New Adventure Time

I am off to Mochudi. This is the "rural" village experience portion of my trip. I will be working in Boseja 2 Clinic for the entire week. Things I am expecting: no electricity or hot water, potential outhouse, and less English speaking Batswana. I won't have any way of communicating with anyone except those in the Mochudi with me. I will be back next Sunday, but we leave for our camping trip in the Rhino Sanctuary Monday afternoon. I am not sure when I will next blog, but I am sure I will have many stories to share when I do.

Go Siame (Goodbye) for now.

Denial

Some materialistic things I miss:

A Dryer: for my clothes. I do not miss the washer as much. I can handle hand washing; I just grow impatient that it takes my jeans 36 hours to dry.

Fresh vegetables and fruit: I swear all I eat here are carbs and meat. The only thing fruit wise in season right now is oranges. My goodness, oranges all over the street. “Have some candy and an orange.” I came to Africa during winter, and I am missing prime time for fresh produce back home. Poor planning there.

Perfume: which is odd because I never wear perfume. However, here every time I pass a perfume store I go in and spray myself with something. I want to feel clean and pretty.

Sun dresses: I wore a dress for the first time here, very classy dress at that, and I still felt scandalous. Again, it’s winter time so people are wearing sweaters and furry boots. Which still amuses me. You should see how bundled up the babies are when they come into the clinics. You would think it is 10F and a blizzard outside when it’s really in the upper 50’s.

Coffee: no explanation needed except that coffee here is rare and when you do find it, it is mediocre if you are lucky.

I have been extremely grumpy the past week without a clue as to my serious problem. I was even getting grumpy about being grumpy – the insanity of being a woman. My materialistic longings have nothing to do with my grumpiness, but I finally came to some conclusions as to why I have been in a funk. Some of those include: being completely alone in a very different place and realizing that I am not cut out for clinic work and my heart really is in a public hospital setting so why did I ever doubt myself to begin with (note to self: quit doing that). More on those things later though. One thing I did not think was contributing to my mood swings was culture shock, but I was in denial.

I was told numerous times I would go through culture shock, but I haven’t been experiencing the culture shock that I was expecting. I thought this would just mean feeling out of place, uncomfortable, and homesick. I haven’t felt uncomfortable or all that homesick (my birthday being a day of exception), but of course I have been feeling out of place. I am a white woman in Botswana; I probably make up less than 1% of the population. I scream minority! I did not think that I was bothered by this for the longest time. I do not have a problem with being different, but I do have a problem with being treated different. I walk and act confidently no matter how out of place I am. I have found this works best in all situations, especially in the ones where you are not confident. Here, though, it doesn’t matter how confident I act I am still treated differently. Not only am I white, but I am a woman, and this has proved most difficult. I cannot walk in the streets, sit in a combi or taxi, or simply make a local phone call here without being harassed. And yes, I am using harassed at this point, because it just obnoxious. Taxi and combi drivers honk at me nonstop when I am walking. I tolerated it for awhile, but now I am annoyed. Can’t a girl just walk! Seriously. And NO I do not want your special. If I hear the word special one more time I might flip out. I was so exhausted after a late night and then a full day at the clinic. All I wanted to do was get back to UB, and I was turned down by 5 (yes 5!) taxi drivers before I found one that would actually give me the actual P3.50 taxi from the Stationing to UB. NO, I DO NOT WANT THE SPECIAL! Gah! Please just take me to where I want to go and quit trying to take advantage of me. And another thing that is bothering me, the name calling. English, beautiful, white, la rota (I love you), giggle giggle giggle. Every time I walk out the door. I was becoming so frustrated that I first experienced anger. My facial expression could not have been pleasant, and I slammed so many doors. After the anger, I resorted to crying in typical girl fashion. I always hate when I do this.

All that to say, I thought I understood racism before, but I was so very wrong. I can tell you now with full confidence that I know, understand, and have personally dealt with racism. But – I have experienced a certain kind of racism. I am not hated here in Botswana; it is hard for me understand just how much worse my situation would be if I was. My heart breaks for those who experience this. The Batswana are very friendly. I knew the name calling is harmless and in no way meant to be taken the way it came across to me. It just takes patience to deal with the kind of behavior that is geared toward me, and I have been the opposite of patient. I am curious if I will ever gain the respect I crave from Batswana, because I do crave it. I crave it more than I crave a dryer, fruits and veggies, perfume, sun dresses and coffee combined.

