The National Passport Center: "No Hope for the Desperate”

At my previous university, I had a reputation for being particularly tough on my students.  In fact, I was once told I was “heartless.”  Many of my undergrads fondly recall the day when I kicked one of their peers out of class for texting.  Of course, my graduate students would probably argue you haven’t felt pain until you’ve experienced the “Mighty Red Pen of Phelan”.  Then again, I tend to receive emails from them after graduation telling me how they miss the “Mighty Red Pen;” perhaps they are all masochists.

Nevertheless, I’ve never been known for being particularly…. I’m not sure.  How should I say this?....Warm and fuzzy?  I’ve never seen a semester go by without a student- a grown man student that is- coming into the office and telling me I’m intimidating and then grovelling for something.  Given my alleged lack of compassion, bargaining for grades, “rounding up” (ha! Insert eye-roll here), and offering extra credit or make-up assignments are of no interest to me.  I’m told none of those things occur here at UQ, but stay tuned as I will let you know when I find out if this is true.

While I don’t believe in extra credit, I used to offer my students “extra effort” opportunities.  There was never a specific number of points they could earn to boost their grades, but I told them they could present a relevant current event article which related to the class in which they were enrolled.  Last semester, one of the girls in my Tourism class told us that the U.S. government was going to stop allowing people to add extra pages to their passports.  This was the most useful extra effort presentation I’ve ever seen… because it related directly to me.

For most people, extra passport pages are a non-issue issue.  For me, they are a big issue.  When you get your passport you have about 50 pages.  If you fill up all those pages you can send in your passport to the State Department and add another 50 pages.  If you fill those up, you can go through the same process a second time.  My passport was issued in 2011.  Before I went to Africa I had pages added.  After Africa I had four blank pages, which I knew would never last me until my passport expires in six years.  Given my move to Australia, and after finding out after December of this year new pages can no longer be added, I decided to apply for new pages now.  (After December 2015 if you run out of pages before your passport expires you have to get a whole new passport.  This is a bigger deal for me since I’m living outside the U.S. and my Australian visa is tied to my current passport number.)

I came out to Australia to visit the first week of May.  The day after I arrived back in the U.S. I sent in my passport so I could get my new pages.  According to the State Department website, it takes 4-6 weeks to process a passport.  At 5 ½ weeks I hadn’t received the passport and the online tracking site was “down” and directed me to call the National Passport Center.

It took six attempts before my call finally went through.  During the first five calls I was either disconnected while going through the automatic messaging system or the call never connected in the first place.  On the sixth attempt I was put into the queue and forced to listen to the same dreadful music continuously for 49 minutes.

At minute 49 Evelyn picked up and told me she couldn’t give me any information at all, aside from saying the passport had been received.  I did find out however that more than 500 people work at the National Passport Center answering the phones (apparently none of them are able to answer your questions about your passport either, so don’t bother asking), the passports are indeed processed in the United States, not outsourced to India or Mexico, and even if you call at the start of the business day Evelyn does not have a sense of humour (I would hate to call at 4pm, eh!).  That led me to ask for her supervisor.

Twenty-six minutes later Nathan answered.  My first question to him was, “What is the name of that song I’ve been listening to for the last hour?  Oh? You don’t know?  I’m pretty sure I know the name.  I believe it is ‘No Hope for the Desperate’.”  Nathan thought that was hilarious by the way.  He must be the token person at NPC with a sense of humour.  While I enjoyed my conversation with Nathan (we have the same birthdate by the way) the conversation ended with, “Well, you can pay an extra $60 to have the passport rushed, but to be honest, they won’t guarantee it will be processed within two weeks (when I needed to depart for OZ).”

In the end I received my passport in time.  In fact, “rushing” works!  I actually had the passport in three days. Not too bad.  Here is my advice for you:

1.      If you travel a lot, don’t have many empty passport pages, and your passport doesn’t expire for a while, get your extra pages now.  After December you won’t have this option.

2.      If you need to renew your passport (or get extra pages) give yourself at least two months between when you send in your passport and your next trip.

3.      If you can’t comfortably be without your passport for two months, pay the rush fee up front so you don’t have to worry about it.

