...an Evangelical Christian church, a traditional African village, and the soundtrack of the Lion King?
Really awesome music and really uncomfortable Jew. It's not the sitting for hours while people around me chant in a foreign lanugage; I'm used to that. It's when the priest stops after his sermon to summarize in English for me his speech about Hellfire and damnation that I feel out of place. And I'm still a little unclear about the wafer thing. But, for my second time in a church ever, (the first was Mass at St. Paul's Cathedral in London, which is the polar opposite of this) it wasn't too bad.
Other interesting discoveries I've made in Otse:
Even after two tries, I still suck at doing laundry by hand.
Otse has its own cheese factore/store.
People here nap in the afternoons, when it is the hottest. Sweet.
Bathtubs were not intended to be filled all the way. If you fill it up about a third of the way, it is so much more practical.
A stamp to send a postcard to the US costs 4.90 pula, or about 85 cents.
The obsession with female modesty does not apply in the church, where I saw mroe shoulders and knees than I had seen all week.
Everyone here loves Mr. Bean.
At noon, Botswana TV plays 7th Heaven reruns.
Young children are easily amused by an iPod. They can subsequently be distracted from the iPod with a Slinky.
Home Alone 2 is a really good movie. I'd forgotten.
Be aware of doors that open inwards on pit latrines. Goats haven't quite grasped the concept of privacy.
My host mother likes Smallville.
Every family has a big party on Botswana Day (Sept. 30), to which all friends and family are invited. I wonder how there is anyone left to attend these parties.
Donkeys look sad, all the time.
Seasons of Love is also a Setswana rap song.
My host family hires a cleaning lady to wash the floors once a week.
You know, the "it's a small world" phenomenon is not only limited to white Jews in America. I discovered this the other day. I had to interview Otse townsfolk about transportation for an assignment. My partner decided we'd find potential interviewees at the cheese store on the edge of town, so we trekked there. On Yom Kippur. Ohhhhh cheese. A man buying cheese and I had the following conversation:
"Dumela-rra."
"Dumela-mma. O tsogile? [How are you?]"
"Tsogile sentle. [I'm fine.] Wena, o tsogile?
"Tsogile sentle. O tswa kae? [You're from where?]
Ke tswa ko Amerika.
Where in America?
New York.
Hm. I'm from the ATL.
Cool! I have friends from there. Where do you live in Botswana?
Kanye. Where in New York are you from? The city or upstate?
Long Island.
No way, you're lying.
Uh, no. Why, you've been to Long Island?
I almost went to university there. Have you heard of Adelphi?
Whoa, my mom went there.
Cheese. Bringing kindred spirits together.
We went on another game drive safari-thingy. My camera wanted to stay home that day, so I don't have pictures. There were tons of giraffes and several species of antelope. (Elands. Maybe. And gemsbok? Springbok too?) A highlight was definitely the springbok spronking. (No, it's not that. It's when they hop really high because they're happy.) It reminded me of all the things I love about the world. I then became homesick for a lovely little place where all thought can be conveyed in strict poetic form, like maybe the haiku:
Look! Springbok spronking
Beyond that acacia tree.
The Earth's Happy Dance.
Or, perhaps, the double dactyl:
Dumela tawana
Botswana's wildlife:
Antelopes, zebras, too
Many to list.
See the unparalleled
Biodiversity?
Useful for tracking the
Ecologist.
(Biodiversity is my new favorite word.)
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Holy Gender Dynamics, Batman!
The gender dynamics of a culture is not something that can be read about or learned in advance. I will not be able to sufficiently describe the most profound source of my cutlure shock so far, but I'm gonna try. When I use subjective terms like "good" or "bad", I really mean "good or bad by my standards."
There is an unspoken acknowledgement of the superiority of men by all the women in Otse. Father is in charge, Father makes the rulse, Father gets the best food. Mother is there to help, to make the home comfortable for Father. Girls should dress and act modestly or expect negative attention. Accepting an offer of a drink from a boy is asking for trouble; date rape is not an unusual occurence. Boys are expected to be promiscuous and dominant.
At first glance, this seems terribly old-fashioned by my standards, although with more thought these are only different manifestation of behavior seen in America. American women still are not paid equally to men, although Batswana claim that while there should be equal pay for equal work, men and women work better at different things. And a common sight at my school, though it often surprises me, is the extent to which girls will demean themselves to vie for the attention of boys. Too often I see a girl trying to prove how drunk and uninhibited she is, and how easy it might be to "take advantage" of her.
There is an element of gender segregation in Botswana, though, that is a source of pride. I recently heard a discussion on GABZ-FM (mostly in English, though occasionally they'd slip into Setswana just long enough to thoroughly confuse me) about gender equality, where several Batswana, men and women both, claimed their culture is pround od being able to celebrate the differences between men and women. It is important to acknowledge that, overall, women are not as physically strong as men, and men will never bear children. They feel that women excel at managing a household more successfully than a man could and should take pride in that, because their society would fair without them. Interesting. Also, women think that until they are paid as much as men, they shouldn't be expected to pick up the tab.
Oh, and it is to be noted that in the older generations, the women (and lower class) are better educated than the men because, while men had to go out and tend to the cattle, women could stay home and attend school to placate the Christian missionaries who had built the schools.
English is not the only language that is arguably inherently sexist (mankind, history, etc.). In Setswana, the world for women, mosadi, means "one who stays", as in "one who stays home".
