Some time ago I had a charter flight to the Okavango Delta, and experienced the intricate waterways up close again – something I had not done since the 1980’s. Watching the vast amount of water flowing in the main river channel and realizing it all flows into a huge delta and then empties into the desert where it will all evaporate is hard to imagine. It was amazing to again navigate through the maze of channels, all lined with tall reeds, to the newly constructed remote lodge we stayed at. It was a 1½ hour boat ride and we saw many crocodiles and lots of bird life, including the majestic Fish Eagle, my favorite bird in that area. On the way back it took me less than two minutes to fly over the camp - showing the true value of airplanes!
I am sometimes asked where my favorite place is, of all the places I’ve been in the world. I used to say it was Third Bridge, a place we used to camp at frequently when we lived in Maun. We spent many nights camping there, with nobody else around. There were no facilities, just a place in the bush to camp next to a wooden bridge made by fallen 6 to 8 inch trees wired together. We spent many nights there listening to the jungle sounds, and seeing all the animals on the morning and evening drives. On several occasions we had lions walk right through our campsite, but other than the baboons trying to steal our food, we were usually left alone to share the area with all the wildlife. At times we would go farther north into an area that was completely undisturbed – nobody around for miles and miles. Today however the rest of the world has also discovered the “Jewel of the Kalahari” and there are lodges scattered all through the area, and even an official campsite and ablution block at Third Bridge.
On this trip we spent one night in a “lodge” on an island and early the next day I got up to take a stroll. I walked down a trail along the water’s edge about 100 meters and heard a huge crashing in the bush. I stopped and suddenly a huge bull elephant crashed out of the bush not more than 20 meters in front of me. He stopped and looked straight at me, and I just froze on the spot. He raised his trunk in the air to try to catch my scent, but I felt a light breeze on my face and knew he wouldn’t pick up my scent. I stayed completely still since an elephant’s eyesight is very poor, although they have a good sense of smell and hearing. I slowly moved my eyes and noticed to the left and just a bit aft was a large tree that was split at the bottom. I could fit through that slit, but the elephant would not be able to should he decide to charge. I tried to judge whether I could make if he decided to “go for it”. I was closer to the tree than the elephant was to me, but he was considerably faster than me. I didn’t have time to work out formulas of speed versus distance, and because there was no other option it really didn’t matter – if he started for me I was not going to stand my ground to see if it was a mock charge – I was going to be headed for that tree in short order. I don’t know how long he stood there, time always seems longer in those situations, but it was long enough to have an extended time for the adrenaline to flow. In any case he probably decided it was not going to be worth the effort required just for the amusement of watching the little human twerp kick up some dust, and he slowly ambled off and went down to the water for a drink.
Later that day I tried to remember how many times I was quite frightened in the African bush. I am referring to times I had an extended time to have my system pumped with adrenaline – not the quick adrenaline rushes that happen quickly and then are gone – like having a black mamba slither close by with his head held high and his eye on you as he speeds through the bush. Or the times of heightened alertness like when a lion strolls near your tent, or a hippo’s eyes glow in the flashlight beam very close as they watch you cook dinner over the fire, or an elephant mock charges you when you are in a vehicle but are not stuck and can move if required, or a hyena that is prowling near your camp looking for an opportunity to steal you dinner. No I am talking of times when the scare was real enough and long enough to have one think about how great it is to be alive, and the desire to live a bit longer. I could only come up with enough to use all the fingers on my one hand. Three had to do with elephants, one with a group of hippos, and one with a lion. Two were in vehicles that were completely stuck and could not be moved (one in a hippo pool), and three were on foot. One could be classified as me being completely stupid (which I acknowledge), and I’ve been reminded of that one by Jolene on many occasions, so let’s not dwell on that! One caused permanent hearing loss in both my ears when my mother screamed, but other than none have caused any lasting damage.
It is hard to beat the trips into the African bush, and something I love to do, but I think I’ve had enough adrenaline rushes to not want to move to my second hand to continue the count.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Diamonds – A Country’s Best Friend (Roger)
Botswana is one incredible African country! Okay I know I’m biased, but try to find another country in Africa that has done what Botswana has done – that is my challenge for you!
One of the fortunate things in the history of Botswana is that diamonds were not discovered until immediately after independence. If diamonds were discovered earlier the country would have a vastly different history – the colonial powers would then have been very interested in doing some development, in the form of digging.
Botswana had the largest growth of Per Capita Income in the world from independence in 1966 to the turn of the century. It went from being one of the poorest African countries to one of the wealthiest ones. The standard of living of SOME of the local population is much higher than when we lived here 17 years ago. We live in a neighborhood that would have been completely expatriate when we were last here, and today we are the ONLY expatriates. This large modern city was only a remote bushy area before they decided to build a capital city here at independence. Yes times have changed!
There are currently four diamond mines here – and at least one is considered the richest gem-quality diamond mine in the world. The others are also high on the list. The country has been blessed with leaders that have struggled hard to build a new democratic nation. The first two presidents were incredible men and without them the country could not have achieved what it did – after all, Africa is full of mineral rich countries that have made many corrupt leaders wealthy. Sixty percent of the government’s income today comes from the joint venture negotiated with DeBeers, the diamond supplier of the world. In Botswana the company is called Debswana. The government has wisely used the income to improve health care, education, and infrastructure for all citizens.
The only cause for concern is what will happen if the diamond market goes south for the long term, which could happen if synthetic diamonds ever become economically viable.
Yes Botswana is one incredible country, and yes diamonds are a country’s best friend.
Botswana is one incredible African country! Okay I know I’m biased, but try to find another country in Africa that has done what Botswana has done – that is my challenge for you!
One of the fortunate things in the history of Botswana is that diamonds were not discovered until immediately after independence. If diamonds were discovered earlier the country would have a vastly different history – the colonial powers would then have been very interested in doing some development, in the form of digging.
Botswana had the largest growth of Per Capita Income in the world from independence in 1966 to the turn of the century. It went from being one of the poorest African countries to one of the wealthiest ones. The standard of living of SOME of the local population is much higher than when we lived here 17 years ago. We live in a neighborhood that would have been completely expatriate when we were last here, and today we are the ONLY expatriates. This large modern city was only a remote bushy area before they decided to build a capital city here at independence. Yes times have changed!
There are currently four diamond mines here – and at least one is considered the richest gem-quality diamond mine in the world. The others are also high on the list. The country has been blessed with leaders that have struggled hard to build a new democratic nation. The first two presidents were incredible men and without them the country could not have achieved what it did – after all, Africa is full of mineral rich countries that have made many corrupt leaders wealthy. Sixty percent of the government’s income today comes from the joint venture negotiated with DeBeers, the diamond supplier of the world. In Botswana the company is called Debswana. The government has wisely used the income to improve health care, education, and infrastructure for all citizens.
The only cause for concern is what will happen if the diamond market goes south for the long term, which could happen if synthetic diamonds ever become economically viable.
Yes Botswana is one incredible country, and yes diamonds are a country’s best friend.
One of the fortunate things in the history of Botswana is that diamonds were not discovered until immediately after independence. If diamonds were discovered earlier the country would have a vastly different history – the colonial powers would then have been very interested in doing some development, in the form of digging.
Botswana had the largest growth of Per Capita Income in the world from independence in 1966 to the turn of the century. It went from being one of the poorest African countries to one of the wealthiest ones. The standard of living of SOME of the local population is much higher than when we lived here 17 years ago. We live in a neighborhood that would have been completely expatriate when we were last here, and today we are the ONLY expatriates. This large modern city was only a remote bushy area before they decided to build a capital city here at independence. Yes times have changed!
There are currently four diamond mines here – and at least one is considered the richest gem-quality diamond mine in the world. The others are also high on the list. The country has been blessed with leaders that have struggled hard to build a new democratic nation. The first two presidents were incredible men and without them the country could not have achieved what it did – after all, Africa is full of mineral rich countries that have made many corrupt leaders wealthy. Sixty percent of the government’s income today comes from the joint venture negotiated with DeBeers, the diamond supplier of the world. In Botswana the company is called Debswana. The government has wisely used the income to improve health care, education, and infrastructure for all citizens.
The only cause for concern is what will happen if the diamond market goes south for the long term, which could happen if synthetic diamonds ever become economically viable.
Yes Botswana is one incredible country, and yes diamonds are a country’s best friend.
Botswana is one incredible African country! Okay I know I’m biased, but try to find another country in Africa that has done what Botswana has done – that is my challenge for you!
One of the fortunate things in the history of Botswana is that diamonds were not discovered until immediately after independence. If diamonds were discovered earlier the country would have a vastly different history – the colonial powers would then have been very interested in doing some development, in the form of digging.
Botswana had the largest growth of Per Capita Income in the world from independence in 1966 to the turn of the century. It went from being one of the poorest African countries to one of the wealthiest ones. The standard of living of SOME of the local population is much higher than when we lived here 17 years ago. We live in a neighborhood that would have been completely expatriate when we were last here, and today we are the ONLY expatriates. This large modern city was only a remote bushy area before they decided to build a capital city here at independence. Yes times have changed!
There are currently four diamond mines here – and at least one is considered the richest gem-quality diamond mine in the world. The others are also high on the list. The country has been blessed with leaders that have struggled hard to build a new democratic nation. The first two presidents were incredible men and without them the country could not have achieved what it did – after all, Africa is full of mineral rich countries that have made many corrupt leaders wealthy. Sixty percent of the government’s income today comes from the joint venture negotiated with DeBeers, the diamond supplier of the world. In Botswana the company is called Debswana. The government has wisely used the income to improve health care, education, and infrastructure for all citizens.
The only cause for concern is what will happen if the diamond market goes south for the long term, which could happen if synthetic diamonds ever become economically viable.
Yes Botswana is one incredible country, and yes diamonds are a country’s best friend.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Bakgatla Initiation - (Jolene)
A couple of weeks ago, Renae, Katrina, and I were crawling out of bed at 2:30 AM to have another ‘adventure’ in this culture. Alysa picked us up at 3 AM, then we headed to the village of Mochudi, which is a 45 minute drive out of the city. We were meeting at Bessie’s house and going with her to see the men who were coming back in from their initiation in the bush. Bessie was our neighbor when we lived in Maun many years ago, and she now lives in Mochudi. (She’s the one Travis helped build the house for).
First an explanation of the initiation. The Bakgatla tribe seems to be the only tribe in Botswana that does the initiations anymore, but apparently traditionally many of the tribes did it. They hadn’t done it though for about 20 years – something about the chief they had, had his reasons for not doing it. It’s hard to get answers sometimes to questions! Anyway, they have a new chief, and he has again started the initiations, for women and men. The women’s isn’t nearly as long as the men’s, and it was done sometime in June. The men, however, were out in the bush for about 6 weeks (we heard varying times), and the day they came back in was a big celebration and there were many, many people at the kgotla (traditional place where they meet with the chief when there are issues, or community meetings). Bessie said to be at her house at 4 AM, so we could have a good place to see them coming in, so that’s what we did.
We picked up Bessie , her two children, her sister, and a neighbor, and drove to the kgotla, where we got 2nd row seats. We thought that was great! We weren’t sure what time the men were coming in, some reports were 7 AM, some 9 AM, but in actuality they didn’t arrive until 11:30!! Anyway, people kept coming and coming, and soon the area was full to overflowing. It became quite difficult to get in or out to do anything (like go to the bathroom), so we sat on our chairs from 4:30 am until after 2 pm when everything was over. It got quite hot, we didn’t want to drink much so we didn’t have to get up and go through that crowd, and we were famished by the end. I had brought apples & oranges, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, and made several extra, but those didn’t go very far when I shared them with everyone! I’m always amazed at how the people here can so patiently sit & wait for something to happen. No food, often no water, and in the hot sun. We felt almost sick when we left because of all that, but it didn’t seem to bother Bessie .
Anyway, about the ceremony. At one side of the gathering, all the women that had been in their initiation sat, and on & off sang songs for the rest of us. They were all dressed in the same color dresses & blankets, and it was quite a sight. There was a man walking around with an animal skin on his back and feathers in his headdress, with a whip, who was keeping the crowd in order. If someone stood up too long, or for other infractions (I wasn’t sure what they had done), he would yell at them and sort of pretend to whip at them. I was terrified of the guy! At one point he made all the people in our area move their chairs back, and then some went front again, and I was totally confused what he was trying to do, but we ended up in about the 4th row. Which really didn’t matter because we could still see and there wasn’t all that much to see a lot of the time.
The monkey is this tribe’s totem, so they had a person dressed sort of like a monkey come in and do a dance, along with a couple other people dressed entirely in white feathers. The important people – chiefs of many villages all around, sat in a special place under a big thatch roof, and the paramount chief of the tribe sat there, with the leopard skin on the back of his chair. There were quite a few men walking around with skins on their backs and feathers.
When they finally said the men were coming, it still took at least another hour for them to arrive in the kgotla area. They came very slowly, singing and doing this little step dance thing. They all had white ostrich feathers, high in the air and it was really quite a sight. Many of them also had animal skins on their backs, but not all. We had been told that there were close to 2000 men who had been initiated, but I really don’t think that many came in. Anyway, it was a lot of men, and they filled the space up. Coming in ahead of them were three men on horses, one of them being the chief. They were quite regal looking. Then there were lots of speeches by various men, I wasn’t sure who they all were, and it was all in Setswana, so sitting there in the hot sun, holding Bessie’s child on my lap who was sleeping, I almost fell asleep too. But I was really too uncomfortable to relax that much. After a couple of speeches the men would all sing a song, and that was the best part. Sort of a chanting, and the one song they all stomped their feet at the exact same time and it was neat to hear.
What they do in the initiation is supposed to be a big secret, but we were told they don’t sleep very much and they just sleep on the ground. They basically take nothing with them, it’s winter time and quite cold at night. They are taught by the older men how to be men – to be faithful to their wives, to take care of their children, and of course I don’t know what all else. Then they all get circumcised. This is done by a real doctor and supposedly in very sanitary conditions. This year it was a white man that did it, and he was there at the ceremony. They go out in the bush not far from Mochudi, and at times they are close enough for the people in the village to hear them singing. Other men that have already been initiated can go out with them, just for a day or two or however long they want, so at times there were over 5000 men out in the bush. (not sure where they got this number but that’s what we were told).
When we were sitting there for hours in the hot sun, I was thinking that this better be worth it when they finally show up. And looking back, it was. At the time I wasn’t so sure!
First an explanation of the initiation. The Bakgatla tribe seems to be the only tribe in Botswana that does the initiations anymore, but apparently traditionally many of the tribes did it. They hadn’t done it though for about 20 years – something about the chief they had, had his reasons for not doing it. It’s hard to get answers sometimes to questions! Anyway, they have a new chief, and he has again started the initiations, for women and men. The women’s isn’t nearly as long as the men’s, and it was done sometime in June. The men, however, were out in the bush for about 6 weeks (we heard varying times), and the day they came back in was a big celebration and there were many, many people at the kgotla (traditional place where they meet with the chief when there are issues, or community meetings). Bessie said to be at her house at 4 AM, so we could have a good place to see them coming in, so that’s what we did.