4.      If you have a question about your passport, don’t bother calling NPC.

5.      If you refuse to listen to #4 and insist on calling NPC and Evelyn answers tell her I said hi.  Then immediately ask to talk to Nathan.  When Nathan answers ask him the name of the song played while you were waiting.  If he doesn’t know the name, tell him you believe it is called, ‘No Hope for the Desperate.”  Then tell Nathan I said ‘Hi.’”

In case you were curious what an extra-large passport looks like here you go.  On the left is my passport which now nears the size of a phone book, and on the right is an original passport without any extra pages added.:

Happy Travelling!

A Different Take on Race

Late Monday I sent a book chapter to my editor.  I awoke Tuesday morning to an email stating, “This is great!  We should talk ASAP. When can we chat?”  We agreed to Skype that night.  As the day progressed I became more excited about the positive tone of the email.  By the time our Skype appointment rolled around I had convinced myself I had A Sorcerer’s Apprentice situation on my hands.  You know how Mickey started off with that one broomstick?  And then it multiplied until he was surrounded by thousands?  I was convinced my 18 pages had grown into a full length book.  No such luck.

This Skype meeting was the first time my editor and I had actually seen each other.  Until that point in time I had no idea he was… black.  And the reason he wanted to talk to me was because I had several statements in my chapter about black Americans and how they are viewed by the locals when they go to Africa.  Since he found this so interesting, and surprising, I figured I would share some of the highlights of our conversation.

Before my trip to Congo I was visiting with some friends in Botswana.  As I told them about the plans for my trip, one of them, a Motswana, said to me, “You can’t go there! There are BLACK people there!”  I was shocked.  She was black.  The other four friends at that get-together were black.  I was the only white person I had seen in weeks.  I was ALWAYS surrounded by black people.  How was going to Congo different?  I couldn’t help but say quizzically, “Huh? I don’t understand.”  She went on to explain that she, and other Batswana, were not black.  They were brown-black.   And as you go further north people become “more black.”  “Ugandans and Kenyans, they are blue-black.  But the Congolese?  (She shakes her head.) They are black-black.”  It had never occurred to me that Africans had their own racial distinctions among themselves until that moment.  But this prompted me to start paying attention to this, and from that point forward I realized that they do differentiate.

When I visited Kenya everyone would immediately want to talk to me about Obama, of course.  “We are very proud to have a Kenyan as President of the United States.  He is a very good muzungu.”  I was surprised to hear Obama referred to as a muzungu, but figured it was because he was light skinned due to having a white mother.  I later came to learn that all African-Americans are muzungu (in East Africa).  Or lekogwa (in Southern Africa). Or obruni (in West Africa.)

Many African-Americans visit West Africa because of its slave history.  Ghana and Senegal in particular have become huge slave tourism attractions.  However, many black Americans who make the trip to these destinations leave less than satisfied.  I have been to some of these former slave prisons, dungeons and trading posts, and they are by nature, sad.  It’s understandable that people aren’t laughing and happy when they depart from these locations.  But African-Americans tend to struggle not just with the historical aspect, but also their interactions with locals while they are there.

When African-Americans travel to Africa they typically have the ideal that they are going “home” to visit “relatives.”  But when they arrive they are called “obruni.”  “Obruni” means “whiteman” but it refers to any non-African.  In other words, Europeans, Asians, people from the Americas are all called “obruni,” so it actually has a second meaning of “foreigner.”  This terminology projects the opinion that Africans do not see black Americans as “black Africans coming home.”

Some tourist destinations have realized this attitude is detrimental.  Ghana launched a PR campaign not too long ago designed to change the behavior of residents toward African-American visitors.  Ghanians were discouraged from referring to them as “obruni” and were instead told to say “akwaaba anyemi” which means “welcome brother (or sister).”

Our conversation lasted for the better part of an hour.  We bonded over our shared muzungu heritage, began planning my editor’s dream itinerary to visit Africa (he’s never been) and discussed my book.  Though I haven’t perfected my spell casting skills yet, at least it appears my new project is off to a good start.

