If you don't read the Mmegi, you might not know there's a massive strike on right now in Botswana. CNN finally picked up the story--90,000 out of 103,000 possible strikers are refusing to go to their jobs at border posts, schools, and hospitals (those numbers may be a lot higher). They're requesting a pay raise, which the government hasn't given them in three years.
Some union members have decided not to strike because they can't afford to lose two weeks salary and potentially lose their jobs. Some medical professionals are also not striking because they feel a duty to help the sick people in their care. The government is also requiring 30% of people--"essential service workers"--to stay at work; I'm not sure if that's really happening or not.
The border closings were supposed to be the straw that broke the camel's back, but the government has sent military scabs to do the jobs of the people that are striking. Borders are open as usual. This is a violation of strike rules, and the union people are unsurprisingly angry (although this does mean I'll probably get to leave the country on May 1!).
Even though the strike started with a little bit of that confusion Botswana is known for--are we striking? I think so. OK cool.--it's really taken off. Check out the comments at the bottom of this Mmegi story on the strike starting. I kind of wish the strikers were more visible; this is where not having a town center in Gaborone seems like a handicap. I saw them across the street from Princess Marina Hospital, but just barely.
Of course, if you're only listening to government news, you might not even know the strike is happening. On Monday, the government radio didn't even report the strike had begun. Since then, they've done an abysmal job of pretending to be an unbiased news service.
This would be an excellent time for me to get kicked out of the country for criticizing the government.
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Showing posts with label culture. Show all posts
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
I love you and Buddha, too.
(Not just God, but Jesus.)Before meals at the kindergarten, the students pray.
“God bless our food. Amen.”
They have to say it with their hands together and their eyes closed. They all know they’re not allowed to touch their food until everyone has been served and those words have been said.
Sometimes the kindergarten teacher has the children say a longer prayer, blessing the hands of the person who prepared the food and thanking God for the nourishment the food will give their bodies. It’s hard for the kids to keep their eyes closed for so long, so their faces get all screwed up in concentration.
The kids also sing songs about God—not just God, but Jesus. Jesus and me and the Bible and all that stuff. One of the songs is super catchy:
“Oh Lord…I read and I pray…Oh Loooord, I read and I pray. Oh Lord…I read and I pray…In the Bible, I read and I pray.”
Then there’s a bit in Setswana and a dance; the kids know all the words and they clearly love singing it and showing off.
It’s really nice. Which is really weird.
Because I think I’m supposed to be a little appalled. I mean, who is protecting these orphans and vulnerable children from the religious beliefs of their teachers? What are the teachers telling the kids about Jesus behind closed doors? What are these children who have already experienced significant hardships being led to believe about punishment and reward?
Sure, the orphanage is a privately funded NGO (they may get some government funding—I’m not sure), but it’s not an explicitly religious place. I wonder if parents and caretakers might not expect (or desire) the religious education their preschoolers are receiving.
("We're All Friends And Sunshine And Kitty Cats")
Recently, I organized some of the educational videos we have. One morning, I popped in a seemingly harmless one called “We’re All Friends And Sunshine And Kitty Cats” or something like that, only to discover the second or third song in that it was evidently created by some American evangelical group with a clearly defined image of God/Jesus, a gendered system of values, and an agenda to spread the message to unsuspecting children. Plus all the kids in the video were white. It was weird.
But while I’m thinking “whoops” and getting up to switch to Barney or another PBS-sanctioned show, the other teachers are like, “Oh, this is lovely. Look at the costumes, and the dancing, and the message.”
So then it’s like, well okay, maybe I just have this visceral approach to a certain Christian element in the United States and that just has no meaning here. I don’t know that there is anything intrinsically harmful about little children singing about God. Unless your heart is made of stone or you’re Christopher Hitchens, that image is sort of peaceful and wholesome, right?
Or maybe I’m just okay with kids singing about the Bible and God in sort of neutral terms. But when they get into Jesus dying for your sins like they did on the video or even when Jewish preschoolers sing about Israel or the Messiah, I get the heebie jeebies.
I mean, that’s why what we do in America works, right? Like I don’t really care if the Ten Commandments are displayed in a courthouse, but that’s exactly why I personally don’t get to decide. Someone else might not care if kids sing about Jesus in public schools, but that's why they don't get to decide, either.
Still, I admire Botswana’s community-generated prayer system. When we got married at the magistrate’s court—definitely a government office—the day began with a prayer, but the prayer was led by whoever in the room wanted to lead it—not by the magistrate. Probably everyone in the room was Christian; I don’t know what would have happened if one of Botswana’s Muslims or Hindus had led the prayer. I’ll be interested to see how Botswana tackles religious diversity as their religious minorities grow.
In the meantime though, (and I'm not saying this should guide public policy) it almost seems petty to care if the song or the prayer or the video is about Jesus or not. Like who really cares if someone leading a prayer before the ceremony mentions Jesus or Allah or Visnu. I wonder if the next moment in religious pluralism will require that we be able to recognize the common human hopes and uncertainties that inhabit prayer. And even that we be able to pray if the words are not our own.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Botswana theater scene
Last night, A and I were determined to see one of the plays that is being put on as part of the city-wide Maitisong Festival and not to just spend another night eating pizza in our pajamas. Although doesn't eating pizza in your pajamas sound good?