We can't hold all claims for racism, either. In Setswana, nouns depicting people all start with "mo", such as Motswana (person of Botswana), motho (person), and monna (man). White people, however, called "lekgoa", fall into a lesser noun class, which includes slut (lebalete) and theif (legodu). This means that white women are not always respected, and should expect to be bothered on the street. The day is not complete until I've received at least one proposal for marriage. Also, the "bo" prefix is used to describe abstract ideas, like happiness (boitumelo) and beer (bojalwa).
Another interesting detail about Setswana: the world "mabele" means either breast or sorghum, depending on whether the second or third syllable is emphasized. THis led to a hilarious incident with one of the past SIT groups when a student was exploring a village and saw a woman approaching, carrying a basket of sorghum on her head. (They really balance things on their head, like on TV. It's incredible.) He asked to see her "mabele", so she put down the basket, lifted her shirt, then picked up the basket and walked away. Needless to say, the boy was confused and traumatized.
There is an unspoken acknowledgement of the superiority of men by all the women in Otse. Father is in charge, Father makes the rulse, Father gets the best food. Mother is there to help, to make the home comfortable for Father. Girls should dress and act modestly or expect negative attention. Accepting an offer of a drink from a boy is asking for trouble; date rape is not an unusual occurence. Boys are expected to be promiscuous and dominant.
At first glance, this seems terribly old-fashioned by my standards, although with more thought these are only different manifestation of behavior seen in America. American women still are not paid equally to men, although Batswana claim that while there should be equal pay for equal work, men and women work better at different things. And a common sight at my school, though it often surprises me, is the extent to which girls will demean themselves to vie for the attention of boys. Too often I see a girl trying to prove how drunk and uninhibited she is, and how easy it might be to "take advantage" of her.
There is an element of gender segregation in Botswana, though, that is a source of pride. I recently heard a discussion on GABZ-FM (mostly in English, though occasionally they'd slip into Setswana just long enough to thoroughly confuse me) about gender equality, where several Batswana, men and women both, claimed their culture is pround od being able to celebrate the differences between men and women. It is important to acknowledge that, overall, women are not as physically strong as men, and men will never bear children. They feel that women excel at managing a household more successfully than a man could and should take pride in that, because their society would fair without them. Interesting. Also, women think that until they are paid as much as men, they shouldn't be expected to pick up the tab.
Oh, and it is to be noted that in the older generations, the women (and lower class) are better educated than the men because, while men had to go out and tend to the cattle, women could stay home and attend school to placate the Christian missionaries who had built the schools.
English is not the only language that is arguably inherently sexist (mankind, history, etc.). In Setswana, the world for women, mosadi, means "one who stays", as in "one who stays home".
We can't hold all claims for racism, either. In Setswana, nouns depicting people all start with "mo", such as Motswana (person of Botswana), motho (person), and monna (man). White people, however, called "lekgoa", fall into a lesser noun class, which includes slut (lebalete) and theif (legodu). This means that white women are not always respected, and should expect to be bothered on the street. The day is not complete until I've received at least one proposal for marriage. Also, the "bo" prefix is used to describe abstract ideas, like happiness (boitumelo) and beer (bojalwa).
Another interesting detail about Setswana: the world "mabele" means either breast or sorghum, depending on whether the second or third syllable is emphasized. THis led to a hilarious incident with one of the past SIT groups when a student was exploring a village and saw a woman approaching, carrying a basket of sorghum on her head. (They really balance things on their head, like on TV. It's incredible.) He asked to see her "mabele", so she put down the basket, lifted her shirt, then picked up the basket and walked away. Needless to say, the boy was confused and traumatized.
Quick Language Lesson
Dumela is the all-around greeting. No conversation or interaction in Botswana begins without it. It can be changed when addressing man or woman (dumela-rra or dumela-mma, respectively), but it's always there. What dumela means, literally, is "believe in", as in "I believe in you, sir or ma'am." But it's also "believe" like "I belive you are a person, a friend, a brother, standing in front of me." I think the closest verb I know to "dumela" would be "to grok".
Setswana has no word for "to be". It seems to be one of those "I think, therefore I am" deals, where to state beingness would be redundant.
Setswana has no articles, either, like "the" or "a". "I am writing a book" translates to "Ke kwala buka", where ke=I, kwala=write, and buka=book. So don't be surprised if I start dropping articles.
Oh, and prepositions vary based on context, not English meaning. For example, "Ke tswa mo Botswana" means "I originate from Botswana", but "I originate from America would be "Ke tswa ko Amerika", because Botswana is here and America is not. However, if one of you Americans at home wanted to state your origins, you would say, "Ke tswa mo Amerika." Are you confused? I am. I have enough trouble with prepositions in English. THough, not as confused as a couple of University of Botswana students were when I tried to explain health insurance and the American health care system. "You mean HIV patients have to pay for their own treatment?"
Pronunciation is fun, too. "If you don't know how to pronounce 'ngwao', step on a cat." -Matts
This led to a lot of meowing among the class. I personally have had a lot of practice with the "ao" sound from reading the Ender series.
We also learned that the names of trees all start with "mo", like "morula", the source of all sorts of fun that comes out of "Amarula".
I've got really sore intercostals from all those aspirated consonants, like "kgh", "tlh", and "th". ("Th" is pronounced "t-h", not "th". Well that made a whole lot of sense.)
Here are some Setswana phrases I've found very useful:
Ee/Nyaa - Yes/No
Ga ke utlwe - I can't hear you
Bua gape - Speak again
Buela ka bonya - Speak more slowly
Ga ke tlhaloganye - I can't understand
Setswana has no word for "to be". It seems to be one of those "I think, therefore I am" deals, where to state beingness would be redundant.