We picked up Bessie , her two children, her sister, and a neighbor, and drove to the kgotla, where we got 2nd row seats. We thought that was great! We weren’t sure what time the men were coming in, some reports were 7 AM, some 9 AM, but in actuality they didn’t arrive until 11:30!! Anyway, people kept coming and coming, and soon the area was full to overflowing. It became quite difficult to get in or out to do anything (like go to the bathroom), so we sat on our chairs from 4:30 am until after 2 pm when everything was over. It got quite hot, we didn’t want to drink much so we didn’t have to get up and go through that crowd, and we were famished by the end. I had brought apples & oranges, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, and made several extra, but those didn’t go very far when I shared them with everyone! I’m always amazed at how the people here can so patiently sit & wait for something to happen. No food, often no water, and in the hot sun. We felt almost sick when we left because of all that, but it didn’t seem to bother Bessie .
Anyway, about the ceremony. At one side of the gathering, all the women that had been in their initiation sat, and on & off sang songs for the rest of us. They were all dressed in the same color dresses & blankets, and it was quite a sight. There was a man walking around with an animal skin on his back and feathers in his headdress, with a whip, who was keeping the crowd in order. If someone stood up too long, or for other infractions (I wasn’t sure what they had done), he would yell at them and sort of pretend to whip at them. I was terrified of the guy! At one point he made all the people in our area move their chairs back, and then some went front again, and I was totally confused what he was trying to do, but we ended up in about the 4th row. Which really didn’t matter because we could still see and there wasn’t all that much to see a lot of the time.
The monkey is this tribe’s totem, so they had a person dressed sort of like a monkey come in and do a dance, along with a couple other people dressed entirely in white feathers. The important people – chiefs of many villages all around, sat in a special place under a big thatch roof, and the paramount chief of the tribe sat there, with the leopard skin on the back of his chair. There were quite a few men walking around with skins on their backs and feathers.
When they finally said the men were coming, it still took at least another hour for them to arrive in the kgotla area. They came very slowly, singing and doing this little step dance thing. They all had white ostrich feathers, high in the air and it was really quite a sight. Many of them also had animal skins on their backs, but not all. We had been told that there were close to 2000 men who had been initiated, but I really don’t think that many came in. Anyway, it was a lot of men, and they filled the space up. Coming in ahead of them were three men on horses, one of them being the chief. They were quite regal looking. Then there were lots of speeches by various men, I wasn’t sure who they all were, and it was all in Setswana, so sitting there in the hot sun, holding Bessie’s child on my lap who was sleeping, I almost fell asleep too. But I was really too uncomfortable to relax that much. After a couple of speeches the men would all sing a song, and that was the best part. Sort of a chanting, and the one song they all stomped their feet at the exact same time and it was neat to hear.
What they do in the initiation is supposed to be a big secret, but we were told they don’t sleep very much and they just sleep on the ground. They basically take nothing with them, it’s winter time and quite cold at night. They are taught by the older men how to be men – to be faithful to their wives, to take care of their children, and of course I don’t know what all else. Then they all get circumcised. This is done by a real doctor and supposedly in very sanitary conditions. This year it was a white man that did it, and he was there at the ceremony. They go out in the bush not far from Mochudi, and at times they are close enough for the people in the village to hear them singing. Other men that have already been initiated can go out with them, just for a day or two or however long they want, so at times there were over 5000 men out in the bush. (not sure where they got this number but that’s what we were told).
When we were sitting there for hours in the hot sun, I was thinking that this better be worth it when they finally show up. And looking back, it was. At the time I wasn’t so sure!
Wednesday, September 09, 2009
Tribal Customs and How to Become a Man –Roger
It all started with Mokolone, a man who fuels our aircraft, telling me he would be gone for six weeks. When I asked where he was going he informed me he was going out in the bush for the tribal initiation ceremonies. There are numerous tribes in Botswana, including eight major Bantu tribes, the Barolong, Bakwena, Bangwaketse, Balete, Bakgatla, Batlokwa, Bangwato and Batawana. The last tribal initiation for any of these tribes was more than 20 years ago – they used to happen every three to five years in each of the tribes. The Paramount Chiefs have discontinued the custom, mainly because of the discouragement of tribalism and the process of tryingto build a unified democratic country, and because of the influence of the first president who was the rightful Chief to the largest Bantu tribe (The Bangwaketse), but refused to accept donning the lion skin, which would make him the Chief. He tried to limit the powers of the Chiefs and it was, and at times still is, a struggle to know where to draw the “power” line between the Chiefs (and local custom) and the official democratic government. At the start of independence (1966) there was a House of Chiefs established in the government, but it is more of an advisory body than a governing body. However the Chiefs still rule in many disputes, land allocations etc. and lead and guide the people in the villages. There is a Paramount Chief for each tribe, and the villages are divided into “wards” each with their own Headman (local Chief) – but I digress!
Mokolone and I always spar back and forth when he comes to fuel my airplane as I try to pry information from him about what happens in the initiation ceremony. It is supposed to be a big secret and each person who goes through it is not allowed to disclose what happens there. Before he left I told him I will sneak into the bush and spy on them, and he informed me if I got caught I would be forced to stay with them until they returned and then I would have to keep their secrets too. I tell him I want to be the first white man to be initiated and he tells me I am a “monna mogolo” (old man) and could not take the rigorous schedule. I glean a few “secrets” here and there in this verbal sparring, but he tries to be vague in his replies – at least it makes fueling the aircraft fun!
In years past each of these groups was called a “mophato” (regiment), and they all had a totem and held a special bond and loyalty to each other. The Chief could call on a regiment when required (some still do) to accomplish tasks for the tribe such as a building project or village improvement. In the old days they were also a type of military unit, which is one reason the British tried to stop the custom years ago.
After many years of the Chiefs not performing this “rite of passage”, the new Chief of the Bakgatla tribe decided to start it up again. It has caused much excitement among many of the people in the tribe, while others think it is outdated and meaningless. There is also an initiation for the women, but I don’t know much about that. The men follow their Chief into the bush a long way from the village and they sleep on the ground and drink some substance (I can’t get much information on what it is made of) and eat very little and only one time a day. Mokolone came back much thinner than when he left, and he is not a big man. He tells me this cleans out your insides (diarrhea for about a week), and then your mind gets very clear and you can think on a higher level. They sleep on the cold ground (this happens in winter) and walk about 50 kilometers (30 miles) a day. They only sleep for a few hours at a time and then are woken and continue their marches. The only people allowed there are those who have done the initiation before, and those who are being initiated. They are taught all the things of “being a man” which includes the tribe’s traditional customs and beliefs. There were several thousand men that went to this, and Mokolone lives for these events – he was thrilled with the new Chief for starting this up again. If a Paramount Chief from any of the Bantu tribes dies the men may not return until he has been buried. When Mokolone was initiated the first President (Sir Seretse Khama) died and they had to stay in the bush for three months – that would have been 1980. I told him Seretse was not a Chief since I know he refused to put on the lion skin (each tribe has its totem and skin they use) and he was surprised I knew that but sheepishly told me even though he did not accept the Chieftanship, he was still royalty and they consider him a Chief. It is interesting how strong some of those tribal feelings are. I don’t think American’s, who live in a country that was founded on a rebellion from the “King” can completely understand those feelings. In discussion with some British friends, they seem to understand the “royalty” appeal better than I do.
One of the rites performed is circumcision, but today they use qualified doctors, and it is done in a proper facility. When they return from the initiation there is a huge public ceremony to greet them. I was so disappointed that I was on call and could not go. Getting to know Batswana and experiencing some of their culture has always been a highlight of living in Africa. The Chief came out dressed in his leopard skin (the Bakgatla custom) and there were many speeches. Fortunately Jolene, Renae, and Katrina did get to go with a very dear friend of ours from when we lived in Maun. She has moved back to her home village of Mochudi which is where the ceremony was held, and she invited us to go with her to the celebration. I told Jolene to sneak as many pictures as possible (they are forbidden), but there were men with sticks patrolling the crowd and assuring no photos were taken during the time they were forbidden .
This is my last blog until Jolene and/or Renae write about something. They can blog on the initiation ceremony or what they want, but it’s their turn, so unless they contribute next this blog is completed. If you want more entries get on them!
Mokolone and I always spar back and forth when he comes to fuel my airplane as I try to pry information from him about what happens in the initiation ceremony. It is supposed to be a big secret and each person who goes through it is not allowed to disclose what happens there. Before he left I told him I will sneak into the bush and spy on them, and he informed me if I got caught I would be forced to stay with them until they returned and then I would have to keep their secrets too. I tell him I want to be the first white man to be initiated and he tells me I am a “monna mogolo” (old man) and could not take the rigorous schedule. I glean a few “secrets” here and there in this verbal sparring, but he tries to be vague in his replies – at least it makes fueling the aircraft fun!
In years past each of these groups was called a “mophato” (regiment), and they all had a totem and held a special bond and loyalty to each other. The Chief could call on a regiment when required (some still do) to accomplish tasks for the tribe such as a building project or village improvement. In the old days they were also a type of military unit, which is one reason the British tried to stop the custom years ago.
After many years of the Chiefs not performing this “rite of passage”, the new Chief of the Bakgatla tribe decided to start it up again. It has caused much excitement among many of the people in the tribe, while others think it is outdated and meaningless. There is also an initiation for the women, but I don’t know much about that. The men follow their Chief into the bush a long way from the village and they sleep on the ground and drink some substance (I can’t get much information on what it is made of) and eat very little and only one time a day. Mokolone came back much thinner than when he left, and he is not a big man. He tells me this cleans out your insides (diarrhea for about a week), and then your mind gets very clear and you can think on a higher level. They sleep on the cold ground (this happens in winter) and walk about 50 kilometers (30 miles) a day. They only sleep for a few hours at a time and then are woken and continue their marches. The only people allowed there are those who have done the initiation before, and those who are being initiated. They are taught all the things of “being a man” which includes the tribe’s traditional customs and beliefs. There were several thousand men that went to this, and Mokolone lives for these events – he was thrilled with the new Chief for starting this up again. If a Paramount Chief from any of the Bantu tribes dies the men may not return until he has been buried. When Mokolone was initiated the first President (Sir Seretse Khama) died and they had to stay in the bush for three months – that would have been 1980. I told him Seretse was not a Chief since I know he refused to put on the lion skin (each tribe has its totem and skin they use) and he was surprised I knew that but sheepishly told me even though he did not accept the Chieftanship, he was still royalty and they consider him a Chief. It is interesting how strong some of those tribal feelings are. I don’t think American’s, who live in a country that was founded on a rebellion from the “King” can completely understand those feelings. In discussion with some British friends, they seem to understand the “royalty” appeal better than I do.
One of the rites performed is circumcision, but today they use qualified doctors, and it is done in a proper facility. When they return from the initiation there is a huge public ceremony to greet them. I was so disappointed that I was on call and could not go. Getting to know Batswana and experiencing some of their culture has always been a highlight of living in Africa. The Chief came out dressed in his leopard skin (the Bakgatla custom) and there were many speeches. Fortunately Jolene, Renae, and Katrina did get to go with a very dear friend of ours from when we lived in Maun. She has moved back to her home village of Mochudi which is where the ceremony was held, and she invited us to go with her to the celebration. I told Jolene to sneak as many pictures as possible (they are forbidden), but there were men with sticks patrolling the crowd and assuring no photos were taken during the time they were forbidden .
This is my last blog until Jolene and/or Renae write about something. They can blog on the initiation ceremony or what they want, but it’s their turn, so unless they contribute next this blog is completed. If you want more entries get on them!
Monday, August 10, 2009
Bride Price and the Dilema of the Missing cows - Roger
Bride Price and the Dilema of the Missing Cows – Roger
Recently I had one of the most fun cultural weekends I think I ever had in the years we lived in Botswana – but first a bit of background. I’m giving a fair warning – this blog will get long – so if you don’t want to be bored you might want to stop reading now.
Although Botswana has grown and developed at a dizzying pace since we last lived here, there are many traditions that remain very entrenched in the culture, even amongst the most educated. One of those is the traditional wedding, and the steps that must be taken to make a marriage “official” in the eyes of the tribe. Getting married is a long and expensive process in Botswana, and I’ve talked to many young men who would like to get married but are quite discouraged becausetheir family cannot afford the required cattle. The process has not done much for the institution of marriage – many simply cannot afford the luxury of being married. Each tribe has its own unique idiosincrasies, but there are some similarities. In talking with others from other African countries, it appears most of Africa (or at least the countries I know about) has a “bride price” of some type, although some countries do not have such high prices. Some of the older people in Botswana tell me the whole process has become “commercialized”. In the old days it was considered more of a thank offering and the prices were not so steep. There also seems to be a bit of “competition” between the tribes, with some of the tribes setting higher prices to show their prosperity. Tribalsim has not affected Botswana as negatively as in some other African countries, but tribal loyalties are still a very real part of life here.
In the old days marriages were arranged by the two families, and the bride and groom were not involved in the decision. Today that is not practised, a couple chooses to marry after dating and deciding they want to get married. When a couple decides to get married the man will approach his father’s oldest brother with his request to marry a girl. He does not approach his father, he must ask his uncle. I did ask some recently married men if they did that first and most said yes. One told me he just mentioned to his father he wanted to get married, and his father just looked at him and said “you know the procedure” and walked away. The uncles of the groom will arrange to meet with the potential bride’s maternal uncles to request a marriage of their neice. After that meeting the bride’s uncles will check with her to be sure she wants to get married. Then the negotiations will begin. From what I gather most of the required gifts are pretty standard, although they can vary depending on each tribe’s custom. The negotiations may take a year or more, depending how often the families get together, and how far they must travel for each visit. There are many gifts required, as well as the agreed amount of cows – the most important factor. The number of cows paid must always be an even number (since the union is of two people) – plus one extra cow is usually required to be slaughtered at the wedding. There are also some goats and/or sheep involved as well, but the big item is the cattle. Cattle are extremely important in Tswana culture. People count their wealth with the cattle they own – one never asks a Motswana how many cattle he owns, just like we don’t discuss in western societies how much money we have in our savings accounts. After the list is drawn up for the bride price, a date is set for the wedding at the bride’s family compound. Here is where our story really begins – the negotiations have been completed, and now it is time to “finalize the deal”. Nicole lived and taught school in the village of Tonota - about a 5 ½ hour bus ride north of us. She lived on the compound where the wedding was to take place. For a number of reasons her “Nkuku” (grandmother) wanted Jolene and me to be part of their family for the wedding. We were honored to be invited, and the family was thrilled for us to be there – it gave them some prestige to have “lekoa” (white people) as part of their family. I must stress that just because this process seems so foreign to us, does not mean that these are uneducated people “living in the dark ages”. Many of this family have respectable government jobs, and most of the younger generation have post secondary degrees - quite a few studied abroad and have master’s degrees in various fields. The bride-to-be is in medical school in Capetown, South Africa. The customs seem so different, but are just as valid as ours – our customs would seem just as strange to them. Think about what it would sound like to them when the garter is thrown at our weddings, or we tap the glasses – the list could go on.
