Reentering the First World, Part Two

First of all, please let me apologize to my loyal blog readers for being absent for the past week.  I was driving from Maryland back to Texas and stopping to visit friends along the way.  I thought I would keep up with my blog while on the road, but in the end nine hours of driving a day plus mandatory (and necessary) social time with friends I haven’t seen in years equaled an exhausted Kelly unable to open her laptop.  But, rest assured, I am back!

Yesterday I arrived in Lubbock, Texas and was greeted by my posse of graduate students- current and former.  Thank goodness they were here to help me unpack my car, move my things from storage to my new house, rearrange furniture, etc.  They are currently scrubbing the toilets and cutting my lawn as I write this.  Totally kidding!  But they did help me with the move-in process which was a huge relief.  And it was a lot of fun because it was a mini-reunion (mini because we were missing a few Phelantologists who have graduated and moved on to bigger and better things).

I spent the better part of last night and this morning unpacking and cleaning, but you know how moves are.  You unpack 20 boxes only to realize you apparently packed all the plates and utensils, but somehow the glasses and bowls missed the boat.  This is made all the more shocking because somehow there are three used toothbrushes and a half empty roll of toothpaste in a box.  I know, I thought the same thing, Why in the world would I keep those for almost 15 months? Ewwwww….

Around 10 this morning I had a pretty comprehensive list of items I needed to purchase to make my new digs more habitable and so I ventured out to the store.  I know I arrived back in the U.S. about a month ago, but I’ve been so busy with conferences, social visits and family vacations that I haven’t spent any time doing normal day-to-day stuff- like going to the store.  This morning’s visit to Market Street (a grocery store) was a bit overwhelming.  I went in with a list of about a dozen things to buy.  But as I perused the aisles I kept thinking, Oh wow! They have XYZ product?  I should totally get one of those!......  They have ABC!  That’s amazing!  I haven’t seen one of those in…. hmmm…. a year, if not longer.  I definitely need that too…...  I don’t even know what this thing is!  But it looks AWESOME!  I’m totally getting this.  I don’t know what I’m gonna use it for, but I’m pretty sure I will LOVE IT! 

In aisle 8B I realized I had a problem.  Actually it was pointed out to me by Tim, a friendly shelf stocker.  I saw canned artichoke hearts and took EVERY SINGLE can off the shelf.  He stood there and watched me do this and said, “Are you sure you need ALL of those?”  I didn’t count them, but I would guess I had at least 100 cans of artichokes in my cart.  In the end I didn’t buy any of them because I realized I probably wouldn’t eat them this week anyway and I could just wait for them to go on sale.  And when they DO go on sale, they will actually be there.

Last night I was visiting with one of my former grad students and her husband.  Joe asked me, “What was the hardest thing about living in Africa?  What is the biggest adjustment coming home?”  I told him that it’s not the big things that make living abroad hard.  I knew before I went to Africa that there would be lots of power outages, that water rationing might mean you couldn’t take showers for days, that there were food shortages, so there were times you would go to the grocery store and there would be no fresh food on the shelf.  But you expect those things.  The things that drive you nuts are the little things.  Here in the U.S. if you need a battery you go to CVS a block away, run in, pick out the battery you need, pay for it and get out of there.  It should take 5 minutes or less to run that errand.  But that’s not how it works in Africa.  That task could take you all day, or several days.  (Remember when I tried to get my university ID?)

The best example of the little things driving you nuts involved two monkeys, a toothbrush, and what else? A condom.  Because in the end everything (in Africa) involves a condom, right?

One day I was in my house in Botswana, working at my desk on the first floor.  I heard a lot of commotion upstairs and went up to investigate.  Two monkeys had gotten into the house through my open bedroom window and were tearing my bathroom apart.  In the scuffle to get them out of there they knocked my face cream and toothbrush into the toilet.  Now, I wasn’t happy about the face cream because do you have any clue how difficult it is to find face cream for a white person in Africa?  Answer: Very hard.  But I could live without face cream.  I could NOT live without a toothbrush.  I finally got the monkeys out of the house and set out for the store to buy a new toothbrush.  It took me seven hours to (I think) nine or ten different stores in search of a toothbrush.  In the second to the last store I looked around, was unable to find a toothbrush and so I asked for assistance.  The store clerk said they did not have any toothbrushes, but instead offered me a box of condoms.  Though I desperately attempted to keep my cool I failed.  I started flailing my arms and told him, “I CANNOT CLEAN MY TEETH WITH THAT!!!!”  Thinking back on that now I remember the clerk nonchalantly shrugging as if to say, “Hey lady, here’s your option.  If you don’t like it, oh well.”