Here are some photos from Bunce Island, a former slave fort in Sierra Leone:

The Fastest Sport on Two Feet Goes to Africa

For those who may be unfamiliar, the oldest sport in North America is lacrosse.  It was created around 1100 by Native Americans and is played on a grass field using a small ball and a long stick called a crosse.  Traditionally, the game was played for ritual or ceremonial purposes, and would be played with hundreds or even 1,000 people on each team, lasting several days from dawn to dusk.  The sport has changed considerably in the last millennium and if you’ve never seen it before I would implore you to turn to ESPN2 or ESPNU and hunt for a match. After watching a few minutes I’m sure you will understand why it is referred to as the fastest sport on two feet throughout the sporting community.

About fifteen years ago I took a job with the U.S. Lacrosse Foundation.  At the time the U.S. was preparing to host the World Lacrosse Championships.  This event is similar to the FIFA Soccer World Cup, but focuses on the sport of lacrosse.  The Championships occur once every four years and rotates between different host countries each time.  Working for the World Championships was my first experience in the hospitality industry.  If I hadn’t worked for the event I would have never entered the larger hospitality industry afterward and I most definitely would not be a professor today.  Thus, I owe a certain amount of credit for my current success to this one experience.

The ’98 Championships were held in Baltimore (my hometown) and eleven countries participated.  At the time I was the only Phelan officially employed by U.S. Lacrosse, but it was a family affair.  I worked round the clock for two weeks as did my then 11 year-old brother, who was probably the youngest, but most dedicated volunteer we had.  Mom and Dad played integral roles as well, shuttling Tommy back and forth, showing up on the sidelines with food, sunscreen, hats and other necessities, and of course, cheering for both the teams and the hard-working Phelan offspring.

Last week the U.S. hosted the event again.  This time the Championships were held in Denver and 38 countries competed.  The four of us took the trip out west to experience the Championships from a different perspective, as spectators.  In the end the U.S. lost the gold to Canada, a defeat made especially painful considering it occurred before a home crowd.  But the title game paled in comparison to the buzz created around the competition for 33^rd place.

While I was in Africa I would often tell people about my experience playing lacrosse.  No one had ever heard about the sport.  Until I went to Uganda.  A few years ago a young man who played lacrosse at the same high school as my brother, and then played at University of Delaware became a Peace Corps volunteer.  Peace Corps sent him to Uganda and while he was there he decided to introduce the sport to the country.  Due to the equipment required to play the sport, the financial investment necessary will likely prohibit most African, and Third World countries, from having teams.  But somehow Uganda generated the funding and fielded a team.  And they were so excited to be there.  And everyone was happy to see them.  The Ugandans were treated like celebrities.

Watching the Uganda team-and many of the teams which were newcomers to the sport- was similar to watching a high school match here in Baltimore.  But they definitely had the heart.  Everyone was impressed when Uganda beat Korea.  The next day they repeated the performance and bested Argentina.  Based on their performance over the two weeks of competition Uganda qualified to compete for 33^rd place against China.  It was one of the most heavily attended games during the event.  There were easily over 1,000 people there sprawled across the grassy hill in the heat cheering for Uganda.  The only people cheering for China were the players on the Hong Kong team.  In the end Uganda lost, earning them 34^th place out of the entire tournament.  But hey! They didn’t come in LAST!

I doubt I will go to England when they host the Championships in four years.  But I will definitely keep an eye on Uganda.  Here is Uganda in gold and China in red competing for 33^rd and 34^th place:

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. 

Soweto: South Africa’s Largest and Most Famous Township

When Nelson Mandela died back in December, you may have heard about his roots in Soweto.  Soweto is the largest and most famous township in Johannesburg, South Africa.  Soweto is short for South Western Township.  A township is a black, shantytown settlement. During apartheid in South Africa, towns and cities were segregated by race and black citizens were forced to leave their freehold properties and move into townships.  For the most part, these townships were primarily overcrowded, under-resourced, and exceptionally poor.  As Amanda, Ashleigh and I have been driving around in Botswana and South Africa they have seen several of these shantytowns and been curious about them.  Since it is considered unsafe to visit one of these neighborhoods without the assistance of a local who lives there, I decided it best to organize a tour for us.  And since Soweto is the most prolific example of a township I elected to do the tour there.

