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.

Figured I might as well jinx everything...

...just so I could tell you the happy update to my last post, which is that we found someone to fix the car for $200 instead of $300 and we found a buyer who will pay us in dollars.

*

I should really have taken the combi to the orphanage this morning, but couldn't quite get up the energy--I'd have to take public transport and it's cold out there! I'm wearing a fleece and slippers! It's definitely a nice change to have cool afternoons instead of blazing hot, but the mornings are so chilly.

A is getting over a cold and now my throat is starting to hurt--I think it's best I just stay home and drink tea and apply for jobs. I'll go to the orphanage tomorrow when I can drive.

*

Tonight we pack up our apartment and tomorrow we move to Penn housing. Which means tonight is our last night sleeping in this apartment. Ironically, while Penn has had awesome internet all year, suddenly it's gotten really slow the last month or so. So internet won't improve, but then again we leave in like...a week and a half. So who even cares about internet speed.

I can't believe I don't care about internet speed.

*

A full update on our two seders coming soon. Time for tea and possibly matzah brie.

Tonight at the orphanage I completed (with *some* help from the kids) a 200 piece puzzle in 43 minutes flat.

I'm just really good at puzzles.

I don't have a computer anymore.

One of the big themes of this year is that Botswana is not America, even though it looks and tastes like America. Even though the Indian food here is better than anywhere in Manhattan. The electricity goes out a lot, and with it (and sometimes without it), the internet.

Now my computer broke and I can't get it fixed. I took it to a computer-fixing place and they held onto it for a week and then were sheepishly like, yeah we dunno.

When you're trying to experience the world, it's OK if the internet goes out. Hey, it's even okay if I don't have a computer for a week or two. I actually sort of enjoy reading and baking and going to the orphanage, none of which require a computer except for baking and sometimes reading.

But when you're trying to work for people in the U.S., not having a computer or internet or electricity can be a real handicap. You end up being a bit unreliable, a bit of a disappointer. It's hard to just embrace the experience when you are frustrated that your real life self doesn't look good. You can't enjoy, for example, being stranded for five days in the Namibian desert (I still haven't written about that??!)

Again, I wonder if it would be a very different disappointment if we lived somewhere where our expectations were a lot lower. Like a village in Mali.

*

The traffic here is also killing us. It took an hour this morning to drive A to work (we've finally hooked up an iPod to our tape player so we can listen to This American Life). It should take 10 minutes. Once I drop him off, I drive another 20 minutes to the orphanage. That's an hour and a half in traffic before my day even starts. Is it any wonder that I don't have patience left to help 30 five-year-olds learn to cut?

Also, where'd all these people get all these cars?

*

I forgot to take my travel mug home over the weekend and on Monday it stank of rotten milk. Cannot get the effing smell out. Damn it all to hell.

*

The orphanage preschool continues to be, for lack of a better word, a shitshow. There's this overwhelming contrast between the fact that these kids are laughing and having fun and clean and well-fed and the fact that the classrooms are absurdly understaffed, there's no nurse, there's a million safety violations, and sometimes a teacher will beat a kid with a ruler. Undoubtedly it's a sign of my skewed perspective that I totally understand the hitting. 60 kids and ONE teacher? As long as it's not too hard.

However, in calmer moments, kindergarten is a lovely place. We cut and paste. We color. We sing. We read aloud. We learn to write our names. If my comedy career doesn't work out, and my back-up academic career doesn't work out, and my back-up food blogger/cafe owner career doesn't work out, and nobody ever publishes my books, and I can't think of a good enough reason to become a lawyer, then I think I'd love to be a kindergarten teacher.

Actually, I think as long as I'm not doing anything tremendously interesting, I might as well become a dentist because then I'd make a lot of money.

*

We're experiencing a record rainy season. Towns are flooding. A's office's roof fell in. The other day, my roommate S and I walked past a bus shelter full of goats hiding from the rain. Half of them were perched up on the bench. It was cute.

Rain means bugs. The government has issued some new malaria warnings, including for towns not far from here. As a result, Penn has told students here to start taking prophylaxis even in Gabs. I started taking pills yesterday, so hopefully they're giving me some protection against the millions of mosquitoes currently biting me.