We picked a series of short plays put on by students from the University of Botswana at Botswanacraft. Here's the play-by-play:
7pm - We arrive at Botswanacraft and park nearby. Even though the play theoretically started at 7, I wouldn't let A convince me to get there a minute before. As we got out of the car, I felt something hit my foot, but couldn't see anything in the dark.
7:05pm - For P30 each, we are handed paper tickets by a man sitting at a table out front, and then told to put the tickets directly into a box on the table. Classic. We get some beers and take our seats. The crowd is small, but I've had smaller.
7:15pm - I try to turn my phone off and can't find it. I send A out in the dark to look in the car. It is on the ground by the driver's door.
7:20pm - The show starts! Almost on time! First the cast performs a couple of songs. Not to be racist, but everyone in Botswana has a wonderful singing voice. Then they start the show.
7:25pm - A 30-second scene where a woman gives birth to a baby boy (clearly visible teddy bear), sending the audience into hysterics. Then she dies, and we all feel bad for laughing.
7:35pm - Ten minutes later, they figured out which scene comes next. A father is holding the now-concealed teddy bear. The grandmother of the baby demands he hand over the baby. They do a really good job of not letting us see the teddy bear.
7:50pm - We sit in darkness for ten minutes or so, and then they do a choreographed children's dance. One dancer's shirt is distractingly close to falling off. It's weird. Why doesn't she change? I wonder. The boy is now 16, and his grandmother is a drunk who mistreats him. Her performance as drunk old woman with comically large behind gets huge laughs.
7:55pm - Big chunks of the show are in Setswana, but we can still follow it. They are at the kgotla and the father argues for custody of his son. He loses.
8:00pm - They go to the magistrate court, and the father argues for custody of his son. He wins! Yay, modernity and progress.
8:20pm or so - We sit in the dark for a while, and then they remember to perform the final scene, in which the boy wins a scholarship in humanities to the University of Botswana for his excellent performing arts skills. The father and son dance and are happy.
8:40pm - The lights come back on and they take a bow.
8:45pm - I am satisfied and ready to go after almost two hours but A wants to stay for the rest of the shows. We don't have to wait long for the second one to start, and it's actually pretty good. A jilted girlfriend befriends a funny melted-ice-cream seller. An engaging 10 minutes.
9pm - The last play is getting ready to start. I'm antsy, but A wants to stay. We stay.
9:15pm - The last play starts. It's about two children who want different careers than their parents want for them. It's kind of like reading a Unity Dow book in that everyone is extremely overt about their feelings and motivations and the plot progresses So Slowly. (And I liked that Unity Dow book I read!) At the same time, there's clearly a lot of hard work going on onstage, and I think it must be hard to perform a show in your second language. Some of the actors are really quite funny. We eat a banana muffin I had in my bag. The play is still going. Finally, it ends!
All in all, a great night. As funny as it may seem, I left Botswanacraft feeling nostalgic and sentimental. I love Botswana in all its JV glory!
We picked a series of short plays put on by students from the University of Botswana at Botswanacraft. Here's the play-by-play:
7pm - We arrive at Botswanacraft and park nearby. Even though the play theoretically started at 7, I wouldn't let A convince me to get there a minute before. As we got out of the car, I felt something hit my foot, but couldn't see anything in the dark.
7:05pm - For P30 each, we are handed paper tickets by a man sitting at a table out front, and then told to put the tickets directly into a box on the table. Classic. We get some beers and take our seats. The crowd is small, but I've had smaller.
7:15pm - I try to turn my phone off and can't find it. I send A out in the dark to look in the car. It is on the ground by the driver's door.
7:20pm - The show starts! Almost on time! First the cast performs a couple of songs. Not to be racist, but everyone in Botswana has a wonderful singing voice. Then they start the show.
7:25pm - A 30-second scene where a woman gives birth to a baby boy (clearly visible teddy bear), sending the audience into hysterics. Then she dies, and we all feel bad for laughing.
7:35pm - Ten minutes later, they figured out which scene comes next. A father is holding the now-concealed teddy bear. The grandmother of the baby demands he hand over the baby. They do a really good job of not letting us see the teddy bear.
7:50pm - We sit in darkness for ten minutes or so, and then they do a choreographed children's dance. One dancer's shirt is distractingly close to falling off. It's weird. Why doesn't she change? I wonder. The boy is now 16, and his grandmother is a drunk who mistreats him. Her performance as drunk old woman with comically large behind gets huge laughs.
7:55pm - Big chunks of the show are in Setswana, but we can still follow it. They are at the kgotla and the father argues for custody of his son. He loses.
8:00pm - They go to the magistrate court, and the father argues for custody of his son. He wins! Yay, modernity and progress.