They say a lot of people who move overseas experience culture shock.  Many individuals also have similar challenges adjusting when they come home.  I suppose the artichokes are my reverse culture shock.  When I was at Market Street today I also stopped to stare at the wall of a thousand toothbrushes.  Sadly, Tim was there for that too.  I thought I was using my inner monologue when I said, “Wow, so many toothbrushes.  They are beautiful.”  But when Tim responded and said, “Yes, we have lots of toothbrushes.  But remember, you can only use one at a time” I thought it best to tell him, “I’m not strange.  I’ve been living in Africa.  I haven’t seen most of this stuff in forever.”  He nodded his head as if he truly understood me and said, “Well, in that case, we are open 24 hours, take your time looking around.” 

Money, Money, Money, Money...MOOOOOO-NEY!

Though I’m not scheduled to leave Africa for a few more weeks, I thought it a good idea to start going through all my belongings and trying to downsize as much as possible.  Believe it or not, I spent a good 20 minutes trying to streamline my wallet this morning.  As a rule, when I travel, I eliminate all unnecessary items from my wallet.  When friends come to visit and I see them carrying a wallet full of 10 different credit cards, their library card, their Red Cross blood donor card, their Social Security card, and countless other cards they will never use, but are highly likely to lose here, I cringe.  When I moved to Africa I brought the following: 1 personal credit card, 1 credit card for university-related/business purposes, 1 bank debit card, my travel insurance card, and my emergency evacuation/I’M IN A LOT OF TROUBLE GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE! supplementary insurance card.  That’s it!  I have since added a Botswana driver’s license.

Despite having the two credit cards and the debit card, I only use these about half the time.  Southern Africa has begun using plastic on a more regular basis, but Zimbabwe and most of central and east Africa still operate on a strictly cash system.  I knew cash would be necessary, so when I came here I brought $5,000 with me and have since changed or used most of it.  Similar to the patriotism displayed in my blog post about how I was proud to be an American and would NEVER give up my passport to obtain citizenship elsewhere, there is a lot to be said about the power of the U.S. dollar.  You know the commercial, “Visa: Accepted Everywhere”?  Not true.  It should really be, “U.S. Dollars: Accepted Everywhere.”  Though I should add that when travelling to Africa if you plan to bring a credit card, choose Visa.  My university card is a Master Card and I haven’t been able to use it several times because Master Card isn’t as widely accepted as Visa.  Apparently those Olympics commercials with Morgan Freeman ARE telling the truth.

As I was organizing my wallet today there was no need to go through my cards as those have remained stagnant.  But my supply of banknotes and coins has changed considerably.  My stash of U.S. dollars is barely enough to get me through the next couple months, but I can now rest assured that if I get stranded in any one of a dozen African countries I can buy a bottle of water, and in some cases, even dinner if necessary.  Here are some of the bills I’ve collected during my tenure in Africa:

(Left to right, top to bottom): Ugandan Shilling, Rwandan Franc, Congolese Franc, Ethiopian Birr, Zimbabwean Dollar (This is no longer in circulation. Zimbabwe has no official currency, so the U.S. dollar is primarily used, but you can now use 8 different foreign currencies as legal tender), Zambian Kwacha, U.S. Dollar, Kenyan Shilling, Namibian Dollar, Botswana Pula, Sierra Leonean Leone, South African Rand, and Lesotho Loti.

None of these bills are worth more than a dollar or two, except for the Rand and Pula which are about $20 and $23, respectively.  But I will definitely spend those as SA and Botswana are where I will be most of the time until I leave. 

