Categorical Dating

I have never been one to have a “type” in friendships or romantic relationships.  But I definitely have some friends who actively pursue significant others who fit into distinct categories.  I can think of a few girlfriends of mine who like to date men with foreign accents because they are “sexy and exotic.”  I don’t really comprehend this because I’ve seen a few cases of, “I know you think he has a ‘sexy and exotic accent’ but he doesn’t bathe, he can’t eat without spitting all over himself and everyone around him and the reason his accent is sexy is because he doesn’t speak any English at all, so you have no idea what he is saying!”

Or there are the women who like men in uniform.  Similar to the confusion I have over the accent, more than once I have said, “I don’t think the UPS delivery guy counts as a man in uniform.”  Unfortunately, and embarrassingly, I have become part of this categorical dating phenomenon.

On Monday I was invigilating a final exam.  The Math professor who was giving his exam in the same room kept approaching me and being unnecessarily friendly.  I knew where this attention was going which was disheartening as judging from the ring on his finger I was pretty sure he was married.  About 90 minutes into the exam I left to get some water.  As I re-entered the room Professor Math met me at the door and asked if I would be interested in “kicking it” sometime or perhaps even becoming his “little house.”  If you aren’t familiar with kicking it please read this blog post.  I quickly dismissed him with a stern, “No.”

At the end of the exam as we were completing paperwork a Math student approached me and asked me if I would go out with him.  Professor Math got offended, scolded the student, told him I had already been spoken for, and then looked at me as if I was to blame.  To make matters worse, the other Tourism professor with whom I was invigilating the exam came over and asked if I was ready to go home, having no clue as to the awkward conversation he was interrupting.  (To clarify, the exam ended at 9pm and it was dark out.  It isn’t safe to walk home at night, so I had already asked the Tourism professor if he could give me a ride.)  Professor Math and Student Math looked at each other as if I was cheating on both of them with Professor Tourism.

Long story short, I don’t like getting this kind of attention.  I get propositioned every day because every guy in Africa wants to be able to brag to his friends that he has been with a white girl.  Thank goodness I’m not pretty or smart or have a good personality.  In that case I don’t know how I would even be able to walk down the street without stopping traffic!  Actually, sometimes I do stop traffic.  And we all know how that turned out.  But I am definitely looking forward to not being in a preferred mate category when I do eventually return to the U.S.  Men in uniform with sexy foreign accents- I now understand the burden you must bear.

Packing Your African Bug Out Bag

I recently received a note on one of my blog posts from my friend Lisa who said that my daily stories provide excellent dinner table conversation for her and her husband.  She mentioned that her family was preparing to move to a natural disaster zone where there were occasional snake problems.  Having read about my experience with the cobra she was concerned about how to handle the situation if a snake entered her home because she couldn’t call the Botswana army to do a snake extraction in Florida.  Lisa recounted a conversation with her husband in which the two of them wondered, “What else do you think Kelly would recommend for survival in a natural disaster area?”

Back in Texas we have a faculty member on staff who is always talking about emergency preparedness and “honoring the threat.”  I’m afraid to visit his home because he describes it like a James Bond type of hideout.  Apparently he has a giant knife, hand grenades or a rocket launcher hidden behind every door, including under the sink of his guest bathroom.  In addition, Dr. Bond likes to discuss the importance of a Bug Out Bag in his classes.  For those of you who may be less familiar, a Bug Out Bag is basically a bag which you always have packed and ready to go at a moment’s notice in the event you have to evacuate unexpectedly due to an emergency.  Here are the contents of my Bug Out Bag, which I also travel with, here in Africa:  

1. Duct Tape.  Duct tape can be used to plug holes in screens to keep the mosquitoes out, to hold your luggage together when it gets ripped, or to keep you from bleeding to death.  I once cut my hand badly on a tin roof.  It was a Sunday afternoon so there were no hospitals open and I was leaving on a flight to Amsterdam the next morning.  No matter what I did the cut wouldn’t stop bleeding.  I duct taped a washcloth around my hand until I got to Amsterdam and could get stitches. 