8:20pm or so - We sit in the dark for a while, and then they remember to perform the final scene, in which the boy wins a scholarship in humanities to the University of Botswana for his excellent performing arts skills. The father and son dance and are happy.
8:40pm - The lights come back on and they take a bow.
8:45pm - I am satisfied and ready to go after almost two hours but A wants to stay for the rest of the shows. We don't have to wait long for the second one to start, and it's actually pretty good. A jilted girlfriend befriends a funny melted-ice-cream seller. An engaging 10 minutes.
9pm - The last play is getting ready to start. I'm antsy, but A wants to stay. We stay.
9:15pm - The last play starts. It's about two children who want different careers than their parents want for them. It's kind of like reading a Unity Dow book in that everyone is extremely overt about their feelings and motivations and the plot progresses So Slowly. (And I liked that Unity Dow book I read!) At the same time, there's clearly a lot of hard work going on onstage, and I think it must be hard to perform a show in your second language. Some of the actors are really quite funny. We eat a banana muffin I had in my bag. The play is still going. Finally, it ends!
All in all, a great night. As funny as it may seem, I left Botswanacraft feeling nostalgic and sentimental. I love Botswana in all its JV glory!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Manyana and others
We're trying to hit all the sites in and around Gabs in our last few weeks here. A couple of weekends ago, we headed to Manyana, a nearby village, to see some 2,000-year-old San cave paintings.
In case you were wondering, "manyana" means "playful" or "childlike" in Setswana, not "tomorrow."
It was a beautiful day as we drove out of Gabs--sun shining, blue sky, pretty hills and trees. We got to Manyana and asked for directions (even Lonely Planet thinks "ask for directions" is an acceptable form of directions). Luckily everyone had a vague idea that they were "that side" and eventually we found them. They were closed.
We contemplated hopping the fence, but some neighborhood kids informed us that the man who worked the site was on his lunch break and would be right back. After 15 minutes or so, Justice showed up. "This is my place," he said.
Justice led us all around the rocks and caves, and pointed out all the faint and hidden cave paintings. We never would have been able to find them on our own, but jumping the fence might have been a good story.
Justice said before the fence was built, local kids used to come draw their own cave paintings on the rock. Some of those drawings are still there, so it's important not to get confused.
He told us about how this rock was a holy place for the San, who would hold religious rituals in front of and under it.
The views of the village as we climbed through the rocks were really pretty.
This is a plant called a strangler. It kills trees, but looks awesome while doing so.
Here are some giraffes, which were my favorite paintings we saw. Mostly because it's cool to think giraffes were wandering these parts not too long ago. But also because cave paintings of giraffes, like actual giraffes, are way sweeter than antelope or people.
All in all, our visit to Manyana was a success.
*
On Sunday, we headed to the Gaborone Game Reserve, a modest game reserve inside the city limits. While there wasn't all that much game to speak of (plenty of monkeys and warthogs, one zebra from afar), we did see some lovely trees.
I didn't mind that there wasn't more exciting game at the Gabs Game Reserve because the fences weren't all that good.
*
Lately, A and I have been working on taking photos of things we see in our everyday lives. This is the termite mound across the street from his office.
And here he is working at a clinic!
He's almost done collecting data, which means we might get to sleep in past 6am sometimes. Hooray!
In case you were wondering, "manyana" means "playful" or "childlike" in Setswana, not "tomorrow."
It was a beautiful day as we drove out of Gabs--sun shining, blue sky, pretty hills and trees. We got to Manyana and asked for directions (even Lonely Planet thinks "ask for directions" is an acceptable form of directions). Luckily everyone had a vague idea that they were "that side" and eventually we found them. They were closed.
We contemplated hopping the fence, but some neighborhood kids informed us that the man who worked the site was on his lunch break and would be right back. After 15 minutes or so, Justice showed up. "This is my place," he said.
Justice led us all around the rocks and caves, and pointed out all the faint and hidden cave paintings. We never would have been able to find them on our own, but jumping the fence might have been a good story.
Justice said before the fence was built, local kids used to come draw their own cave paintings on the rock. Some of those drawings are still there, so it's important not to get confused.He told us about how this rock was a holy place for the San, who would hold religious rituals in front of and under it.
The views of the village as we climbed through the rocks were really pretty.
This is a plant called a strangler. It kills trees, but looks awesome while doing so.
Here are some giraffes, which were my favorite paintings we saw. Mostly because it's cool to think giraffes were wandering these parts not too long ago. But also because cave paintings of giraffes, like actual giraffes, are way sweeter than antelope or people.All in all, our visit to Manyana was a success.
*
On Sunday, we headed to the Gaborone Game Reserve, a modest game reserve inside the city limits. While there wasn't all that much game to speak of (plenty of monkeys and warthogs, one zebra from afar), we did see some lovely trees.
I didn't mind that there wasn't more exciting game at the Gabs Game Reserve because the fences weren't all that good.*
Lately, A and I have been working on taking photos of things we see in our everyday lives. This is the termite mound across the street from his office.
And here he is working at a clinic!