And so, I have experienced culture shock. It was nothing like I expected, and I am still adjusting. Something makes me believe I won’t adjust until my last day. Timing was never a strong point in situations that I care deeply about. But, high five to me for being on the road to adjusting to culture shock and fixing my moodiness.

Lesedi

I have now put in about 18 hours in two days at Bontleng clinic. The clinics in Gaborone are named for the district (for lack of a better translation) they are located in. My purpose at the clinic is to observe and take part where I can, but I am lost in a fog right now.

Hours begin at 7:30am, but I have quickly come to realize this means closer to 8am according the staff. Every morning Bontleng begins its day with song and prayer by volunteer. I wish I had a recorder. I simply cannot express the feeling that came over me while listening to the patients and staff join together. Upon entering the clinic I felt uncomfortable and out of place, but after this song I felt part of something magnificent. No sheet music needed to harmonize and echo each other perfectly. Music has only had this significant impact on me twice before: once while listening to the AcoUstiKats sing Ave Maria (live) and the second while watching Dispatch perform Elias with Zimbabwe children at MSG (on DVD). I closed my eyes, let a truly genuine smile light up my face, and welcomed the chills the spread over my arms. Little did I know this was going to be the highlight of my first day.

I have been looking forward to working in the clinics in Botswana since I first found this Public Health program. Tired of learning from a classroom, working with TB and HIV/AIDS in the field is something I have been dreaming about. However, I failed to fully understand just what I was getting myself into. Integrating myself into this clinic is proving to be quite a challenge.

Simply put, Bontleng clinic is struggling. Not only is it coming across the common issues of lack of supplies and sanitation, it has also taken a blow due to the workers strike. Bontleng currently only has 3 nurses on staff – there is not a full time doctor, the ARV department is not running, and the pharmacy is also not operating. Sad shape. The majority of our patients are expecting mothers, children, youth with STI’s, and adults with various minor problems. There are four of us assigned to this clinic, and we are struggling to find things to do with ourselves. I spent the entire first day sitting and watching an assistant take BP and weight of expecting mothers with no one talking to me when I tried to ask questions. The entire 5 hours of my morning was spent in frustration. Basically, I had to learn quickly who was going to be helpful and who was going to ignore me. The head nurse ended up falling into the “ignore me” category. She provides zero guidance as far as my learning experience goes and, instead, likes to quiz me about useless information about the States. I spent the afternoon with the midwife seeing patients, and the experience was much more interactive. I aided in diagnosing and discussed treatments in comparison with medicine in the USA, but things are still tedious. Other things I have done: checked patients in at the front desk, took BP and pulse, and learned how TB was handled at Bontleng specifically. The following are some notes I have taken:

Unorganized: I do not know if this is all of the time or just recently due to the lack of staff, but there is a definite problem. No one person is in the same place at one time. One nurse will be consulting and then mid-consultation another nurse will take over. The staff will also wander aimlessly throughout the clinic before finally walking into a room to consult a patient.

Privacy: There is none. Some doors do not even shut all of the way. Staff will barge in while another staff member is with a patient. The head nurse did this multiple times to one of the other nurses. She would walk in yell something to the nurse in Setswana then storm out leaving the door wide open behind her. At one point, a staff member was eating a fat cake (fried bread in the shape of a ball) in the room where we were seeing expecting mothers. I did notice, however, that when the doctor was with patients on Thursday, no one disrupted him.

Respect/Professionalism: None of the staff (nurse, janitor, doctor) have respect for the patients. Cellphones are used whenever, wherever. SMSing while a patient is trying to describe their problem. Stopping a patient mid-sentence to take a call. One of the other girls witnessed a doctor take a phone call in the middle of a vaginal exam. This is all common throughout the day. It takes every ounce of control I contain my two cents about this. Bite your tongue, Shelby. Bite your tongue.