Ke Ja Lebidi Driving School: Poor Skills Taught; 100% Guarantee You WILL be Pulled Over by the Police; Cruising for Dates, Cheating and Stealing are Standard Practice; and as a Bonus, We Will Help RUIN Your Relationship!

Remember about a week ago when I was all excited about driving lessons?  That enthusiasm has now waned as I realize driving lessons may have been one of the worst mistakes I’ve made here.  If I was the marketing manager for the Ke Ja Lebidi Driving School I would post the above blog title on billboards all around Gaborone.  But we can’t have a marketing campaign without customer testimonials to back it up, so here are the details for you discerning patrons out there…

Poor Skills Taught: I realize Duckpound (my instructor) barely speaks English, but he knows the words for clutch, brake, accelerate, 1, 2, 3, 4.  However, he can’t be bothered to give instructions as he spends the entire time on his cell phone and seems to forget I am actually driving the car.  The only instruction I ever heard was, “Slow down! You are turning too fast!”  Apparently no one here takes a curve above 5 miles an hour.  I remind him I know how to drive and thus I know what speed is appropriate to use on a curve.  He doesn’t believe me.

100% Guarantee You WILL be Pulled Over by the Police: Nope, not the student, the instructor.  Speaking of cell phones, on Monday Duckpound picked me up for my lesson and as he was heading to the location so I could drive he texted THE ENTIRE WAY!  I wasn’t particularly comfortable with this, but didn’t actually say anything until I saw two men in bright yellow shirts on bicycles.  “Hey Duckpound, are those bicycle police?” “Yeah.” “Do you think maybe you should stop texting?” “No, they aren’t patrolling for me.” HA!  The cops rode up along both sides of the car and told him to pull over.  After about ten minutes of back and forth they gave him a citation.

Cruising for Dates: When Duckpound isn’t talking on his phone, texting or yelling at me to slow down he is checking out the ladies.  Every time we would drive by a woman walking along the street he would smile, turn around and shout something at her in Setswana.  It is interesting to note, none of these women ever smile when this happens. I know when I was a young, cute thing I always looked forward to the day some driving instructor would lean out the window at me and call me over, kind of like people do with their dogs, “Here girl! Goooooooood girl! Who loves you?”

Cheating: My driving lessons are supposed to be 30 minutes.  However, not one has lasted more than 22.  Yes, I keep track because I want to get my money’s worth.  It is very important I get my full half hour of “Slow down!,” meeting Gaborone’s finest bicycle police, and witnessing how to unsuccessfully pick up a girl that will probably land you in jail. Duckpound, didn’t your mother teach you to stay away from girls wearing school uniforms?  But nevertheless, I want my 30 minutes of driving practice.

Stealing: When I signed up for my driving lessons I asked for a receipt. Duckpound told me his boss had the receipt book and he would have to give it to me another day.  This did not surprise me as this is how things operate in Africa. (Last weekend I went to a Food and Wine Festival and there were no glasses because they were locked up in a storage closet and the person with the key hadn’t arrived to work yet. Did I mention we arrived three hours after the event began?  I’m curious how they served wine during the first half.  “Here, just tilt your head back and open your mouth; I will pour you a taste.”)  Today I finally got to see the owner of the school.  He asked why I hadn’t come by for lessons yet.  I informed him I had been taking lessons for an entire week and I wanted part of my money back.  He found that interesting seeing as that he hadn’t been given my money yet from Duckpound.  The owner and I cornered Duckpound who admitted he had spent the money.  The owner told me to return tomorrow and he would “try” to get me my money back.  I’m not holding my breath.

We Will Help RUIN Your Relationship!: Sadly, this is a true story.  I came home one day from driving lessons and was so incensed by Duckpound’s foolishness that I vented my frustrations to the man I’ve been seeing.  Apparently my communication skills have grossly diminished since I came to Africa because he interpreted my complaints to mean something entirely different.  No matter how many times I said, “I’m upset about my driving lessons; this has nothing to do with you; stop telling me I’m pretending to be angry at my driving instructor to disguise the fact I’m mad at you; that’s not what’s going on here!” the message was not received.