He's almost done collecting data, which means we might get to sleep in past 6am sometimes. Hooray!
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Cape Town, baby!
Last Friday, A and I took off for Cape Town, our LAST big trip of the year. We met up with A's friends J and B, who were still on their marathon adventure through Zambia, Zimbabwe, Botswana, Namibia and South Africa!
We also met up with their friends J and C, who were wonderful hosts during our week in Cape Town. The very first thing we did Saturday morning was climb Table Mountain, which we kind of underestimated as being no big deal.
Actually, it was so hard that I was forced to wear this extremely dorky visor to protect myself from the sun. I can't believe I wore this visor for any amount of time. It might look good on someone lithe and athletic but it made me look like a soccer mom.
The views from the top were nice. Above you can see Lion's Head in the distance and closer, some people rappelling. And there was a really well-air-conditioned restaurant at the top, too. It was nice to look at Table Mountain all week and be like, I have conquered you.
Sunday was wine day! We headed out to Stellenbosch, one of the wine towns. On the way out, we passed a lot of townships. It was a really strange contrast--the city, which is sort of glitzy and LA-like and these third-world remnants. Not to mention us, zipping along in a private bus on our way to spend an entire day drinking wine.
Luckily, nothing wipes away white guilt like drinking at 10am!
(Don't I look romantic?)
We visited four vineyards throughout the day, plus a fifth one where we had lunch. The scenery was beautiful, and the wine was delicious. We had a lot of fun hanging out with friends of friends and seeing all the different styles of wineries. My favorite was the really old one covered in cobwebs and spiders. Now I want to do this again in Northern California! Of course, the difference is that these tastings were either $3.50 or free, whereas in NorCal they'd probably be a lot more.
(He cut off the top of the champagne bottle with a sword. Whatevs.)
By the third winery, A and I were wine-d out. So we did a chocolate and brandy pairing at the third place, and then skipped the tasting at the fourth place and went for a romantic walk under the trees. Who would have thought wineries are so romantic?
That night, we headed out for a kosher dinner, as we hadn't had any meat since November. I have to say, those chicken kebabs were the most succulent, perfectly seasoned, amazing things I have ever eaten in my entire life. Omigoodness, my mouth is watering. When did I turn into such a carnivore?
The following day we paid penance for our luxurious wine day by visiting Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela and other members of the resistance movement were held during apartheid.
(Leaving Cape Town's charming waterfront)
Once we had our land legs back, we made our way onto a tour bus. The first part of the trip is a narrated bus tour of the island, and we had an awesome tour guide. While he was never held at Robben Island, like most tour guides there, he was a big player in the anti-apartheid movement and he was also a really dramatic and funny host and performer. (I can't remember if he was IKP or PAC. Does anyone who was there remember?)
(Adam looked great on Robben Island.)
After touring the island, which has been used variously as a leper colony, military base, and prison, we headed back to the 20th century prison that was used for political prisoners under apartheid. But not before passing a revolting rotting whale carcass on the beach. This evoked by far the most dramatic response from the passengers on our bus, who all jumped up to take photos of it.
Our guide at the prison was a former prisoner who spent five years living there. I could not get over how new all the buildings were, like wait a minute, you guys JUST did this? You're kidding me.
(I think if I was ever imprisoned I'd be really claustrophobic, because I was claustrophobic just touring this prison, even though we were allowed to leave.)
As we were frequently reminded, the reason so many former prisoners work as tour guides is Not because they want to hang out there more, but because it's a steady job at a time when South Africa is experiencing high unemployment.
This sign was in the bathroom on the ferry. Don't ask me why they felt the need to specifically warn against flushing g-strings. Perhaps the intense emotional impact of a visit to Robben Island causes people to want to rip off their clothing and make love to the next person--white, black, or coloured--that they see, in a orgiastic celebration of racial diversity?
I don't know why they can't just take their g-strings with them afterward, though.
After our morning at Robben Island, we headed to downtown Cape Town, where we experienced the wood-oven-baked pizza and ethnic market offerings of the city. Then some of J and C's South African friends hosted a braai (a barbeque) and we got to have more. kosher. meat.
Tuesday was our last full day in Cape Town and we decided to head down to the Cape of Good Hope. This is not the furthermost southern point on the continent, but it is the farthest south I've ever been.
I wore that pink shirt I always wear in photos for the occasion.
We hiked up to Cape Point, which was just okay, and then took a dramatic and beautiful hike from Cape Point to the Cape of Good Hope itself (no I have no idea what the difference is). On the way, we passed this gorgeous small stretch of beach, where I took dramatic and beautiful photos of cliffs and waves.
In a surprising turn of events, after going down many, many stairs to get to the beach, we then had to climb all the same stairs to get back to the path.
(A and J. BFF. I made A carry my purse.)
On the way back from Cape of Good Hope, we stopped at Boulders Beach, where there is a colony of penguins that you can hang out with! They were really, really silly.
And that was our trip to Cape Town! Now we're back in Gabs (for another 32 days) and just chilling and enjoying being in one place for a while.