Since we have been included in the bride’s family, and have been told at many times we are now part of their family, when I talk about “our family”, that is what I am referring to – our family in contrast to the groom’s family. They talked about and were preparing for this day for months – painting and cleaning up the yard and making all the arrangements etc. Nicole was helping with that, and was one of the servers during the celebrations. We took the bus and arrived there on a Friday afternoon. The rest of the family had been arriving during the past few days, and that night we feasted on a goat that was slaughtered and were told what to expect during the next two days. We were sleeping with an aunt that left fairly early, so we missed some of the dancing and partying that went on late into the night. We had to be back at the yard before 7:00AM, when the groom’s family was supposed to show up for the final arrangements. The uncles got together and discussed the procedure. The oldest brother of the bride’s mother is supposed to be the spokesman, but he is a bit of a wild card and didn’t want anything to do with the negotiations, so one of the other uncles was appointed to be a spokesman for him – although he would still get all the gifts due him. We all waited in the yard for the groom’s family to arrive. If they were late they would be fined - they could get fined for anything they did wrong, and were threatened several times. I don’t think they showed up until about 8:00 or 8:30, but were not fined because that is considered being “on time” in African time. While we waited a rumor started circulating that they were not bringing all the cattle they had agreed on - an occurance that is quite normal apparently. We saw them driving into the village, the truck with all the cattle was bringing up the rear. Everybody tried to count the cattle when they saw the truck, and there was a lot of mumbling that they did not have the cattle they agreed to – there were only 7 cattle on and there was supposed to be 9.
The only ones allowed in the family negotiations were married family members. The bride’s parents are not supposed to be there, but for some reason the bride’s mother was there – I never understood why. They told me she shouldn’t have been there, but she did talk a considerable amount in the process. Jolene and Nicole were dressed in traditional garb, a long printed dress, a cloth head covering (scarf), and a blanket wrapped around the shoulders, as were all the other women. This is the required dress for women during any traditional ceremony. The men must all wear a jacket –it can be a suit coat, or any old jacket, but that is the only requirement for the men. Since Nicole was not married she was not supposed to be there, but she sat in for a bit of it, and when Jolene asked if it was ok for her to be there, they put their finger to their lips and told her not to say anything. They do break some of the rules . The men in our family all sat on chairs and the women sat on the ground – the normal cultural arrangement. It is utterly amazing how the very old ladies can sit on the ground with their legs straight out in front of them and nothing at their backs – and can do it all day long. They put Jolene at the wall so she had a back. We watched as the groom’s family filed in single file through the gate. The group was led by one of the uncles from our family who was designated to go out and escort them into our courtyard. He would also represent their side and be their spokesman. Behind him came the women carrying all the gifts on their heads, and then the male members of the family (minus the groom’s immediate family, of course). The men all sat on the ground – normally men are treated with respect and always get chairs (this is one thing I want to introduce in our culture when I return ), but in this case the family was coming and supposed to be grovelling to ask for a bride. The men were treated like women and children, they had to sit on the ground too until the final settlement was made, after which the men would be privileged to sit on chairs. After they laid all the gifts down our uncle said: “Dumelang Bana” (Good Morning Children). They were treated as not worthy of our status, and they played the part well. They greeted back with a clasp of the hands and a bow, recognizing our family’s status. The uncle then went on to ask them if they would come and sit with us and they adamantly said no they could not do that – they were not worthy to sit with us. It was quite interesting watching this exchange. The uncle from our family that was their spokesman also sat on the floor with them, and they said he shouldn’t sit with us either as they wanted him as their representative. Our family asked them to show their gifts and they went through all the gifts they brought – pillows, blankets, shoes, an axe, suit coats, dresses etc. They read from the list of items that were agreed on, and held each item up to show the family, announcing the size etc. – how would some of you women like that? Each of these gifts was for a designated uncle, or aunt – the only thing the bride got was one outfit and an apron – the rest was for the aunts and uncles. Then they announced they brought 7 cows, and the fun began. The cows go to the bride’s father. Some told me one reason for the cattle is if something happens to the groom, her father can use those cows to help support her. There was much discussion at this point – mostly talking from our family. They told them how this bride is worth more than that – she is one of the best in the family etc. They are treating her like she is some one who is worthless and uses drugs etc, but she is studying to be a doctor and is worth more etc. The groom’s family would consult with our uncle who represented them and he would tell us what they were saying. After a time the groom’s family said they will have to leave and go outside the gate to decide what to do. They collected all their gifts and took them back. They said they could not find the cows they were going to bring (some of them ran away etc.), which is apparently a typical excuse. After some time of discussion outside the gate and discussion within our family their spokesman came back and said they are going to go back to their house and decide what they want to do. Our family decided they are going to stick to the agreement and not budge. They discussed how this process is getting to be a habit and they are going to put a stop to it. The bride’s mother said she is too young to be married anyway and she wished she would wait until after she was through medical school so she doesn’t care if she doesn’t get married. If they are not going to give the cows they agreed on the deal would be off. The bride’s sister told us later how the bride was in tears. She was hidden in the house, but others came in to tell her what was happening. She couldn’t understand why his family didn’t bring the cows. Nicole said the bride was inside the house texting on her cell phone furiously. I don’t know what the groom was doing, but I’m sure he had a spy texting him. Everybody here has cell phones these days. One of the recent in-laws of our family told me when he was the groom a few years before he was hiding in the bush and someone at the negotiations was keeping him informed on his cell phone.
While we waited – about three hours or so - our family discussed again what they were willing to do. Sometimes they decide to forgive the missing cows, but they were going to hold firm this time. The last wedding they arranged they went ahead and agreed to two less cows, but that family was from another village far away and had more of a bargaining chip. This family was from the same village and they knew they were wealthy enough to supply the cattle. During this time their representative (one of our uncles) was with us and giving his view – not representing them. He was also a bit of a spy and told us what he thought they would do based on what he overheard. The uncles told me when they get back to their home, the groom will convince them to pay the cows – he will put the pressure on them. Our family said they often offer to pay the cows at a later date, but they were not going to accept that, because then they usually never get the cows. After the deal is made and the bride is given to the family there is no incentive to pay the cows and they usually ignore the arrangement. Our family also decided to fine them another goat for “wasting our time”, since we had to wait for them. Interestingly they agreed before hand that they would fine them a goat, but later when the conditions were accepted someone should make a move to forgive the fine and they would all agree to forgive that fine as a gesture of good will. It was interesting to watch the exchange. The women had more to say than the uncles. They expressed their views and the men listened very closely – anybody could say what they wanted to. In the end the uncles would make the decision, but they did consider what was being said – or at least it appeared that way.
Finally they returned and it was noticed there were the same amount of cows on the truck. Our family thought they might have had the cows waiting somewhere to load, in case they were forced to get them, but there were no more on the truck. The entire process started over, and they came into our yard and took their places. The process started with us telling them we were going to fine them for a goat and asked what they had decided to do. There was farther discussion and then they offered to pay 2000.00 pula for each missing cow. After a little discussion our family decided to accept that, and while everybody watched they counted out the money for everybody to see. The only thing left to do was for our family to go out and inspect the cows and the goats to see if they were acceptable. Our family all trekked out to the truck and looked at the cows and the goats. When they decided everything was acceptable the women started their shrill yodel-type call – an undualting celebratory noise made by moving their tonques back and forth. It was heard frequently throughout the weekend with the singing and dancing. That was the signal that the deal was finalzied, and we all went back into the yard to celebrate.
It appeared a lot of this was a formality and a “game” that must be played, but I never knew how much. In talking with the groom’s family later one asked me what I thought of the traditions and the way things went and it sounded like most of the process was expected, but on the other hand I guess one never knows for certain until it is all completed. Nobody could seem to give me an example of an instance they were involved in where it didn’t go through, but at the same time they all insisted the outcome was uncertain.
Several goats were slaughtered during this time, right under the tree at the edge of our gathering. They also took the 6 cows to the father of the bride’s cattle post, and then when they returned it was time to slaughter the remaining cow. They tied it up and killed it with a knife- too many people around to use a gun, they said. It was pretty gruesome, and some of the younger generation from the city were a bit disgusted with the process. Absolutely everything got used from that cow (as with the goats) except the contents of the intestines and stomach. Everything had a place to go – the front leg – the side which the cow fell on when it went down went to the groom’s family. There was a debate at first of which shoulder it was, it had to be the side that the cow fell on. The udder and the ribs went to the bride’s mother since she breast fed the child and held her against her chest. The head went to the maternal uncle in charge etc. – there was a designated use for all the parts – most of it to be consumed and sent with the guests at the end.
I thought at this point the families would mingle, but that did not happen. Our family had set up a large tent in the yard, and the groom’s family was ushered inside to wait for our family to serve them lunch. Nicole was one of the servers, and she got many offers from them to marry their sons – she can fill you in on that. I told her to tell them her father demands many, many cows. For the rest of the day the two families did not mingle at all – our servers gave them lunch and we feasted by ourselves in our yard. Their men could now sit on chairs and they were all treated respectably. There was much singing and dancing in the tent and outside in our yard. It apparently was a type of competition. Our family would dance in front of their tent and they would dance inside the tent. After a while it was time to present the bride to them. The bride comes out all covered and is presented to them (as if they don’t already know her). Sometimes they told us they bring somebody else out at first as a trick etc. and they discussed covering Nicole and bringing her out, but didn’t do it. I would have liked to see that. After the bride was presented it was time to tell them to go home, so we could party. After they left the eating and drinking went on full speed. They feasted some more and consumed the local brew made from sorghum and stored in big drums. It is pretty thick and has seeds and chewy things in it. It was flowing freely in the celebrations. There was much dancing, and singing. The aunt we were staying at left early again and we missed a lot of the activites that night. We again had to be back around 7:00 the next morning when the families would be introduced to each other and the groom would be introduced to us.
The following morning we had to get over to the yard to prepare all the meat and the big meals. Jolene and Nicole helped prepare the salads and vegetables with the women, and the men built the fires and cut up and cooked the meat. The women did most of the work of course, and said the main job of the men is to talk. I was with Jolene when she was with some of the younger generation preparing the meal, and I commented how everything seems to get done with nobody in charge. Everybody just seems to jump in and do the jobs that need to be done. She asked how we would do it in the U.S., and we explained somebody would be in charge and tell others what to do. He reply was interesting, she said: “really, that sounds hectic”.
The groom’s family came to present him to us, and this time we all gathered in the big tent – each family facing the other. It was the one time I know I had a “deer in the headlight” look. Over here I constantly get asked to pray at church, meetings and other gatherings. I thought briefly about how I should pray if asked, but didn’t give it much thought -my concern was where this whole process was at as I was not always sure about what was happening. Sure enough at the very beginning I was asked to lead them all in a prayer. I know my expression was a bit horrified as I tried to think what was appropriate. The families were still so separate, the deal was done (at least I thought), so was there something I was missing or didn’t know and would pray in an inappropriate way? Then our uncle introduced each of us, and told them how we all fit into the family. A person from each family gave the details, and I was asked to explain my family and give an introduction as well. I explained we were back after being gone for a long time, and told them I had three children born in Botswana and where each was born and gave their Setswana name. Many of the guests told me afterward how “Motswana” we were – a way of showing acceptance. After we were finished the groom’s uncle introduced their entire family including the groom and his parents and siblings. The bride then went over to his family and sat with them, and several members of our family talked to them and told them how precious she was etc. and how they should take care of her. The bride’s new life revolves mostly around her husband’s family – she leaves her family and goes to live with his family. This is one reason the maternal uncles are so involved – to have a connection with her family. The oldest uncle plays an important role three times in his neices’ life. At her birth he can name her, at her wedding as we saw, and at her death if any uncles remain they play an important role. The extended family is so critical here – the whole family is one in many ways. The uncles also get together on the groom’s side to supply the cattle and make the arrangements. The uncles all contribute and are the ones involved throughout the entire process. When they asked about our weddings, they were surprised to hear our uncles and aunts are not involved with the details.
During this session they also discussed when the “white” wedding would be. The traditional wedding is the important one, and the one they consider the “real” wedding, but they will also have what they call a “white” wedding. They decided they needed to save up some money for that and it wouldn’t be for another year and a half, but they chose a date. Again all decided with the uncles, not the bride and groom. At that point they will have a wedding with a gown etc, very much like our weddings. They will only then be “legally” married with the government, but who cares, they are married now – the imortant ceremony is done the other formality can happen at any time.
After the families were introduced to each other we fed them lunch. During this time the bride wore the things she was given as a gift, and rushed around working furiously. She was now showing the groom’s family what a good wife she is . The aunts and uncles also put on the clothes they got as gifts and danced in front of the groom’s family – showing them off. After we fed them, they were again asked to leave so we could feast some more. The morning was spent cooking the meat, and we feasted throughout the day. The rest of the cow was cooked in huge pots and everybody had plenty of meat to eat. I had my share too – it was great! One huge pot was cooked at the back that only the men could eat. Women were not supposed to eat it – it was the best according to the men, made of the intestines, stomach and meat mixed in from certain parts of the cow. It was tasty, but very greasy. They even cooked the hooves and after peeling off the hard part ate the inside of the hoof – which actually tasted pretty good. They talk like the traditions must be kept, but of course some things are ignored. They left Jolene try the “men only” meat, and I saw them giving some of it to other women to taste. When I approached them about it they act like nobody should know, but laugh and say that is the way our custom used to be, but we give some to the women now when nobody is looking. Late afternoon the remaining meat was all divided up amongst the guests, each family had a container they brought to take the meat home. Some was also given to the Kgosi (Chief). At that point people started leaving after several days of celebrating.
We caught a lift home to Gaborone with two of the bride’s sisters, and had some interesting discussions about the process. The older married one was all supportive of the tradition and didn’t think it would die out. However the younger one in secondary school ridiculed the tradition and thought it was “dumb”. She is the first generation in Botswana that has only lived in the city – she thinks village life is “backward” and “boring”. She couldn’t understand why Nicole wanted to live there. It will be interesting to see how long the custom lasts, but I consider myself very fortunate to have experienced it.
Recently I had one of the most fun cultural weekends I think I ever had in the years we lived in Botswana – but first a bit of background. I’m giving a fair warning – this blog will get long – so if you don’t want to be bored you might want to stop reading now.
Although Botswana has grown and developed at a dizzying pace since we last lived here, there are many traditions that remain very entrenched in the culture, even amongst the most educated. One of those is the traditional wedding, and the steps that must be taken to make a marriage “official” in the eyes of the tribe. Getting married is a long and expensive process in Botswana, and I’ve talked to many young men who would like to get married but are quite discouraged becausetheir family cannot afford the required cattle. The process has not done much for the institution of marriage – many simply cannot afford the luxury of being married. Each tribe has its own unique idiosincrasies, but there are some similarities. In talking with others from other African countries, it appears most of Africa (or at least the countries I know about) has a “bride price” of some type, although some countries do not have such high prices. Some of the older people in Botswana tell me the whole process has become “commercialized”. In the old days it was considered more of a thank offering and the prices were not so steep. There also seems to be a bit of “competition” between the tribes, with some of the tribes setting higher prices to show their prosperity. Tribalsim has not affected Botswana as negatively as in some other African countries, but tribal loyalties are still a very real part of life here.