Setswana has no articles, either, like "the" or "a". "I am writing a book" translates to "Ke kwala buka", where ke=I, kwala=write, and buka=book. So don't be surprised if I start dropping articles.
Oh, and prepositions vary based on context, not English meaning. For example, "Ke tswa mo Botswana" means "I originate from Botswana", but "I originate from America would be "Ke tswa ko Amerika", because Botswana is here and America is not. However, if one of you Americans at home wanted to state your origins, you would say, "Ke tswa mo Amerika." Are you confused? I am. I have enough trouble with prepositions in English. THough, not as confused as a couple of University of Botswana students were when I tried to explain health insurance and the American health care system. "You mean HIV patients have to pay for their own treatment?"
Pronunciation is fun, too. "If you don't know how to pronounce 'ngwao', step on a cat." -Matts
This led to a lot of meowing among the class. I personally have had a lot of practice with the "ao" sound from reading the Ender series.
We also learned that the names of trees all start with "mo", like "morula", the source of all sorts of fun that comes out of "Amarula".
I've got really sore intercostals from all those aspirated consonants, like "kgh", "tlh", and "th". ("Th" is pronounced "t-h", not "th". Well that made a whole lot of sense.)
Here are some Setswana phrases I've found very useful:
Ee/Nyaa - Yes/No
Ga ke utlwe - I can't hear you
Bua gape - Speak again
Buela ka bonya - Speak more slowly
Ga ke tlhaloganye - I can't understand
Dichotomy is a Four-Letter World
Surprise trip to the internet cafe after petting a cheetah! The next few entries will be what I've written in the last week and a half, hopefully presented somewhat chronologically and coherently. I warn you now, my tenses will not be consistent. I can't figure out how to upload pictures on this computer, so I'll post pictures next week.
The night before leaving for Otse, our first village homestay, we all ate at a restaurant called Apache Spur. It had burgers and ribs, etc. It was obviously created for tourists. That was when I first caught myself staring at other white people. They're (we're) really uncommon in this country. The restaurant was was filled more than half with white people.
The "white", "tourist" culture is a lot different from local culture. It's less traditional; the bathrooms at Apache Spur had both the ladies and men signs wearing pants, only the women had hips. I also noticed that the bathroom provided plastic bags for disposing of girlie stuff in the garbage, which I thought was a good idea, but something that would be considered wasteful by the Batswana. In fact, the grocery store doesn't automatically provide plastic grocery bags, or "plastics". It costs an additional 15 thebe per bag.
Then the homestay.
My homestay house is beautiful. In fact, the whole village of Otse is beautiful. My parents, Mr. Moseki and Mmaseitise, are friendly, though I must admit I'm a little intimidated by Mr. Maseki. (Though we've since bonded over a discussion of the deliciousness of beets.) I have a sister, 18, Gomosegang, although she also goes by Monika. I also have another sister, 16, who goes by the name Babae (Baby). Mmaseitise is very kind and wants to teach me Setswana. I was too nervous to talk when I first arrived at the house, so I sat on the couch watching Sesame Street instead. The house has plumbing, hot water, electricity, TV, everything I expected not to see. Mma thinks girls should bathe before bed and after waking, to stay pretty. I can make tea whenever I want with the electric kettle, take food from the fridge, or just sit and watch TV.
The house is a fascinating combination of the familiar and unfamiliar. The roof is tin and a bare lightbulb hangs from the ceiling (underside of the tin roof), right next to a speaker for the DVD player. All curtains and tablecloths are elaborately crocheted white lace floral designs. There is some Christian art hanging on the walls.
In the backyard lives a dog, but it's not culturally acceptable to pet it or let it lick your hands. Animals are animals and people are people. Also in the enormous sandy backyard are some chickens, a cow, maybe more.
From the moment I arrived, I wanted to learn so much, but was so exhausted and overwhelmed that I was afraid to add one iota of information into my brain for fear of explosion.
Oh, and this week I was chief of our class. I had to make a short (improvized) speech at our welcoming ceremony, where we met Otse's chief('s assistant).
That first night, Babae and I played Crazy Eights and watched Home Alone. Many things I'm used to at home are not here, like a washing machine or dishwasher, but I realize in a climate like this, these appliances are just wasteful. Everything is washed by hand and nothing is thought of it.
I suck at doing laundry by hand.
Dinner is usually chicken, rice or pasta, potatoes, and beets. It's actually pretty good food, compared with some of the bland food I've had in Botswana. Food is served first to Mr. Maseki, then to Mma, then to me and my sisters. Scraps are compiled and put outside for the dog.
Babae loves my clothes, thinks I'm beautiful, and can not believe my hair is so straight and fine naturally. I think that to a 16-year old, the grass is always greener in someone else's body. I told her stories of a giant city far away with 8 million people and buildings 100 stories tall, where it got so cold the rain froze in winter, and dogs lived inside. I think if I didn't know better, I wouldn't believe me. Babae is a lot of fun, but never leaves me alone. I never had a younger sister, and I think I'm glad of it.
And there are so many spiders in the house, it's like a Harry Potter movie.
"Will that spider bite?"
"[stomp] Not anymore. Are you scared of spiders?"
"Not scared, it's just that...well, if at night, I woke up...yes I'm scared of spiders."
Bed time is 9, wake-up at 6. Starting at about 4AM, I hear roosters crowing across the village. It's a sound I associate with Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, which is another way in which this world is different from my home. Oh, and at night, I can hear baboons calling. Cool.
The homestay is a lot more challenging than I expected. It would be so much easier to never leave home.