We also met up with their friends J and C, who were wonderful hosts during our week in Cape Town. The very first thing we did Saturday morning was climb Table Mountain, which we kind of underestimated as being no big deal.
Actually, it was so hard that I was forced to wear this extremely dorky visor to protect myself from the sun. I can't believe I wore this visor for any amount of time. It might look good on someone lithe and athletic but it made me look like a soccer mom.
The views from the top were nice. Above you can see Lion's Head in the distance and closer, some people rappelling. And there was a really well-air-conditioned restaurant at the top, too. It was nice to look at Table Mountain all week and be like, I have conquered you.Sunday was wine day! We headed out to Stellenbosch, one of the wine towns. On the way out, we passed a lot of townships. It was a really strange contrast--the city, which is sort of glitzy and LA-like and these third-world remnants. Not to mention us, zipping along in a private bus on our way to spend an entire day drinking wine.
Luckily, nothing wipes away white guilt like drinking at 10am!
(Don't I look romantic?)
(He cut off the top of the champagne bottle with a sword. Whatevs.)
By the third winery, A and I were wine-d out. So we did a chocolate and brandy pairing at the third place, and then skipped the tasting at the fourth place and went for a romantic walk under the trees. Who would have thought wineries are so romantic?That night, we headed out for a kosher dinner, as we hadn't had any meat since November. I have to say, those chicken kebabs were the most succulent, perfectly seasoned, amazing things I have ever eaten in my entire life. Omigoodness, my mouth is watering. When did I turn into such a carnivore?
The following day we paid penance for our luxurious wine day by visiting Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela and other members of the resistance movement were held during apartheid.
(Leaving Cape Town's charming waterfront)The trip to Robben Island required an especially nauseating ferry ride. As we sped away from Cape Town, it disappeared into the fog, until you could just barely make out the top of Table Mountain. I conquered you, I thought, trying not to vomit.
Once we had our land legs back, we made our way onto a tour bus. The first part of the trip is a narrated bus tour of the island, and we had an awesome tour guide. While he was never held at Robben Island, like most tour guides there, he was a big player in the anti-apartheid movement and he was also a really dramatic and funny host and performer. (I can't remember if he was IKP or PAC. Does anyone who was there remember?)
(Adam looked great on Robben Island.)After touring the island, which has been used variously as a leper colony, military base, and prison, we headed back to the 20th century prison that was used for political prisoners under apartheid. But not before passing a revolting rotting whale carcass on the beach. This evoked by far the most dramatic response from the passengers on our bus, who all jumped up to take photos of it.
Our guide at the prison was a former prisoner who spent five years living there. I could not get over how new all the buildings were, like wait a minute, you guys JUST did this? You're kidding me.
(I think if I was ever imprisoned I'd be really claustrophobic, because I was claustrophobic just touring this prison, even though we were allowed to leave.) As we were frequently reminded, the reason so many former prisoners work as tour guides is Not because they want to hang out there more, but because it's a steady job at a time when South Africa is experiencing high unemployment.
This sign was in the bathroom on the ferry. Don't ask me why they felt the need to specifically warn against flushing g-strings. Perhaps the intense emotional impact of a visit to Robben Island causes people to want to rip off their clothing and make love to the next person--white, black, or coloured--that they see, in a orgiastic celebration of racial diversity?I don't know why they can't just take their g-strings with them afterward, though.
After our morning at Robben Island, we headed to downtown Cape Town, where we experienced the wood-oven-baked pizza and ethnic market offerings of the city. Then some of J and C's South African friends hosted a braai (a barbeque) and we got to have more. kosher. meat.
Tuesday was our last full day in Cape Town and we decided to head down to the Cape of Good Hope. This is not the furthermost southern point on the continent, but it is the farthest south I've ever been.
I wore that pink shirt I always wear in photos for the occasion.
We hiked up to Cape Point, which was just okay, and then took a dramatic and beautiful hike from Cape Point to the Cape of Good Hope itself (no I have no idea what the difference is). On the way, we passed this gorgeous small stretch of beach, where I took dramatic and beautiful photos of cliffs and waves.
In a surprising turn of events, after going down many, many stairs to get to the beach, we then had to climb all the same stairs to get back to the path.
(A and J. BFF. I made A carry my purse.)
On the way back from Cape of Good Hope, we stopped at Boulders Beach, where there is a colony of penguins that you can hang out with! They were really, really silly.
And that was our trip to Cape Town! Now we're back in Gabs (for another 32 days) and just chilling and enjoying being in one place for a while.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Botswana (tries to) gets excited!
Recently, A called Botswana "JV," as in, not Varsity. This has become our favorite way to describe the way things work here.*
Yesterday was the biggest soccer game in Botswana's national team the Zebra's history. If they won this game against Chad (apparently they spell it "Tchad" in Chad??), they would for the first time be eligible to play in the Africa Cup.
So naturally nobody knew what time the game started.