The interesting thing about Soweto is that it is now like a normal city.  There are two million people who live there now.  Granted, a huge portion of Soweto is comprised of tin one-room houses in which 10+ people live in each without electricity or indoor plumbing, but they have middle and upper class areas as well.  For instance, Mandela’s second wife, Winnie, owns (and still lives in) a giant home in a neighborhood with manicured lawns, BMWs and swimming pools.  This isn’t her house, but this is an example of one of the upper class residential areas:

Soweto also has one of the largest, and nicest, malls I have seen in South Africa.  The best part of this mall is that it is 100% locally owned.  There is even a McDonald’s (far right side of pic):

Of course, the tiny shanties dominate Soweto:

We were able to walk through the township and even visit our tour guide’s home there.  He said there were about 1,000 shanties in this neighborhood and everyone uses ONE tap to obtain water.  The woman in the bright green shirt is using the tap in this photo while the other women are waiting their turn:

And here is the inside of our guide’s home:

As we were leaving the shantytown we saw this guy who was collecting discarded plastic bottles and cans to turn in to the recycling center for a few dollars.  He had amassed all this since the beginning of the day:

One of the last stops on our tour was the Johannesburg cooling towers.  These were part of the old power plant which is no longer in operation.  Instead, they serve as a giant billboard-type advertisement while simultaneously giving thrill seekers the opportunity to bungee jump:

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

The Best Things I Learned Living in Africa

This afternoon I was speaking to a woman who was a new arrival to Africa.  She asked me what kind of advice I had as she began her new life here.  I took the opportunity to reflect on what I’ve learned over the past few months.  After giving it some thought, I can say with some amount of certainty that I have learned quite a few things.  Here is a list of my top epiphanies (so far) about Africa:

1. If there is hot water and water pressure take a shower and wash your hair regardless of whether you are dirty.  There is no guarantee you will have water pressure, hot water, or any water at all come tomorrow, so you need to take advantage of every bathing opportunity you can get.  The same premise goes for doing your laundry. 
2. If you act like a tourist, people will treat you like one.  For anyone who’s been following my blog for a while you have heard a lot of funny accounts of bizarre things which have happened to me.  If nothing else, the police seem drawn to me, whether my driving instructor is being pulled over for texting or whether I am causing accidents due to my crazy desire to walk to the store.  But I often have people ask why I don’t take pictures of some of these unusual instances.  For one, I don’t like to draw any extra attention to myself, such as when I was standing in court arguing my way out of a “walking with intent to cause a car accident” fine. In other cases I don’t take pictures because I don’t want to be perceived as a tourist.  I’ve watched this happen to other people: A foreigner and a local “become friends.”  The foreigner reverts back to his role as a tourist by asking to take a picture of the local.  The local responds by saying, “Sure, give me five dollars.” I don’t want those kinds of memories. 
3. It’s perfectly acceptable to play the “adorable white girl card.”  Speaking of being a foreigner, sometimes this helps.  The great thing about being a redheaded white girl is that I’m the only one.  I don’t blend in very well.  I try to, but thus far have been horribly unsuccessful.  But in some cases the inability to be mistaken for a local works to my benefit.  Every once in a while when I am desperate for help, such as when I need to get a beef permit so I can receive my package from home, being a “helpless, confused and scared white girl in need of rescue” can work to my advantage.  Somehow, that formula is irresistible to African men. 
4. On the flip side, if you are confident enough in your abilities to convince people you are a local who does belong then you earn yourself bragging rights and respect.  I particularly enjoy demanding an African rate.  Most African countries operate on a three tier pricing system: citizens, African residents and foreigners.  In Botswana, and when I travel to other African countries, I love saying things like, “This price isn’t fair.  Who do you think I am?  One of those rich muzungus (white people)?  No! I am an African! You give me an African rate!”  I certainly don’t get the absolute lowest price that the locals enjoy, but I don’t pay anything near what the foreigners do, plus, I end up making friends. 
5. If you are going to play a game of chicken, or start a fight, you had BETTER win; otherwise you may be taking your life in your hands.  Case in point: my recent visit to the Johannesburg airport.