2. Wedding Ring.  Since I can’t travel with my fake husband I can at least travel with my fake wedding ring.  I am also 11 weeks pregnant and have been exactly 11 weeks pregnant for over a year now.  Fidelity is not taken seriously here, so saying you have a husband and showing the ring as proof does not deter very aggressive, unwanted advances.  But motherhood is highly respected.  Plus research shows that if a woman tells her rapist she is pregnant her attacker is less likely to complete the assault, so I have used this little fib as a preemptive warning in a few particularly scary situations.

3. Hand Sanitizer and Toilet Paper.  Nine times out of ten it is more hygienic to use a bush to relieve yourself than to use a public toilet if you are outside the confines of your home/hotel.  But when you are in the middle of the African bush there are no toilets anyway, so you have to use a bush regardless.  Might as well be prepared. 

4. Needles, Malaria Medication, Vaccination Card, Water Purification Tablets.  Fortunately I haven’t had to use the needles yet (fingers crossed I will make it out of here and not need to), but I always bring them with me because you never know what kinds of medical supplies will be available in the event of an emergency.  

5. U.S. Dollars in small denominations.  I think I’ve mentioned corruption a few times before.  The good thing is, if someone is going to bribe you they are more likely to accept U.S. dollars than any other currency.  When I came to Africa this time I brought $5,000 in small bills; I’ve used most of them.  

6. Head Lamp and Lighter.  You may have heard in passing that we have problems with electricity.  Or you may be stuck in a four-star hotel with electricity, but no light bulbs in the sockets.  If you can’t find something safe to set on fire with the lighter then you can always use your headlamp. 

7. Facial Wipes and Goggles.  I think I may have also mentioned once or twice that we have lots of problems with water throughout Africa.  Sometimes you have water, sometimes you don’t.  Sometimes you have water, but it’s dangerous if you get it in your eyes.  In that case you wear goggles in the shower and then wash your eyes out with bottled water or use facial wipes.  

8. Laundry Detergent and Sink Stopper.  The important instruction here is DO NOT USE WHITE LAUNDRY DETERGENT!  White powder=drugs.  So I use blue laundry detergent.  Depending on where I am travelling I often take only three or four sets of clothes and wash them by hand in my sink each night.  But you need to be careful because in many countries you have to iron ALL YOUR CLOTHES in order to kill the mango fly eggs.  If the mango fly eggs hatch on your clothes they burrow under your skin and you can literately feel them moving around underneath the surface.  Then you have to go to the doctor to have them cut out. As a general rule this is not fun. 

9. Sporf, Pens, Tweezers and Nail Clipper. It’s always a good idea to travel with a sporf (spoon-fork-knife combo), because you never know when you might need an eating utensil and there won’t be any available.  Same goes for pens.  Somehow, no one EVER has a writing instrument.  If you don’t bring your own don’t bother asking for one because no one else will have one either.  Since you can’t travel with scissors, tweezers and nail clippers are good alternatives; you can use them when you need to cut something.

I think that pretty much wraps up my African Bug Out Bag.  Though I would recommend snacks as well.  With all the food shortages we have here you can’t be guaranteed you will find something you want/need when you want/need it.  With that being said, here is one final piece of advice concerning snacks:  If you are driving down the road and see a lone orange tree off to the side with giant oranges on it that look SO GOOD just keep driving.  There is a reason no one else has come along and picked them off sooner.  Why?  Land mines.

HAPPY PACKING!

Concessions

No, not the concessions you have at a baseball game.  Though a hot dog sounds really good right about now.  Concessions as in, “What is your list of demands that will convince you to accept another Fulbright and remain in Africa for another year?”

In case you missed yesterday’s post, I received another Fulbright award which is a huge honor.  However, if you have been following my blog for any amount of time you know that living in Africa is a bit more challenging than home, or any western country for that matter.  But Fulbright, and the U.S. Embassy here, really want me to stay, so much so that I was told, “Tell us what we can do to make this deal happen.”

