Site placement was last Saturday. I will be living in Moshupa, Botswana for the next two years. It is only about 20-30 km from our training site in Kanye, but it is even closer to the capital, Gaborone. It is only about 12.50 Pula or $2.25 for me to catch a bus to Gabs. I either wanted to go really far North in the delta region or stay in the far South. Seeing as though I got the latter of the two, I’m content. I’m also relatively near one of my good friends from training. Because of her site placement in a small, remote village grocery shopping validates a weekend excursion to my site! I’m accessible to other volunteers in my training group, in addition to volunteers that have already been here for a year. I am excited to eventually see some new Peace Corps faces.
It’s funny to think about my placement here. The whole Peace Corps process has been me figuring out how “flexible” I can really be. Botswana wasn’t my first choice (I’m very glad to be here now, but there was no initial burning desire to get to sub-Saharan Africa, much less Botswana), but I didn’t even have much say on where I will live within Botswana. If I were in the states, deciding on a place to reside is like a free-for-all in the sense that I can pick up a map and decide to live there if only out of pure curiosity, and no one really dictates otherwise. This dynamic of having my home decided for me is new, and I must say it’s nice. I have a particular organization already lined up for me to work with (I get to do many other secondary/personal projects alongside this primary position). My house is already assigned to me and apparently it is about an hour walk from there to my place of work. There is no bus system in my village of about 18,000 people, only taxis. Apparently, the idea is to establish a relationship with a driver and they can drive you on a regularly scheduled system. For instance, my counterpart/mentor has a taxi driver that takes her to and from work everyday at the same time. I plan on walking a good bit, because I don’t have many other means of exercise and it’s a good way to get acquainted with the people around me. There is no bus rank in Moshupa, for which I am grateful. The bus ranks stress me out just because it a social loitering spot and has too much commotion for the likes of me. There is something like 10 stops within my village, so it will be interesting figuring out which one is closest to my house and how to get home from the bus stop. Mind you, there is no such thing as street signs here. Larger highways aren’t even really labeled with established names other than the particular cities along the road. If I were going from Kanye to Tsabong, I would trave along “Jwaneng road,” which is really the road that takes you from Kanye and Tsabong, and you are just supposed to know that the road goes eventually gets to one of these cities by way of Jwaneng. So-no street signs, no hand held gps, you can imagine lil’ ol’ me wandering my way along the dirt roads trying to get my bearings by differentiating the curvature of a dirt path, noteworthy plant life and the potential animal remains that reside at a particular intersection. Oftentimes when I’m with other volunteers and we happen to take a wrong turn on a leisurely Sunday afternoon, someone (me) inevitably says something like, “yeah I totally recognize that striped fabric hanging outside that house.” Not that this is any indication of where you are, just verifying that you have in fact been there before. If you know anything about my sense of direction (or lack thereof), you know that this is a huge feat for me. Maybe it’s just what I need to channel my brain to become directionally competent. I’ll keep you posted on those progresses.
We visit our sites this week and my house ready to go. I am lucky to have this opportunity to see my house and get a brief preview of my life in the village for the next couple of years. I was anticipating this visit a couple of weeks ago, but there has been an ongoing strike of government employees here. It’s non-violent in nature and it seems like the most nonchalant, on-going strike I’ve seen (I haven’t seen many in my day, but even still). They are protesting their wages, and it started with teachers demanding a 16% pay increase. The students have continued going to school for about a month without teachers, and just a week ago they closed the schools indefinitely as the students were getting restless. As of now, the schools are opening again on Monday (today), but I do not know if that means the teachers will be present or not. The last I heard the President was only agreeing to a 3% pay increase because of insubstantial funds. So…not that you needed the 411, but this has postponed our site visits because many volunteers will be working in government offices with governmental organizations and when no one is present at the office to show you the ropes, there’s no point in venturing across the country to visit.
There are a couple of things that I’ve wanted to share on here, just to give you a sense of the minute details of my day that I’ve noted along my walks and day to day activities. For one, walking to and from training entails a lot of poop dodging. I’m pretty sure I can accurately identify chicken, donkey, cow, and various poops. Not that I need this skill for any functional purpose here, but it’s just such a common part of my visual repertoire that is unavoidable…and sometimes recreational. Enough about poop. The point of my story is that there is mint that grows wild here. Amidst the various droppings in my path, I oftentimes come across an overwhelming and distinct whiff of mint. It’s such a surprising and pleasing scent that you can stop and take it in for a few seconds until the smell is not such a novelty. Then, I continue walking until I cross another patch of mint. I don’t know how to distinguish the plant being that there are many variations of mint here. Also, it’s often dispersed in a mess of brush that I don’t really care to deal with, so I don’t ever pick it, but what a great treat to enjoy along my walks.