To recap, I have wasted approximately 104 minutes attending poorly instructed driving lessons; I am out 290 pula which Duckpound probably used on an underage date so I have little hope of ever seeing that again, and my "big house" and I broke up as a result of a bizarre miscommunication/argument which reached a point of no return.  This was the BEST INVESTMENT EVER!  Everyone who comes to Botswana should take driving lessons.  I highly recommend the Ke Ja Lebidi Driving School on Jawara Road; they won’t actually teach you how to drive well, but chances are they will make you feel (temporarily at least) as if they are destroying your life.

First comes Love, then comes the Bride Price Negotiations

Back in the U.S. I teach a Wedding Planning class each year. In my career as an event planner I would estimate I was involved in planning about 200 weddings. As a result I can say without a doubt planning a wedding is my least favorite activity in the world. But I always have a lot of female students who are pursuing their Mrs. degree and want to plan their own weddings, which is why I continue to teach the class.

One of the topics I address in the class is the historical evolution of marriage and weddings, as well as traditional customs. The dowry and bride price are always addressed, though I tell my students, “This isn’t something we really deal with in the U.S. nowadays, so I wouldn’t worry about it.” I think I may have to alter my lecture slightly in the future.

An American female friend of mine here in Botswana is getting married. She is a medical doctor and has been living her for five years. She is marrying a man from here and recently had to go through her lobola or bogadi negotiation. The lobola/bogadi/bride price is a payment by the groom’s family to the bride’s family as compensation for the loss of their daughter. The payment is viewed as a token of gratitude to the bride’s parents for providing her with an upbringing which makes her suitable to marry the groom.

Botswana is becoming more modern and cosmopolitan all the time. Until recently most adult children would live in their parents’ homes until they were married. However, many unmarried young adults are now moving out on their own. But the family negotiations surrounding marriage remain intact, for tradition’s sake if nothing else.

The way the bogadi negotiation works is that the couple and their extended families meet. The couple is not permitted to speak as all negotiations are handled by their uncles. The designated uncle from the groom’s side makes a speech and offers a price. The bride’s uncle then rebuts the offer. Typically the offer is refused along with an explanation. “My niece is well educated, she is a doctor, your nephew should be honored we would even acknowledge him when he asked for permission to marry her. As far as we are concerned this offer is insulting, we don’t consider him worthy of her hand, and we have no intention of allowing this wedding to occur.” To a certain extend this may be done for show. However, I have heard of many negotiations being drawn out affairs lasting weeks, even up until the day of the wedding.

With regard to the payment, that varies considerably. Cattle are a sign of wealth in Africa. Thus, the bogadi is generally made in live cattle. The minimum is four cattle. If a family is disinterested in receiving actual cattle, then a cash price is agreed upon. Normally the equivalent of one cow would be between $3,000 and $6,000. So the minimum bogadi would be between $12,000 and $24,000. I met one couple who told me their bogadi was 53 cattle, 2 horses and a saddle. Using the $3,000 minimum, that would be about $160,000.

Once the bogadi agreement is made the couple is considered married, even if the actual ceremony doesn’t take place until a few weeks later. In theory the bogadi should be paid before the actual ceremony, but for more costly agreements, the families may determine a reasonable timeframe in which the transaction may take place.

As for my American friend, her parents couldn’t take cattle with them back to the U.S., so the groom’s family gave them several gifts. Since I was not considered family I was not invited to attend the negotiation meeting, but I would have loved to have been a fly on the wall.

Big Brother Africa: The Chase

I haven't owned a television in seven years. But when I have the opportunity to watch tv, generally when I am travelling and staying with friends or in a hotel, I do take advantage of the opportunity. Of course I should probably be honest and admit when I have access to a television for any amount of time my viewing is typically dominated by reality shows like the Real Housewives of Orange County and Keeping Up With the Kardashians, and mystery-dramas such as Scandal and Revenge.

Here in Botswana I don’t have a television which is perfectly fine with me since I’ve lived a full life without one for the better part of a decade.  I occasionally see television when I am at the gym and then last week when I was in my hotel I was able to watch a little bit.  And to clarify “watch” I really had it on while writing blog postings or planning my classes for the week.  It was almost no active watching.  But, having the background entertainment did allow me to get an idea for television here in Africa.