Today I gave that proposal a little bit of thought.  I’ve spoken to a few friends and gotten lots of email messages from people trying to convince me why I should return to the U.S., why I should stay another year, or what concessions I should ask for.  Here is the ultimate list, compiled in conjunction with one of the (many) co-Presidents of my Fan Club:

Dear Ambassador:

Thank you for your support for my Fulbright award.  As requested, I have compiled a list of concessions I would require to remain in Botswana for the next 14 months.  Please find the list below: 

1. Embassy-sanctioned housing.  I am aware from my friends who work in your office that all embassy homes have their own power generators, water tanks and fuel which are maintained by U.S. government resources.  In an effort to provide a more comfortable standard of living and professional existence, the avoidance of power cuts, water rationing and Internet inconsistency would be ideal. 
2. Diplomatic mail privileges. During that past year I have had a particular challenge attempting to receive any mail from loved ones.  There was the time my package was impounded because I needed to obtain a beef permit from the Ministry of Agriculture for a box which contained a package of beef jerky.  Another time it took nearly two months for a postcard to arrive from Namibia.  I could have walked to Namibia and back in a shorter amount of time.  I still haven’t received my Christmas cards and I know my Dad sent me one that sings- he always does. 
3. PX shopping pass.  I would like to shop at the PX with all the other embassy workers.  There is no such thing as toilet paper shortages or lack of fresh fruit at the PX.  And you don’t have to buy dead people’s clothes either. You guys get your stuff shipped in from the U.S. every week!  I also know there is a Subway franchise.  I got that information from a very reliable source.  Given the lack of restaurants or real fast food in Botswana, this would be a big plus for staying here another year. 
4. A seat at the table.  I think the U.S. needs a Secretary of Tourism.  I’m your girl! I went to the UNWTO Conference.  No one represented the U.S.  I already made lots of connections and have buddies in all the tourism ministries all over Africa.  I could work on your visa facilitation programs, development initiatives and spearhead homeland security and safety training in the tourism sector. 
5. Naming rights.  I realize Phelantown may be too large a request.  But how about a lake or a river?  Queen Victoria is long gone; she won’t know if we rename her lake.  Actually, on second thought, you really don’t need to make me happy.  My mom’s the important one.  Let’s say we just name a shopping mall after her.  Now, that’s definitely doable

Looking forward to your response,

Kelly

Kelly of Kongo

During my visit to Congo I had one day free, so my guide suggested I go to Masisi in the Kivu province.  Granted, the Kivu area is where a lot of rebels hang out, and the day before we left I received an email from the U.S. Embassy reminding American citizens not to visit the area due to the tendency of bandits to kidnap, rape, steal vehicles, and “carry out paramilitary operations in which civilians and foreigners are targeted.”  Emmanuel told me, “No problem, no problem, we are staying in a private house overlooking the UN base there, so you will be fine.”

So, we went to Masisi.  We stayed in the gigantic home of a “very rich businesswoman who has lots of dealings with the president of the country.”  Translation: Corruption. At least that’s what it normally means.  But Emmanuel wanted to take me there because “Masisi is like the Switzerland of Congo.”  It was a little like Switzerland actually.  Lots of sheep and cows.  Actually, I think that’s where the similarity began and ended.  Feel free to judge the “Switzerland of Congo” for yourself:

Here was the house I stayed in on Mrs. Rika’s property.  It was one of about six houses there:

Emmanuel was right about overlooking the UN station:

In fact the UN soldiers held a volleyball game Sunday afternoon:

Here was the living room in my house:

Mrs. Rika’s family, which included her three adult daughters, two adult sons, their spouses, and their children, were all there during my visit.  Apparently they are avid horseback riders.  Having never ridden a horse myself, I was quite apprehensive about the prospect, but after some cajoling from the youngest son, Jordan, I agreed to give it a try.  However, I did not feel comfortable enough to take the reins myself- mostly because the road going down the mountain was incredibly steep and unpaved.  So Jordan told the horse keeper (I’m sure there is a more technical term, but I haven’t been able to come up with it yet) to take me down the mountain and to walk me to town if I could handle it.  The ride down the mountain was fine.  The ride to town was fine.  Then we began to approach town…..