I think I've made a good impression of the family; I make my bed and dress nicely, and therefore I'm a "nice girl". It's exhausting. I've noticed that, although we are told to wear skirts and cover our shoulders in public, in the house it is not uncommon to walk around in only underwear, no top. I don't know if this is the case when father is home.
At one point, I was in a house that had a computer...and an outhouse. Huh. One man's dichotomy is another man's, uh, not dichotomy.
"Setswana culture is only a mirror through which we learn more about our own culture."
-Simba
The night before leaving for Otse, our first village homestay, we all ate at a restaurant called Apache Spur. It had burgers and ribs, etc. It was obviously created for tourists. That was when I first caught myself staring at other white people. They're (we're) really uncommon in this country. The restaurant was was filled more than half with white people.
The "white", "tourist" culture is a lot different from local culture. It's less traditional; the bathrooms at Apache Spur had both the ladies and men signs wearing pants, only the women had hips. I also noticed that the bathroom provided plastic bags for disposing of girlie stuff in the garbage, which I thought was a good idea, but something that would be considered wasteful by the Batswana. In fact, the grocery store doesn't automatically provide plastic grocery bags, or "plastics". It costs an additional 15 thebe per bag.
Then the homestay.
My homestay house is beautiful. In fact, the whole village of Otse is beautiful. My parents, Mr. Moseki and Mmaseitise, are friendly, though I must admit I'm a little intimidated by Mr. Maseki. (Though we've since bonded over a discussion of the deliciousness of beets.) I have a sister, 18, Gomosegang, although she also goes by Monika. I also have another sister, 16, who goes by the name Babae (Baby). Mmaseitise is very kind and wants to teach me Setswana. I was too nervous to talk when I first arrived at the house, so I sat on the couch watching Sesame Street instead. The house has plumbing, hot water, electricity, TV, everything I expected not to see. Mma thinks girls should bathe before bed and after waking, to stay pretty. I can make tea whenever I want with the electric kettle, take food from the fridge, or just sit and watch TV.
The house is a fascinating combination of the familiar and unfamiliar. The roof is tin and a bare lightbulb hangs from the ceiling (underside of the tin roof), right next to a speaker for the DVD player. All curtains and tablecloths are elaborately crocheted white lace floral designs. There is some Christian art hanging on the walls.
In the backyard lives a dog, but it's not culturally acceptable to pet it or let it lick your hands. Animals are animals and people are people. Also in the enormous sandy backyard are some chickens, a cow, maybe more.
From the moment I arrived, I wanted to learn so much, but was so exhausted and overwhelmed that I was afraid to add one iota of information into my brain for fear of explosion.
Oh, and this week I was chief of our class. I had to make a short (improvized) speech at our welcoming ceremony, where we met Otse's chief('s assistant).
That first night, Babae and I played Crazy Eights and watched Home Alone. Many things I'm used to at home are not here, like a washing machine or dishwasher, but I realize in a climate like this, these appliances are just wasteful. Everything is washed by hand and nothing is thought of it.
I suck at doing laundry by hand.
Dinner is usually chicken, rice or pasta, potatoes, and beets. It's actually pretty good food, compared with some of the bland food I've had in Botswana. Food is served first to Mr. Maseki, then to Mma, then to me and my sisters. Scraps are compiled and put outside for the dog.
Babae loves my clothes, thinks I'm beautiful, and can not believe my hair is so straight and fine naturally. I think that to a 16-year old, the grass is always greener in someone else's body. I told her stories of a giant city far away with 8 million people and buildings 100 stories tall, where it got so cold the rain froze in winter, and dogs lived inside. I think if I didn't know better, I wouldn't believe me. Babae is a lot of fun, but never leaves me alone. I never had a younger sister, and I think I'm glad of it.
And there are so many spiders in the house, it's like a Harry Potter movie.
"Will that spider bite?"
"[stomp] Not anymore. Are you scared of spiders?"
"Not scared, it's just that...well, if at night, I woke up...yes I'm scared of spiders."
Bed time is 9, wake-up at 6. Starting at about 4AM, I hear roosters crowing across the village. It's a sound I associate with Zelda: The Ocarina of Time, which is another way in which this world is different from my home. Oh, and at night, I can hear baboons calling. Cool.
The homestay is a lot more challenging than I expected. It would be so much easier to never leave home.
I think I've made a good impression of the family; I make my bed and dress nicely, and therefore I'm a "nice girl". It's exhausting. I've noticed that, although we are told to wear skirts and cover our shoulders in public, in the house it is not uncommon to walk around in only underwear, no top. I don't know if this is the case when father is home.
At one point, I was in a house that had a computer...and an outhouse. Huh. One man's dichotomy is another man's, uh, not dichotomy.
"Setswana culture is only a mirror through which we learn more about our own culture."
-Simba
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Culture Shock!
To prepare us to leave the isolation of Mokolodi and enter the big city of Gabarone (pronounced Chabarone, Gabarone, Chabaronee, or Gabs), we were given a couple of readings that are given to people who plan to travel to America. We got to learn what America looks like to people who have never seen it before and which of our values are not shared by other cultures (there are many).
Our last night in Mokolodi, we went to a bar to celebrate the birthday of two of my classmates. We had three birthdays this week, what are the chances of that? (I could figure it out if I had the time.) I thought it historically significant to drink a gin and tonic in southern Africa. Though the malaria here has long been chloroquine-resistant, I felt like paying homage to old-time white colonialists. Or at least to whoever was clever enough to make an alcoholic beverage into a vaccine. If they inved an HPV margharita, I bet it would be much more popular.