In the old days marriages were arranged by the two families, and the bride and groom were not involved in the decision. Today that is not practised, a couple chooses to marry after dating and deciding they want to get married. When a couple decides to get married the man will approach his father’s oldest brother with his request to marry a girl. He does not approach his father, he must ask his uncle. I did ask some recently married men if they did that first and most said yes. One told me he just mentioned to his father he wanted to get married, and his father just looked at him and said “you know the procedure” and walked away. The uncles of the groom will arrange to meet with the potential bride’s maternal uncles to request a marriage of their neice. After that meeting the bride’s uncles will check with her to be sure she wants to get married. Then the negotiations will begin. From what I gather most of the required gifts are pretty standard, although they can vary depending on each tribe’s custom. The negotiations may take a year or more, depending how often the families get together, and how far they must travel for each visit. There are many gifts required, as well as the agreed amount of cows – the most important factor. The number of cows paid must always be an even number (since the union is of two people) – plus one extra cow is usually required to be slaughtered at the wedding. There are also some goats and/or sheep involved as well, but the big item is the cattle. Cattle are extremely important in Tswana culture. People count their wealth with the cattle they own – one never asks a Motswana how many cattle he owns, just like we don’t discuss in western societies how much money we have in our savings accounts. After the list is drawn up for the bride price, a date is set for the wedding at the bride’s family compound. Here is where our story really begins – the negotiations have been completed, and now it is time to “finalize the deal”. Nicole lived and taught school in the village of Tonota - about a 5 ½ hour bus ride north of us. She lived on the compound where the wedding was to take place. For a number of reasons her “Nkuku” (grandmother) wanted Jolene and me to be part of their family for the wedding. We were honored to be invited, and the family was thrilled for us to be there – it gave them some prestige to have “lekoa” (white people) as part of their family. I must stress that just because this process seems so foreign to us, does not mean that these are uneducated people “living in the dark ages”. Many of this family have respectable government jobs, and most of the younger generation have post secondary degrees - quite a few studied abroad and have master’s degrees in various fields. The bride-to-be is in medical school in Capetown, South Africa. The customs seem so different, but are just as valid as ours – our customs would seem just as strange to them. Think about what it would sound like to them when the garter is thrown at our weddings, or we tap the glasses – the list could go on.
Since we have been included in the bride’s family, and have been told at many times we are now part of their family, when I talk about “our family”, that is what I am referring to – our family in contrast to the groom’s family. They talked about and were preparing for this day for months – painting and cleaning up the yard and making all the arrangements etc. Nicole was helping with that, and was one of the servers during the celebrations. We took the bus and arrived there on a Friday afternoon. The rest of the family had been arriving during the past few days, and that night we feasted on a goat that was slaughtered and were told what to expect during the next two days. We were sleeping with an aunt that left fairly early, so we missed some of the dancing and partying that went on late into the night. We had to be back at the yard before 7:00AM, when the groom’s family was supposed to show up for the final arrangements. The uncles got together and discussed the procedure. The oldest brother of the bride’s mother is supposed to be the spokesman, but he is a bit of a wild card and didn’t want anything to do with the negotiations, so one of the other uncles was appointed to be a spokesman for him – although he would still get all the gifts due him. We all waited in the yard for the groom’s family to arrive. If they were late they would be fined - they could get fined for anything they did wrong, and were threatened several times. I don’t think they showed up until about 8:00 or 8:30, but were not fined because that is considered being “on time” in African time. While we waited a rumor started circulating that they were not bringing all the cattle they had agreed on - an occurance that is quite normal apparently. We saw them driving into the village, the truck with all the cattle was bringing up the rear. Everybody tried to count the cattle when they saw the truck, and there was a lot of mumbling that they did not have the cattle they agreed to – there were only 7 cattle on and there was supposed to be 9.
The only ones allowed in the family negotiations were married family members. The bride’s parents are not supposed to be there, but for some reason the bride’s mother was there – I never understood why. They told me she shouldn’t have been there, but she did talk a considerable amount in the process. Jolene and Nicole were dressed in traditional garb, a long printed dress, a cloth head covering (scarf), and a blanket wrapped around the shoulders, as were all the other women. This is the required dress for women during any traditional ceremony. The men must all wear a jacket –it can be a suit coat, or any old jacket, but that is the only requirement for the men. Since Nicole was not married she was not supposed to be there, but she sat in for a bit of it, and when Jolene asked if it was ok for her to be there, they put their finger to their lips and told her not to say anything. They do break some of the rules . The men in our family all sat on chairs and the women sat on the ground – the normal cultural arrangement. It is utterly amazing how the very old ladies can sit on the ground with their legs straight out in front of them and nothing at their backs – and can do it all day long. They put Jolene at the wall so she had a back. We watched as the groom’s family filed in single file through the gate. The group was led by one of the uncles from our family who was designated to go out and escort them into our courtyard. He would also represent their side and be their spokesman. Behind him came the women carrying all the gifts on their heads, and then the male members of the family (minus the groom’s immediate family, of course). The men all sat on the ground – normally men are treated with respect and always get chairs (this is one thing I want to introduce in our culture when I return ), but in this case the family was coming and supposed to be grovelling to ask for a bride. The men were treated like women and children, they had to sit on the ground too until the final settlement was made, after which the men would be privileged to sit on chairs. After they laid all the gifts down our uncle said: “Dumelang Bana” (Good Morning Children). They were treated as not worthy of our status, and they played the part well. They greeted back with a clasp of the hands and a bow, recognizing our family’s status. The uncle then went on to ask them if they would come and sit with us and they adamantly said no they could not do that – they were not worthy to sit with us. It was quite interesting watching this exchange. The uncle from our family that was their spokesman also sat on the floor with them, and they said he shouldn’t sit with us either as they wanted him as their representative. Our family asked them to show their gifts and they went through all the gifts they brought – pillows, blankets, shoes, an axe, suit coats, dresses etc. They read from the list of items that were agreed on, and held each item up to show the family, announcing the size etc. – how would some of you women like that? Each of these gifts was for a designated uncle, or aunt – the only thing the bride got was one outfit and an apron – the rest was for the aunts and uncles. Then they announced they brought 7 cows, and the fun began. The cows go to the bride’s father. Some told me one reason for the cattle is if something happens to the groom, her father can use those cows to help support her. There was much discussion at this point – mostly talking from our family. They told them how this bride is worth more than that – she is one of the best in the family etc. They are treating her like she is some one who is worthless and uses drugs etc, but she is studying to be a doctor and is worth more etc. The groom’s family would consult with our uncle who represented them and he would tell us what they were saying. After a time the groom’s family said they will have to leave and go outside the gate to decide what to do. They collected all their gifts and took them back. They said they could not find the cows they were going to bring (some of them ran away etc.), which is apparently a typical excuse. After some time of discussion outside the gate and discussion within our family their spokesman came back and said they are going to go back to their house and decide what they want to do. Our family decided they are going to stick to the agreement and not budge. They discussed how this process is getting to be a habit and they are going to put a stop to it. The bride’s mother said she is too young to be married anyway and she wished she would wait until after she was through medical school so she doesn’t care if she doesn’t get married. If they are not going to give the cows they agreed on the deal would be off. The bride’s sister told us later how the bride was in tears. She was hidden in the house, but others came in to tell her what was happening. She couldn’t understand why his family didn’t bring the cows. Nicole said the bride was inside the house texting on her cell phone furiously. I don’t know what the groom was doing, but I’m sure he had a spy texting him. Everybody here has cell phones these days. One of the recent in-laws of our family told me when he was the groom a few years before he was hiding in the bush and someone at the negotiations was keeping him informed on his cell phone.
While we waited – about three hours or so - our family discussed again what they were willing to do. Sometimes they decide to forgive the missing cows, but they were going to hold firm this time. The last wedding they arranged they went ahead and agreed to two less cows, but that family was from another village far away and had more of a bargaining chip. This family was from the same village and they knew they were wealthy enough to supply the cattle. During this time their representative (one of our uncles) was with us and giving his view – not representing them. He was also a bit of a spy and told us what he thought they would do based on what he overheard. The uncles told me when they get back to their home, the groom will convince them to pay the cows – he will put the pressure on them. Our family said they often offer to pay the cows at a later date, but they were not going to accept that, because then they usually never get the cows. After the deal is made and the bride is given to the family there is no incentive to pay the cows and they usually ignore the arrangement. Our family also decided to fine them another goat for “wasting our time”, since we had to wait for them. Interestingly they agreed before hand that they would fine them a goat, but later when the conditions were accepted someone should make a move to forgive the fine and they would all agree to forgive that fine as a gesture of good will. It was interesting to watch the exchange. The women had more to say than the uncles. They expressed their views and the men listened very closely – anybody could say what they wanted to. In the end the uncles would make the decision, but they did consider what was being said – or at least it appeared that way.
Finally they returned and it was noticed there were the same amount of cows on the truck. Our family thought they might have had the cows waiting somewhere to load, in case they were forced to get them, but there were no more on the truck. The entire process started over, and they came into our yard and took their places. The process started with us telling them we were going to fine them for a goat and asked what they had decided to do. There was farther discussion and then they offered to pay 2000.00 pula for each missing cow. After a little discussion our family decided to accept that, and while everybody watched they counted out the money for everybody to see. The only thing left to do was for our family to go out and inspect the cows and the goats to see if they were acceptable. Our family all trekked out to the truck and looked at the cows and the goats. When they decided everything was acceptable the women started their shrill yodel-type call – an undualting celebratory noise made by moving their tonques back and forth. It was heard frequently throughout the weekend with the singing and dancing. That was the signal that the deal was finalzied, and we all went back into the yard to celebrate.
It appeared a lot of this was a formality and a “game” that must be played, but I never knew how much. In talking with the groom’s family later one asked me what I thought of the traditions and the way things went and it sounded like most of the process was expected, but on the other hand I guess one never knows for certain until it is all completed. Nobody could seem to give me an example of an instance they were involved in where it didn’t go through, but at the same time they all insisted the outcome was uncertain.
Several goats were slaughtered during this time, right under the tree at the edge of our gathering. They also took the 6 cows to the father of the bride’s cattle post, and then when they returned it was time to slaughter the remaining cow. They tied it up and killed it with a knife- too many people around to use a gun, they said. It was pretty gruesome, and some of the younger generation from the city were a bit disgusted with the process. Absolutely everything got used from that cow (as with the goats) except the contents of the intestines and stomach. Everything had a place to go – the front leg – the side which the cow fell on when it went down went to the groom’s family. There was a debate at first of which shoulder it was, it had to be the side that the cow fell on. The udder and the ribs went to the bride’s mother since she breast fed the child and held her against her chest. The head went to the maternal uncle in charge etc. – there was a designated use for all the parts – most of it to be consumed and sent with the guests at the end.
I thought at this point the families would mingle, but that did not happen. Our family had set up a large tent in the yard, and the groom’s family was ushered inside to wait for our family to serve them lunch. Nicole was one of the servers, and she got many offers from them to marry their sons – she can fill you in on that. I told her to tell them her father demands many, many cows. For the rest of the day the two families did not mingle at all – our servers gave them lunch and we feasted by ourselves in our yard. Their men could now sit on chairs and they were all treated respectably. There was much singing and dancing in the tent and outside in our yard. It apparently was a type of competition. Our family would dance in front of their tent and they would dance inside the tent. After a while it was time to present the bride to them. The bride comes out all covered and is presented to them (as if they don’t already know her). Sometimes they told us they bring somebody else out at first as a trick etc. and they discussed covering Nicole and bringing her out, but didn’t do it. I would have liked to see that. After the bride was presented it was time to tell them to go home, so we could party. After they left the eating and drinking went on full speed. They feasted some more and consumed the local brew made from sorghum and stored in big drums. It is pretty thick and has seeds and chewy things in it. It was flowing freely in the celebrations. There was much dancing, and singing. The aunt we were staying at left early again and we missed a lot of the activites that night. We again had to be back around 7:00 the next morning when the families would be introduced to each other and the groom would be introduced to us.
The following morning we had to get over to the yard to prepare all the meat and the big meals. Jolene and Nicole helped prepare the salads and vegetables with the women, and the men built the fires and cut up and cooked the meat. The women did most of the work of course, and said the main job of the men is to talk. I was with Jolene when she was with some of the younger generation preparing the meal, and I commented how everything seems to get done with nobody in charge. Everybody just seems to jump in and do the jobs that need to be done. She asked how we would do it in the U.S., and we explained somebody would be in charge and tell others what to do. He reply was interesting, she said: “really, that sounds hectic”.
The groom’s family came to present him to us, and this time we all gathered in the big tent – each family facing the other. It was the one time I know I had a “deer in the headlight” look. Over here I constantly get asked to pray at church, meetings and other gatherings. I thought briefly about how I should pray if asked, but didn’t give it much thought -my concern was where this whole process was at as I was not always sure about what was happening. Sure enough at the very beginning I was asked to lead them all in a prayer. I know my expression was a bit horrified as I tried to think what was appropriate. The families were still so separate, the deal was done (at least I thought), so was there something I was missing or didn’t know and would pray in an inappropriate way? Then our uncle introduced each of us, and told them how we all fit into the family. A person from each family gave the details, and I was asked to explain my family and give an introduction as well. I explained we were back after being gone for a long time, and told them I had three children born in Botswana and where each was born and gave their Setswana name. Many of the guests told me afterward how “Motswana” we were – a way of showing acceptance. After we were finished the groom’s uncle introduced their entire family including the groom and his parents and siblings. The bride then went over to his family and sat with them, and several members of our family talked to them and told them how precious she was etc. and how they should take care of her. The bride’s new life revolves mostly around her husband’s family – she leaves her family and goes to live with his family. This is one reason the maternal uncles are so involved – to have a connection with her family. The oldest uncle plays an important role three times in his neices’ life. At her birth he can name her, at her wedding as we saw, and at her death if any uncles remain they play an important role. The extended family is so critical here – the whole family is one in many ways. The uncles also get together on the groom’s side to supply the cattle and make the arrangements. The uncles all contribute and are the ones involved throughout the entire process. When they asked about our weddings, they were surprised to hear our uncles and aunts are not involved with the details.
During this session they also discussed when the “white” wedding would be. The traditional wedding is the important one, and the one they consider the “real” wedding, but they will also have what they call a “white” wedding. They decided they needed to save up some money for that and it wouldn’t be for another year and a half, but they chose a date. Again all decided with the uncles, not the bride and groom. At that point they will have a wedding with a gown etc, very much like our weddings. They will only then be “legally” married with the government, but who cares, they are married now – the imortant ceremony is done the other formality can happen at any time.
