I'm sure the farm in Ghanzi will be worth the trip.Also, in a few weeks, I'll be going to Grahamstown, South Africa with the drama program here at school. The Grahamstown Art and Drama festival is the last week of June, and involves hundreds of performances and exhibitions. (More info: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/National_Arts_Festival) I am very excited!!
I just got invited to travel to visit the friend of the new librarian in a town 45 minutes outside of Gaborone, so I'll have to cut this short (although it is already very long!).

Economics and SPEs

Each day, I have different SPEs. Very unlike Deerfield, where every day after school you have the same activity. On Mondays, I have Naledi Feeding and yoga. (Classes end at 12:45; the first SPE is at 2 o'clock -ish, and the second is at 4-ish.) On Tuesdays, I have badminton (which is extremely relaxed...just like playing in the backyard) and I want to sign up for BSPCA, which visits an animal shelter. On Wednesdays I have marimbas, and Thursdays include hospital visiting and tennis. On every-other Saturday, I have Camphill.
Today in economics, we learned about GDP per capita, and how it really isn't a very good measure of a country's standard of living. The GDP is all of the money made by people residing in a county. To reach the GDP per capita, the GDP is divided by the population, achieving an average per person income. The problem with this is that, obviously, not everyone earns the same amount. Children and the elderly often do not earn anything; owners of restaurants earn more than waitresses. The wealth in Botswana is indeed very divided. In general in the Batswana culture, to take charge of a project is considered rude. One should let another lead. Because of this, foreigners find starting companies easy, but Batswana often find it difficult. (Batswana refers to citizens of Botswana/something of Botswana; motswana refers to one citizen of Botswana.) Hence, many Indian and white South African immigrants own a disproportionately large amount of businesses. So, while the GDP per capita (per year) of Botswana is about US$8000, a maid (to employ a maid is very common; in fact, not employing one can be interpreted as selfish) usually earns only 600 pula per month, or about US$1200 per year.
P600 (600 pula, US$100) a month does not get one very far. As I discovered on my first shopping trip, one blanket can cost P100. If a woman is supporting a family with three children, money goes down very quickly - especially since the government of Botswana has instituted school fees for the public government schools. Even though the fees seem rather nominal to us - say P15 or 20 per term - when you have three children and only P600, they present a challenge. Food is a little less expensive here than in the States, but not much. US$100 does not buy enough food for a balanced diet for four or five people.
Yes, according to GDP per capita, Botswana is a lot better off than some other countries. But that does not mean that Batswana are a lot better off.

From Extension Nine to Old Naledi (26 May 08)

Wireless troubles again…I'll have to go get my laptop checked out during first break tomorrow.

Written Monday, 26 May:

This afternoon, SPEs (Service, Physicals, and Enrichments) began. My first project, not counting Camphill on Saturday, was Naledi (Nah-lady) Feeding. With a list of sixteen names and corresponding amounts of sorghum, soap, sugar, and tea, we embarked on an hour-long, winding drive through Old Naledi, the poorest section of Gaborone. I flashed back to Chincha, Peru – the classic "third-world", poverty-stricken community. Children ran around half-clothed, and as we turned away from a shiny, silver Toyota dealership onto a dirt road leading into the borough, the contrast was striking and unbelievable. We slowly drove around to different drop-off points, and I wondered why the families we were helping were chosen. Most everyone seemed in need. I told myself not to complain about the cold showers or lack of toilet paper in the boarding house – at least we have a bathroom with running water – but I knew it was an empty promise. However, I am eager to return next week, and to start working on some on-campus projects: fundraising, so that we can deliver heads of cabbage as well, and a letter to the city's private hospital, requesting a wheelchair for one woman to whom we deliver food.

But despite the sad conditions of this area of Gaborone, Botswana is a lot better off than the surrounding countries. "This teacher is like a dictator...She could be Mugabe," students say, subtly commenting on the situation in Zimbabwe. "I cringe at the thought of having to go to South Africa…My friend who lives there says that you have to expect to be held up at a dinner party," Batswana (people who were born in Botswana) say about their southern neighbor, the appalling crime now joined horrifically by the xenophobic attacks. And the pioneering first president of Botswana, Seretse Khama, worked tirelessly for the freedom of neighboring countries and strove to end apartheid.

Botswana's current president also is working for the freedom of the people of other African countries. According to one woman I spoke with, a certain brotherhood exists among the leaders of southern African nations. Now, unity can be a good thing, but, as this lady described, when a leader refuses to condemn tyranny or violence in a country simply because the leader of that country is black, the brotherhood becomes damaging. The current Botswana president, Ian Khama, assumed his position on 1 April 2008. Immediately, he condemned Mugabe in Zimbabwe for the terrible economic situation of the country (the hyperinflation decimating peoples' lives) and for the dire elections. "To have elections and keep the results secret indefinitely is horrible," said one woman. A run-off has currently been scheduled for 27 June. Khama also offered the opposition leader, Mr. Tsvanagarai, sanctuary in Botswana, a haven from the death threats and possible foul play by Mugabe that could occur in Zimbabwe.

Botswana: the epitome of the combination of the good and the bad.

Pula!

Pula:
- dictionary definition: rain, in Tswana.
- cultural definition: monetary unit of Botswana comparable to dollars; a celebratory cry; an exclamation of something good

Pula!

Yesterday morning, I arose at 7 a.m. and, being up so early on a Saturday, was able to take a shower with hot water. Pula!
I reclined in bed afterwards, reading the third No. 1 Ladie's Detective Agency book, which I finished a few minutes before I had to gather myself and go to breakfast. After some bread generously spread with peanut butter, I boarding the minibus that carted about 6 students, 5 adults, and myself off to Camphill, the site I have described as a school and community for mentally and physically disabled people of all ages. I amiably conversed with a retired teacher who had set up the community service trip from MaP to Camphill, and although I wasn't entirely sure of the plan, any worries I had drifted away as I drifted off to sleep.
I woke up to find our van pulling into Camphill. We meandered past quaint buildings, which the retired teacher who had emerged as a leader familiar with the place identified as classrooms and workshops. Finally, we reached the humble houses of the children. As we walked in, the boys, who clearly recognized our leader, ran up to him with open arms, yelling "Maru-a-Pula! Maru-a-Pula!" The boys, ranging in ages, heights, and abilities, swarmed around him and the more out-going ones rushed towards us students, giving hugs and handshakes. We then walked a little further to where the slightly more reserved girls sat. The shy ones hung back while their peers seeked hugs. The students who deftly handled children began to converse with them, and an energetic adult started a miniature game of tag. I stood awkwardly, like a wallflower at a middle school dance. Our leader called us back together, and announced that we would be embarking on a walk into Otse, the small town - a village - that abutted Camphill. We walked out, a couple of the students pushing wheelchairs, and me desperately wishing that I had a wheelchair to push as well so I wouldn't look so conspicuously alone and awkward.
After we sat down to rest while a teacher read a Tswana storybook, we turned back towards Camphill. I soon discovered a friend, a sweet boy with a huge smile. I tried out a bit of my Tswana on him - O bona dikgomo?: See the cows?, and O bona setlhare? - See the tree?. My pronunciation hopeless, he nevertheless continued to smile his huge, beautiful grin.
We pulled away from Camphill, and I felt a great urge to wash my hands. But with a little-bit-over 30 minute drive ahead of us, I instead settled into my seat and dozed off until we reached MaP.
I hadn't been in the boarding house for two minutes when a girl came to my room, announcing that the girl who was hosting me for the night was waiting with her mother outside the dorm. I quickly shoved a 100 pula note, a change of clothes, and my toothbrush into a drawstring backpack, and hurried outside. After friendly greetings and introductions, I climbed into their car and we drove off to their very nice, very posh house.
Their house is located in Extension Nine, a section of Gaborone - "about as posh as you'll find." Originally, the city had been planned to be very integrated. The plots were meant to be large, with the houses small. Plots meant for the affluent and plots for the lower class were built adjacently. But inevitably, certain areas were populated by the rich, and some by the poor.
The house where I was to stay the night was incredibly beautiful. I felt like I'd walked into a scene from a home living magazine, and when I was shown my room - the guest room - I felt like I was in a 5-star hotel. I even had my own bathroom! Pula!!! The walls were decorated with local artwork, created by the mother of a boy in a few of my classes. The architecture reminded me of the southwestern United States. The floors were either fashionably worn wood or stone, and a zebra rug (which I unfortunated discovered was genuine) splayed itself out beside the warm-colored couches. Everything looked clean and sophisticated.
We gathered downstairs for lunch: fresh hummus, olive tapanade, and vegetable sandwiches - a very welcome change from the cafeteria food. Following the meal, we engaged in a long conversation - interrupted only to start preparation for dinner. I admired the massive collection of books lining the wall of the dining area, and borrowed a few. My peer and her mother and I began to chop vegetables for a fresh salad and a couscous dish, and my friend and I then walked to a small grocery store nearby for some urgently needed tomato paste. Dinner was incredible.
I was taught how to play a wonderfully mind-challenging game, and then we turned on the television to poke fun at a music video program. We retired around 10:30, and I read for a while before falling asleep.
I woke up to a foreign sound - rain! Pula! "This never happens!" exclaimed my hosts.
After the sun dispelled the brief shower, we went out for an anticipated wonderful breakfast - only to find that the power was out at the tea garden we were headed to! Disappointed, we went to another place, and tried to make the best of the situation.
But the unfortunate black-out didn't black out the wonderfulness of the day. I returned to school just before lunchtime, happy to have met such a kind, outgoing family, and hoping to spend more time with my newfound friend. After exchanging phone numbers, we parted, and I retired to my room, sprawling on the bed to continue "Botswana Time", one of the books I'd brought home.
I'll have to find out their address to send them a thank-you note...