Just kidding, the risk is very low, Mom.

Kindergarten baby, stick your head in chakalaka

The classic Setswana taunt, naturally.

(The sign I helped re-make in the main hallway/auditorium/lobby.)

This week was the last week of school at the orphanage where I work. Monday and Tuesday were the final days to practice for the kindergarten graduation, and then Wednesday was the big day.

(The courtyard of the kindergarten.)

I got to school a little before nine and the cooking had already begun. All of the teachers helped prepare traditional Setswana foods for the parents' celebration lunch. I peeled and chopped potatoes, finely sliced cabbage, cut carrots in match sticks, chopped chilis, and cleaned. We made two kinds of rice, mashed pumpkin, potato salad, chicken, and chakalaka From Scratch (ingredients are onion, cabbage, carrots, beans, green bell peppers, green chilis, and some kind of Indian tandoori paste or something).

(The kindergarten teacher chops potatoes.)

(Raw chicken in a garbage bag. Awesome.)

(The four-year-olds' teacher cooks the chicken.)

*

The Christmas pageant started at 10:30, which was arranged to occur at 11:30 just for the day. About 20 mothers and aunts came to see the show; I think there was one or two dads. Our kids sang "Must be Santa" with sign language taught to them by L. I was actually really impressed they got the hang of it so well over the past few weeks since I still can't do it. Then our kids went to change into their graduation gowns, while the babies and 3- and 4-year-olds sang some Christmas songs and did a little nativity play.

It was completely incomprehensible (garbled English in baby voices), but super cute.

(Only two kings could make it on such short notice.)

(Mary and Joseph and the baby Jesus.)

*

The kindergarteners were really cute, too. The girls had their hair done and several of the boys were wearing little suits.




Each kindergartener received a special certificate of school readiness from the teacher and a gift bag from L and the school. Inside the bag was a book, colored pencils, a pencil sharpener, a cute ladybug pencil, a plastic cup and saucer set, a lollypop, and a page with photographs of that child throughout the year.


*

Time for a dance party!


They ended up not doing the catwalk but just having some of the kids dance. The mothers LOVED it.

*

So that's the end of the school year and now I won't see the kids again until January, when we start with a new class. In the meantime, I'm going to be cleaning and sorting books and other toys to get ready for the new year!

It's one of my goals to help my teacher make better use of the resources she has in her classroom--there are a Lot of unused toys and arts materials hiding in boxes or tucked away. I have also made it a goal to help my teacher incorporate more reading into the lesson plan--I try to read a book to the kids every day, and I also want to make the book corner into a really comfortable and inviting station for when we do stations.

There is also a small preschool-wide library that is basically completely unused and a total waste, imho. I am going to see what I can do to sort through the books in there (I found a pamphlet on unsafe abortions hiding in that mess), fix it up and make it into something that would actually be used by the teachers.

Wow.

(My enormous floppy hat protects me and my enormous nostrils from the vicious sun.)

This is embarrassing for you. You are so far behind on what's happening here in Gabs. You think we're sitting around in our living room trying to kill toaster-sized grasshoppers. Couldn't be further from the truth. We've moved on to bigger and better critters. Like since then I've discovered our oven is full of dozens of daddy long-legs (now dead--baking pumpkin muffins is my preferred form of critter extermination).

Also, other important things happened in the last week, like we met President Ian Khama, went through a 10-hour blackout, experienced another wedding, etc.

I haven't uploaded all my photos from this week yet, so it might take a while to catch you up. But let's start with last Friday's concert. It took place at the military base here in Gabs, and came highly recommended by A's coworker. I drove the gang there in our new gray '98 Toyota Corolla--not great for safaris, but perfectly serviceable for concerts.

(The stage. The auditorium reminded all of us of a college auditorium.)

First we waited around for a while for President Khama to arrive (okay fine, so we didn't meet him but he was really close by) and then the show began with the presentation of enormous checks to worthy charities. I was surprised when the orphanage where I work was one of the recipients of a giant check, and when the women next to me heard that I worked there, they began taking my picture as well.

