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