Patient Care: Lacking. I may not know a lot of Setswana, but like my parents always tell me “It’s all in your tone of voice.” The dismissive manner in which the patients are treated irks me like no other. I cannot stand it! The midwife asked the four of us to design some signs with slogans geared toward youth with STIs. He wants us to convey that the clinic will help them providing physical and emotional care. I am having a really hard time promoting something that has clearly NOT been demonstrated. I sat in on many consultations with patients that had contracted STIs, and not one of them showed the slightest hint of even listening. No wonder these kids are scared. Write a prescription and send them out the door. Am I missing something here?! I am anxiously waiting for the appropriate time to ask patients if they are happy with the care they receive.

Cleanliness: Vaccines are kept in a mini cooler (looks like something you would take to the beach to keep your beer in). Let’s just say your beer would be nasty after a few hours top, because there is no ice in it! The examination tables are covered in a white sheet. On top of that is a piece of plastic the reads “hazardous” that is the length from the belly button to mid-thigh. This plastic is kept there all day – it is never changed. Another thing – I witnessed the head nurse use a needle as a tooth pick. I could keep going.

It is important to note that Gaborone is well developed in comparison to other African countries. While I note some unclear issues, Gaborone is far better off than other places. Facilities are sound structures that if fully staffed have great potential to aid the city well. Healthcare is pretty much free here – paid for by the government. At most some have to pay P5 (less than US1). I’m still working out the logistics, because I know there are some that have to pay but loopholes for others.

The title of this entry is my Setswana name given to me by my Taxis Driver. It means “light.” I find it fitting for my current situation at Bontleng. I am lighting my way through a heavy fog right now. Everyone around town is so very friendly and helpful. If I ever need help figuring out which combi to take I will have a handful of people jump at the opportunity to help. I am frequently greeted every day. I know that being white woman has much to do with this especially the stares that never leave me until I am shut in my room. However, I walk into the clinic and this attitude leaves. People are not providing me help to receive the knowledge I want. I instead mindlessly wander trying to assist but repeatedly fail. I have to fight my way to get what I want. Never thrown off by a challenge no matter how many times it smacks me in the face, I refuse to give up. I cannot rely on others to be my light through the fog, so I will continue to be a bright, smiling face in the clinic, and I will learn what I came to learn.

Ways of the Batswana

I have been neglecting the blog – I know. It’s been impossible to gather my thoughts into one solid post. I just have so many things on my mind. However, I do have some things to share about Setswana culture in Gaborone (want to properly pronounce it like a Motswana? “G” like a “J” in Spanish and an accent on the “e” at the end – good luck with that).

Beverages:

The most absurd thing I have come across was the fact that it is apparently “too cold” to be drinking water. I was talking to a girl here, and she could not get over the fact that we are all drinking water. Now, as for what you are supposed to be drinking since it is “cold,” I’m still searching. One thing is for sure, Fanta is everywhere! Literally, everyone drinks it. They even sell it on the streets. (Popular items for street vendors: some local food, LOTS of candies, airtime also known as minutes for your cellphone, and soda pop). Some people drink ginger beer which is actually a British thing I am told, but it’s not as popular. Sadly, coffee is not a hot commodity here. I can get it. My favorite place so far is a little café called Mug and Bean at a mall in Gaborone. It sells coffee, but it’s just not the same. People would rather have their Fanta… or alcohol. Oh Dunkin’ Donuts iced coffee, how I dream of you!

Special is not so Special:

Take note. You do not want to be special in Gaborone. So far it has only led to bad things. Never accept a cab, taxi (yes there is a difference that I haven’t exactly figured out yet), or combi when the driver mentions special. Typically, special is a good thing, but this is actually code for “I’m about to screw you over.” Special involves extreme, over-priced hassles. I feel like “Stupid Americans” are running through their heads the whole time these guys are harassing me to take their “special.” Guess what y’all? This girl isn’t stupid anymore; she has caught on to your ploys. I’m taking the combi! or taxis/cabs without "special" fares. I have successfully managed to figure out the combi routes and such. (high-five to me) While I still stick to my public buses suck opinion, they are still the best, cheapest way to get around. It still takes some time to get around though. Traffic here is horrendous!

Personal Space:

Oh right, there is none. On the combis there is never personal space. I can only imagine how awful it is in the summer time with hot, sweaty, super smelly, people crammed on one combi (because they seriously cram you in there. It can hold up to 18 plus the driver sometimes we cram more). Ugh, I am so thankful that it is winter here. Also, people on the streets approach us all of the time, and it is not just catcalls; it is, let me put my arm around your shoulder and breathe my alcohol breath all over you while I propose that we get married. Yep. This happens multiple times a day. What a turn on I tell ya.

Cellphones:

If you think people in the states are bad about cellphones, come here, and then let me know what you think. It is out of control. I understand how cellphones have really improved a lot of things in underdeveloped countries. Providing ways of communication helps things drastically. I have found it helpful as well considering internet can be hard to come by. I got one for my stay here to keep in contact with the people in my group and to call taxis, but I have neglected it terribly. I’m not really concerned about this; it has been absolutely amazing not having it. However, back to my point. We went to a landfill today as a study trip for my Environmental Public Health course, and I saw one of the workers dragging a piece of trash across the landfill with one hand and SMSing with his other hand. It gets worse. I have now been at the clinics twice. I am there 7:30am-4pm Wednesdays and Thursdays. While a nurse or doctor is consulting with their patients they will whip out their cellphone and SMS or even talk on the phone. While they are with the patient!!! Stop the madness. I am horrified.

Africa Time:

I’ve never really thought about time as an aspect of culture until I came here. I think it is safe to say that in the States time is important to our culture. We make appointments and stick to time schedules. While we all have friends that are chronically late, we still expect them to arrive when we had planned and may even get slightly irritated if they are even 10 minutes late. We also measure a lot of things according to time. It’s important for us to know how long it takes to get to places, and we even concern ourselves with activities thinking “Is this really worth my time?” Time is of value. In Botswana, however, time is an odd thing. If you ask someone how long it takes to get somewhere, they cannot give you a straight answer. I have come to find that they underestimate how long it takes to get to places. Countless times professors or guest speakers arrive late. Our resident director told us that this is probably due to them running in to family. They will come across someone they know and stop to talk to them for an unknown time without caring that they may be late for a meeting. This specific example shows one). Family is the most important thing to Batswana (family being a loose term because even friends are “family”) and two). Time is the very last thing on people’s minds. It has been hard for me to adjust to this lifestyle. I like my schedules. I have adjusted to slowing down my pace, but the whole being late thing is irking me. Our professor told us to meet at 8am this morning to go to the landfill, but he did not come until 8:30am. I may have huffed and puffed a little. I am going to work on this. Hopefully Africa time will start to wear off on me. It may be healthy for me and my typically high-strung self.

Saturday Adventures

Yesterday, we toured around the city on a combi. Now, a combi is just like any other awful public transportation that involves buses. The combis are white buses that hold 17 people and the driver. This is the maximum and take my word for it – it’s a cozy ride. I have never been a fan of bus transportation, and I hold zero enthusiasm for the combis. However, unlike my college town, the combis are regularly running during the day time and it’s never hard to find one. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. I cannot wait to go wander the Station. This is the common space that the combis arrive and depart from. It’s a little sketchy some may think, but there are so many little stands set up throughout the Station, and I am super excited to walk around and do a little shopping. Okay, moving on. The city is pretty spread out, and I am still working on pictures and such. I haven’t been able/allowed to walk around a lot. My photography skills are limited so therefore pictures from inside the combis are not working out well. I’m working on it. There are some beautiful buildings around though. I am continuously surprised by some of the quality in the infrastructure, and then deeply saddened when I see many areas in rough conditions.

After the brief tour of town, we proceeded to hike/climb up what is called Kgale Hill. Now, I think vocabulary should be used loosely here. It was not exactly a mountain, but it is definitely not what I would call a hill by any means either. Look at the pictures and decide for yourself. So, there was no path to the top. Our resident director led the way. I started in the middle of our group, but quickly moved to the front because I wanted to move faster than everyone around me. The climb/hike was SO tedious. Due to some of the girls, we would hike for 10 minutes then wait 20 minutes for everyone else to catch up. A 30 minute hike took us 2 ½ hours. Absurd! Then there was the hike down… Anyways, despite the slow pace, it was all worth it. I enjoyed the exercise and the view was breathtaking.

Due to the underestimated time it would take for the hike, there wasn’t time to take a shower. So my sweaty, awesomeness strutted into dinner. We ate at an Indian place. I know I previously complained about the lack of restaurants with local food, but guys they have nailed Indian food. Best Indian food. I didn’t even know half of what I was eating (our resident director just ordered a bunch of stuff and we shared large portions), but all of it was delicious. In Indian tradition (or so I have been told) I ate with my hands. Best decision ever! Clean plate award for me.

21^st birthday celebration for one of the girls in my program followed the long, wonderful dinner. We went to a local restaurant/bar place called LingaLonga. A small group of girls went out with her as well as some of her homestay family. I have come to the conclusion that bar scenes for younger crowds are the same no matter where you are. I watched the people around me, and while I had idea what anyone was saying, the atmosphere and feel of LingaLonga is very similar to any feel at a bar back home that I have observed. I like when I find things that bring cultures together.

A General Early Overview

Taking into consideration I have only been here a few days and in a motel most of them here goes:

Weather:

So first of all it is technically winter. So what does that mean for Botswana? Research told me to expect 70’s during the day and 40’s at night. Since I am in the desert and rainy season is November to March, I was not expecting rain. Well as I mentioned previously – it poured! As for the temperature, it has been rather chilly. I know most people think HOT when talking about Africa, but they are sadly mistaken. It has been hitting 70 at the peak of the day and has gotten down to almost freezing the other night. It was also absurdly windy the other day which does not work out well in the desert. I was eating dirt and rubbing out dirt from my eyes all day – super fun! If you talk to the locals they are all dumbfounded by the weather. We’ve been experiencing abnormal weather for this time of year apparently. I’ve been wearing my Chaco sandals everywhere and a boy at the Pick and Pay (grocery store) tapped me on the shoulder while I was in line and asked if my feet were cold. I smiled and said no I have experienced much colder. He told me his feet were cold: note he was wearing tennis shoes! Walking around you hear Batswana talk about how cold it is, and I just laugh because honestly it is nothing. However, I would like it to warm up! I have yet to go a day without a cardigan.

Food:

Globalization at its finest here. WHERE IS THE LOCAL FOOD? I have yet to actually eat a real Setswana meal. So upsetting. I have picked up a few standards though. Cattle are one of the major industries here (tied with tourism and second to diamonds). Beef is what's for dinner, and lunch, oh and breakfast. Beef as a stew type thing is popular. Now there is debate about the orange stuff that I’ve been eating a lot as well. Some of the girls I am with guessed sweet potatoes at first – I wasn’t convinced. I asked a Motswana what it was, and she told me pumpkin. I’ve only had pumpkin pie and pumpkin seeds so it is hard for me to make the call, but I think it may actually be butternut squash. If it is butternut squash I’m sure my mom is laughing at this point. I used to gag every time my mom cooked butternut squash. Even with all of the butter and brown sugar she would put on it, I would still gag every time I was forced to have my “no thank you bite.” I have had it minus butter and brown sugar almost every night I have been here, and I haven’t gagged yet! Look at me. I also ate some delicious bread. I don’t know the technique or reason for its goodness, but it is fantastic. Beets were also part of the meal below. A big thing for lunch is meat pies. There is a little stand/building on campus where they sell these. I also ate snails for the first time, but I don’t think this is really part of Setswana culture. It was something different, so I went for it. Tasted like the butter and garlic sauce it was drenched in and that’s about it. Otherwise, I could have any type of food I want. We went for Indian two nights ago. It has all been good, but nothing has “wow”ed me. At this point I am a little disappointed by the food. Darn you globalization!

Snails

Meal (the purple stuff is beets drenched in vinegar)

Jelly Babies aka Gummy Bears

Living Arrangements:

We stayed at Oasis Motel for Orientation. It was nicer than what I was expecting. I am now in the dorms. I want to go in to more detail about living later, but click here to some more pictures from there as well as some from walking around.