As we approached town there were people everywhere.  They all stopped in their tracks and stared at me.  It was horrible.  I have to be the only person who enters a rural African village and all I could think to myself was, “This is SO embarrassing.”  I now know how the Queen of England feels.  Isn’t it strange to have everyone watching your every move?  Then again, maybe the Queen doesn’t think this behavior is odd at all.  I wasn’t sure whether I should wave or smile.  No one over the age of five was waving or smiling at me.  They were looking at me like I was an alien.  I would love to have known what they all said when I departed.  I honestly just felt like a total jerk.  Here comes this random white woman, riding a horse through the middle of town, with a local guiding the horse for her, she gets to the end of town, and then turns around and rides out.  I just felt like I was imposing on their lifestyle and had no right to do it.  Oh well, too late to take it back now.

In the end I rode a horse.  Not really.  In the end I sat on a horse while someone else made him move, and I managed not to fall off.  And I likely provided dinner table conversation for about a thousand people that night.  On a more positive note, I never met any rebels.  So I would have to say that overall it was a successful trip to Masisi.

The High Cost of Unemployment

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I don’t read the news very diligently.  Back in the U.S., I used to criticize my students for failing to keep up with current events.  But since moving to Africa I have become a hypocrite.  On my recent trip to Lesotho, my travelling companion read three papers in one afternoon while I was driving.  I told him, “I really don’t keep up with the news because so little of what is in there actually affects me.  But if you see anything important you think I should know please tell me.”  He did not have anything of note to report.

The way I look at it, there is very little which happens in the world which affects my existence right now.  My primary daily concerns center around:  Is there electricity?  If there is how long will it be available so I can do work?  If we lose electricity what ‘other work’ can I do in order to justify my salary and professional standing?  Is there water today?  If there is water is there enough so I can take a sponge bath?  Will there be enough so I can finally wash my hair?  (It’s been five days; sorry, I know that’s kind of gross.)  Is there any fresh food at the grocery store?  Nope, no fresh food.  Ok, will it be canned tuna fish, avocados and potato chips? Or should I splurge and go for rice cakes and peanut butter?

The newspapers here tend to offer a rather slanted view of reality, mostly because they tend to play to the opinions of the publisher funding the paper.  But from time to time, when the electricity is available, I do look online at the international media outlets.  There were two articles I read today which I found interesting and contradictory.  One was about unemployment in the U.S.  The other was about unemployment in Nigeria.

The U.S. article boasted that the unemployment rate had dropped in 43 states in January, reducing the national unemployment to 6.6%.  Of course, the article wasn’t particularly transparent in admitting that a significant reason for this dip was that baby boomers are retiring in record numbers.  Technically, labor force participation is at its lowest since 1977 and long-term unemployment is at an all-time high.  I guess it’s a good thing we have lots of old people who are getting ready to retire, thus allowing that unemployment rate to continue looking optimistic.

Of course, things could be worse in U.S. employment news.  We can at least be thankful we aren’t Nigeria.  However, things are pretty desperate when you compare yourself to Nigeria.

Over the weekend 16 people were killed in Nigeria during job fairs across the country.  The government opened up 4,500 jobs and directed interested applicants to report to the nearest of five designated locations to apply.  More than half a million (500,000) people showed up, prompting stampedes which resulted in hundreds of injuries and 16 deaths.

