Riding in Cars with Strangers

Right now we are in the midst of summer here in Botswana.  However, this is also rainy season.  But when you hear the term, rainy season, it’s not really what you expect.  Basically it means that it seldom rains, but when it does it is a major downpour resulting in flooding.  The good thing about the rain is that it drops the temperature about 20 degrees for a day or two, making the weather much more bearable.

For the past two days we’ve been enjoying a lot of rain here in Gaborone.  Yesterday I taught for three hours.  It would rain for about 20 minutes and then stop briefly, and then start again.  And each time it rains it is a downpour, to the point where my students had to ask me to speak up so they could hear me over the rain.  Yes, the rain really is that loud.

The rain tends to add a little extra chaos to life here.  The streets flood, making it challenging to walk.  The robots (traffic lights) stop working, causing drivers to act even more erratic than usual.  And as I learned last night, the rain also results in miscommunication.

On Monday and Wednesday evenings I take Setswana classes.  I normally walk about 15 minutes each way to and from class.  Last night I made it about halfway to class before the rain began again.  Fortunately I was wearing flip flops so the ankle deep water didn’t cause too much of a problem for me.  By the time my class ended the sky was pitch black and the standing water was up to my calves.  As I exited the building a man said to me, “You live in the Village, right? I’ll give you a ride.”

I got in the car and asked him what language class he was taking.  He looked at me and goes, “Oh! I thought you were the German lady in my French class!”  I looked at him and said, “Oh! I thought you were my neighbor!”  Needless to say, Jun and I had a good laugh and are now friends.  At least I didn’t have to swim home in all that rain.

I Would Like to Buy a Hamburger

Recently I began taking Setswana lessons.  Thankfully these are going significantly better than my driving lessons did.  Every Tuesday and Thursday at 1pm I go to Mma Moeketsi’s house on Zebra Way across from the Gaborone Sun for about an hour.  We sit at her dining room table and she instructs me on proper pronunciation, intonation and basic Setswana phrases.  I have no real desire or expectation to become fluent, but I am doing this to enhance my ability to communicate with my students, and locals.

I find Setswana to be more challenging than other languages I’ve learned.  It uses the same Roman alphabet as English, Spanish and French, so I would have thought it would be easier than Russian.  But the number of different sounds for each letter is what gets me.  There are four different sounds for “e” and no real logic behind which one to use when.

During the relatively limited interactions I’ve had with deaf individuals, I notice they look very intently at speakers’ lips.  I’ve found myself doing the same thing in hopes of being able to replicate how Mma Moeketsi speaks.  I’m not sure it’s helping though. 

Here is Mma Moeketsi making me repeat a phrase over and over again.  Somehow I can’t quite understand what I’m doing wrong.  But I am very determined, “We don’t quit! We do not quit! Again! Again!”:

Lost in Translation

I have been making great strides to improve my Setswana speaking abilities.  Unfortunately my efforts have yet to yield any real success.  Some days I feel like I am actually getting worse.  Today was one of those days.

In my 8am class, the class I co-teach, my students were doing presentations.  One of the presentations was particularly poor and the students had no qualms about telling their peers how disappointed they were with their performance.  Since I fulfill more of a supporting role, I followed the lead of the major professor.  He didn’t make an effort to curb the enthusiasm of the class and permitted them to be very vocal in their criticism.  As the debate became more and more heated, the students reverted back to their native tongue, leaving me completely lost.  However, I have the false belief that if I listen and concentrate hard enough when this sort of thing happens that somehow I will comprehend what is going on around me.  Sadly, this tactic does not work.  This was noticed by my pupils as one girl turned to another and said, “Oh look, Dr. Kelly doesn’t understand.”

After the debate finally subsided the professor kept using a Setswana word, “Rragawa” which basically means, “Do you understand?”  This was a new word for me, so I wrote it down, checked with someone that I had the correct meaning and pronunciation, and then went about trying to utilize it on my own.  That was where the plan fell apart.  In my noon class (which I teach independently) I asked the class “Rragawa?” Silence, then laughter.  No one had a clue what I was saying.  I had been so proud of myself that I had learned a new word, and now all of a sudden my hopes were dashed.  I told them I was trying to ask them if they understood me.  I was given about 10 different alternate words and phrases, but none of them sounded remotely similar to “Rragawa.”  This is not the first time this has happened, but my students are good sports and like me enough that they don't hold it against me when I embarrass myself on a regular basis.