On Thursday, armed with a map, a list of things to learn, and the knowledge of how to greet people in Setswana, we were dumped in Gabs in groups of two or three and told when to return to our temporary home (Lolwapa Lodge). Oh man, was that overwhelming. I've learned that I get really nervous talking to people in another language and just sort of stand there not saying anything. Huh, imagine me, not saying anything. And you're not supposed to just go up to someone and ask directions, you first need a "Hello. Hello. How are you? Fine, you? Fine." (Dumela-rra [or -mma]. Dumela-mma. O tsogile jang? Ke tsogile sentle. Wena, o tsogile jang? Ke tsogile sentle.) It wasn't too disastrous, if the Batswana (people of Botswana--the pronunciations are slightly different) followed that script exactly. Slang or other words completely confused us.
Public transportation around here is Combis, which are white vans that drive up and down certain streets that many people can cram into and pay 2.50 pula (40-ish cents) to go as far as the Combi goes. There are Combi stops, but you can ask to get out somewhere else along the line, and if you are walking down the street Combis will honk at you, and you can pick one up or wave it past.
They drive on the left side of the street. It boggles my mind. That, along with the ubiquitous Cadbury chocolate, are some of the prominent remnants of the British protectorate.
Traffic lights are called "robots".
We were addressed as "English", or something of the sort. It's not derogatory, they just seem to think we're from England. You know, I've never been so conscious of the color of my skin. People, especially kids, will actually stop and stare. Adults tend to greet us and talk.
Botswana has 1.6 million people and 3.5 million cows.
On Saturday, groups of three or four were each given the name of a nearby village, and sort-of directions to the bus station. We went to Thamaga. It was a lot of fun and the people there are really friendly. When we got off the bus at the village, an American (or Brit, we couldn't come to agreement on that) from the Peace Corps got us a taxi and sent us to a restaurant for lunch. It was good. We got to talk to a couple of twenty-somethings from the village. From them, we learned that the population of the village was about 15,000 and that their tribe is the Bakgatla. (The "tl" combination is sharp and click-ish, making the name of that tribe completely unpronounceable by us.) We went to a pottery store, and they had some really cool stuff.
Around here, people's names mean something, like a women we met whose name was Setswana for "happy cows". And they don't really use time like we do. They mark time by events and interactions, not by an arbitrary numbering system. This takes a bit of getting used to, especially when waiting for a bus. Oh, and in Setswana, there is only one word to mean both blue and green.
Tomorrow I'm off to homestay # 1, in a village called Otse. I will live with a family that consists of a mother, father, and two teenage daughters. I don't remember their name. They may or may not have electricity or running water. Pit latrines are quite popular in villages. I may not have internet access for a couple of weeks.
Breakfast this morning was peanut butter and jelly, which was surprisingly comforting.
Go D-backs.
Our last night in Mokolodi, we went to a bar to celebrate the birthday of two of my classmates. We had three birthdays this week, what are the chances of that? (I could figure it out if I had the time.) I thought it historically significant to drink a gin and tonic in southern Africa. Though the malaria here has long been chloroquine-resistant, I felt like paying homage to old-time white colonialists. Or at least to whoever was clever enough to make an alcoholic beverage into a vaccine. If they inved an HPV margharita, I bet it would be much more popular.
On Thursday, armed with a map, a list of things to learn, and the knowledge of how to greet people in Setswana, we were dumped in Gabs in groups of two or three and told when to return to our temporary home (Lolwapa Lodge). Oh man, was that overwhelming. I've learned that I get really nervous talking to people in another language and just sort of stand there not saying anything. Huh, imagine me, not saying anything. And you're not supposed to just go up to someone and ask directions, you first need a "Hello. Hello. How are you? Fine, you? Fine." (Dumela-rra [or -mma]. Dumela-mma. O tsogile jang? Ke tsogile sentle. Wena, o tsogile jang? Ke tsogile sentle.) It wasn't too disastrous, if the Batswana (people of Botswana--the pronunciations are slightly different) followed that script exactly. Slang or other words completely confused us.
Public transportation around here is Combis, which are white vans that drive up and down certain streets that many people can cram into and pay 2.50 pula (40-ish cents) to go as far as the Combi goes. There are Combi stops, but you can ask to get out somewhere else along the line, and if you are walking down the street Combis will honk at you, and you can pick one up or wave it past.
They drive on the left side of the street. It boggles my mind. That, along with the ubiquitous Cadbury chocolate, are some of the prominent remnants of the British protectorate.
Traffic lights are called "robots".
We were addressed as "English", or something of the sort. It's not derogatory, they just seem to think we're from England. You know, I've never been so conscious of the color of my skin. People, especially kids, will actually stop and stare. Adults tend to greet us and talk.
Botswana has 1.6 million people and 3.5 million cows.
On Saturday, groups of three or four were each given the name of a nearby village, and sort-of directions to the bus station. We went to Thamaga. It was a lot of fun and the people there are really friendly. When we got off the bus at the village, an American (or Brit, we couldn't come to agreement on that) from the Peace Corps got us a taxi and sent us to a restaurant for lunch. It was good. We got to talk to a couple of twenty-somethings from the village. From them, we learned that the population of the village was about 15,000 and that their tribe is the Bakgatla. (The "tl" combination is sharp and click-ish, making the name of that tribe completely unpronounceable by us.) We went to a pottery store, and they had some really cool stuff.
Around here, people's names mean something, like a women we met whose name was Setswana for "happy cows". And they don't really use time like we do. They mark time by events and interactions, not by an arbitrary numbering system. This takes a bit of getting used to, especially when waiting for a bus. Oh, and in Setswana, there is only one word to mean both blue and green.