After the families were introduced to each other we fed them lunch. During this time the bride wore the things she was given as a gift, and rushed around working furiously. She was now showing the groom’s family what a good wife she is . The aunts and uncles also put on the clothes they got as gifts and danced in front of the groom’s family – showing them off. After we fed them, they were again asked to leave so we could feast some more. The morning was spent cooking the meat, and we feasted throughout the day. The rest of the cow was cooked in huge pots and everybody had plenty of meat to eat. I had my share too – it was great! One huge pot was cooked at the back that only the men could eat. Women were not supposed to eat it – it was the best according to the men, made of the intestines, stomach and meat mixed in from certain parts of the cow. It was tasty, but very greasy. They even cooked the hooves and after peeling off the hard part ate the inside of the hoof – which actually tasted pretty good. They talk like the traditions must be kept, but of course some things are ignored. They left Jolene try the “men only” meat, and I saw them giving some of it to other women to taste. When I approached them about it they act like nobody should know, but laugh and say that is the way our custom used to be, but we give some to the women now when nobody is looking. Late afternoon the remaining meat was all divided up amongst the guests, each family had a container they brought to take the meat home. Some was also given to the Kgosi (Chief). At that point people started leaving after several days of celebrating.
We caught a lift home to Gaborone with two of the bride’s sisters, and had some interesting discussions about the process. The older married one was all supportive of the tradition and didn’t think it would die out. However the younger one in secondary school ridiculed the tradition and thought it was “dumb”. She is the first generation in Botswana that has only lived in the city – she thinks village life is “backward” and “boring”. She couldn’t understand why Nicole wanted to live there. It will be interesting to see how long the custom lasts, but I consider myself very fortunate to have experienced it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
A BUSY WEEKEND - Roger
Sorry we haven't updated for a while and now I post another regurgitated post I was supposed to write for our web site..........................
Is there anything that could be labeled a “typical” day when doing mercy flights? I don’t think so, but following is a recap of my last weekend. I was just getting ready to sit down for dinner Friday evening when the first call came for a patient in Maun with a bad throat bleed that couldn’t be stopped. Since we could not make it home before the airport closed, we were planning on spending the night at Francistown. Upon landing after 10:00PM we got word that we had another flight to Ghanzi. Even though it would be a long night, at least the airport would now allow us to return home, since it was a mercy flight. Getting someone to place the portable runway lights in Ghanzi was being arranged and the fueler at Francistown had already been called, for after-hours fueling. By the time we fueled and confirmed the portable runway lights were going to be ready in Ghanzi, the two paramedics had returned from delivering the patient to the hospital. There was blood all over the aircraft and it took quite a bit to clean up, but in a short time we were on our way. Tonight the lights were spaced nicely on the runway (not always the case) and we landed, loaded up our patient, and were airborne just after 1:00AM. After “putting the aircraft to bed” and going home and getting a quick bite to eat, I crawled into bed at 4:30AM ready to crash.
Saturday the aircraft had to be fueled and prepped, but was otherwise quiet and I fortunately got a good night’s sleep and went to church. After eating lunch when I am on first call I always try to rest in the afternoon, because one never knows how long the night will be. I went to bed and read about 3 minutes when the call came for a premie born earlier that day in Maun and needing to get to Francistown. We got the paramedics, loaded the incubator, and headed to Maun. After getting the baby to the hospital at Francistown we had enough time to home, and landed at Gaborone about 15 minutes before 10:00PM, when the airport closes. I got home, got a bite to eat and again just crawled into bed at 11:40PM when the doctor from Kasane called and asked if we could do a flight that night. They had a critical patient and didn’t want to wait until morning. Why does the phone always ring just after I crawl into bed – maybe if I didn’t go to bed………? I told him I would talk to Mark and we would call him back. There were many things that had to be arranged. Airport openings at 3 airports, portable lights at Kasane arranged, fueling in the middle of the night (the aircraft got back late less than two hours ago and could not be fueled), and a decision made whether safety was not compromised because of a fatigued crew. After discussing things with Mark and talking to Ryan (the other pilot on call), we decided we would take the trip if all the arrangements could be made. Mark was having trouble getting the fuelers to answer the phone and asked if I could try to track somebody down to come in and fuel and he would work on the other arrangements. After several attempts I woke somebody up on their cell phone and they agreed to come out to fuel the aircraft. I notified Mark that Ryan and I were heading to the airport to fuel the aircraft and get ready to go while he worked on getting things organized. The paramedics were notified and on the way as well. We got the paperwork completed, flight plans filed, and the aircraft fueled and ready to go while Mark was working furiously on the arrangements – having real difficulty getting someone to put the portable runway lights out at Kasane. We were strapped in and ready to “push the button” – waiting for confirmation from Mark that there would be lights at Kasane. As soon as we got the okay, we were on the way, taking off shortly after 1:30AM. Everything was in order at Kasane when we landed and we got the patient loaded. Mark was up all night trying to make the arrangements and nothing was going very well for him. It must have been frustrating – he had the hard job that night. We wanted to land at Francistown at 5:30AM, but they wanted us to wait until 6:00AM which was the normal opening time. Again we strapped in and waited for word from Mark that somebody had agreed to come in and open the airport. After he confirmed the arrangements were finalized, we departed and landed at Francistown about 05:40, just as the sky was lightening, promising a beautiful sunrise, which we didn’t even care about this morning – we just wanted to get to bed. We dropped the patient at the hospital, and then took the ambulance to our rooms, stumbling into our beds about 6:45AM. I told Mark at what time we would be available for another mercy flight and this time I turned my cell phone off – if a call came in now there was no doubt we could not do it safely - they would have to wait or use another airplane?
Thursday, May 28, 2009
A Question Often Asked - ROGER
Flying medevac fights for the Botswana Ministry of Health has been a very fulfilling and worthwhile experience. Sometimes I’m asked about the most memorable mercy flight I’ve done. That is a very difficult question to answer. Usually when a mercy flight is requested in Botswana, the patient is in critical condition. For this reason there are times when the patient dies before we even land to pick them up, or while we are enroute to the referral hospital. Those are also memorable flights, but the flights that give a real feeling of accomplishment and fulfillment, are the majority of the flights that result in a person in dire need of medical care getting to a modern hospital in time.
I still get an adrenaline rush when the call comes for a mercy flight – the challenge of “making it happen”, and getting the patient to a hospital as quickly as possible; but at the same time doing everything in a manner where safety is not compromised in any form. Getting ready to launch requires a team effort by all four crewmembers (two pilots and two paramedics), as well as the flight coordinator who is busy making sure the all the necessary arrangements are made. While the flight crew preps the aircraft and gets the flight plans and paperwork completed, the paramedics are loading the necessary equipment and making sure everything required for the patient is working properly. The flight coordinator is making sure the airports stay open, if at night, and portable lights at some airfields are placed along the runway. He will be busy with calls and flight following for the duration of the flight.
After the patient is checked and the stretcher loaded onto the aircraft we are on our way as quickly as possible. Sometimes the paramedics are busy working on the patients, at other times when everything is stable, they are more relaxed. When a patient is onboard it is always nice to look back and see things “at ease”. When the paramedics are busy working on a patient, a sense of urgency is always felt.
After landing and the patient is moved to the waiting ambulance, it is with a sense of relief that the aircraft can be put to bed, unless of course another patient is waiting somewhere, which happens more often than you might think.
I have yet to find an equivalent experience that provides one with a feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction at the end of a day, like the feeling after a day of flying mercy flights. Knowing that you were part of a process that helped save a life – that’s all it takes to make this experience in Botswana very worthwhile.
I still get an adrenaline rush when the call comes for a mercy flight – the challenge of “making it happen”, and getting the patient to a hospital as quickly as possible; but at the same time doing everything in a manner where safety is not compromised in any form. Getting ready to launch requires a team effort by all four crewmembers (two pilots and two paramedics), as well as the flight coordinator who is busy making sure the all the necessary arrangements are made. While the flight crew preps the aircraft and gets the flight plans and paperwork completed, the paramedics are loading the necessary equipment and making sure everything required for the patient is working properly. The flight coordinator is making sure the airports stay open, if at night, and portable lights at some airfields are placed along the runway. He will be busy with calls and flight following for the duration of the flight.
After the patient is checked and the stretcher loaded onto the aircraft we are on our way as quickly as possible. Sometimes the paramedics are busy working on the patients, at other times when everything is stable, they are more relaxed. When a patient is onboard it is always nice to look back and see things “at ease”. When the paramedics are busy working on a patient, a sense of urgency is always felt.
After landing and the patient is moved to the waiting ambulance, it is with a sense of relief that the aircraft can be put to bed, unless of course another patient is waiting somewhere, which happens more often than you might think.
I have yet to find an equivalent experience that provides one with a feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction at the end of a day, like the feeling after a day of flying mercy flights. Knowing that you were part of a process that helped save a life – that’s all it takes to make this experience in Botswana very worthwhile.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Getting Connected - JOLENE
I guess Renae just posted a blog about our trip to Moremi, and about the time our company was here, so on to other things. I’ve started to be involved in a couple of other things and am finally feeling like there might be a reason that I’m here!
One of the things I’ve been doing is going to Otse where there is a Home Based Care Center. A few years ago before ARV’s were available people with HIV/AIDS would come to this center for care, and ones in terminal stages would be there until they died. Since ARV’s are available there is not such a need for a place like this to come, but it is now a place that Home Based Care givers go out from into the village to make sure HIV/AIDS patients are taking their ARV’s and teaching nutrition, etc. It is also a place where people from the village come to work on various projects – there is a garden there, a quilting group and others make beads/jewelry. The hope is that some of the projects become income generating, but so far they haven’t really found an outlet for their crafts. I am helping another Flying Mission wife, Evelyn, with the quilting project. So far they have done some small projects and made some really neat bags, and their next big project is a quilt. Earlier they had made dolls, and did some fabric painting and made skirts. There are four women that are in the class, and are fun to work with and are doing well. For some it comes easier than for others, but they are all learning. And I am too!
Today I met another very interesting lady. Mma Mogapi is a very busy woman, but one of the things she does is have children come to her yard every Saturday morning where they play, have a bible story and singing, and are fed two good meals. She came to my house today to pick up the clothing that was brought over by Jim & Glenda, from MCC. The clothing will go to the children that come to her yard. She wanted to go through everything before Saturday to be sure there would be something for everyone, and no one would be left out. She told me all about the other work that she does – teaching nutrition, following certain children to be sure they are getting fruits & vegetables and growing properly, and also working with HIV/AIDS people to make sure they also have proper nutrition. She & her husband also do marriage counseling together. I’m sure she has other projects going also – it made me tired to hear of all the things she does!
I took her out to her house then with the clothing, where she will sort it. Then Saturday morning Renae, Katrina, and I will go with two other Flying Mission short termers to help with the children and be there when the clothing is distributed. Thanks to our small group at church, Jim & Glenda, and MCC, for making sure the clothing got here! It will certainly be put to good use.
We finally connected with our friend Maria, in Bokaa where we had done our village live-in back in 1985. It was so good to see her again and meet two of her 5 daughters, and a granddaughter. Penyo is her oldest daughter and works in Gaborone. Penyo called yesterday to try & come see us. It didn’t suit at that time, but we’re hoping to connect more with her.
It is feeling very good to have some meaningful relationships and connections with local people here. Many are working tirelessly in their communities to serve and help people, and I have nothing but respect for them and the things they are doing.
One of the things I’ve been doing is going to Otse where there is a Home Based Care Center. A few years ago before ARV’s were available people with HIV/AIDS would come to this center for care, and ones in terminal stages would be there until they died. Since ARV’s are available there is not such a need for a place like this to come, but it is now a place that Home Based Care givers go out from into the village to make sure HIV/AIDS patients are taking their ARV’s and teaching nutrition, etc. It is also a place where people from the village come to work on various projects – there is a garden there, a quilting group and others make beads/jewelry. The hope is that some of the projects become income generating, but so far they haven’t really found an outlet for their crafts. I am helping another Flying Mission wife, Evelyn, with the quilting project. So far they have done some small projects and made some really neat bags, and their next big project is a quilt. Earlier they had made dolls, and did some fabric painting and made skirts. There are four women that are in the class, and are fun to work with and are doing well. For some it comes easier than for others, but they are all learning. And I am too!
Today I met another very interesting lady. Mma Mogapi is a very busy woman, but one of the things she does is have children come to her yard every Saturday morning where they play, have a bible story and singing, and are fed two good meals. She came to my house today to pick up the clothing that was brought over by Jim & Glenda, from MCC. The clothing will go to the children that come to her yard. She wanted to go through everything before Saturday to be sure there would be something for everyone, and no one would be left out. She told me all about the other work that she does – teaching nutrition, following certain children to be sure they are getting fruits & vegetables and growing properly, and also working with HIV/AIDS people to make sure they also have proper nutrition. She & her husband also do marriage counseling together. I’m sure she has other projects going also – it made me tired to hear of all the things she does!
I took her out to her house then with the clothing, where she will sort it. Then Saturday morning Renae, Katrina, and I will go with two other Flying Mission short termers to help with the children and be there when the clothing is distributed. Thanks to our small group at church, Jim & Glenda, and MCC, for making sure the clothing got here! It will certainly be put to good use.
We finally connected with our friend Maria, in Bokaa where we had done our village live-in back in 1985. It was so good to see her again and meet two of her 5 daughters, and a granddaughter. Penyo is her oldest daughter and works in Gaborone. Penyo called yesterday to try & come see us. It didn’t suit at that time, but we’re hoping to connect more with her.
It is feeling very good to have some meaningful relationships and connections with local people here. Many are working tirelessly in their communities to serve and help people, and I have nothing but respect for them and the things they are doing.
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Hello to everyone again! - RENAE
So much has been happening here that I feel like I should let you all know what has been going on…
My school let out April 9 since the first term was over. The school year here is year-round and split into three terms with about a month’s break in between each term. For this break, a lot has been happening.
The first vacation I went on was to the beach with a group of 10 other missionaries here. My friend’s dad won a bid on a beach house for 10 people for 1 week down in South Africa, and so our family was invited. My dad had to work, but Katrina and I went anyway. We stayed in Ramsgate, which is about a 12 hour drive from Gaborone. It was a gorgeous place to stay. The beach was 100 m away, so we walked/drove there just about every day. It was an extremely relaxing week and a LOT of fun.
When we got back from the beach, we had one day to work and get the house/yard ready for the Evans’ and Nicole, who were coming the next day. They all got here safely and it has been great to have them here. We left right after church the Sunday after they arrived to go on safari. All 8 of us, plus our luggage, piled into our Landover, Tau, to make the 10-hour trip up to Maun. That in itself was an experience – soon after dark, it began to storm and rain like I’ve never seen (which is ironic – the Evans always bring rain whenever we go camping, but it is past the rainy season so everybody was surprised), so we were slowed down considerably. On top of that, there were cows and donkeys EVERYWHERE, not to mention potholes. We normally don’t drive on highways at night (it is too dangerous with the animals), but we just crawled along slowly and all watched out for animals. Our 10-hour trip turned into longer than that, but at least we arrived in Maun safely. We camped in Moremi for 3 nights and saw a variety of different animals. The big exciting thing we saw was a pride of 10 lions. We were extremely close to them, I could easily have touched them I if I would have been stupid enough to stick my hand out the window – which was open. We were surrounded by them – in front, behind, and on both sides. Ironically, Tau (our Landrover) means ‘lion’ in Setswana :) I thought that was cool. So the Evans’ brought the rain AND lions, both of which are good. They are amazing beasts, lions, and I could have watched them all day. It was getting dark and we needed to go back to our campsite. Wow. I still can’t believe we were that close to a pride of 10 lions. They were all lionesses, and young males. I’m still amazed at how lucky we were. Our last night of camping, we heard lions roaring all night long. It kind of puts you to sleep. They were on both sides of our tent (but not too close by). All in all, it was a great trip and I was sad to go. I definitely want to return there.
On our way home from Maun, we dropped Nicole off in Tonota, a village, where she will be staying for the next 2 ½ months. I really would like to live in a village some time, maybe when I’m out of college. It seems like a good experience, but then again, just being in Botswana is a good experience. I think Katrina, Lisa (who’s coming in a few weeks – YAY!), and I will probably take a bus up there to visit her sometime. I hope so.
The Evans’ leave on our first day of school, which is Monday. I’m not excited for school to start, this vacation has been too much fun!
Trust all is going well,
Renae
My school let out April 9 since the first term was over. The school year here is year-round and split into three terms with about a month’s break in between each term. For this break, a lot has been happening.
The first vacation I went on was to the beach with a group of 10 other missionaries here. My friend’s dad won a bid on a beach house for 10 people for 1 week down in South Africa, and so our family was invited. My dad had to work, but Katrina and I went anyway. We stayed in Ramsgate, which is about a 12 hour drive from Gaborone. It was a gorgeous place to stay. The beach was 100 m away, so we walked/drove there just about every day. It was an extremely relaxing week and a LOT of fun.
When we got back from the beach, we had one day to work and get the house/yard ready for the Evans’ and Nicole, who were coming the next day. They all got here safely and it has been great to have them here. We left right after church the Sunday after they arrived to go on safari. All 8 of us, plus our luggage, piled into our Landover, Tau, to make the 10-hour trip up to Maun. That in itself was an experience – soon after dark, it began to storm and rain like I’ve never seen (which is ironic – the Evans always bring rain whenever we go camping, but it is past the rainy season so everybody was surprised), so we were slowed down considerably. On top of that, there were cows and donkeys EVERYWHERE, not to mention potholes. We normally don’t drive on highways at night (it is too dangerous with the animals), but we just crawled along slowly and all watched out for animals. Our 10-hour trip turned into longer than that, but at least we arrived in Maun safely. We camped in Moremi for 3 nights and saw a variety of different animals. The big exciting thing we saw was a pride of 10 lions. We were extremely close to them, I could easily have touched them I if I would have been stupid enough to stick my hand out the window – which was open. We were surrounded by them – in front, behind, and on both sides. Ironically, Tau (our Landrover) means ‘lion’ in Setswana :) I thought that was cool. So the Evans’ brought the rain AND lions, both of which are good. They are amazing beasts, lions, and I could have watched them all day. It was getting dark and we needed to go back to our campsite. Wow. I still can’t believe we were that close to a pride of 10 lions. They were all lionesses, and young males. I’m still amazed at how lucky we were. Our last night of camping, we heard lions roaring all night long. It kind of puts you to sleep. They were on both sides of our tent (but not too close by). All in all, it was a great trip and I was sad to go. I definitely want to return there.
On our way home from Maun, we dropped Nicole off in Tonota, a village, where she will be staying for the next 2 ½ months. I really would like to live in a village some time, maybe when I’m out of college. It seems like a good experience, but then again, just being in Botswana is a good experience. I think Katrina, Lisa (who’s coming in a few weeks – YAY!), and I will probably take a bus up there to visit her sometime. I hope so.
The Evans’ leave on our first day of school, which is Monday. I’m not excited for school to start, this vacation has been too much fun!
Trust all is going well,
Renae
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
A Slower Life - Jolene
Honestly, I haven’t even read our last couple of blogs, done by Roger and maybe Renae too. Without internet it’s a bit difficult to keep up with it. So, if this is a repeat, forgive me.
In many ways, life here has settled down to the point that things seem routine, but in other ways, there is nothing routine about it! At least not routine in the sense that every day is predictable and maybe even the same. Maybe routine in the fact that nothing is routine. Anyway, my days are sometimes mundane, sometimes stretching and exciting, but never boring. (at least not with a good book in hand!). I really do love the slower pace here and therefore the conversations that can take place and the connections to people that can be made. There is so much more inviting people over for dinner that goes on, more sitting around fires, more looking at the stars. More time for personal reflection, reading, journaling.
Easter is a big deal around here, and both Friday & Monday are holidays. Many, many people go from the city to their home villages to celebrate, and it’s a time to go to the ‘lands’, or cattle post. Easter Monday we headed out to the village of Bokaa where we had done our village live-in back in 1985, and where we still have some friends. However, we didn’t have a lot of luck finding folks, as Maurice was at the cattle post, and Maria was at the lands. We did talk to Topelo though, who would have been a two year old when we arrived – we wouldn’t have recognized him, but in talking to him we did remember him, his mother and his sister. His mother was the daughter of the woman we lived with. A dam has been built just outside Bokaa so we took our lunch along and went there to eat it. It was very peaceful there with the water, birds, dragonflies and butterflies. Then we decided to go home a different way, and couldn’t have done it without our trusty Land Rover!
Sometimes after being in a village again, I wonder how that could be somehow transported to where we live, either here or in the states. I know it can’t, but I just love the getting back to basics that happens there. We saw SO many people sitting around in the shade, talking or having tea or whatever it was they were doing, but just sitting and being with people. (I’m sure, being a holiday there was more of that than usual). Maybe I’m just lazy with no ambition, but just the simpleness of it is very calming to me. I do know their lives are not simple and they do work hard – but even that has a satisfying quality to it – having to gather firewood for cooking, water for washing by hand. Maybe I’m romanticizing here (probably am), but I do love going to the village, and remember our time in Maun in the village as the best time of our experience over here. Sitting around a fire and looking at the stars at night have to rate right up there with being in heaven!
In many ways, life here has settled down to the point that things seem routine, but in other ways, there is nothing routine about it! At least not routine in the sense that every day is predictable and maybe even the same. Maybe routine in the fact that nothing is routine. Anyway, my days are sometimes mundane, sometimes stretching and exciting, but never boring. (at least not with a good book in hand!). I really do love the slower pace here and therefore the conversations that can take place and the connections to people that can be made. There is so much more inviting people over for dinner that goes on, more sitting around fires, more looking at the stars. More time for personal reflection, reading, journaling.
Easter is a big deal around here, and both Friday & Monday are holidays. Many, many people go from the city to their home villages to celebrate, and it’s a time to go to the ‘lands’, or cattle post. Easter Monday we headed out to the village of Bokaa where we had done our village live-in back in 1985, and where we still have some friends. However, we didn’t have a lot of luck finding folks, as Maurice was at the cattle post, and Maria was at the lands. We did talk to Topelo though, who would have been a two year old when we arrived – we wouldn’t have recognized him, but in talking to him we did remember him, his mother and his sister. His mother was the daughter of the woman we lived with. A dam has been built just outside Bokaa so we took our lunch along and went there to eat it. It was very peaceful there with the water, birds, dragonflies and butterflies. Then we decided to go home a different way, and couldn’t have done it without our trusty Land Rover!
Sometimes after being in a village again, I wonder how that could be somehow transported to where we live, either here or in the states. I know it can’t, but I just love the getting back to basics that happens there. We saw SO many people sitting around in the shade, talking or having tea or whatever it was they were doing, but just sitting and being with people. (I’m sure, being a holiday there was more of that than usual). Maybe I’m just lazy with no ambition, but just the simpleness of it is very calming to me. I do know their lives are not simple and they do work hard – but even that has a satisfying quality to it – having to gather firewood for cooking, water for washing by hand. Maybe I’m romanticizing here (probably am), but I do love going to the village, and remember our time in Maun in the village as the best time of our experience over here. Sitting around a fire and looking at the stars at night have to rate right up there with being in heaven!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Thankfully Things Have Changed - Roger
As someone who was with Flying Mission 24 years ago (seconded by MCC), and now has returned for a short time to work with Flying Mission (although now a completely different organization); I was asked to have the devotions at the dedication of our recently purchased King Air 200, since I saw the progression of where we came from. As I was thinking about how Flying Mission is so different today than it was 24 years ago, at times I became nostalgic for the old days. I miss the following:
1. The whine made by the IO-520’s turning the prop tips close to the speed of sound, as the Cessna 206’s struggle to take flight. I still get to hear that on the ramp at Maun!
2. The intimate relationship with the vast remoteness of Botswana and the Central Kalahari Desert. As pilots we knew virtually every corner of the country and spent a lot of time in many remote villages.
3. The conversations and dialog with the doctors from all over the world as we chauffeured them throughout the country, spending many nights in beds at the clinics as we hopped from village to village – at times having to get up in the middle of the night because we often slept in the maternity room, and if a child decided to enter the world that night, well…........., there went our good night’s sleep.
4. Flying missionaries to the many places they lived and worked, and the good conversations that resulted – the nights by the campfires in their villages. We also got to go along and spend time at the exotic places where they would want to vacation – seeing many of the amazing sights throughout Southern Africa – although Victoria Falls got to feel a bit too routine.
Anytime I get nostalgic for the above I only need to allow my thoughts to take the next logical step, and remind myself:
1. I thank God the Cessna is no longer required by FM – and am thankful FM was forced to get a new vision and “go beyond” that. Now we have a King Air to transport patients. It is faster, more comfortable, safer, and has enough room for medical professionals and life-saving equipment. Now I can enjoy the snapping sound of the ignitors and the whine of the turbo-jet engine as it spools up. The only better “aviation” sound is the spool up of a jet engine.
2. I am thankful missionaries can now drive to locations all over the country because paved roads have been built at an amazing speed – shrinking the remote areas of Botswana incredibly. In addition it seems like there are fewer missionaries required – hopefully because many have “worked themselves out of a job”. It is exciting to see so many more trained and capable Batswana, and the standard of living for the local population has improved greatly. The battle now will be to not let “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer”.
3. Even though I miss the variety, I thank God that because there are now hospitals and vastly improved health care facilities with full-time doctors staffing them throughout the country, a doctor no longer needs to visit the remote communities only on a monthly basis.
Thankfully one thing feels the same – the fulfillment and satisfaction received from being a part of saving a life. After my first stint in Botswana I seriously entertained the idea of returning to study medicine. I think it would be a very fulfilling profession – however being 37 years old at the time I finally decided to let it drop. If only we had several lifetimes to do the things we want – one is just not enough!
When I worked here in the 80’s my flying was very varied and I remember discussions with the other pilots of which flights were the most fulfilling – some felt more fulfilled in transporting missionaries, but I always received the most satisfaction after finishing a mercy flight and getting a critical patient to adequate medical facilities. The feeling of losing a patient enroute feels the same as it did before, it is never fun, however the feeling of getting a critically ill patient to a facility so their life can be saved also feels the same – it feels GREAT! In the years I worked here before, I’ve had births and I’ve had deaths on the airplane. So far this time I’ve had a death, but have yet to have had a birth, although I’ve had several newborn babies.
Thankfully I don’t have to go back to the “nostalgic” times. Botswana has moved beyond that and I am thrilled to be involved with transporting patients for the Ministry of Health in the “New Botswana”.
1. The whine made by the IO-520’s turning the prop tips close to the speed of sound, as the Cessna 206’s struggle to take flight. I still get to hear that on the ramp at Maun!
2. The intimate relationship with the vast remoteness of Botswana and the Central Kalahari Desert. As pilots we knew virtually every corner of the country and spent a lot of time in many remote villages.
3. The conversations and dialog with the doctors from all over the world as we chauffeured them throughout the country, spending many nights in beds at the clinics as we hopped from village to village – at times having to get up in the middle of the night because we often slept in the maternity room, and if a child decided to enter the world that night, well…........., there went our good night’s sleep.
4. Flying missionaries to the many places they lived and worked, and the good conversations that resulted – the nights by the campfires in their villages. We also got to go along and spend time at the exotic places where they would want to vacation – seeing many of the amazing sights throughout Southern Africa – although Victoria Falls got to feel a bit too routine.
Anytime I get nostalgic for the above I only need to allow my thoughts to take the next logical step, and remind myself:
1. I thank God the Cessna is no longer required by FM – and am thankful FM was forced to get a new vision and “go beyond” that. Now we have a King Air to transport patients. It is faster, more comfortable, safer, and has enough room for medical professionals and life-saving equipment. Now I can enjoy the snapping sound of the ignitors and the whine of the turbo-jet engine as it spools up. The only better “aviation” sound is the spool up of a jet engine.
2. I am thankful missionaries can now drive to locations all over the country because paved roads have been built at an amazing speed – shrinking the remote areas of Botswana incredibly. In addition it seems like there are fewer missionaries required – hopefully because many have “worked themselves out of a job”. It is exciting to see so many more trained and capable Batswana, and the standard of living for the local population has improved greatly. The battle now will be to not let “the rich get richer and the poor get poorer”.
3. Even though I miss the variety, I thank God that because there are now hospitals and vastly improved health care facilities with full-time doctors staffing them throughout the country, a doctor no longer needs to visit the remote communities only on a monthly basis.
Thankfully one thing feels the same – the fulfillment and satisfaction received from being a part of saving a life. After my first stint in Botswana I seriously entertained the idea of returning to study medicine. I think it would be a very fulfilling profession – however being 37 years old at the time I finally decided to let it drop. If only we had several lifetimes to do the things we want – one is just not enough!
When I worked here in the 80’s my flying was very varied and I remember discussions with the other pilots of which flights were the most fulfilling – some felt more fulfilled in transporting missionaries, but I always received the most satisfaction after finishing a mercy flight and getting a critical patient to adequate medical facilities. The feeling of losing a patient enroute feels the same as it did before, it is never fun, however the feeling of getting a critically ill patient to a facility so their life can be saved also feels the same – it feels GREAT! In the years I worked here before, I’ve had births and I’ve had deaths on the airplane. So far this time I’ve had a death, but have yet to have had a birth, although I’ve had several newborn babies.
Thankfully I don’t have to go back to the “nostalgic” times. Botswana has moved beyond that and I am thrilled to be involved with transporting patients for the Ministry of Health in the “New Botswana”.
Monday, April 06, 2009
STANDING STILL AND SINGING AT THE SAME TIME – IMPOSSIBLE (ROGER)
I forgot how much I enjoyed the singing in many of the churches in Botswana. We visited several churches when we first arrived and decided to attend a church in Old Naledi – a poor section of the city – composed of many of the original “squatter” houses that were built prior to the first time we arrived in the mid 80’s. The church has a ministry feeding “vulnerable” children from Old Naledi each week day. Jolene and the girls have been helping with that every Friday. If I have a day off during that time I also help. Renae has also been attending the youth group activities Thursday evenings.
One of the highlights of Sunday mornings for me is always the singing. There is a lot of singing and dancing throughout the morning, and it is very lively. It is so enriching to see the people caught up with the music. Since there is no electricity, and no song books or musical instruments the singing is all A cappella. Songs are all started with somebody singing the first phrase, and then the group joining in. Even though there are not that many people in the building, the plain walls and cement floor make for incredible acoustics, and the room is filled with incredibly rich harmony. The special “African” rhythm, accented by the loud clapping, along with the slurring of notes in unison and the rise and fall in volume, and the occasional shrill, high-pitched undulating warble of the old women, is truly a thing of beauty, and a part of the service I very much enjoy. Every time there is singing, and there is much of it throughout the service, everyone jumps to their feet and gets fully involved. There is dancing and enthusiastic clapping and I am convinced it would be impossible for this group to stand still while singing. Sometimes some of the older women move into the aisles and dance while singing, and it is truly a time of worship for them. The expressions on their faces show their enthusiasm and joy. I wonder sometimes what would be going through their minds if they came to my church in the US for a song service. It is just as hard to find somebody at my home church move when they sing, as it is to find somebody in our church in Botswana stand still when they sing. Before you get too concerned let me assure you, Jolene, Renae and I are not completely still when we sing here, but we look pretty lethargic compared to the rest of the congregation. Just a word of warning however, if you sit beside us on the pew when we return, we may sway into you just a bit when we sing the first couple Sundays. Hopefully we’ll remember not to jump up when we first start singing – because that is another thing that happens here – after all how can one sing while sitting down – it just does not work.
One of the highlights of Sunday mornings for me is always the singing. There is a lot of singing and dancing throughout the morning, and it is very lively. It is so enriching to see the people caught up with the music. Since there is no electricity, and no song books or musical instruments the singing is all A cappella. Songs are all started with somebody singing the first phrase, and then the group joining in. Even though there are not that many people in the building, the plain walls and cement floor make for incredible acoustics, and the room is filled with incredibly rich harmony. The special “African” rhythm, accented by the loud clapping, along with the slurring of notes in unison and the rise and fall in volume, and the occasional shrill, high-pitched undulating warble of the old women, is truly a thing of beauty, and a part of the service I very much enjoy. Every time there is singing, and there is much of it throughout the service, everyone jumps to their feet and gets fully involved. There is dancing and enthusiastic clapping and I am convinced it would be impossible for this group to stand still while singing. Sometimes some of the older women move into the aisles and dance while singing, and it is truly a time of worship for them. The expressions on their faces show their enthusiasm and joy. I wonder sometimes what would be going through their minds if they came to my church in the US for a song service. It is just as hard to find somebody at my home church move when they sing, as it is to find somebody in our church in Botswana stand still when they sing. Before you get too concerned let me assure you, Jolene, Renae and I are not completely still when we sing here, but we look pretty lethargic compared to the rest of the congregation. Just a word of warning however, if you sit beside us on the pew when we return, we may sway into you just a bit when we sing the first couple Sundays. Hopefully we’ll remember not to jump up when we first start singing – because that is another thing that happens here – after all how can one sing while sitting down – it just does not work.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
OLD NALEDI - RENAE
Every Friday, Katrina and I get picked up at 12, an hour early than school ends, to go to a feeding program in a part of town called Old Naledi. It is where orphans and vulnerable children are given a free lunch. I’m not 100% sure if this is right or not, but I think that a lot of the kids that go there are living with a relative because their parents have AIDS. Since the relatives don’t have enough money to care for them, they get free meals to take the stress off the relative’s family. Old Naledi is also the very poor part of town, kind of like the slums of Gaborone. This past week was our third time there. The first week, Katrina and I were pulled into helping a lady with some computer work, but the computer shut off twice while we were trying to type up the data she gave us, and then the printer wasn’t working, and we had several other technical difficulties. It took the entire time so we didn’t get to help out with cooking or playing with the kids. The second time we got there later than usual and just gave the kids the food, but there was plenty of help in the kitchen and I just felt in the way. This past time was an adventure…
We got there earlier than before, and the kids had just started coming. They’re from all ages, I’m guessing from 3 to 12. I went over to some kids hanging out under a tree, and at first they were really shy, but when more kids came it was like a mob attacked me. They would all run up to me and either hold their hands up to be held, climb on my back, or ask me to spin them. I was a human jungle gym. Some of them weren’t that little, either, but they wanted constant attention. They would fight to get on my back. It was a little overwhelming, but it was also fun. They found my headband very entertaining and it got passed around a lot. They also liked to play with my hair, since it’s so different from theirs. Two older girls tried to teach me a hand-clapping game but I still don’t get it. It’s a bit hard to communicate, since a lot of them only speak Setswana, and if they do speak English it is with a very thick accent.
Before they eat, some of the other short-termers lead singing and act out a bible story. Then they all get in a line and have water poured over their hands, get their food, and sit down to eat. Usually it is either rice or mealie-meal with goat or beef on top. I would guess that there is about 30-40 kids that come, but not all of them eat, some just come after school to have fun. It is a good program and I’m excited to keep going there even though it sure is tiring.
We got there earlier than before, and the kids had just started coming. They’re from all ages, I’m guessing from 3 to 12. I went over to some kids hanging out under a tree, and at first they were really shy, but when more kids came it was like a mob attacked me. They would all run up to me and either hold their hands up to be held, climb on my back, or ask me to spin them. I was a human jungle gym. Some of them weren’t that little, either, but they wanted constant attention. They would fight to get on my back. It was a little overwhelming, but it was also fun. They found my headband very entertaining and it got passed around a lot. They also liked to play with my hair, since it’s so different from theirs. Two older girls tried to teach me a hand-clapping game but I still don’t get it. It’s a bit hard to communicate, since a lot of them only speak Setswana, and if they do speak English it is with a very thick accent.
Before they eat, some of the other short-termers lead singing and act out a bible story. Then they all get in a line and have water poured over their hands, get their food, and sit down to eat. Usually it is either rice or mealie-meal with goat or beef on top. I would guess that there is about 30-40 kids that come, but not all of them eat, some just come after school to have fun. It is a good program and I’m excited to keep going there even though it sure is tiring.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
HARD DECISIONS AND MEMORIES OF ANOTHER MERCY FLIGHT - ROGER
Since I got my paperwork sorted out I have been very busy flying, one flight even called out at night to one of the few places we can fly into at night – arriving back at 3:00AM. The mercy flights seem to come in waves, and right now we are riding a high one. I have had numerous car accident victims, a few maternity cases, at least one assault victim, a donkey cart accident, and a few newborn babies as patients. This is all in the last two weeks. Three of the patients have been completely paralyzed from the neck down, with little hope for a recovery. Two of those patients were transported to South Africa, but the rest of the flights have all been from a smaller referral hospital to one of the two better equipped hospitals in the country. When we lived here in the 80’s and 90’s many of our mercy flights went to South Africa, but today almost all of the patients can be treated in Botswana. The health care in the country is vastly improved and doctors are stationed throughout the country and can treat many patients in the new hospitals. It is great to see the improvement. The last time I was here the most frequent mercy flight was for maternity cases. Today vehicle accidents seem to be the major cause.
The last three days some difficult decisions had to be made by the paramedics onboard. Last night we got a call late for a mercy flight from the hospital a little over an hour’s flight away to go to South Africa. They decided it could wait until morning, so we left early today for the flight. While the paramedics were at the hospital preparing the patient for transport we got a call of a very critical patient in Maun, and it was decided since the patient for South Africa was fairly stable we should go for the other patient at Maun. That is over an hour away as well, and while loading the patient we got another call for a pre-mature baby at Hukuntsi. Since we did not have enough duty time to do both remaining flights the doctors and the paramedics had to discuss which one we should do. It was decided we would go to South Africa and the baby would have to be transported by road, but it was very likely the baby would not survive.
Two days ago we also had a situation where a decision had to be made quickly. We had to go to Ghanzi to pick up a three day old baby in critical condition – a 1.5 hour flight. When we arrived they decided to send another cancer patient along. About 30 minutes after takeoff the cancer patient stopped breathing and the paramedics were frantically trying to resuscitate him. While they were trying to revive him the baby’s mother told them her baby was blue and was not breathing. Decisions, decisions! Which one do they try to revive with their limited equipment? Which one was more likely to survive? They decided on the baby, and did get her revived, but the other patient did not make it. It was a stressful day for the paramedics, and made me appreciate some of the life and death decisions medical personnel are called to make at times.
We had to dodge thunderstorms the last part of the trip, and I couldn’t help but think of the last time I had a 3 day old baby on board dodging thunderstorms across the Central Kalahari Desert, with a doctor frantically trying to keep her breathing. The mother that night handed her baby over to the doctor, not wanting to have her baby die in her arms. At least this time I had weather detection equipment, and I had not lost my alternator as well as communications and all electrics. That long 2 ½ flight, over 19 years ago, was the most stressful flight of my career. I prayed that the child in the back struggling to breathe would also grow up to be a beautiful healthy young woman, just like the other baby I flew 19 years ago – our daughter Lisa.
The last three days some difficult decisions had to be made by the paramedics onboard. Last night we got a call late for a mercy flight from the hospital a little over an hour’s flight away to go to South Africa. They decided it could wait until morning, so we left early today for the flight. While the paramedics were at the hospital preparing the patient for transport we got a call of a very critical patient in Maun, and it was decided since the patient for South Africa was fairly stable we should go for the other patient at Maun. That is over an hour away as well, and while loading the patient we got another call for a pre-mature baby at Hukuntsi. Since we did not have enough duty time to do both remaining flights the doctors and the paramedics had to discuss which one we should do. It was decided we would go to South Africa and the baby would have to be transported by road, but it was very likely the baby would not survive.
Two days ago we also had a situation where a decision had to be made quickly. We had to go to Ghanzi to pick up a three day old baby in critical condition – a 1.5 hour flight. When we arrived they decided to send another cancer patient along. About 30 minutes after takeoff the cancer patient stopped breathing and the paramedics were frantically trying to resuscitate him. While they were trying to revive him the baby’s mother told them her baby was blue and was not breathing. Decisions, decisions! Which one do they try to revive with their limited equipment? Which one was more likely to survive? They decided on the baby, and did get her revived, but the other patient did not make it. It was a stressful day for the paramedics, and made me appreciate some of the life and death decisions medical personnel are called to make at times.
We had to dodge thunderstorms the last part of the trip, and I couldn’t help but think of the last time I had a 3 day old baby on board dodging thunderstorms across the Central Kalahari Desert, with a doctor frantically trying to keep her breathing. The mother that night handed her baby over to the doctor, not wanting to have her baby die in her arms. At least this time I had weather detection equipment, and I had not lost my alternator as well as communications and all electrics. That long 2 ½ flight, over 19 years ago, was the most stressful flight of my career. I prayed that the child in the back struggling to breathe would also grow up to be a beautiful healthy young woman, just like the other baby I flew 19 years ago – our daughter Lisa.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Standing in Line and a Stolen Bag - Jolene
Last Friday I decided it was time for me to get my Botswana driver’s license. Basically we’re getting it because if you have an accident after you’ve been here three months and don’t have a Botswana license, insurance won’t pay. So, now was as good a time as any, right? Roger had gotten his earlier in the week and it was fairly painless, although he also had to wait, just not as long as I did!
I arrived at the driver license center about 7:30 am, which I realized as soon as I got there, wasn’t nearly early enough since there was a very long line already and the doors weren’t even going to open for another 15 minutes. Finally the line started moving into the building and I got my number – I was #75! After that line, I stood in another line to get my eyes tested, and then another line to make sure I had all the papers that I needed (thankfully I did), and then it was a matter of waiting until they called my number – which they did five hours later! I did leave for a couple of hours and came back later, so that part wasn’t SO bad. I had everything I needed the first time and got my license!
When we came out of the building, our tire was completely flat, so Roger put air in it, and we went to a place where they could fix the tire. We backed up into the garage and a guy started working on it right away. When we were getting back into the truck to leave I noticed right away my bag was nowhere to be found. Roger, Renae & I were right outside the vehicle the whole time, but someone had stolen my bag right out of the vehicle in broad daylight with people all around. We’re sure we know who did it, and in looking back he was suspicious looking, but we weren’t thinking of anything at the time. The main thing that was missing was my passport (which I needed to get my driver’s license or I wouldn’t have had it with me), my brand new license that I had waited 5 hrs to get, a credit card, my wallet, my sunglasses and various & sundry other small things. Thankfully my cell phone was not in the purse, nor much money at all, only a couple of dollars. Normally when purses are stolen it’s cash and a cell phone they’re after, and neither of those were in it. SO, we went to the police station and filed a report, and then decided that since I had just gotten my license that day maybe I could go back & they could issue another one for me right away. So, I went back to the person I had seen before and told her the story. She said that she could help me after she had helped everyone else that was still waiting. So I sat down and waited for close to two more hours, and when everyone else was finished I again went up to her window, but now she said, no she can’t help me today, I’ll have to come back Monday, that there is another form I need to fill out for the duplicate license and I’ll have to re-test my eyes. Needless to say, I was not very happy. All in all, it was NOT a very good day!
BUT, there is a silver lining in this cloud! Two days later, I got a call on my cell phone from a guy that said he found my bag! So Roger met him and indeed he did have my bag. It had my passport in it and some other cards that are worthless here, but not my U.S. or Botswana license, credit card, sun glasses, etc. But I was very thankful to have my passport, which was the main loss and the hardest to replace. Hopefully I learned a lesson through this – I can’t be too careful – there are some very clever thieves out there just waiting for an unsuspecting person. In thinking about it later, we think it was an inside job, and the guy that was fixing the tire and the thief were working together, although of course the guy working on the tire insisted he didn’t know the man or anything.
I arrived at the driver license center about 7:30 am, which I realized as soon as I got there, wasn’t nearly early enough since there was a very long line already and the doors weren’t even going to open for another 15 minutes. Finally the line started moving into the building and I got my number – I was #75! After that line, I stood in another line to get my eyes tested, and then another line to make sure I had all the papers that I needed (thankfully I did), and then it was a matter of waiting until they called my number – which they did five hours later! I did leave for a couple of hours and came back later, so that part wasn’t SO bad. I had everything I needed the first time and got my license!
When we came out of the building, our tire was completely flat, so Roger put air in it, and we went to a place where they could fix the tire. We backed up into the garage and a guy started working on it right away. When we were getting back into the truck to leave I noticed right away my bag was nowhere to be found. Roger, Renae & I were right outside the vehicle the whole time, but someone had stolen my bag right out of the vehicle in broad daylight with people all around. We’re sure we know who did it, and in looking back he was suspicious looking, but we weren’t thinking of anything at the time. The main thing that was missing was my passport (which I needed to get my driver’s license or I wouldn’t have had it with me), my brand new license that I had waited 5 hrs to get, a credit card, my wallet, my sunglasses and various & sundry other small things. Thankfully my cell phone was not in the purse, nor much money at all, only a couple of dollars. Normally when purses are stolen it’s cash and a cell phone they’re after, and neither of those were in it. SO, we went to the police station and filed a report, and then decided that since I had just gotten my license that day maybe I could go back & they could issue another one for me right away. So, I went back to the person I had seen before and told her the story. She said that she could help me after she had helped everyone else that was still waiting. So I sat down and waited for close to two more hours, and when everyone else was finished I again went up to her window, but now she said, no she can’t help me today, I’ll have to come back Monday, that there is another form I need to fill out for the duplicate license and I’ll have to re-test my eyes. Needless to say, I was not very happy. All in all, it was NOT a very good day!