One of the job recruitment locations was the Abuja National Stadium.  According to a report, only ONE (1) entrance to the 60,000 seat stadium was open.  More than 65,000 applicants squeezed their way into the stadium, and then when people began rushing the registration area many were trampled and trapped, unable to depart the stadium as all but ONE (1) exit was blocked.  In case you haven’t read my blog post about security in Africa, please check it out here, as these types of security measures are commonplace and often more detrimental than beneficial.

Nigeria’s unemployment rate stands at 23.9%, thus I can understand the efforts made by those at the job fairs.  While I am sympathetic, Nigeria’s Minister of the Interior seemed considerably less-so when he stated the victims “lost their lives through their impatience.”

The Curse of Modern Technology

I know I’ve mentioned several times before that we’ve been having lots of power failures across Botswana.  Today when I went to work the campus had electricity.  Midway through my lecture we lost power.  By the time I finished teaching an hour later we still had no electricity.  Rather than sit in my dark, very hot office I decided to head home.

As I was on my way out of the building I saw a line of cars waiting at the boom gate.  Africa takes security very seriously, though in most cases I feel that the security measures are either a total joke, or more likely to threaten my well-being.  I highly doubt many students have cars, especially since it seems like all of them are currently taking their driving lessons.  But in order to keep the campus more “safe” and avoid unwanted and unauthorized cars, we have these electronic gates all over the place so only the faculty may park.  Do you see where I’m headed with this story?

So, the electricity went off and everyone rushed to leave campus.  Only to discover that…. The electronic gates won’t open when there is no power!  Thus, they CAN’T leave campus:

Some days I wish I had a vehicle here.  Today was not one of those days.

This Is Your Life

In the 1950s there was a show on television called This Is Your Life.  The premise of the show was to bring a surprise guest on stage with a live studio audience where the host would narrate various parts of the person’s life while bringing influential people related to different stories in to reunite with the guest of honor.

Today I was reminded of this show when I said to myself, “I can’t believe this is my life.”  At the time I was sitting in the dark, in my house, with a headlamp on my forehead trying to read a book.  Sometime last night Gaborone lost power throughout the entire city.  Who knows?  It could have been the entire country without power.  By this morning we still didn’t have electricity.  I went to campus thinking they had some generators running and I could at the very least charge my laptop so I could get some work done offline.  Since the entire city was without power the university decided not to run the generators because it would simply take up too much energy.  As of 9pm tonight we still didn’t have any power, hence why I was sitting in my dark house, with a headlamp reading a book.

As I sat there thinking to myself that I never imagined this becoming my normal way of life I was reminded of what happened the previous day.  Yesterday I was on campus and went to use the bathroom.  As I opened the stall door and took a step in I looked down and realized THERE WAS A COBRA ON THE FLOOR!  The think the cobra incident was the pinnacle of the “I can’t believe this is my life” realization.  I backed out of the stall and went to report the cobra to security.

The best part about the cobra situation is that there is actually a procedure in place for how to handle it.  I’ve said before that I consider safety a major low point here in Botswana.  Back in the U.S. we have annual active shooter trainings we must attend.  And you would never dream of exceeding the maximum number of students permitted in a classroom because it would be a fire code violation.  None of those things are a concern here.  BUT!  If there is a snake everyone knows how to handle it.  It turns out you call the army.

Since Botswana is considered the most peaceful country in Africa it is almost pointless that we have an army.  And in the unlikely event that we actually went to war we would be doomed.  There have been countless newspaper articles over the past year about how the army uses their weapons so infrequently that in recent training exercises only one in three soldiers can hit a target. (A 5’x5’ stationary target by the way.)  Turns out the army can’t hit targets because they are busy catching snakes.  No, really!  One of the primary roles of the army is wild animal control and extraction.  So if you have a lion in your backyard you call the army and they come catch it.  I haven’t witnessed the lion extraction, but I must say, they did a standout job getting rid of the cobra.

The Best Day EVER

How do you know when you’ve had the best day EVER?  I admit; I use that saying way too often.  However, I know exactly why I like to use that phrase.  For me, I define my best day ever as a day when I finally figure out something I’ve been pondering for a while.  Today was one of my best days ever.  I get it.