There not being any sort of website we could turn to (including FIFA, which seemed equally baffled), we called D, a driver for Penn and soccer buff, who seems to be plugged in to the underground networks that determine soccer schedules. He said it started at 6pm.
With that in mind, we headed for a nearby village called Manyana, where there are some 2,000-year-old cave paintings of giraffes and other animals (photos coming). We joked with our guide that we hoped he got off work in time for the game at six. Not 6, he said. The game was at 4.
On the way home, we stopped at this weird amusement park-resort place (definitely merits its own post) and asked the people working there. 3 or 3:30, they said.
So we started texting. Our Motswana friend R said actually the game was at 5. But our American friend R said no, the game was on RIGHT NOW.
Other people variously suggested 4:30, 5:30, and that the game that was on right now was a re-run of the last time Botswana played Chad.
We finally decided the game started at 4:30 and headed to a bar to watch it. It started at 5.
The feed was direct from Chad, the broadcast was in French and they mispelled Botswana as "Bostwana," and when not skipping and stalling, the video was almost too blurry to follow. There were also no replays, not even when Botswana scored the only goal and the camera missed it. I guess Chad has bigger problems.
But we won and there was an impromptu dance party at the bar, and that's all that matters.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Two more countries to check off the list
After a couple of weeks of "real" life, we were ready to go on vacation again with some friends. First to arrive were J and M. J went to college with A; M is his lovely girlfriend. We had a great time showing them the iced coffee-related sites of Gabs, visiting the airport to see if their bags would ever arrive, and going to an actually really awesome comedy show that I will cover in another post. I did not take any pictures of them, because they are hideously ugly.
They left after one day to head to the Delta and then my sister E and her husband P got in a few hours later. We took them to Mokolodi to pet a cheetah, ate at Fego, and had a delightful brunch at Sanitas. We also went to our first rugby game! Could not follow the game for the life of me, but I enjoyed beer and sitting very much.
On Monday, the four of us headed up to Kasane, the base for visits Chobe Game Reserve. There we met up with A's college friends B, J, and J, which is when referring to people by their initials became overly complicated and was abandoned. We started our trip with a sunset safari by boat on the Chobe River. It was awesome! Probably one of our favorite activities this year.
Immediately, we understood why everyone says Chobe is the place to see animals. We saw tons of elephants, hippos, crocodiles, baboons, and more.
In the morning, we went on a game drive through the park and saw even more!
Later that day, we headed for the Zambian border. We took the ferry into Zambia (they are building a bridge, but currently trucks must travel one by one on the ferry, which is insane). It was pretty much immediately clear that Zambia is way more African than Botswana. People tried to sell us stuff, the currency was wildly inflated, our Motswana taxi driver warned us that the Zambians would try to rip us off, and in general there was a frenetic energy that is missing in Botswana.
Just when we became convinced that we were really in Southern Africa, we ended up at a restaurant called Fez Bar.
That naturally served Mexican food.
With our understanding of Zambian culture now firmly established, we headed for the falls!
Which were even more impressive when we zoomed out!
We hiked around the falls a bit, and got completely drenched. I seriously have never been so thoroughly soaked in my life. When the mist briefly cleared, we could glimpse the power of the falls. Luckily my sister's raincoat provided some protection for camera, passports, etc, but it took the rest of the trip for everything to dry. Which is partly why I did not take any photos of the Zimbabwe side.
We also hiked way way down to the river (and way way back up again) to see something called the Boiling Pot, a place where different streams of water meet to create an awesome-Lord of the Rings-type tempestuous whirlpool.
That night we started a nightly tradition of playing "Hats" also known as "Naked" which is a Charades-based game. It's great!
The following morning we headed into Zimbabwe for the day. We walked across the bridge to get there, and then hiked around the park on that side. The views were definitely better from the Zimbabwe side...but we still got drenched. Lesson learned.
Zimbabwe was full of tourists, all of whom were us. The tourism police, who apparently are not just people trying to rob you, followed us all around town, and literally wouldn't let us go anywhere without them. That's always a reassuring feeling.
The place seemed dead. But it didn't matter because we only had one place in mind--the distinguished, colonial, creepy Victoria Falls Hotel. We finished off our day in Zimbabwe with high tea and cocktails on the terrace of the hotel, overlooking the view of the bridge you see above.
On our last morning in Livingstone, we went on a walking tour with a guide from the Livingstone Museum. It was really nice to see the town and not just the falls. We asked him to show us the old synagogue, which still has a big Jewish star painted on it. We also bought fabric for a wedding project I'm working on because I've turned into one of those people who is obsessed with their wedding.
Back in Gabs, we FINALLY hiked Kgale Hill, the big hill in town, with the three boys from college. It was extremely hot and difficult, and we ended up hiking in the middle of one of the hottest days of the year. I don't want to exaggerate, but I nearly died. When we finally made it back down, we each drank an orange Fanta, which tasted exquisite. It literally took us all day to get back to normal, as I think we were all really overheated and dehydrated. Would definitely do this hike differently if we ever do it again! There were also giant baboons everywhere!
