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.