In all reality I can think of at least another 10 best things to know about living in Africa, but I didn’t want to overwhelm the rookie.  She seemed a little deer in the headlights anyway, so I thought I would just let her ease into it for the time being.

Las Vegas Could Learn a Thing or Two

Last week, when I was in Johannesburg (before the unfortunate airport incident), I had a free afternoon and decided to take advantage of the time by visiting one of the main attractions in the area, the Apartheid Museum.  I figured with Nelson Mandela’s recent death that there may be some interesting exhibits about him.  I was correct.

The Apartheid Museum itself was good.  Actually, I should revise that statement.  By African standards the museum was exceptional.  However, having visited at least half of the 17 Smithsonian Museums in Washington, D.C. and countless other museums around the world, the Apartheid Museum was adequate.

I wouldn’t necessarily consider myself a museum connoisseur, but I can appreciate a good museum.  My mother thinks I am the most annoying person, second only to my father, when it comes to museums.  “Seriously, do you have to read EVERYTHING on EVERY SIGN EVERYWHERE? Where’s the gift shop?  Find me when you’re finished.”  I blame my father for this character flaw.  Of course, I don’t highjack road trips to take unwilling passengers to battlefields and proceed to reenact Picket’s charge.  So, I suppose I could be worse.

I will hand it to the Apartheid Museum though; there were lots of exhibits, plenty of photographs, videos and documentation.  The information about the arbitrary reclassification of people into different races during Apartheid was something I was unfamiliar with and really enjoyed learning about.  However, I felt the museum was arranged in a confusing manner. There was no real flow and you often had to backtrack from one area to the next.  A little more attention to direction and organization would have made a world of difference.

Here’s the interesting thing about the Apartheid Museum:

No, I didn’t mix up my pictures, that above is deliberate.  The Apartheid Museum is actually located on the property of the Gold Reef Theme Park.  You enter the gate and drive to the left for the museum.  To the right is the casino and theme park.  Here is the real Apartheid Museum:

After my visit to the museum I figured I should visit the casino and theme park, since it is related to my job and reason for being in Africa in the first place.  First of all, I thought it was kind of brilliant to have a theme park AND a casino on the same property.  You could bring your kid and let them roam free and enjoy the rides (if they are old enough) or let your spouse or a babysitter stay with the younger ones while you go to the casino and gamble.  I didn’t want to pay for entrance to the theme park, but I looked at the map and talked to a few workers and it appeared to be quite sufficient by most theme park standards.

Then I went to the casino.  The casino was an excellent experience.  I was slightly surprised that you had to go through full airport-style security (x-ray machine for all bags, metal detector, wanding by guards) right at the entrance to the property.  I did a few laps around the casino floor and realized I could breathe!  This is why:

I love this idea.  The first three letters on the sign were burnt out, so it looks like King Casino.  In fact, I thought that was the real name until I entered the sliding glass doors and then realized it was actually the SMOKING casino.  What a brilliant idea.  I asked one of the casino managers and she said the main casino floor which includes about 75% of the games is non-smoking.  The remaining 25% is the smoking casino.  I love it.  Everyone is happy, you can play wherever you like, and if you don’t like the smoke, or are allergic, you can protect your health.

Another great idea which I think Las Vegas might consider adopting is that there was a Kid Zone. Part of the kid zone had boardwalk type games the kids could play themselves.  There were attendants there to supervise them.  Or you could put your younger kids in daycare:

Regardless of what you do with your kids, the casino checks in the kid and the parent.  The child may only be left alone for 2 hours.  After the time limit expires the parent must claim the child and depart.  The parent cannot immediately check the kid back in.  The casino gives both the child and the parent matching arm bands with GPS capabilities.  It locks on the arm so if the parent attempts to leave the casino security will see them at the door and refuse exit.  The GPS means that the parent can be located anywhere on property so if the two hour time limit expires without them returning to claim their child the casino can see exactly where they are and hunt them down.

