As soon as I posted the “Denial” blog I have been itching to clarify one thing in particular. Seeing as how I have been in Mochudi for a week I could not, but I just want to share some thoughts before I write a novel about my week in Mochudi.
I talked with some of the people in my group about how I felt as though I was experiencing racism, and it seems that there is argument about the definition of racism. Some definitions mention aggressive or hateful behavior, while others only mention a behavior that is different due to one’s race. So it can be argued that what I am experiencing here in Botswana is not racism. I am not hated here. I am actually loved by most – or so that is what Batswana men yell to me in the streets “Ke a go rata.” I think I have also mentioned I am proposed to on a daily basis as well. I even have the girl in an ice cream shop wanting to be my friend after meeting me once. Normal day. Perhaps, then, what I am experiencing with these taxi and combi drivers is discrimination. Yet, that word holds deeper meaning to some people as well. One thing is for sure, I was definitely being harassed by taxi and combi drivers, because I was a white woman. Take it as you will. Define it how you would like. There are grey areas, and I am not one to argue you one way or the other. I would much rather listen to your opinion over a cup of tea (renewed love for this – everyone should have tea time), for that is how I learn.
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