I’ve written before about how I feel security will likely kill me in Africa.  At times I feel like things are too secure.  You know, like kids who are too clean, so when they finally get a cold it’s life threatening?  Sometimes I feel that way about security in Africa.  Now, I’m not unrealistic, I know there are security concerns and I appreciate the efforts taken to keep us safe.  When I was in Kenya during the terrorist attack I did not complain about the pat downs, metal detectors and running all of our personal belongings through security scanners each time we entered a hotel, restaurant, university, store or church.  Yes, when I went to church in Nairobi it was full airport-style security.

But some of the other security precautions here scare me to death.  I hate being in buildings where I see all the doors chained and locked, forcing everyone to enter and exit through only one door.  The other day I went to someone’s office.  The wooden door was open to let in the air, but there was a metal barred door which was closed and locked.  The woman had to find the key, then reach her hand out through the bars to use the key (from the outside) to unlock the door!  What if she dropped the key and couldn’t reach it?  What if I was a criminal and wrestled the key from her hand leaving her locked inside without a way to let herself out?  I would much rather get robbed from having too little security than burned alive while locked inside a building.

However, today I have a slightly better understanding of some of the other daily security measures I see here.  When you go to the shopping here there are a lot of rules.  First, you cannot enter a store with a parcel.  You may enter with your purse, but nothing else.  If you bought something in store A and want to visit store B you must check your package(s) at the parcel counter.  You are then given a ticket or token which you use when you finish your shopping at store B to collect your previous purchases.  I understand the concept, but find it a little absurd at times.  For instance, I see people bring their lunch and check it.  There is no room in the bag in which to stash anything, so it seems a little unnecessary.  The problem with checking your bag(s) is that you might return to the parcel counter to find 20 people waiting in line to drop/off pick up.  More than once I’ve dropped off a bag, the store hasn’t had what I needed, so I returned to the parcel counter 30 seconds later only to wait 10 minutes behind everyone else.

Another thing I find a little crazy is that you make your purchase and get a receipt, just like you do anywhere else in the world.  Then, as you exit, there are security guards standing there checking your receipt, examining your packages to ensure what is in your package is what is on the receipt.  Then they write some kind of incomprehensible scribble, hand you back the receipt, and you are then free and clear to depart.  But, in some stores, they examine your bag, examine your receipt, scribble on the receipt, then crumple up the receipt and throw it away.  Again, I have no clue where the logic is behind this whole process.  The point is the check-out counter is never more than 5-10 feet from the security guard at the door.  Couldn’t he just watch the people, not check the receipts, and let us leave?  No, that would be too easy.

So for the last five months I have been pondering the parcel checking, receipt checking phenomenon.  I still don’t completely understand either of them, but I now know why there are so many security guards.  As I was leaving the mall today I was walking out toward the parking lot and suddenly saw a woman race past me carrying two packages of diapers and a can of baby formula.  Three store employees were chasing after her shouting.  The woman started jumping in and out between cars as the guards pursued her.  Then several alarms went off.  The pursuit ended quickly with them wrestling her to the ground, confiscating the goods and dragging her back to the mall.  As they walked her back into the building there was an uproar from the crowd.  Everyone was angry and shouting at her.  If they had the supplies I think they would have tarred and feathered her right then and there.

That’s why today was the best day ever.  I have now witnessed myself that apparently there is a need for lots of security here because people do attempt to buck the system.  But trust me, after seeing all these security guards, security systems, angry guard dogs and everything else, there is no way I would ever try to pull a stunt like that.  Seeing those things is enough to deter me.  And I expect it minimizes most crime here as well.  But I suppose there are always a few people who either like to try their luck, or may be in a more precarious situation where desperate times call for desperate measures.