Saturday night we had a Setswana cooking lesson with our old housekeeper and ate dinner with her family and some of the dermatologists. If you want recipes for Zimbabwean/Setswana food, like spicy beans, spinach, porridge, dumplings, chakalaka, etc., let me know!
Sunday night we headed to jazz at the Gaborone Sun golf course with sister and brother-in-law. It's a fun time. We also went for a tour of the grounds, including a lovely playground where the kids worked off some steam.
On Monday I took E and P to see the orphanage and to get a tour of "downtown" Gaborone...and to eat at Nando's again. We ate at Nando's four times in a week. It was intense. 33 hours of travel later, they were safe and sound at home in LA. Meanwhile, J and B are still traveling (!) in Namibia and are meeting us in Capetown tomorrow. The adventure continues!
All in all, we had an amazing vacation. Traveling with 9 people is the way to go.
They left after one day to head to the Delta and then my sister E and her husband P got in a few hours later. We took them to Mokolodi to pet a cheetah, ate at Fego, and had a delightful brunch at Sanitas. We also went to our first rugby game! Could not follow the game for the life of me, but I enjoyed beer and sitting very much.
On Monday, the four of us headed up to Kasane, the base for visits Chobe Game Reserve. There we met up with A's college friends B, J, and J, which is when referring to people by their initials became overly complicated and was abandoned. We started our trip with a sunset safari by boat on the Chobe River. It was awesome! Probably one of our favorite activities this year.
Immediately, we understood why everyone says Chobe is the place to see animals. We saw tons of elephants, hippos, crocodiles, baboons, and more.
In the morning, we went on a game drive through the park and saw even more!
Later that day, we headed for the Zambian border. We took the ferry into Zambia (they are building a bridge, but currently trucks must travel one by one on the ferry, which is insane). It was pretty much immediately clear that Zambia is way more African than Botswana. People tried to sell us stuff, the currency was wildly inflated, our Motswana taxi driver warned us that the Zambians would try to rip us off, and in general there was a frenetic energy that is missing in Botswana.
Just when we became convinced that we were really in Southern Africa, we ended up at a restaurant called Fez Bar.
That naturally served Mexican food.
With our understanding of Zambian culture now firmly established, we headed for the falls!
Which were even more impressive when we zoomed out!
We hiked around the falls a bit, and got completely drenched. I seriously have never been so thoroughly soaked in my life. When the mist briefly cleared, we could glimpse the power of the falls. Luckily my sister's raincoat provided some protection for camera, passports, etc, but it took the rest of the trip for everything to dry. Which is partly why I did not take any photos of the Zimbabwe side.
We also hiked way way down to the river (and way way back up again) to see something called the Boiling Pot, a place where different streams of water meet to create an awesome-Lord of the Rings-type tempestuous whirlpool.
That night we started a nightly tradition of playing "Hats" also known as "Naked" which is a Charades-based game. It's great!
The following morning we headed into Zimbabwe for the day. We walked across the bridge to get there, and then hiked around the park on that side. The views were definitely better from the Zimbabwe side...but we still got drenched. Lesson learned.
Zimbabwe was full of tourists, all of whom were us. The tourism police, who apparently are not just people trying to rob you, followed us all around town, and literally wouldn't let us go anywhere without them. That's always a reassuring feeling.
The place seemed dead. But it didn't matter because we only had one place in mind--the distinguished, colonial, creepy Victoria Falls Hotel. We finished off our day in Zimbabwe with high tea and cocktails on the terrace of the hotel, overlooking the view of the bridge you see above.
On our last morning in Livingstone, we went on a walking tour with a guide from the Livingstone Museum. It was really nice to see the town and not just the falls. We asked him to show us the old synagogue, which still has a big Jewish star painted on it. We also bought fabric for a wedding project I'm working on because I've turned into one of those people who is obsessed with their wedding.
Back in Gabs, we FINALLY hiked Kgale Hill, the big hill in town, with the three boys from college. It was extremely hot and difficult, and we ended up hiking in the middle of one of the hottest days of the year. I don't want to exaggerate, but I nearly died. When we finally made it back down, we each drank an orange Fanta, which tasted exquisite. It literally took us all day to get back to normal, as I think we were all really overheated and dehydrated. Would definitely do this hike differently if we ever do it again! There were also giant baboons everywhere!
Saturday night we had a Setswana cooking lesson with our old housekeeper and ate dinner with her family and some of the dermatologists. If you want recipes for Zimbabwean/Setswana food, like spicy beans, spinach, porridge, dumplings, chakalaka, etc., let me know!
Sunday night we headed to jazz at the Gaborone Sun golf course with sister and brother-in-law. It's a fun time. We also went for a tour of the grounds, including a lovely playground where the kids worked off some steam.
On Monday I took E and P to see the orphanage and to get a tour of "downtown" Gaborone...and to eat at Nando's again. We ate at Nando's four times in a week. It was intense. 33 hours of travel later, they were safe and sound at home in LA. Meanwhile, J and B are still traveling (!) in Namibia and are meeting us in Capetown tomorrow. The adventure continues!