Once class was over I headed to driving school.  Did I tell you my instructor’s name? Duckpound.  Yup, pronounced exactly like it sounds: duck-pound.  Duckpound does not speak English.  That’s actually not true.  His English is limited to, “Are you having a husband?... I am good guy, we should kick it… I will come to your place for dinner and drinks.”  “Yes I have a husband; no we will NOT be kicking it; no, you cannot come to my house for dinner and drinks.”  Duckpound and my driving lesson pretty much solidified my belief that Setswana may be my Everest.  After my driving lesson I decided there was no turning back; I hitched a ride to Alliance Francaise and signed myself up for Setswana lessons.

Nearly every day here brings with it a Lost in Translation moment for me.  If you haven’t seen the movie, it has an excellent depiction of my efforts to speak Setswana.  I am Bill Murray; the Japanese guy is pretty much every Motswana I meet here. And the two Japanese women laughing in the background represent anyone witnessing my attempts to have a conversation in Setswana:

“The Place that Dried Up”

Botswana doesn’t really have hills. In fact, Gaborone reminds me a lot of Lubbock. It is flat, hot, there is lots of dirt all over the place, very few trees, and you see nothing but sky for miles. But, we do have one hill, which is more than I can say for Lubbock.

Our one hill is called Kgale Hill and is on the southern edge of town. The name in Setswana means, “The Place that Dried Up” which is quite fitting, given the lack of vegetation and abundance of giant rocks. The television series, “The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency” was filmed on a set built at the bottom of the hill. Since the series is no longer it has fallen into disrepair, but tourists who’ve read the books and/or watched the show often visit the film set. The other thing Kgale is known for is all the baboons in the area. We saw lots of them during our hike.

Fortunately we did the hike last Sunday, and then I broke my toe on Monday. So I won’t be hiking it again for a while, but at least I looked impressive doing it, right?

And here is a picture of Kgale itself. Unfortunately I forgot to take a picture of town from the top of Kgale. Oh well, I guess that means I will have to do the climb again:

It takes about an hour to get up to the top, and then an hour to get back down. That is, if you don’t wander off the trail and get lost in the process. I was not the navigator; I was bringing up the rear. And since my hiking companions seemed sure of themselves I blindly followed them. That was until I said, “We definitely have NOT been before. We aren’t even on a trail! Where are we?” After about 20 minutes of wandering around, we found the trail and our fearless leader said, “Huh, wonder how I missed that?” Oh well, it was fun and at least I got to do the hike before the weather got too hot, and before I broke my toe.

One Stop Shopping: Buy Your Onions, Give a Geography Lesson, Visit the Doctor

According to the movies, which are always truthful and accurate, in the 1950s a trip to your neighbor supermarket was like visiting a friend. The grocer knew your name, you would stop and chat with the other shoppers because your kids went to school together, and people enjoyed the social, community-type experience. Nowadays it’s not really like that. It’s more of a get in, get what you need as quickly as possible, and get out, preferably without having to engage anyone in conversation. Botswana isn’t pure 1950s, but it certainly has a less stressed out and more laid-back approach than most people in the western world take when shopping.

Today I went to the grocery store just down the street from my house. I go there at least once a week, sometimes two or three times. It is midway between my house and the gym, so it’s easy to stop on my way back and forth. Also, the selection is rather limited, so often I will stop three days in a row and purchase nothing each time, until the onions I was hoping to buy finally arrive on day four. This afternoon, that was what I was shopping for, onions.

As I handed the cashier my credit card to pay for my onions she asked to see my ID, which is standard here. I gave it to her and then realized she was scrutinizing it in great detail. She then handed the ID to another cashier who looked at it and the two of them exchanged several comments in Setswana. As my friends here remind me frequently, “You don’t really blend in,” so I was curious what they were examining, but I didn’t ask. Finally my cashier pointed to my driver’s license and said, “Is this from the UK?” I told her no, it was from the U.S. Then about four other store employees got involved in a very animated conversation in Setswana. They were nodding their heads and sort of laughing and smiling. Eventually they came to a consensus and one of the men told me, “We always wondered where you are from. But it makes sense. You smile and talk a lot [in Setswana. Of course] you are from the U.S. English people don’t smile and they aren’t very friendly.” “Well, thank you very much.”

I packed up my bag and proceeded toward the exit when the male employee asked me why I was hobbling. I explained to him that I had fallen yesterday and my toe was in a lot of pain. It was right about lunch time and several Botswana Police Officers had entered the store from their offices across the street. The employee told me to wait a minute. A few seconds later he arrived with a police officer who told me to remove my shoe and let him see my foot. I hesitated and then he looked at me and said, “Hey I know you. You’re the girl that always bikes around the prison. Where have you been? We’ve missed you.” I was so shocked I didn’t respond. He continued, “It’s ok, I’m the prison doctor. I heard you hurt your foot. Let me see it.” So, the store employee brought me a chair, and the doc proceeded to examine my foot in the grocery store. “Looks like you broke your toe. That’s gonna hurt for a while, you should probably be careful.”