All in all, I ended up being very happy the museum was on the casino/theme park property.  If it hadn’t been I would have never visited the casino and realized how Las Vegas could really learn a few things from what is going on here.  Here is one thing I did find a little funny:

Any of my Hospitality and Tourism students out there reading this BETTER pick up on what I am referring to in that sign.  As for everyone else, the casino industry does not use the term gambling.  Instead, they opt for gaming.  Gambling insinuates a vice, something dangerous or bad.  Gaming connotes recreation and fun.  So you will never see or hear anyone use the term gambling in Las Vegas.  If you work in Vegas and say the word “gambling” to a customer you will almost certainly be reprimanded if someone hears you.

According to the casino manager I met there are only a handful of casinos in South Africa, but their popularity is growing.  And the casino is the main attraction.  It is mostly locals who come to the casinos; there are practically no tourists there at all.  In fact, that casino had only 34 hotel rooms for exclusive use by high rollers.

36 Books in 2013

It always amazes me how often people tell me they don’t read books.  Even professors tell me this quite frequently.  Fortunately for me, I am my father’s daughter; he is a voracious reader.  I’m pretty sure if he and I were in a reading contest he would beat my score by a long shot.  In 2013 I read 36 books.  I don’t consider three books a month a particularly high number, but it isn’t low by any means, especially when I compare it to those around me.

I don’t normally have a theme to my reading, but this year I did.  During the first three months of the year I was awaiting my notification regarding whether I would receive the Fulbright and be moving to Africa, so I began reading about the place that would hopefully become my new home.  After I received my Fulbright notification in early March I started reading even more about Africa, and particularly tourism on the continent, in order to prepare me for my teaching and research here.  And of course, once I got here, the theme continued.

I’ve obviously learned a lot living here in Africa, but I’ve learned even more from reading, and subsequently asking questions.  Here are what I consider the most interesting things about Africa which I learned from books over the past twelve months:

·        Less than 20% of the people in Sub-Saharan Africa (SSA) have access to electricity.

 

·        Since 1950 Nigeria has pumped more than $400 billion of oil- enough to cancel all of SSA’s debt- but 80% of that money goes to less than 1% of the Nigerian population. Apparently those people don’t know what to do with their money as one-tenth (1/10) of all champagne in the world is consumed in Lagos by the oil tycoons.

·        Luanda, Angola is the most expensive city in the world (the average hotel sells for $600/night) but more than 70% of the nation lives below the poverty line.

·        Taking a lesson from Stalin who said, “It’s not who votes that counts, it’s who counts the votes,” President Obiang of Equatorial Guinea had ballots pre-printed with his name on it during the last election.  Soldiers “supervised” voting and he amassed a victory with 97% of the votes.

·        Eighty percent (80%) of coltan is found in the Democratic Republic of Congo.  In 2000 the price of coltan spiked tenfold to $365 a pound due to the launch of the Sony Playstation 2 game console.

·        Most of the pirates off the coast of Somalia are former fishermen whose livelihoods were destroyed due to illegal fishing and the dumping of toxic waste by foreign fishing vessels.

·        Forty percent (40%) of the countries in Africa are landlocked, meaning that to ship from South Africa to Zimbabwe costs as much as to ship from South Africa to China.

·        In the mid-1970s Lesotho was so poor that one of its primary exports was human blood to South African hospitals.

·        For the first six months of 2002 Madagascar had two presidents because the defeated incumbent refused to step down after ruling the country for 20 years.

·        The Congo Free State (1885-1908) was the personal property of King Leopold II, King of Belgium who wanted the ivory, minerals and rubber from the region.  Nearly 10 million people, or 20% of the population, were killed for failing to meet the required rubber quotas.  The rubber extracted from Congo went to produce car tires in the U.S. and Europe and condoms, which was credited with the drop in the European birth rate.

I brought another 32 books about Africa with me from the U.S. when I came here that I still have yet to read.  I’m not sure whether I can get all those finished in the next five months, but I certainly plan to try.

Here are a few of the books I read during 2013:

Here, have a condom

Living in Africa I have learned a lot about sex.  Not necessarily from the act itself, but because it is a constant topic of conversation.  Here people make reference to sex the same way you talk about weather or sports scores back in the U.S.