I know I’ve mentioned this before, but the stars here…yeah, nothing new, but dear lord, they are all so visible here. Every night when I got to brush my teeth in the outhouse I stop to stand in the middle of the yard and look up. I’m always afraid my family will look out the window and see me staring up to nothing…and it will just confirm their speculations on my quirkiness. I already obsess about the sunsets, and I’ve tried to get them to take note of the stars, but it’s nothing new to them and so I enjoy them all the more.
One thing I’ve noticed that isn’t such a good thing…or maybe it will become a good thing…is my approach to Fridays. I mean in the states we live for Friday: happy hour, plans with friends, dining out, weekend getaway, what have you…Here, Friday is no different from Tuesday. There is no eagerness to take respite from the week. It might be that I have training 6 days a week, but then I asked my sisters here what they do on Fridays or what they did when they were younger. Most of the time they work on Saturday too so there isn’t much room for recreation (in the TGIF sense of the word). Also, the further you are from larger cities like Francistown and Gaborone, your commercial social experience is significantly lessened. The only evening opportunities for socializing are the neighborhood bars. They are typically inhabited by men who have nothing better to do and drink probably more than they should. You can imagine that this will not by my scene. These bars are typically barren little joints with not much more than a concrete floor and a fridge of beer and chibuku. Themed/specialized bars that cater to particular social groups or genres of people don’t really exist here. It’s one size fits all. Also, restaurants are not “restaurants” in our connotation of the word…They have the general layout and aesthetic of a bar (give or take a few table and chairs & add a little better lighting), but are only open during the day and serve things like chips (French fries), seswaa (pounded meat), Russians (something that contains too many abstract elements…the flavor is something like a mix between bologna, spam, and a hotdog…aren’t those all the same thing anyway in being a bleh concoction of other things?) Movie theaters and parks and the like don’t exist in rural Botswana. All roads lead to Gaborone. I am grateful to have Gabs accessible but I doubt it will be a frequented visit. I am also excited to improvise on what is available in my village and discover new ways to occupy my time. Anyway, all that to say my Fridays are new…While I miss the general anticipation for week’s end and the unknown potential that a Friday night holds, I have come to greatly appreciate Sundays. Where Sunday afternoons at sunset had some overbearing, ominous feel to it in the States…or maybe just a general unknown of the week ahead. I suddenly feel freed from that. Again, with training Sunday is my only day off, but I also accomplish things like hand-washing all my laundry and cooking something new with my family or with Karen next door.
I’m sure this list of small things I appreciate here will grow, but for now, these will suffice.
I hope all is well stateside and I’ll write more when I’m back from Moshupa.
Cheers
Monday, May 23, 2011
Thursday, May 12, 2011
half way through training
Things I’ve learned: a toilet seat is in fact unnecessary, as is toilet paper. and a shower head. im sure this list will progress as time goes on...
This woman demonstrated how she made the traditional baskets that are apparently made all over Botswana, but predominately in the North.
Some other interesting info: Marriage for women is negotiated in terms of cows. In order to marry, the cost of a bride is typically about an 8 cow minimum (each cow being 1,500 Pula or approximately $250). If you can’t afford this then you don’t approach the girl’s parents and therefore do not marry. Also, on the family compound the girls are given a particular plot of land on the compound, allocated towards the building of their home when they are young girls. This is evident even in my host family situation. They built the round house on my compound when Galaletsang, the oldest daughter, came to be a teenager and she lives there as her own home, but still very much sharing communal spaces such as the kitchen and outhouse. She will stay there until she marries in September and then will move to the place of her husband and his family. Oftentimes here, families of about 15 people share one bathroom facility or one pit latrine and bathtub and sink…I tried to explain to our Language and Cultural Facilitators (LCFs) or our teachers that the only time my family is that large and sharing such a communal bathroom is at Thanksgiving and Christmas and the tension and stress of that makes me wonder how families here do it so efficiently and peacefully. Imagine what I would sound like to say that it isn’t too uncommon where I’m from for each person in a house to have his or her own toilet.
This past Saturday, we made a visit to the Kumakwane village near the capital, Gaborone. There, we went on a tour of a small scale village with the round houses and saw the work of a tanner and a blacksmith using early tools and techniques to give us an understanding of the more traditional labor and layout of a Botswana village. We also were able to try the traditional fermented alcoholic drink made from maize that tastes like a mild acidic bile. Been there, done that….it’s about the like phane (worms) in that I’ve tried it and now I know.
The was the elder that facilitated the dancing and the ceremonial side of the event and she was a cute and sassy old woman.
I may have mentioned about the multiple concurrent partnership (MCP) deal that occurs here as a socially accepted practice…they reference it in terms of big house/small house. The big house being the residence of the marital spouse, and the small house(s) are those of the mistresses. (Nowadays women have their multiple misters too…a strange attempt at gender equality maybe?) Also, this is a large campaign in the HIV/AIDS field to reduce MCP or raise awareness on the health risks involved with this kind of behavior. Anyway, the referencing to big houses and small houses comes from the layout of the early villages. Because polygamy was practiced in earlier Botswana culture, each compound had multiple round houses. The status of the lover was essentially identified by the size of the house and the smaller houses belonged to the respective mistresses. It was neat to see this aspect of Botswana culture in a more formalized and commemorative way. While I was here, I couldn’t help but compare this experience to something like the Kent House plantation home in Louisiana. Seeing this, it feels like a pathetic comparison, but what I mean is that it had the same kind of memorialized feel to the setup with showing a particular way of life in a particular cultural and historical setting.
We were also treated to some traditional foods and some GREAT dancing. I have a couple of videos that I would love to load on here, but I can’t figure it out. If you know how to do this, please email me or message me on facebook about it. I’d love to share this with you. I have tried loading the photos on facebook but the internet is just too slow and incapable, which may be the same case for my blog too.
I feel the need to comment on my host family here and then I feel like I don’t have sufficient vocabulary to convey my appreciation for them. They have literally given me a home and space where I feel like I can simultaneously escape from things for a while or fully engage in and embrace this new life and cultural setting (pending the day and my mood). I’ve learned to be even quicker to laugh at myself, b/c in any uncertainty, we both resorts to smiles and laughing. These women work 6 days a week and come home to continue working and spend their free day working at the cattle post or around the house. In any case I’m always bid farewell with a couple of oranges from the yard to take to school and greeted with a warm smile upon my return from training each day. Although my mornings and evenings are more interactive than I would normally be, I try to remember that I’m here for opportunities such as these to learn to communicate and operate on a new schedule in a new culture. For instance, sometimes I’m not ready to practice speaking Setswana at sunrise before I’ve even brushed my teeth, but I’m grateful for the real exposure and experience I get in living with this family.
On another note...we find out our site placement on Saturday! I am wishing this week away in anticipation. I have these whims of anxiety and then excitement and then some mixture of the two. My mind is in a weird kind of resignation knowing that I really have little control over where I will be placed, but then I have these thoughts and aspirations to go far north into the delta or stay far south near the South African border. The truth is that I will accommodate and acclimate to wherever I am placed and find a home in the village I am given. Much of this experience is really about your attitude and what you make of it and how you choose to perceive things. Well, doesn’t that sound like a ridiculous motivational speaker yacking away…so, now you have a little exposure to the mantra and self-motivation that occurs in my head on a daily basis. In any case, I am excited to find out!
A great lookout spot we found in Kanye on our one free day, Sunday! This was on mother's day and followed by a great pseudo mexican feast for Karen's birthday!
Some other interesting info: Marriage for women is negotiated in terms of cows. In order to marry, the cost of a bride is typically about an 8 cow minimum (each cow being 1,500 Pula or approximately $250). If you can’t afford this then you don’t approach the girl’s parents and therefore do not marry. Also, on the family compound the girls are given a particular plot of land on the compound, allocated towards the building of their home when they are young girls. This is evident even in my host family situation. They built the round house on my compound when Galaletsang, the oldest daughter, came to be a teenager and she lives there as her own home, but still very much sharing communal spaces such as the kitchen and outhouse. She will stay there until she marries in September and then will move to the place of her husband and his family. Oftentimes here, families of about 15 people share one bathroom facility or one pit latrine and bathtub and sink…I tried to explain to our Language and Cultural Facilitators (LCFs) or our teachers that the only time my family is that large and sharing such a communal bathroom is at Thanksgiving and Christmas and the tension and stress of that makes me wonder how families here do it so efficiently and peacefully. Imagine what I would sound like to say that it isn’t too uncommon where I’m from for each person in a house to have his or her own toilet.
This past Saturday, we made a visit to the Kumakwane village near the capital, Gaborone. There, we went on a tour of a small scale village with the round houses and saw the work of a tanner and a blacksmith using early tools and techniques to give us an understanding of the more traditional labor and layout of a Botswana village. We also were able to try the traditional fermented alcoholic drink made from maize that tastes like a mild acidic bile. Been there, done that….it’s about the like phane (worms) in that I’ve tried it and now I know.
I may have mentioned about the multiple concurrent partnership (MCP) deal that occurs here as a socially accepted practice…they reference it in terms of big house/small house. The big house being the residence of the marital spouse, and the small house(s) are those of the mistresses. (Nowadays women have their multiple misters too…a strange attempt at gender equality maybe?) Also, this is a large campaign in the HIV/AIDS field to reduce MCP or raise awareness on the health risks involved with this kind of behavior. Anyway, the referencing to big houses and small houses comes from the layout of the early villages. Because polygamy was practiced in earlier Botswana culture, each compound had multiple round houses. The status of the lover was essentially identified by the size of the house and the smaller houses belonged to the respective mistresses. It was neat to see this aspect of Botswana culture in a more formalized and commemorative way. While I was here, I couldn’t help but compare this experience to something like the Kent House plantation home in Louisiana. Seeing this, it feels like a pathetic comparison, but what I mean is that it had the same kind of memorialized feel to the setup with showing a particular way of life in a particular cultural and historical setting.
We were also treated to some traditional foods and some GREAT dancing. I have a couple of videos that I would love to load on here, but I can’t figure it out. If you know how to do this, please email me or message me on facebook about it. I’d love to share this with you. I have tried loading the photos on facebook but the internet is just too slow and incapable, which may be the same case for my blog too.
I feel the need to comment on my host family here and then I feel like I don’t have sufficient vocabulary to convey my appreciation for them. They have literally given me a home and space where I feel like I can simultaneously escape from things for a while or fully engage in and embrace this new life and cultural setting (pending the day and my mood). I’ve learned to be even quicker to laugh at myself, b/c in any uncertainty, we both resorts to smiles and laughing. These women work 6 days a week and come home to continue working and spend their free day working at the cattle post or around the house. In any case I’m always bid farewell with a couple of oranges from the yard to take to school and greeted with a warm smile upon my return from training each day. Although my mornings and evenings are more interactive than I would normally be, I try to remember that I’m here for opportunities such as these to learn to communicate and operate on a new schedule in a new culture. For instance, sometimes I’m not ready to practice speaking Setswana at sunrise before I’ve even brushed my teeth, but I’m grateful for the real exposure and experience I get in living with this family.
On another note...we find out our site placement on Saturday! I am wishing this week away in anticipation. I have these whims of anxiety and then excitement and then some mixture of the two. My mind is in a weird kind of resignation knowing that I really have little control over where I will be placed, but then I have these thoughts and aspirations to go far north into the delta or stay far south near the South African border. The truth is that I will accommodate and acclimate to wherever I am placed and find a home in the village I am given. Much of this experience is really about your attitude and what you make of it and how you choose to perceive things. Well, doesn’t that sound like a ridiculous motivational speaker yacking away…so, now you have a little exposure to the mantra and self-motivation that occurs in my head on a daily basis. In any case, I am excited to find out!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
go siame
Reading: Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe
Listening: Arcade Fire’s Suburbs
Since my last posting, I have had the opportunity to shadow another Peace Corps Volunteer. It was a chance to experience the typical traveling circumstances and allowed us to get a change of scenery for a few days. I traveled six hours by bus to Tsabong, Botswana in the southwest portion of the country. Apparently, the general mentality here is that if you ride with the windows open, you will most definitely catch the flu. You can imagine the stale and musty air that occupied my bus ride. I am playing with the idea of investing monies in billboards that debunk that myth and maybe even suggesting the reason for alarm at catching TB from such circumstances! Kidding. Anyway, Tsabong is more of a deserty/savannah climate and it was significantly colder at night than in Kanye. Many government workers were on a 10-day strike (that seems to be continuing for another few days). Because of this, there were not many people in the office where this volunteer worked and many left town to return to their families is larger villages. Tsabong is a small village that feels rural but still has an area with a grocery store and even has a library! We had the opportunity to make some good food and even be innovative with the available ingredients. We made delicious lentil burgers in the absence of black beans and a chocolate cake topped with a melted chocolate bar without having any icing. The small familiar flavors were amazing and it’s funny to see how easily I’m entertained and pleased in this new place. On Saturday we went to a camel farm that was on a miniature salt pan and rode camels in a little farm area! That was a first for me!
I don’t know if I’ve mentioned some of the quirky things I’ve experienced that seem just new or different. In the kitchen there are two to three electrical outlets, both of which have two different types of plugs. The refrigerator permanently occupies one, and the other ones rotate between the microwave, iron, teakettle boiler thing, and stove +/- various cell phone chargers strewn across the kitchen. You can imagine my dilemma in the morning when it’s tea time and also time to iron our clothing (which the Batswana are quite persistent about) or cook some breakfast. It’s actually pretty funny to watch 6 women navigate a kitchen that is probably the size of your utility room.
Another thing I’m slowly getting accustomed to is the radio…the constant radio. When the TV goes out we resort to the radio. When we wake up in the morning, we don’t run to the coffeemaker, instead we saunter to the radio and to blast some hip-hop and r&b. I will say that being even slightly familiar with that genre of music has been beneficial for the impromptu dance parties that ensue or the small moments of familiar sounds. However, media in general I haven’t totally come to terms with because so much of it references American culture in music, tv shows etc. It’s sad to think how sounds and genres of music were once geographically identified or associated with particularly cultures. In coming to Botswana, I guess I had these misguided hopes of experiences a totally unadulterated culture with a distinguishable sound in its music or a particular color or design in the patterns of the textiles. Botswana is ultra modern in this sense. The music and the dress (among other things but these being what I’ve most noted) have migrated and been filtered in the distance to what becomes skinny jeans and mickey-mouse sweaters and pop music ringtones. When my host mother, Cecelia, gets a phone call, I hear Chris Brown singing to the “hearts all over the world,” taking the universalist approach, crossing all national and cultural borders. Yes, it’s familiar, but it’s sad. Why and how did Chris Brown and the like make it here? To be fair, it may be that I live with a group of younger women and as a part of their generation this is what they choose to listen to. I’m sure there are older Batswana that still are very much invested in the traditional Botswana culture in music and dress and that just isn’t in my world here.
I might also add that these kind of portrayals of American lend to the idea that all Americans are rich…imagine trying to explain that you are in fact American but a poor volunteer from America…I even tried to explain that I enjoyed shopping at thrift stores, particularly in college and they didn’t believe me at all, and looked at me like why the hell would I decisively shop at second-hand clothing stores when I have access to so many better and nicer things.
Another scenario: One of my friend’s host families has a really nice setup and we were watching TV and somehow Miley Cyrus came on the screen…(she is also on the blankets at the bus stops here and teenage boy’s backpacks. Why?!) Anyway, the host sister mentioned that she genuinely hated Miley Cyrus and Justin Beiber and if it were possible she would trade them in to bring back Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac. Biggie and Tupac (granted my knowledge is limited) wrote music about their upbringing in their respective urban dwellings as African-Americans and whatever experiences that might entail. While I recognize the obvious overlap and reasons for identifying with these figures, I am still surprised that there isn’t a readily available current of pride in a Botswana sound or dance. Sure, there are traditional dances and ceremonies that continue throughout the country but they are more memorialized as something from the past, rather than being something that is retained and developed throughout the generations here. So Tupac, Biggie, and Chris Brown are all here, parading and procreating American culture, but they have a displaced kind of sound and are erasing something that I see as more valuable.
In fear of sounding like some old fart traditionalist, I am slightly disappointed in the way the communication and the sharing of information has affected populations and the culture here. It’s the first time I’ve consciously acknowledged the negative effects of globalization. Maybe, this is what Batswana want, and that is totally fine if so. I just didn’t anticipate coming to Africa to find so much of America.
In hopes of reviving both your and my spirits, I wanted to mention that I will be including a wish list on here so if you feel SO INCLINED to mail a little loving then you can know a few things that would be greatly appreciated. I might also wait until I move to my official site where I will live for a full two years after training. I find out my site placement on May 14 and am thrilled at the thought of planning my life and figuring out a more permanent situation here…it’s all really finally happening!
More later, friends!
Love,
VA
Listening: Arcade Fire’s Suburbs
Since my last posting, I have had the opportunity to shadow another Peace Corps Volunteer. It was a chance to experience the typical traveling circumstances and allowed us to get a change of scenery for a few days. I traveled six hours by bus to Tsabong, Botswana in the southwest portion of the country. Apparently, the general mentality here is that if you ride with the windows open, you will most definitely catch the flu. You can imagine the stale and musty air that occupied my bus ride. I am playing with the idea of investing monies in billboards that debunk that myth and maybe even suggesting the reason for alarm at catching TB from such circumstances! Kidding. Anyway, Tsabong is more of a deserty/savannah climate and it was significantly colder at night than in Kanye. Many government workers were on a 10-day strike (that seems to be continuing for another few days). Because of this, there were not many people in the office where this volunteer worked and many left town to return to their families is larger villages. Tsabong is a small village that feels rural but still has an area with a grocery store and even has a library! We had the opportunity to make some good food and even be innovative with the available ingredients. We made delicious lentil burgers in the absence of black beans and a chocolate cake topped with a melted chocolate bar without having any icing. The small familiar flavors were amazing and it’s funny to see how easily I’m entertained and pleased in this new place. On Saturday we went to a camel farm that was on a miniature salt pan and rode camels in a little farm area! That was a first for me!
Another thing I’m slowly getting accustomed to is the radio…the constant radio. When the TV goes out we resort to the radio. When we wake up in the morning, we don’t run to the coffeemaker, instead we saunter to the radio and to blast some hip-hop and r&b. I will say that being even slightly familiar with that genre of music has been beneficial for the impromptu dance parties that ensue or the small moments of familiar sounds. However, media in general I haven’t totally come to terms with because so much of it references American culture in music, tv shows etc. It’s sad to think how sounds and genres of music were once geographically identified or associated with particularly cultures. In coming to Botswana, I guess I had these misguided hopes of experiences a totally unadulterated culture with a distinguishable sound in its music or a particular color or design in the patterns of the textiles. Botswana is ultra modern in this sense. The music and the dress (among other things but these being what I’ve most noted) have migrated and been filtered in the distance to what becomes skinny jeans and mickey-mouse sweaters and pop music ringtones. When my host mother, Cecelia, gets a phone call, I hear Chris Brown singing to the “hearts all over the world,” taking the universalist approach, crossing all national and cultural borders. Yes, it’s familiar, but it’s sad. Why and how did Chris Brown and the like make it here? To be fair, it may be that I live with a group of younger women and as a part of their generation this is what they choose to listen to. I’m sure there are older Batswana that still are very much invested in the traditional Botswana culture in music and dress and that just isn’t in my world here.
I might also add that these kind of portrayals of American lend to the idea that all Americans are rich…imagine trying to explain that you are in fact American but a poor volunteer from America…I even tried to explain that I enjoyed shopping at thrift stores, particularly in college and they didn’t believe me at all, and looked at me like why the hell would I decisively shop at second-hand clothing stores when I have access to so many better and nicer things.
Another scenario: One of my friend’s host families has a really nice setup and we were watching TV and somehow Miley Cyrus came on the screen…(she is also on the blankets at the bus stops here and teenage boy’s backpacks. Why?!) Anyway, the host sister mentioned that she genuinely hated Miley Cyrus and Justin Beiber and if it were possible she would trade them in to bring back Notorious B.I.G. and Tupac. Biggie and Tupac (granted my knowledge is limited) wrote music about their upbringing in their respective urban dwellings as African-Americans and whatever experiences that might entail. While I recognize the obvious overlap and reasons for identifying with these figures, I am still surprised that there isn’t a readily available current of pride in a Botswana sound or dance. Sure, there are traditional dances and ceremonies that continue throughout the country but they are more memorialized as something from the past, rather than being something that is retained and developed throughout the generations here. So Tupac, Biggie, and Chris Brown are all here, parading and procreating American culture, but they have a displaced kind of sound and are erasing something that I see as more valuable.
In fear of sounding like some old fart traditionalist, I am slightly disappointed in the way the communication and the sharing of information has affected populations and the culture here. It’s the first time I’ve consciously acknowledged the negative effects of globalization. Maybe, this is what Batswana want, and that is totally fine if so. I just didn’t anticipate coming to Africa to find so much of America.
In hopes of reviving both your and my spirits, I wanted to mention that I will be including a wish list on here so if you feel SO INCLINED to mail a little loving then you can know a few things that would be greatly appreciated. I might also wait until I move to my official site where I will live for a full two years after training. I find out my site placement on May 14 and am thrilled at the thought of planning my life and figuring out a more permanent situation here…it’s all really finally happening!
More later, friends!
Love,
VA
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