Religion

I know that updates on living arrangements and environment and food and weather and all that jazz are things I should be updating you on, but I feel the need to blog about something that struck me today. I typically avoid topics such as this, but here goes.

We are in the midst of orientation, and various people from the area have come to talk to us. Today, two men from the Kings Foundation came to talk to us about a program they have going on in southern Africa. I was told that through this group I would be able to work with orphans on a volunteer basis. This is clearly right up my alley, and I was super excited to hear the details of it. Well y'all -- my resident director failed to mention this was a Christian based group. In a nutshell this is how the program works: They travel to local villages that are struggling with drugs, alcohol abuse, teen pregnancy etc. There, they organize sports games to play with the kids -- rugby, soccer, cricket, you name it. They provide these children with constructive activities and a place to feel safe as a community. So why am I in an uproar about this? After they play with the kids and get them all excited and genuinely happy about life in the midst of hardship, they sit them down and tell them about Jesus. Reel them in with fun games, and then preach to them about a man who died on a cross to save their sins. I couldn't help thinking this was a slight form of manipulation. Maybe I am over-reacting.

So yeah, I am lost in my faith right now you could say. I was baptized in the Episcopal Church and grew up in Catholic school, but once college hit I no longer saw a point in organized religion. I have felt a strong pull to practice Hinduism, but that's an another story in itself. I have a lot of feelings about organized religion that I am not going to get into, but one thing I truly struggle with are those that feel they need to force their beliefs upon you. Maybe, it's the strong independent woman in me that doesn't like people telling me how I am supposed to do things, but even so I think we should be able to form our own opinions on the way the world works. Let them know about Jesus, sure. Preach to them, no. And yes, there is a fine line.

Programs like this I am truly fascinated by from an International Development stand point (PS my major). Culture plays such a huge role in people's lives, and I cannot help but feel this is easily forgotten in development programs. Is this Foundation going to help communities across southern Africa by forcing "what they think is right" on people who have strong ties to culture? And on the flip side, can there be a move to a more stable environment with some sort of force opposing current culture?

I debated on posting this. I am by no means an expert on these things, but food for thought. In other news, it is POURING here. In the middle of the desert. POURING. Strange concept for me grasp. I move out of the motel we've been staying at during orientation and on to the dorms at the University of Botswana (UB) tomorrow. I am super excited. I promise updates on all things previously mentioned soon.

Getting Friendly with Airports

After countless hours in airports and airplanes I have finally arrived in Gaborone (depending on who you talk to, the "e" is pronounced like the "y" in my name). I haven't figured out exactly which one is correct. Everything ran really smoothly during my four leg trip. The eleven hour layover in Frankfurt was not exciting. I attempted to sleep across three chairs at one point, but that didn't go over well. I was slightly frazzled the whole time because I was worried about boarding passes and baggage. I was able to get through security without boarding passes. I didn't think this was allowed, but as the German man at the United ticket counter put "they don't care." I stressed for no reason though (surprise?). I got my boarding passes about an hour and half before my flight. I have noticed while in Europe and the same in J-burg that people do not form lines well. Boarding planes was much more organized in the US. In Germany and Johannesburg it was just a big clump of people. I had one woman cut in front of me made direct eye contact and shrugged. We even had two lines converging at the gate at one point in Germany.I was just amused for the most part. It's not like I was in a hurry -- I only had 20 more hours of travel ahead of me... The Johannesburg airport is awesome. There were so many shops I thought I was in a mall. It was really nice though. I attempted sleep in those chairs as well. Once more, very little success.

I heard so many different languages during my flights. Anywhere German to Afrikaans to Italian to Tswana. At one point I was watching these kids play in Germany and there was so much laughter. It was so comforting to hear. Even during the stress and exhaustion of my trip I was able to find comfort in the laughter I heard from many types of people. A universal sound. I hope to surround myself with laughter during my trip to help me adjust to all of these changes. Like when I tried to take a shower earlier and all that came out of the faucet was icy cold water. Instead of crying, I laughed. Okay, so maybe it was a laugh/cry. Don't judge -- I am tired. Point being, I already know this is going to be a huge adjustment for me, but I am going in with a smile and sense of humor.