For one, fidelity is rare.  I know Westerners can’t claim to always be faithful, but the prevalence and acceptance of adultery here is just so customary it is unnerving at times.  If you haven’t read about my education surrounding big and little houses here in Botswana I recommend you start there so you have the vocabulary down.  But men and women talk about little houses openly and as a necessity; men need a little house as a means of escaping the demands of a marriage; women want to be a little house because of the monetary and social benefits it bestows upon them.

Part of the problem with infidelity here is the HIV/AIDs issue.  I had a friend tell me both her parents died from HIV/AIDs.  She said her father contracted it from sleeping around.  Apparently he knew he was sick, but never told her mother.  When her father died her mother was told by the doctor about him having had HIV/AIDs and encouraged her to be tested.  By that point her mom had already contracted it and died about a year later as a result.

The infidelity, coupled with the frequency of HIV/AIDs, has resulted in what I like to call a “Condom Culture.”  I have never seen so many condoms in so many places in my life.  And when in doubt, the answer is always, “here, have a condom.”  I mentioned during a shopping trip a couple months back that I was looking for a sink stopper.  When the store clerk couldn’t figure out what I wanted he gave me a box of condoms.  I didn’t realize it at the time, but that is the answer to everything here.  The other day I was in a store and mistakenly asked for pants instead of trousers.  What did the store manager give me? That’s right, condoms.

And the “here, have a condom” slogan isn’t evident just in my apparent inability to communicate when shopping.  In the women’s restroom in my building on campus there is a box of condoms with a sign, “Help yourself.  Practice Safe Sex.”

When I first arrived in Gaborone I stayed at a hotel for a couple of nights before I was given the keys to my house.  It was a nice hotel; the front desk clerk even took me up to my room to show me the amenities.  I’m not sure whether it was part of her rehearsed script or not, but she opened the drawer to the nightstand, pointed to a handful of condoms and said, “If you need more, don’t be afraid to ask.”

But I think my favorite “Condom Culture” experience was when I drove across the Botswana-Zimbabwe border.  A group of journalist friends and I were on a visit to Chobe National Park.  As we were shuffling through the small border check point on the Botswana side I turned around after getting my entry stamp only to notice a condom dispenser.  I was so shocked I looked at it for a minute.  There was a sign on the dispenser which read, “Have a good time. Be safe.  Help yourself.”

My 100th Blog Post from Africa: Happy Thanksgiving!

For those of you out there diligently reading my blog posts every weekday, thank you for being a loyal follower.  Today is Thanksgiving in America and this is the 100^th blog post since I moved to Africa four months ago.  In honor of this occasion, and more importantly, because I took some really cool videos while I was in Uganda, I put together a brief compilation of some of my experiences there.

Not everything I did in Uganda is in the video as I couldn’t record certain things, but I would like to acknowledge the following organizations which made my trip very memorable:

Encounter Africa Safaris which organized my trip, accommodation and travel partner to Bwindi Impenetrable Forest to see the gorillas. http://www.gorilla-tracking-uganda.com/about-uganda-gorilla-safari-company.html

Uganda Wildlife Authority which provided the guide, porters and escorts during our gorilla trek. http://www.ugandawildlife.org

The Department of Tourism at Makerere University where I guest lectured for two days.

Uganda Bicycle which gave me a great workout mountain biking through the muddy streets of Kampala. http://www.ugandabicycle.com

Ricky’s Boda Boda Tours which gave me an excellent tour of Kampala on the back of a very safe boda boda (motorbike). http://www.kombitours.com/kampalabodatours

Ndere Cultural Center where I had dinner on my last night in Kampala and watched an impressive dance troupe representing different ethnic groups from all around Uganda. http://ndere.com

Holland Park in Jinja, the beautiful B&B where I stayed in Jinja, the source of the Nile. http://www.hollandparkuganda.com

***Disclaimer: Please be aware I was in no way compensated by these organizations for mentioning them on my blog.  Also, I found all of them through my own devices and did not receive any discounts or free services.  There is absolutely no ulterior motive in my naming these companies.  They all just made my trip a great experience, and in the event anyone reading this decides to visit Uganda I highly encourage you to consider using any of these businesses.  If I am fortunate to visit Uganda again in the future I expect I will be contacting most, if not all, of these companies again.

And now… for my video.  Enjoy: