Ups and down, ups and downs. That’s where I am these days.

I’m not a fan of the culture here in Bostwana. There is no “please” or “thank you;” people just bark orders. “Give me _______,” and “Fetch me _______,” and the ever-accusatory “Don’t you have _______?” when someone wants something. I went to a workshop last week, and one of the people there, one I used to consider a friend, only spoke to me when ordering me to carry her luggage for her. I’m pretty sure the Peace Corps did not return to Botswana to be enlisted as bellhops.

I am tired of my colleagues telling me they want my stuff.

“Give me your water bottle. I want this.”

“When you leave, you will give me your shoes.”

“I like your watch. Give me. You can buy new one.”

“Give me your bag/pants/shirt.”

Oh, and my personal favorite: “People eat cats here. When you leave, sell me your cat. It will be old and useless. I will eat it.” That was said in all seriousness.

I could accept the begging (that’s how I see it; sorry if that’s not politically correct, but the way it’s phrased makes me feel that way) if it were just from random people on the street. But most often it comes from the Batswana I work with (and not from the doctors from other African countries). Peace Corps did not send me here so I could give away my possessions. In fact, Peace Corps does not want us to just magically procure items to give away (such as backpacks, shoes, etc).

FYI, The number of strangers asking for madi (“mah-dee:” money) has climbed to 26 in 6.5 months. If it weren’t for that horde of monsters a few weeks ago, the total would still be in the teens.

I went to a workshop last week, in Zanzibar. No, it’s not the cool famous island off the coast of Tanzania. It’s a border post between South Africa and Botswana in the Tuli Block. The lodge we stayed in was very pretty, the food was excellent, and the staff were super friendly. The workshop itself was 85% in Setswana, even though it was attended by government officers who are supposed to speak English at work. I think a lot of work was done, though I feel I was barely able to contribute. I was pretty frustrated the entire time, because every comment I made was ignored and my questions were barely acknowledged, let alone answered. While the lectures by the 3 guest speakers were in English, all of the small group work and all of the socializing in the evenings were in Setswana. Only the counterpart of the other PCV attending took the time to translate; but since she was in charge of the workshop, her time was limited. They all laughed at me because I didn’t stay up late drinking with them, but I just didn’t see the point in staying up and feeling excluded. At one point there was a comical discussion on Multiple Concurrent Partnerships (MCP’s) which was semi-translated, and it was interesting to hear how many of my colleagues see good in it and why. However, I can’t say that I agree.

I attended an aerobics class that the hospital’s staff runs 4 days a week. I was definitely the white girl with no rhythm. I’ve never taken aerobics before, and it’s not usually my thing; but I’ve been desperate to meet new people, and to get involved at the hospital. It was actually fun, and a decent workout. There were 20 people, and all of them were really into it, cheering and woo-ing and jumping around the crowd. I’m going to keep going for a few weeks. My idea is that they’ll have me add a Sunday yoga class at some point.

2 weekends ago there was a Walk for Cancer in Bobonong. It lasted less than a mile, but had a pretty large turnout. Following the walk were a few hours of HIV skits. It was a hot hot hot day, so it was lucky that they provided water to the spectators. Several PCVs came into town for the event, so we got together for a braii. The other PCV who lives in Bobonong’s neighbor brought over a chicken and taught him how to kill it (cut the head off with a knife – and yes the body still convulses for a while afterward), pluck it (just grab handfuls of feathers, while it’s submerged in a bucket of hot water), and gut it (‘nuff said). The boys cooked and ate it along with their pounds of burgers.

A group of us spent the Halloween Weekend in Francistown. Both of the PCVs who live there are excellent hosts. We had delicious homemade pizzas on Friday night and braii’ed during the costume party on Saturday. 4 of us went as Spice Girls (Scary Spice was absent last-minute). I wrapped a TX flag around myself to be Geri Hallowell, aka Ginger Spice. The coloring was right, even if it wasn’t the Union Jack. The funny part was, we found a bar that had a Union Jack from the World Cup, and they would’ve let me borrow it for free, but we couldn’t get it down from the ceiling. 2 people dressed as Chibuku containers (remember, that lumpy yeasty alcoholic beverage, aka “Shake-Shake”). There was another PCV party down south in Kanye which was supposedly huge and crazy. I heard that 3 of my group went as Ghostbusters. : )

Rainy season has finally come, about a month late. The past 2 nights have been rainy, so much so that the dried riverbeds actually flowed with water on the following mornings. By afternoon it had dried up again. With the rains comes humidity. Who knew there could be humidity in the desert? Happily, the rain has helped the high temperatures to drop to a comfortable level. It must be 80-90 F now.