Tomorrow I'm off to homestay # 1, in a village called Otse. I will live with a family that consists of a mother, father, and two teenage daughters. I don't remember their name. They may or may not have electricity or running water. Pit latrines are quite popular in villages. I may not have internet access for a couple of weeks.
Breakfast this morning was peanut butter and jelly, which was surprisingly comforting.
Go D-backs.
Ga Go Na Mathata
Thar be me, first stepping on Botswana soil, with the sketchy plane, short hair, and the same clothes I'd been wearing for two days.On Tuesday we discussed our hopes, fears, and expectations. I believe they're all aspects of the same; I hope to avoid my fears, I fear I won't achieve my hopes, and I expect some combination of the two. Mostly, I have to remember to ignore everyone else's hopes, fears, and expectations.
This is a picture of our classroom.
Class is so much more engaging when the teacher stops every once in a while to say things like, "See how the warthogs kneel down to eat? It's because they have such short necks," or, "Those are baboons drinking from the swimming pool." Warthogs:
Then we went on safari. Oh man, it was actually that good. I learned tons and tons about animals of all sorts, and I will try to convey some interesting facts...along with pictures. Gosh, I hope this computer works well. Fortunately, the U in USB actually means universal.
These elephants aren't actually wild; they were rescued and raised by Sri Lankan men at Mokolodi. Elephants can only digest about 40% of what they eat, so their poop is mostly undigested plant matter. Oh yeah, if I haven't mentioned, I have no concept of what's "gross" or "disgusting." I think biology is cool.
Nobody knows why zebras are striped, but the best answer to why they evolved that way is that when they are running in a herd, lions can pick out any zebra in particular because of all the stripes. I know I get a little seasick watching only one zebra running through the trees.
White rhinos are not named for their color, but rather for the shape of their face, which is "wide". But apparently, "wide" is too difficult to pronounce for us people, so they became "white" instead. Their face is so wide because they need to be able to eat as much grass as possible in one mouthful. Also, their horns are not attached to their skulls, but rather protrude from the skin like fingernails. I think this picture is Mommy and Baby.
This is a picture of one of my awesome classmates in the safari truck that reminds me way too much of something from Disneyworld. The scene in the background is pretty much exactly what I pictured Africa to be.
There about a gazillion species of antelope here. I can't remember all of them, I can't recognize most of them, and they're all beautiful. Here's Simba pointing out a kudu. Kudus have curly horns. They're age can be estimated based on the size of their horns. I can say that for my Rosh Hashana, I got to see a REAL Shofar.
I don't know about you, but I've always wanted to know what a wildebeest looks like.
I think giraffes look a lot like the Loch Ness monster. I also find it endlessly amusing that this giraffe appears to have evolved to be TALLER than the trees, and actually has to bend its neck down to eat. A giraffe has the highest blood pressure in the animal kingdom, because its brain is so far from its heart, so when it bends down to drink water, valves in its arteries kick in so that its brain doesn't start hemorrhaging out its ears.
I think it's the stars that make it all seem real. The sky full if stars is what separates the real Africa from Disney's Animal Kingdom or the Hall of African Mammals at the Museum of Natural History in NYC. The rhinos and wildebeest are all there during the day, but they're still there at night. I realize I haven't gone home, that the animals are sleeping under the same sky, even though I don't see them.
The sunset is beautiful, but it is only an overture to the night sky. Stars are everywhere like I've never seen before. The Milky Way is a bright smudge across the night as a hint of the billions and billions of stars that are too far to see, that are too numerous to fit in Earth's pigeon-holed view of the universe. I'm pretty sure the stars look different than at home, but I don't know enough to explain how. I think there are different constellatinos, or they're in different places, or something like that.
And then there's the comfort and security of knowing that the nearest group of people to us is probably several miles away, that the only dangers close enough to harm us have no interest, because they're sleeping under the stars as well.
And now a brief language lesson:
"I do this because I like strange people, and you are some of the strangest people I've ever seen."
-Matts, our Setswana instructor
In Setswana, the "g" is pronounced like the "ch" in "Chanukah", "Pesach", or "Bleeeeech".
The word "kgala" means "to dry up, like a river or lake". Therefore, Kgalagadi means "great thirst", which is forgotten by the rest of the world when they pronounce it "Kalahari".
Then there's the expression "Ga go na mathata", which, pronounced correctly, and then translated into Swahili (a Bantu language, like Setswana), sounds like "Hakuna matata". Ah, life makes so much more sense now.
Oh, I don't have the time/patience to proofread, so I sincerely apologize for spelling and grammatical errors, and feel free to point them out. (I'd do the same for you.)
<----"Ga go na mathata."
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Dumela!
It wasn't real yet when I packed my luggage into the car, drove to JFK, and hugged my parents goodbye. It wasn't real yet when I met my awesome classmates for the semester and flew to Atlanta. It wasn't real when I sat in Atlanta International eating Panda Express and watching the Jets' game.
It started to hit me, just a little, when we boarded th plane to Jo'burg via Dakar, Senegal. It was exciting to watch the airplane-map-GPS-thing as the plane landed in Dakar. I was listening to pirate music. We sat in Dakar for an hour while they cleaned, secured, and resupplied the plane. During that time, we were IN AFRICA. For REAL.
And then we lifted off again as the sky turned from black to orange to pink to blue while the sun rose over the coast of West Africa. Following that, the flight attendants walked up and down the aisles spraying EPA-approved insecticide, as required by South African regulation. That threw me off even more than hearing the security guards speaking French(-ish) (I think).