BUT, there is a silver lining in this cloud! Two days later, I got a call on my cell phone from a guy that said he found my bag! So Roger met him and indeed he did have my bag. It had my passport in it and some other cards that are worthless here, but not my U.S. or Botswana license, credit card, sun glasses, etc. But I was very thankful to have my passport, which was the main loss and the hardest to replace. Hopefully I learned a lesson through this – I can’t be too careful – there are some very clever thieves out there just waiting for an unsuspecting person. In thinking about it later, we think it was an inside job, and the guy that was fixing the tire and the thief were working together, although of course the guy working on the tire insisted he didn’t know the man or anything.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
LIFE ROCKS - RENAE
Well hello to all! I’ve been badgered quite a lot lately to do this, so finally I’m getting around to it. We have plenty of time here, much more than at home, but it seems to go by twice as fast. Katrina and I go to a school called The Learning Centre School. It is about 2 miles from our house and we’ve been walking in the mornings a lot and getting a ride home from a friend in the afternoon. It’s not too far and the mornings aren’t that hot, but just hot enough to make you sweaty after walking. School is very different than what I’m used to. I am in a class called IUPD, which works solely on computers – kind of like being homeschooled. We only have one teacher who is in our class and she doesn’t know any of the material so it’s all self-taught. There are only 10 of us in total, and Katrina is in that class too. It’s an international school, and there are kids from all over the world in my class, which rocks to meet everyone. At first, school was not fun at all since I didn’t really know anybody, but now that I know more people, it’s a lot more enjoyable. I still don’t like the computer system…at all, but having people to talk to makes it much better. The school day starts at 7:15 but is over by 1. We don’t eat lunch here but we have a break from 11-11:30 to eat snacks and get outside. The afternoon is completely free, which is so nice. It’s weird, I have so much time now because we don’t have homework, either, but that’s something I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of.
Enough about school. I absolutely adore our house – it’s nice and cool during the day with the windows open and we have a nice backyard and I started a garden out the back and it’s just a really nice setting. I also have my own room that is much bigger than at home, and a huge closet. Besides living with my family, I also live with other wildlife – spiders and geckos. I love the geckos, there’s one in our living room right now named Franky, but I can’t stand the spiders. These aren’t just normal spiders – they’re HUGE and hairy and extremely fast – one used to be living in my room (before I killed it) and it ran into me twice when it went crazy.
Not too much else exciting has happened. Katrina and I have been youth-group-hopping and haven’t picked one yet, same with church. I’ve been meeting too many people to count. Everything here is different from the states. It’s such a different culture and I was in major culture shock for the first few weeks, but now that I’m getting used to it life is much better.
Ok, this is long enough, I’ll just close by saying this: life ROCKS!!
Enough about school. I absolutely adore our house – it’s nice and cool during the day with the windows open and we have a nice backyard and I started a garden out the back and it’s just a really nice setting. I also have my own room that is much bigger than at home, and a huge closet. Besides living with my family, I also live with other wildlife – spiders and geckos. I love the geckos, there’s one in our living room right now named Franky, but I can’t stand the spiders. These aren’t just normal spiders – they’re HUGE and hairy and extremely fast – one used to be living in my room (before I killed it) and it ran into me twice when it went crazy.
Not too much else exciting has happened. Katrina and I have been youth-group-hopping and haven’t picked one yet, same with church. I’ve been meeting too many people to count. Everything here is different from the states. It’s such a different culture and I was in major culture shock for the first few weeks, but now that I’m getting used to it life is much better.
Ok, this is long enough, I’ll just close by saying this: life ROCKS!!
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
IMMIGRATION AND A POOR ZIMBABWEAN WOMAN - JOLENE
A week & a half ago we needed to go to immigration to get our visitors permit extended, since our residence permits hadn’t come through yet (as of last Friday, they finally came through). We had gotten in for 30 days as visitors, but then needed to get our passports stamped so we could stay longer. We didn’t even have to wait in a line (very unusual!).
We were talking to the immigration lady in front of us, and the immigration woman next to us asked me if I could help her. I had no idea what she needed me to help with, so I said I will if I can. Then she gave me a passport and asked me to look at the picture in it, and then look at the woman standing next to me and tell her if that picture was the picture of the woman standing there. I noticed immediately it was a Zimbabwean passport. So I looked at the picture, and I looked at this woman, and it was quite obvious that the picture was NOT that woman.
Now, what to do?? If I say it was not that woman, of course they send her straight back to Zimbabwe (actually regardless of what I said, I’m sure she was probably going back). But neither could I lie and say it did look like her – well, I just couldn’t lie, even though I wanted to. So I kind of stuttered around and said I’m not sure, but it doesn’t really look like her. Then the immigration woman said they do this all the time – bring in passports that belong to their sister or whoever, and try to pass as them. She said immigration tries to help them, but they just lie to them. Well, who could blame them, really?
We are hearing more & more about what is going on in Zimbabwe, and meeting more & more people from there. It is just beyond comprehension that President Mugabe is still in power and is doing what he’s doing to the people there. They have nothing. When we drove into the immigration place there were lots of people sitting under trees waiting, we weren’t sure for what. But there was also a big truck/bus there that we figured brought people there from Zimbabwe, and would be taking back those that didn’t have the proper documentation.
We were talking to the immigration lady in front of us, and the immigration woman next to us asked me if I could help her. I had no idea what she needed me to help with, so I said I will if I can. Then she gave me a passport and asked me to look at the picture in it, and then look at the woman standing next to me and tell her if that picture was the picture of the woman standing there. I noticed immediately it was a Zimbabwean passport. So I looked at the picture, and I looked at this woman, and it was quite obvious that the picture was NOT that woman.
Now, what to do?? If I say it was not that woman, of course they send her straight back to Zimbabwe (actually regardless of what I said, I’m sure she was probably going back). But neither could I lie and say it did look like her – well, I just couldn’t lie, even though I wanted to. So I kind of stuttered around and said I’m not sure, but it doesn’t really look like her. Then the immigration woman said they do this all the time – bring in passports that belong to their sister or whoever, and try to pass as them. She said immigration tries to help them, but they just lie to them. Well, who could blame them, really?
We are hearing more & more about what is going on in Zimbabwe, and meeting more & more people from there. It is just beyond comprehension that President Mugabe is still in power and is doing what he’s doing to the people there. They have nothing. When we drove into the immigration place there were lots of people sitting under trees waiting, we weren’t sure for what. But there was also a big truck/bus there that we figured brought people there from Zimbabwe, and would be taking back those that didn’t have the proper documentation.
Friday, February 20, 2009
BACK TO THE VILLAGE LIFE - JOLENE
Tuesday February 17th
I got back yesterday after spending the weekend in a village about 5 hours north of here. I went with Tina Kort, who is a long term missionary here –she’s been here 30 years. We knew her from before. Anyway, she had lived in this village a long time ago and the sister of a friend of hers there was killed in a car accident so she wanted to go to the funeral. She asked me to go along because we are trying to find a place for Nicole to stay when she comes this summer for SST from Goshen. (SST didn’t work out for her with Goshen’s normal placements, so she’s doing it independently- a whole other story!) So, we went and stayed in the village with her ‘mom’ here – Mma Oreeditse. It was a super experience – I forgot how much I like the village! There are numerous things I could write about, but I thought I’d write about the funeral.
We arrived at the house of the parents of the woman that was killed (Annie) at about 6 am Saturday morning, and it was already packed with people and the service had started. There were two tents outside, and people kept coming and many were standing. We got a seat – Tina isn’t afraid to walk to the front!! Women all wear skirts/dresses, with something on their head – a hat or scarf, and something around their shoulders – a shawl or jacket. All the men wore jackets. It was cool at 6 am, but by 10:30 when it was finished, it was HOT!
There was about an hour or so of various people talking about Annie – a sister, uncle, friend, someone from where she worked, etc. (I only knew who they were because Tina told me) Then the preacher preached but it was only about 20 minutes which surprised me – I figured it would be another hour. A lot of flowers had been given (mostly plastic) and the cards with those were read. And then it was time to go to the gravesite. EVERYONE went, either walking or piling on the backs of trucks or in cars, since many people had walked to the service. We stood in the hot sun for at least an hour, while they put the casket in the ground and filled the hole, singing all the while. This was an expensive casket so they actually cemented it into the ground. Apparently sometimes the funeral home folks will come back and dig the casket out of the ground and sell it to another person, especially if it was an expensive casket. So that took quite awhile. The men took turns shoveling the dirt in the hole, and piling it way high. Then on top of that they put the flowers, and then a canopy thing, which is how all the graves look here.
The singing is quite interesting. Someone will just lead out with the first line of the song and then everyone joins in, but the person keeps doing that with every line – singing it first and the people singing it after them. A lot of the songs were hymns that were familiar to me, just in Setswana. (missionary influence)
Then everyone again goes back to the house for the meal. Tina and I originally sat on the ground with some of her friends, but it wasn’t long until chairs were brought for us. We said we were fine, but they insisted. It’s amazing how they can sit on the ground – legs straight out in front of them and backs straight. They can do that for hours, or else squatting down when there aren’t chairs. It was a big meal – samp (corn – don’t know how they fix it actually), seswa (meat cooked and then they pound it), cooked pumpkin and some gravy over it. They also had palache and goat, but I didn’t get that. I’m thinking they gave the ‘better’ stuff to us. Quite good. They fed probably about 500 people, and it was very organized. Young guys filled the plates and carried them to the people, men mostly got fed first, but I’m not sure how that all worked. As soon as we were finished our plates were washed to be used again for the next people.
The next day (Sunday) we went to visit Tina’s friend (Annie’s sister) at her parents house. We went in the house and all the furniture had been moved out of the living space and there were blankets on the floor, and there were probably 8 or 9 women sitting on the floor – aunts or other women relatives, there to grieve with the mother of Annie. They had come at the beginning of the week and stayed there with her (her husband died before). It was amazing to see these old women sitting/lying on the floor, but that’s what they’re used to.
They know how to grieve here. We had gone to the gravesite in the car and two men went along that knew Tina. They asked how different it was from where I’m from. I said only the family or close friends would go to the gravesite, and not everyone stays for the meal either, and it’s usually just sandwiches, not a big meal. They couldn’t believe not everyone would go to the grave and eat together – you need a lot of people with you to grieve, and that just wouldn’t be right. Like Tina said – relationships here are everything.
It was great to be in a village again and it brought back lots of memories of when we lived in Maun. Although then we had running cold water but not electricity, and this woman had electricity but not running water! The stars were just as beautiful now as then too!
I got back yesterday after spending the weekend in a village about 5 hours north of here. I went with Tina Kort, who is a long term missionary here –she’s been here 30 years. We knew her from before. Anyway, she had lived in this village a long time ago and the sister of a friend of hers there was killed in a car accident so she wanted to go to the funeral. She asked me to go along because we are trying to find a place for Nicole to stay when she comes this summer for SST from Goshen. (SST didn’t work out for her with Goshen’s normal placements, so she’s doing it independently- a whole other story!) So, we went and stayed in the village with her ‘mom’ here – Mma Oreeditse. It was a super experience – I forgot how much I like the village! There are numerous things I could write about, but I thought I’d write about the funeral.
We arrived at the house of the parents of the woman that was killed (Annie) at about 6 am Saturday morning, and it was already packed with people and the service had started. There were two tents outside, and people kept coming and many were standing. We got a seat – Tina isn’t afraid to walk to the front!! Women all wear skirts/dresses, with something on their head – a hat or scarf, and something around their shoulders – a shawl or jacket. All the men wore jackets. It was cool at 6 am, but by 10:30 when it was finished, it was HOT!
There was about an hour or so of various people talking about Annie – a sister, uncle, friend, someone from where she worked, etc. (I only knew who they were because Tina told me) Then the preacher preached but it was only about 20 minutes which surprised me – I figured it would be another hour. A lot of flowers had been given (mostly plastic) and the cards with those were read. And then it was time to go to the gravesite. EVERYONE went, either walking or piling on the backs of trucks or in cars, since many people had walked to the service. We stood in the hot sun for at least an hour, while they put the casket in the ground and filled the hole, singing all the while. This was an expensive casket so they actually cemented it into the ground. Apparently sometimes the funeral home folks will come back and dig the casket out of the ground and sell it to another person, especially if it was an expensive casket. So that took quite awhile. The men took turns shoveling the dirt in the hole, and piling it way high. Then on top of that they put the flowers, and then a canopy thing, which is how all the graves look here.
The singing is quite interesting. Someone will just lead out with the first line of the song and then everyone joins in, but the person keeps doing that with every line – singing it first and the people singing it after them. A lot of the songs were hymns that were familiar to me, just in Setswana. (missionary influence)
Then everyone again goes back to the house for the meal. Tina and I originally sat on the ground with some of her friends, but it wasn’t long until chairs were brought for us. We said we were fine, but they insisted. It’s amazing how they can sit on the ground – legs straight out in front of them and backs straight. They can do that for hours, or else squatting down when there aren’t chairs. It was a big meal – samp (corn – don’t know how they fix it actually), seswa (meat cooked and then they pound it), cooked pumpkin and some gravy over it. They also had palache and goat, but I didn’t get that. I’m thinking they gave the ‘better’ stuff to us. Quite good. They fed probably about 500 people, and it was very organized. Young guys filled the plates and carried them to the people, men mostly got fed first, but I’m not sure how that all worked. As soon as we were finished our plates were washed to be used again for the next people.
The next day (Sunday) we went to visit Tina’s friend (Annie’s sister) at her parents house. We went in the house and all the furniture had been moved out of the living space and there were blankets on the floor, and there were probably 8 or 9 women sitting on the floor – aunts or other women relatives, there to grieve with the mother of Annie. They had come at the beginning of the week and stayed there with her (her husband died before). It was amazing to see these old women sitting/lying on the floor, but that’s what they’re used to.
They know how to grieve here. We had gone to the gravesite in the car and two men went along that knew Tina. They asked how different it was from where I’m from. I said only the family or close friends would go to the gravesite, and not everyone stays for the meal either, and it’s usually just sandwiches, not a big meal. They couldn’t believe not everyone would go to the grave and eat together – you need a lot of people with you to grieve, and that just wouldn’t be right. Like Tina said – relationships here are everything.
It was great to be in a village again and it brought back lots of memories of when we lived in Maun. Although then we had running cold water but not electricity, and this woman had electricity but not running water! The stars were just as beautiful now as then too!
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