Most of the television shows here are produced in South Africa, or they are imports from the US or UK.  However, the American and British shows have considerable liberties taken with the content.  For instance, my US show, Scandal, has been renamed The Fixer here.  There were several other name differences I noticed.

One of the other curiosities to me was the amount of censoring here.  In the US the use of expletives and crass language is accepted and few people think twice about it since we are so accustomed to it. Here they not only bleep out curse words, but they pixelate women who are wearing low cut tops.  These two phenomena are particularly comical to me when I’m at the gym.  The gym has three tvs: one is always set to cricket, one is always showing a football (soccer) match, and the third is a video music channel.  Naturally, since a fair amount of the popular music comes from the US and abroad the music videos are anywhere from 20%-80% pixelated (due to scantily clad dancing ladies) and bleeped.  Even the word “God” is considered a no-go.  Even if used in a positive light, i.e. “We pray to God this day…” it is either bleeped or entirely deleted from the audio.

Southern African countries have been very successful imitating American and British reality and competition shows.  The two most popular being Idols (based on the British version Pop Idols/ and the American Idol show) and Big Brother Africa: The Chase (based on the US Big Brother franchise). Big Brother Africa (BBA) finally ended last week, so it was a common topic of discussion among my students and several staff members I met in Zim. 

BBA involves representatives from 16 African countries.  Every few days a contestant is voted off by the viewing audience.  All the votes from a particular country are compiled and then the country registers its one vote.  The major difference between BBA and the American version is that there is an entire channel dedicated to BBA because it is broadcast 24-7 in real time for the entire season.  So for 91 days which is the length of the season, no matter what time of day, you can turn on the channel and see what the housemates are up to.  At one point I was up early for a flight and out of curiosity turned on the show and it was broadcasting all the contestants in the house sleeping.  It was actually very boring.

But this is a huge contest and a fair amount of national pride is staked on the results. According to two young men I asked about it, they said they definitely tend to vote according to which countries they consider a friend because they want to help out their allies.  This year Dillish, a 22 year old student from Namibia won.  The prize? $300,000. That sounds like a lot of money.  In the US the prize is $500,000, so I guess $300,000 is a deal for the producers here.  But in reality $300,000 is worth way more here than back home.

Who wants to be a millionaire? No one here.

In college I was a huge fan of the television show Who Wants to be a Millionaire? I used to call in and attempt to get selected as a contestant frequently. I was never on the show, but I was more interested in the competition aspect and bragging rights more so than the money. Though I still can’t say I won, I can now say I am a millionaire. In fact, I'm not just a millionaire; I'm a BILLIONAIRE!!!

Have you ever seen a 100 billion dollar bill? No? Ok, well here you go:

This was GIVEN to me by a friend I made here in Zimbabwe. It wasn't a loan and I didn't pay him for it, he just gave it to me.  Now I can officially say I am a billionaire. Unfortunately that does not have a very positive connotation here.

Prior to my trip to Zimbabwe I investigated what type of currency I needed to obtain and the exchange rate. I was surprised to find out I didn't have to worry about changing money because there is no national currency here anymore. Instead US dollars are primarily used, though many outlets are also willing to accept South African Rand, Euros, and in some cases, Botswana Pula. But change is only given in US dollars.

In 2009 Zimbabwe stopped issuing the Zimbabwean dollar due to the fact inflation had become so extreme. In July 2008 a single US dollar was equivalent to 758,530,000,000 Zimbabwean dollars. Around the same time the cost of an egg was about 50 billion dollars. I suppose you would have to take a briefcase full of money to the store when you did your grocery shopping.

After continual hyperinflation over years and three attempts at redenomination, Zimbabwe eventually gave up and decided to retire their currency altogether. It is practically impossible to get hold of these old bills anymore unless you find a local who has one.  The government took them out of circulation and they have all been archived, though it is unlikely they will ever be used again.

So, I guess the moral of the story is to be careful what you wish for. Here in Zimbabwe when they used to have their own currency it became useless almost as soon as it was issued. Can you imagine getting a paycheck and then realizing it wasn't even enough to do your weekly shopping because the value of money had dropped so dramatically?