Other than being really, really long, the flight(s) were nothing unusual. There was a little turbulence and I was terrified. There was an empty seat next to me. Delta failed to understand that "vegetarian and dairy-free" doesn't mean "you can pick the cheese off the pasta." I got a decent amount of sleep. There were good snacks.
From Dakar to Jo'burg, I made friends with a flight attendant who conspired to feed me. He smuggled a fruit salad and a cheese-less sandwich from First Class for me. Sweet.
The Jo'burg to Gabs plane was small. It had propellers. No chickens, though.
The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane was the smell. Botswana smells...different. I can't describe how. Perhaps it's the completely different combination of animals, plants, and people.
Culture shock first hit in the car, listening to the radio. They were speaking Setswana! I didn't recognize a single world. Then they played Bob Marley and all was okay.
Our academic director Simba says, "if you involve your emotions, you'll learn so much more." Damn right.
Our first destination was the Mokolodi Nature Reserve. Dry, red, desert sand, just like pictures. Falling asleep right away and then waking to the light, I walked outside to see monkeys racing across the roof of our dormitory-style building, where we had slept. Down a dirt path was their wildlife rehabilitation center, which housed an eagle, some vultures, and a deer/antelope thing.
That morning, I had my fourth cup of rooibos in two meals. It was at that moment I realized I liked this place.
Some comments from our academic director, Simba:
"You are all crazy to leave your schools and come here."
"You like the beach? Good, there's lots of sand here."
During class that day, a family of warthogs walked right by the classroom and then a baboon crossed in the distance.
More pictures, stories, and cultural commentary in the next couple of days. No time now.
It started to hit me, just a little, when we boarded th plane to Jo'burg via Dakar, Senegal. It was exciting to watch the airplane-map-GPS-thing as the plane landed in Dakar. I was listening to pirate music. We sat in Dakar for an hour while they cleaned, secured, and resupplied the plane. During that time, we were IN AFRICA. For REAL.
And then we lifted off again as the sky turned from black to orange to pink to blue while the sun rose over the coast of West Africa. Following that, the flight attendants walked up and down the aisles spraying EPA-approved insecticide, as required by South African regulation. That threw me off even more than hearing the security guards speaking French(-ish) (I think).
Other than being really, really long, the flight(s) were nothing unusual. There was a little turbulence and I was terrified. There was an empty seat next to me. Delta failed to understand that "vegetarian and dairy-free" doesn't mean "you can pick the cheese off the pasta." I got a decent amount of sleep. There were good snacks.
From Dakar to Jo'burg, I made friends with a flight attendant who conspired to feed me. He smuggled a fruit salad and a cheese-less sandwich from First Class for me. Sweet.
The Jo'burg to Gabs plane was small. It had propellers. No chickens, though.
The first thing I noticed when I got off the plane was the smell. Botswana smells...different. I can't describe how. Perhaps it's the completely different combination of animals, plants, and people.
Culture shock first hit in the car, listening to the radio. They were speaking Setswana! I didn't recognize a single world. Then they played Bob Marley and all was okay.
Our academic director Simba says, "if you involve your emotions, you'll learn so much more." Damn right.
Our first destination was the Mokolodi Nature Reserve. Dry, red, desert sand, just like pictures. Falling asleep right away and then waking to the light, I walked outside to see monkeys racing across the roof of our dormitory-style building, where we had slept. Down a dirt path was their wildlife rehabilitation center, which housed an eagle, some vultures, and a deer/antelope thing.
That morning, I had my fourth cup of rooibos in two meals. It was at that moment I realized I liked this place.
Some comments from our academic director, Simba:
"You are all crazy to leave your schools and come here."
"You like the beach? Good, there's lots of sand here."
During class that day, a family of warthogs walked right by the classroom and then a baboon crossed in the distance.
More pictures, stories, and cultural commentary in the next couple of days. No time now.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Shiver With Anticip...
There's something so enjoyable about the anticipation of a big event unlike anything I have ever done before. My synapses are in overdrive and my veins are pulsing with excitement. And I have no idea what to expect. I can not grasp the concepts of being in Africa, watching all these awesome animals in the wild, or even how long an 18 hour flight really is.
Twelve hours until my first flight begins, but I'm so anxious I'd leave right now would I not later regret the loss of tonight's several hours of restless sleep, the last in my own bed until it's almost 2008. I've packed, repacked, and crossed everything off my list. I have my stuffed elephant girth-hitched to my backpack in case homesickness threatens. I've packed some chocolate and tofu jerky for the flight. I aim to control every detail while I can; tomorrow anything may happen.
But what's to lose? I expect only to see, to learn, to experience, and to drink it all in like the Tswana drink rooibos.
...pation.
Twelve hours until my first flight begins, but I'm so anxious I'd leave right now would I not later regret the loss of tonight's several hours of restless sleep, the last in my own bed until it's almost 2008. I've packed, repacked, and crossed everything off my list. I have my stuffed elephant girth-hitched to my backpack in case homesickness threatens. I've packed some chocolate and tofu jerky for the flight. I aim to control every detail while I can; tomorrow anything may happen.
But what's to lose? I expect only to see, to learn, to experience, and to drink it all in like the Tswana drink rooibos.
...pation.
Monday, September 3, 2007
FAQ's
These are all questions that I have been asked.
1. What is Botswana?
Botswana is a country in southern Africa.
2. Where is Botswana?
Southern Africa.
3. So it's part of South Africa?
No.
4. How big is Botswana?
It's big, about the size of Texas. Estimated population: 1.6 million.
5. So do they live in huts and stuff?
Much of the population live in major cities. The country's capital, Gaborone, has 250,000 people. There are some villages/suburbs and a few communities of bushmen, who probably live in huts. I'll have a better idea once I'm there.