(Blurry, but you can see how big the check was!)

After that excitement, the concert got started with a performance by the atrocious military marching band. They were seriously awful, like junior high school students who haven't practiced. I guess it's because Botswana is such a peaceful country.

This was followed by a series of much better performances, though, from a diverse group of singers, instrumentalists, and dancers. There was marimba, acoustic guitar, big band-type jazz, traditional dancing, tap dancing, drumming, etc. Each performance was very short, and quickly followed by the next so we never got bored. There was also a lot of physical comedy that all seemed based on the fact that poor, somewhat demented old men beating each other up is funny. (Developmentally speaking, Batswana comedy is about 50 years behind American comedy.)

At one point, I asked the woman next to me (who was half-way out of her seat singing and dancing along), to translate what was happening. She attempted to do so, explaining "It is entertaining in a humorous way."

(Traditional dancers. They were awesome.)

We took off about three and a half hours after the concert started--with probably another hour left to go.

*

On Tuesday, we experienced our first real blackout. It lasted all afternoon and evening--almost 10 hours--and then the electricity went out again overnight. We tried to take advantage of the situation by getting some beers, lighting some candles, and taking the night off from TV and internet.

While the roommates went to a bar to buy beer, I stayed home in our dark apartment and used my friend's iPhone to email my boss that I wouldn't be able to work that night. I opened my inbox and discovered a very unexpected email from a different editor, telling me that I was finally getting a little promotion after three years of working for them. I'd been waiting for that email for a long time, and it was too weird to get it in a blackout on an iPhone in Gaborone.

When my roommates got back, we had a toast, and watched a very cool storm roll in.

*

The preschoolers continue to practice their catwalk-style modeling daily. Apparently, it will be part of the Christmas pageant next week. Only the 4-year-olds best able to imitate the sexy swagger of an adult will be chosen to participate.

Five weird things.

My combi driver last week--I was alone on the combi--asked to be my friend.

"Sure!" I said.

"What's your phone number?"

"I don't have a phone yet," I lied.

"I want to be more than your friend. I want to be your best friend, your boyfriend."

"Oh. [Sigh.] I'm married."

"You don't want a Botswana boyfriend?"

"No." Pause. Start to feel bad + need to get where I'm going. "But...thanks."

Having determined he was not going to get what he wanted, he made me get off his combi and get on another one.

*

My combi driver on Monday had a miniature Barbie doll hanging by the neck from his rearview mirror.

*

On Monday, I came into work and found that the teacher had decided to play hip-hop music and have the 3, 4, and 5 year-olds walk sexily down the "catwalk" one at a time in front of the rest of the class.

*

My Australian coworker tried to tell my Motswana coworker about the gay college student who killed himself.

"So he was having sex with another man..."

"[Gasp!]"

"Wait, that's not the bad part."

*

At this past Saturday's soccer game, the Mochudi Chiefs played the Township Rollers, aka Palastina. A Palastina fan was carrying a sign that said "We are not Jews. We are not Mochudi tribe." Pretty mild, except it kinda implies that Mochudi sucks cause they're dirty Jews.

Please, sir.

This is porridge.

In a darkly ironic way, it's amusing that the orphans at the preschool where I work have porridge for breakfast. It's not so bad-looking when it's hot and smooth, but by the time the last kid is served, it takes on an unappetizing lumpiness that evokes disapproving clucks even from the teachers who have been watching kids choke it down for years.

Ideally, porridge is served with whole milk splashed on top, but the past few times we ate it, the kitchen was out of milk.

The kitchen runs out of food a lot, even things the kids eat every day like bread and milk. I can't tell whether this is an issue of not having enough money for those items or simply being disorganized. I also get the impression that various people tend to use the preschool kitchen as their personal milk and bread store, including the people (from the village?) who keep trying to break into the pantry.

There also aren't enough spoons for every child. The lack of spoons becomes an issue every other day, when porridge is served and the last ten or so children have to wait for the first ten or so children to finish their porridge so they can use the spoons.

*


I mention the issue with spoons because it leads me into my current research focus--Why America Is Better Than Everywhere Else.