So, that was my trip to the grocery store. It wasn’t a true 1950s grocery store experience, but it was unique, kind of like everything else about my life here in Africa. :)

Why not Trythings? What’s in a name?

Over the last six weeks I have been introduced to a wide variety of names. Obviously the Setswana names have been a challenge to grasp both in terms of meaning and pronunciation. It becomes even more troublesome when I need to contact someone.  I am often sent a message and told to “email Lekone.” Since I cannot begin to even guess Lekone’s gender, or whether I’ve been given a first name or a surname for that matter, I have learned to err on the side of caution.  Most of my emails now begin with “Dear Sir or Madam.” I am seldom so formal in my personal interactions, but I don’t like to risk the possibility of offending someone.

However, the English names I have encountered here are just as challenging.  In recent years in the U.S. parents have attempted to become much more unique in naming their children.  Just look at some of the names celebrities have bestowed upon their offspring: Sage Moonblood, Prince Michael/Blanket, or most recently North West! Makes me wonder how Sandra Bullock’s son, Louis, is faring at school.  Does he get beat up on the playground during recess by the kids telling him, “Your Mommy didn’t love you enough.  If she did she wouldn’t have given you such a NORMAL name!”

In Switzerland they take everything seriously, including names.  There is no room for creativity.  Names must be chosen from a pre-approved registered list and no amount of fame or money can buy you the rights to name your child after biblical villains (Cain or Abel), places (Ireland or Paris) or brands (Armani); reverse gender naming (naming a boy Kelly) or using surnames as first names.

Here in southern Africa names tend to have some kind of meaning behind them.  Though not direct religious references, many have a connotation similar to spiritual attributes: Patience, Charity, Immaculate, Gift.  I asked Gift (a man) about his name.  He told me his parents were unable to have children.  After nearly twenty years they finally conceived.  Since they knew he would be their only child, they considered him a gift, and named him so.  Silence, also a man, informed me his name was the result of having too many loud and boisterous personalities in his family and his parents’ hope that this child would be a bit quieter.  We were seated next to one another for a dinner and based on our conversation his parents did not get what they wished for.

My favorite name thus far is one which would be most appropriate for my child: Trythings.  Trythings was the name of the manager at my hotel in Zimbabwe.  I was happy to run in to Trythings before I checked out and asked him about his name.  He told me, “My parents are adventurous people.  They think it is important to have lots of experiences and try different things.”  I think his parents are brilliant.  I could not agree more.

Dumelang Borra Le Bomma

Every day that I teach I always start my class off the same way, “Dumelang borra le bomma.”  This means “Good day gentlemen and ladies.” And every day after I say this the entire class claps and cheers. :)  I’m beginning to wonder when it will get old to them and they will stop doing that.  But I’m certainly not complaining.  I think I’ve decided that when I return to the U.S. I will require all of my classes to clap and cheer for me after I say “Good morning.”

I have to say I am definitely enjoying teaching here.  The students are very attentive and ask a lot of questions.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’ve been pleasantly surprised.  They humor my attempts to speak Setswana and say their names.  And from time to time they teach me short, useful phrases. This afternoon I learned, “Ke a lwala” which means “I am not well.” I have a cold, thus this was quite appropriate today.

Speaking of names, I learned very quickly that my last name is particularly difficult for the Batswana to pronounce.  Most people won’t even make an attempt.  When they do it goes something along the lines of, “Paaa-ha-la-n.” And the “n” is said like the letter N, not the sound.

My Associate Dean actually told me when we first met, “Your surname is particularly difficult to pronounce. Your first name is also strange, but easier.”  Anyone want to take a venture at his name?  Tlongogokli Ketshabilego.  Yes, compared to the 23 letters in his name, the six letters in mine can be tricky.  Here a G sounds like a Ha, when you pronounce a K you must “click” and Rs must be rolled.

Suffice to say, my attempts at Setswana have made me realize how much easier French, Spanish, and even Russian were for me to learn.  And in an effort to accommodate my colleagues’ and students’ needs we have found a much easier form of address.  I am known on campus as Dr. Kelly.

Third World Problems: Power Outages and Water Rationing

Shortly before I left the U.S. I spoke to a friend who informed me he was “so upset” because his key fob wasn’t working.  Instead of being able to push the button to unlock the door to his car he now had to go through the hassle of putting the key in the door, turning it and then opening the door.  “How terrible! That’s heartbreaking!  How DO YOU make it through the day?”  His response? “Don’t make fun of me, this is serious.”  “Yes, that’s very serious, kind of like famine.” I know I am just as guilty of magnifying my first world problems from time to time, but nothing brings that into perspective as clearly as having real, third world problems.