6. Don't you have to get all sorts of shots to go there?
I've been vaccinated for Hep A, Hep B, Typhoid, and Rabies. I will be on a course of anti-malarial prophylactics for the next four months.
7. Do lots of people have AIDS there?
Yes. With an estimated 38.8% of the population HIV positive, Botswana has possibly the highest rate of infection in the world. However, Botswana is also unique in that it's government is one of the few to provide anti-retrovirals to citizens who can't afford to pay. The country has also funded widespread education campaigns.
8. Can you get a vaccine to protect yourself from AIDS?
No.
9. How long are you going to be there?
Three and a half months. I will be there from September 10 to December 24.
10. How long is the flight?
There will be about 36 hours of travel, divided into three separate flights and layovers. I will fly from JFK to Atlanta, from Atlanta to Johannesburg, South Africa, and from Jo'burg to Gaborone, Botswana. The longest of the flights is Atlanta to Jo'burg, which is 18 hours. That's a long flight.
11. What's the weather like there?
Hot, dry. A lot of the country is covered by the Kalahari Desert, which should give you some idea of the weather, although it's not technically a desert. It's a semi-arid something or other.
I'll be there in the Spring, when temperatures average in the high-80's to low-90's.
12. Are you going to be living in a dorm?
For about a third of the semester, I will live with three different host families. For another third of the semester, I'll be living in my beautiful tent. The rest of the semester will be determined by where I decide to do my research.
13. Do they speak English?
In the cities, they speak English. It is the official language of Botswana, although most of the population speaks Setswana. The first weeks of my semester will be spent studying Setswana many hours a day.
14. What does Setswana sound like? Is it a clicking language?
It is not a clicking language. It sounds, to me, a little like Spanish spoken really, really slowly. The language is spoken in such a way that it is clear that the speaker is in no hurry.
15. Can you buy toiletries there?
Yes. In the cities, I will be able to find everything I need. Although I'm told that Tampons are really expensive.
16. Do you have internet access?
The cities have internet cafes. I will not have a computer, so will only have access to the internet periodically.
17. What are you studying there?
Mostly, ecology. In addition to the intensive language course, I will have seminars in local ecology, conservation ecology, and field research techniques. The last four weeks of the semester are spent doing independent research somewhere in the country.
18. What are you going to research?
I have no idea.
19. Will you see lions and tigers and bears, oh my?
Yes, no, and no. And wildebeest, elephants, hippopatomuses, rhinocerosesoses, leopards, springbok, gazelles, and other cool animals I can't think of at the moment.
If you have any other questions, ask!
1. What is Botswana?
Botswana is a country in southern Africa.
2. Where is Botswana?
Southern Africa.
3. So it's part of South Africa?
No.
4. How big is Botswana?
It's big, about the size of Texas. Estimated population: 1.6 million.
5. So do they live in huts and stuff?
Much of the population live in major cities. The country's capital, Gaborone, has 250,000 people. There are some villages/suburbs and a few communities of bushmen, who probably live in huts. I'll have a better idea once I'm there.
6. Don't you have to get all sorts of shots to go there?
I've been vaccinated for Hep A, Hep B, Typhoid, and Rabies. I will be on a course of anti-malarial prophylactics for the next four months.
7. Do lots of people have AIDS there?
Yes. With an estimated 38.8% of the population HIV positive, Botswana has possibly the highest rate of infection in the world. However, Botswana is also unique in that it's government is one of the few to provide anti-retrovirals to citizens who can't afford to pay. The country has also funded widespread education campaigns.
8. Can you get a vaccine to protect yourself from AIDS?
No.
9. How long are you going to be there?
Three and a half months. I will be there from September 10 to December 24.
10. How long is the flight?
There will be about 36 hours of travel, divided into three separate flights and layovers. I will fly from JFK to Atlanta, from Atlanta to Johannesburg, South Africa, and from Jo'burg to Gaborone, Botswana. The longest of the flights is Atlanta to Jo'burg, which is 18 hours. That's a long flight.
11. What's the weather like there?
Hot, dry. A lot of the country is covered by the Kalahari Desert, which should give you some idea of the weather, although it's not technically a desert. It's a semi-arid something or other.
I'll be there in the Spring, when temperatures average in the high-80's to low-90's.
12. Are you going to be living in a dorm?
For about a third of the semester, I will live with three different host families. For another third of the semester, I'll be living in my beautiful tent. The rest of the semester will be determined by where I decide to do my research.
13. Do they speak English?
In the cities, they speak English. It is the official language of Botswana, although most of the population speaks Setswana. The first weeks of my semester will be spent studying Setswana many hours a day.
14. What does Setswana sound like? Is it a clicking language?
It is not a clicking language. It sounds, to me, a little like Spanish spoken really, really slowly. The language is spoken in such a way that it is clear that the speaker is in no hurry.
15. Can you buy toiletries there?
Yes. In the cities, I will be able to find everything I need. Although I'm told that Tampons are really expensive.
16. Do you have internet access?
The cities have internet cafes. I will not have a computer, so will only have access to the internet periodically.
17. What are you studying there?
Mostly, ecology. In addition to the intensive language course, I will have seminars in local ecology, conservation ecology, and field research techniques. The last four weeks of the semester are spent doing independent research somewhere in the country.
18. What are you going to research?
I have no idea.
19. Will you see lions and tigers and bears, oh my?
Yes, no, and no. And wildebeest, elephants, hippopatomuses, rhinocerosesoses, leopards, springbok, gazelles, and other cool animals I can't think of at the moment.
If you have any other questions, ask!
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