A and I have been violently loyal soccer fans ever since we went to the last game at the University of Botswana between the Miscellaneous and the Gunners. This weekend, two important teams (based on us having heard about them)--the Mochudi Chiefs and the Township Rollers (aka Palastina, the one A has a jersey for)--are playing.

With our privileged American perspective, we assumed that there would be some sort of internet homepage, where information about when the teams are going to be playing would be listed in advance of the game. Extensive research has revealed that not only does such a website not exist, but nobody even knows Where (as in, in what city) the next game will be played. All week long, we were told it was in Lobatse. Yesterday, I happened to run into the guy giving us a ride to the game and he told me actually it was here, at UB again.

*

Both of these problems could clearly be fixed in about ten minutes or less. Lack of spoons? Buy some spoons. Lack of information about soccer games? Make a website. Lack of maps for where the combis go? Sit down and make one. Lack of straightforward information about how to obtain a visa extension? I'm going to go cry in the corner now.

And yet, naturally, nobody ever fixes any of the problems. I'm not saying we do things perfectly in the U.S. Obviously, I'm being facetious when I say America is better than everywhere else. But at least we use the internet for things.

I know, I know, I'm supposed to embrace the slow pace of life and stop trying to be so efficient and just be or something. But I just get so aggravated! I'm gonna go make brownies.

Books and food

On Thursday, we ate outdoors again, in celebration of the holiday of Sukkot. Okay actually it was a goodbye braai (Afrikaans for "barbeque") for a resident who is heading back to the States this weekend. There is quite an impressive grill at Pilane Court, where the other Penn visitors live. They also have an outdoor bar and patio. And a pool, though it's not as nice as ours.

While everyone else ate hamburgers, chicken, kebabs, and sausages, A and I enjoyed our sad little veggie burgers. Oh, I'm sure it's healthy for us to have an 8 month meat break, and actually they have decent veggie burgers here--a lot like Morningstar Farm--but I do miss meat. There was plenty to eat though: pasta with feta and basil, roasted potatoes, butternut squash, salad, cookies, and amazingly, rice krispie treats. All I care about is food, in case you were wondering if I care about anything else.

We talked to a new friend, D, who told us about his unlucky sister, who has been struck by lightning, gotten lost hiking alone on her honeymoon and spent the night in the wilderness while her new husband sent search and rescue after her, and when they got back home, their house had burned down. A has had some dramatic luck as well, but D's sister has had it much worse, which for whatever reason made me feel better.

*

I accompanied L to a book sorting at a school west of here. The school auditorium was completely full of boxes of thousands of miscellaneous books, all mixed together, brought here by Books for Botswana. The arrangement was that if you came and helped sort books, you could take up to 400 for your organization. L and I sorted books for 4 or 5 different groups at onec, which is a Lot of books. It was pretty fun to sift through piles of books, and I was impressed at the quality. They had a lot of new books, as well as a lot of crappy books from the '70s about how to care for your spiritual self by eating more fiber.

One find was a compilation of the best of Tikkun Magazine from the past 20 years. A strange thing to run into a liberal Jewish publication in the middle of Southern Africa.

*

L also took me to SOS Children's Village, an NGO I am hoping to work for. The children there are orphans and live with children of other ages in a family unit with mothers and aunts. They aren't allowed to be adopted once they enter SOS. It seems like a really neat and successful organization and they certainly seem to need volunteers in their school.

*

Last night we had dinner at Moghul, rapidly becoming our favorite Indian restaurant (and our Indian friends think the food is good there, which makes it legit). Then A and I watched three hours of Veronica Mars season two.

Also N, our Indian roommate, is going to teach me how to make Indian food, and our housekeeper is going to teach me how to make Tswana food. So yeah, food is pretty much all I care about.

*

I finally finished Norman Rush's 700-page novel Mortals today, which I have been reading on and off since May. So relieved to be done with it--read the NYTimes review to find out why.

Now I'm debating whether to finish Great Expectations on my Kindle or stick to the new idea I came up with which is to read only books by Africans or about Africa while we're here. What do you think?