All in all, we had an amazing vacation. Traveling with 9 people is the way to go.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Exciting news!
If you live somewhere where nothing ever happens...
Next weekend, both a comedy show AND a jazz show are scheduled to take place right here in Gaborone, Botswana. Now we can finally find out about the real Botswana comedy scene!
Why they would schedule all cultural events of 2011 for one weekend is beyond me.
Next weekend, both a comedy show AND a jazz show are scheduled to take place right here in Gaborone, Botswana. Now we can finally find out about the real Botswana comedy scene!
Why they would schedule all cultural events of 2011 for one weekend is beyond me.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Solitaire, together (Part 1)
(Daisies only make me think of wedding planning--sick.)A and I drove to Namibia with our friend D. It takes 12 hours to drive from Gaborone to Windhoek, Namibia's capital city. The scenery doesn't change much, but it's quite pretty.
(Artsy rear-view mirror shot. Did I mention the drive took 12 hours?)
(Either that's a giant bunny in the sky or we were losing it.) At a rest-stop called Kang halfway between Gabs and the Namibia border, D, who grew up here, ran into someone he knows. They said hi, and then just moved on, like it was no big deal to see a random friend in the middle of nowhere. Botswana really is a small town.
Windhoek was pretty nice, although it seemed to have been abandoned (apparently most people leave for the beach during the summer break). We spent the night there and ate at a West African restaurant for dinner. The food was amazing.
There were two roaches in our hostel dorm room and it was about 100 degrees in the room. Gross.
(Obviously, we're at brunch. Do you see Namibia in the background? Also, look, I'm wearing that pink shirt!)In the morning, we had brunch and then got on the road again and headed for Swakopmund. As we drove, the scenery became more and more desolate, until there was nothing but sand.
(Already less green than Botswana.)
(Palm trees?!)Swakopmund is a charming coastal town, that all the guidebooks say is "more German than Germany." I don't know about that (never been to Germany), but it was pretty cute and could not be more different than Botswana. We watched the sun set over the rotten-fish-smelling ocean and the following morning, we went sandboarding.
(Charming D and charming A check out charming Swakopmund.)
(A romantic, fishy sunset.)
(Dunes! Or as D said with his weird Irish-Botswana accent, "djunes!")Sandboarding was totally sweet! At first it was quite scary (also exhausting to climb those dunes), but there were some little (6 and 8 years old) kids in our group who were fearless. After they went down, how could we be scared? I went both the fastest and farthest of anyone in our group, because I excel at things that aren't quite sports. We rode down the dunes on our tummies, but some people did more like snowboarding in sand.
The sandboarding day was probably the best day of our trip (foreshadowing). After sandboarding, we went to our hotel and washed off the buckets of sand we'd acquired on every surface of our bodies. We took a leisurely walk through downtown Swakopmund, stopping at a bookshop, a cafe, and a shop that sold really neat antique stamps from Southern Africa. We got a couple of old Botswana ones, and some that said "Rhodesia." We mailed a couple of postcards that have still not made it to our families in America. We walked down to check out the old Lighthouse, then got ice cream that didn't suck for once AND German pastries that definitely did not suck, and finally made our way to a great wood-burning oven pizza place for dinner. It did not suck.
While we were sitting at the cafe, we ran into another Doris Duke fellow, who is based in Durban this year. She was traveling with her family and they were also heading down to Sossusvlei next to check out the dunes (remember this for later).
(Did I mention my entire blog is an advertisement for Penn's study abroad programs?)
(D feeding a seal. Please don't feed the racists.)The Afrikaaners actually came right on our boat and talked to us about how black people don't take care of their women and children, don't have "our morals," and how when you see the violence in South Africa today, you start to "understand why we had Apartheid." That and the smell of seal poop made me a bit seasick.
(D and A took turns taking naps like this.)In the afternoon, we went to the snake park. It was full of snakes. Did you know how many poisonous snakes inhabit Southern Africa? And how many D's mom has found in his backyard? Apparently, they're everywhere! Great!
On our last morning in Swakopmund, we were riding high. We got some groceries and frozen fish to grill that night when we went camping near the Sossusvlei dunes (one of the charms of Namibia was the availability of fish, unlike in Botswana). We drove out of the city and A blasted Bon Jovi as we enjoyed the scenery of sand dunes on our left and ocean views on our right.
A couple of hours later, we hit some really weird scenery. These huge rocky hills were everywhere, and meanwhile the road was getting worse. We started sliding back and forth in the dirt.
At one point, we saw some people stopped on the side of the road. They were watching a group of completely camouflaged zebras nearby.
We drove on, and on, and on. The road was rocking us up and down and back and forth. Suddenly, D said "Uh oh, the engine's overheated." He pulled over immediately, popped open the hood, and yanked out a piece of shredded black rubber. Then he made a pronouncement that would change our plans quite a bit for the next week or so.
"The fan belt's shot."
(To be continued sometime when uploading photos isn't taking so freaking long...)
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