The Thing that REALLY Scares me about Africa

Africa tends to have a bad reputation.  A lot of that comes from violence, political strife, health crises, lack of medical care, inadequate nutrition.  There are 54 countries in Africa.  All but 9 of those have had a civil war and/or war with a neighboring country within the last 50 years.  Fortunately, Botswana is the most peaceful and consistently safe country on the continent.

However, as I travel to other countries and even here in Botswana I am reminded of potential safety problems a little more readily then back home in the U.S. Last week I was in Nairobi, Kenya were there was a terrorist attack.  A friend of mine was actually at Westgate Mall and had invited me to come have lunch with him there that day.  Thankfully, I had told him, “This is Kenya. I didn’t come here to go to a mall.  There are only two places in the entire world where I travel and go to a mall: Hong Kong and Dubai.”

On my first day in Gaborone one of the faculty members in my department emphatically told me, “Never walk at night.  It is very dangerous for you.  You will get robbed.  It’s not because you are white.  It’s because they think you have money.”  I couldn’t help but ask, “Well, they think I have money because I’m white, right?” “Well, yes that is true.  That’s not the point! NEVER walk at night, even if you are with someone.  Just don’t do it.” So I don’t walk at night.

But neither of these things are what scare me about Africa.

As you all know, I teach Hospitality and Tourism Management. If I were given carte blanche to make the rules there is one thing I would do.  I would not allow students to graduate from my program unless they could explain to me the significance of the MGM Grand Fire.  It could be a one question, pass/fail, oral exit exam. For those of you who may be less familiar, the MGM Grand Fire took place in 1980.  To make a long story short, upon hearing the fire alarms hotel guests entered the stairwells and started going down in an effort to escape.  The problem was that the stairwell doors were designed to lock from the inside, so once people entered the stairwells they couldn’t get back out again.  Most of the deaths which took place were due to smoke inhalation and being trapped by the fire inside those stairwells. 

This brings me to what REALLY scares me about Africa…and that is not terrorists, war, or even contracting a deadly disease.  What REALLY scares me about Africa is the lack of fire regulations.

Last night I was sitting in the Nairobi airport waiting for my flight.  They seem to love safety to the point where it will put you in danger.  You go through a security check to enter the building, then a second security check at passport control, and then a third security check in order to enter your gate. Once you enter the gate area you are in an enclosed glass space and can’t leave.  Did I mention all the shops and bathrooms are outside the gate area?

Well, as I was sitting inside the glass enclosed gate area I watched a plane offload passengers.  The passengers walked up the gangway, entered a glass enclosed hallway between two separate gates and then stood there.  The reason they stopped in their tracks was because there was a chain with a padlock on the doors to my gate, another chain and padlock around the door handles to the adjacent gate, and then the doors which should have allowed the passengers to pass through the corridor out into the general airport were also chained and locked.  So the passengers had to stand there and wait for someone with a key to let them out.  Now, last month the Nairobi airport had a major fire.  All I could think to myself was, “A few weeks ago you saw how dangerous a fire in this facility was firsthand.  And yet, you obviously haven’t learned anything, because padlocking exits is a sure way to trap people and get them killed in the event of a fire, terrorist attack, bomb threat, etc.”

I’ve seen the padlocked doors all over the place here in Africa.  They think it is a security measure, but it just makes me nervous.  There are six doors on the first floor of my building at the University of Botswana.  Only two of those doors are left unlocked and open during the day while classes are in session.  The other four sets of doors are left padlocked, despite there being easily 1,000 people in that building at any one point in time.  I’ve questioned this and voiced my concern to countless people about the danger of locking people INSIDE any area.  Sadly my pleas have fallen on deaf ears.  I will just continue to hope I won’t be in an emergency situation where I might be trapped inside a building here because the effort to keep everyone safe may be what puts the nail in the coffin.

For anyone out there teaching HTM, please make sure your students understand the importance of the MGM Grand Fire.  Feel free to share my blog with your students and use this as an example in your classes.  For the rest of you, please make sure you take note of the emergency exits wherever you are and make sure they are in working order.