I do have to say that Botswana is the least Third World country I’ve ever visited.  It has a lot of infrastructure and luxuries which aren’t available in other third world countries.  But, it is still considered Third World.

The term Third World was first used during the Cold War.  First World countries included capitalist countries, such as the U.S. and other western countries that were part of NATO. The Communist Bloc: the USSR, China, Cuba, and their allies; made up the Second World.  Any countries which weren’t part of one of these two alliances were considered Third World.  Obviously, the Cold War is over, so the designation of First and Second World countries is no longer appropriate, but the term Third World is still used to describe “developing” or “least developed” countries as determined by the International Monetary Fund and the UN’s Human Development Index.

Though at first glance Botswana seems rather cosmopolitan and advanced, at least to me, there are times when it’s Third World status is glaringly evident.  In the past 24 hours I’ve experienced two major incidents which reminded me of this.  Last night while I was at dinner the electricity went out.  My dinner companions had already been served their food, but mine was still being prepared.  They continued to eat in the dark, while I waited as my lamb chops sat in the oven failing to cook.  Two hours later, when the lights were still out, I decided I would rather eat the kale chips I brought with me in my carry-on and call it a night.

Today I woke up to find there was no water in the house.  This did not come as a total shock as my neighbors had warned me to save some water the night prior due to water rationing.  We are in the midst of the dry season here in Botswana, so there are designated days each week when the water is shut off for various communities.  If you don’t save water beforehand you better hope your neighbors like you or else it’s bound to be a long, dry, thirsty day.  I never realized how much water I use on a daily basis until I was limited to the five containers I saved:

Water is precious here and the Batswana people know that (Batswana is the plural term for citizens from Botswana- that wasn’t a mispelling.  In case you were wondering Motswana is the singular). Pula is currency here.  It is named after the Setswana word for rain because rain is so scarce.  But pula also means blessing because rain is considered a blessing, and of course, having money is a blessing as well.

I expect by the time I leave Botswana some of these Third World challenges will be routine to me.  Hopefully this will also remind me there are a lot of people in the world who would love to have the inconvenience of my First World “problems” rather than the normal day-to-day goings-on of Third World life.

Where in the world is Dr. Phelan? Botswana!

Remember the game, “Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?”  That was one of my favorite games as a child, which should have been a forewarning to my parents that I would end up a world traveler with a passport bulging at the seams with stamps and visas.  For anyone unfamiliar with “Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?” the aim is to follow the infamous criminal, Carmen Sandiego, and her gang of villains to different countries where they have stolen a famous landmark (like the Statue of Liberty) and ultimately arrest her.  Those of us who grew up in the 80s idolizing the spy-culture liked the game for that reason, and were blissfully oblivious to the knowledge of geography we obtained in the process.  In honor of the game (and the title of my first blog post), and the many emails, texts, phone calls and Facebook messages I’ve received asking where I’m moving, I wanted to take this opportunity to give everyone the chance to find out a little bit about my new home for the next year.

I am moving to Botswana, which is in Southern Africa.  Botswana is the country bordering South Africa immediately to the north.  Here it is:

 

Botswana is a former British colony, so they do speak English.  Their national language is Setswana, which I am desperately trying to learn. Leina la me ke Kelly.  Are you impressed yet?  Setswana is everyone’s first language, but they begin learning English in fifth grade, so English is spoken widely.

While I am in Botswana I will be living in Gaborone (pronounced Hhha-bo-ro-nay), which is the capital city.  However, in terms of capital cities, it is on the small side.  Only about 230,000 people live in the capital, and there are only about 2 million people in the entire country, which is the size of Texas when measured according to land mass.  Of course, about 70% of that land is nothing but dessert.

 

During my year in Botswana I will be teaching at the University of Botswana in the Department of Tourism and Hospitality Management as a Fulbright Scholar.  Botswana has a strong tourism industry, due mainly to the fact the country is home to the “Big Five.” The “Big Five” is used to describe the big five animals of Africa: the elephant, lion, buffalo, leopard and rhinoceros.  The term used to be “Big Five Game” because it describes the five animals most difficult to hunt on foot, but now that hunting is widely outlawed in favor of animal conservation and protection, the safari operators use “Big Five” for marketing purposes.

 

I don’t know if Carmen Sandiego has ever been to Gaborone, stolen some elephants, and been pursued by the Botswana Defense Force, but if she stops by sometime in the next 12 months I will definitely let you know.