Three Stories, One Message

I thought I would share these three stories for posterity, this post will be a lot of narrative with no pictures, I'm sorry for that, I will do a "day in the life" photo-shoot soon but today is not that day I'm afraid.
Story #1: Registration
So, this process was done over a week ago and as time has gone by many of the details have faded but I have also gained perspective on the whole thing. The other day Dylan asked me "So dude, what has been your worst experience here?" My answer, simply: Registration.
Before I came to Botswana, Ross (last year's participant in the same program who is currently doing research for his SIP here) said that registration was strange at UB. He mentioned that they have the technology to do digital registration but they don't use it. At the time I suppose I didn't fully appreciate what that meant; now I do.
Before we ever left America or even completed our applications to study abroad we were required to go through UB's course catalog and select 5 courses of no less than three credits. That wasn't easy but we accomplished it, but at that time we didn't know what would be offered when, or if we would even qualify for some classes. Skip ahead a few months and on our second day in the country we were confronted with the application and those five classes we had choosen earlier. At this point they asked us make sure none of the classes conflicted in terms of time. Of course, several of them did. We choose new courses as needed and dropped the ones that didn't work. With that out of the way we resubmitted the course selections to the international office and they promised to have us all done with the registration process by Friday (four days later). We went in on Friday to find that the registration hadn't been completed yet. Granted the registration for normal students involves walking all over campus standing in hour long lines just to get signatures, so I was pleased to avoid that part. We returned to the office every day of the next week and they still weren't completed. Finally on the following Friday (seven days after promised) Dylan's registration was done. But there was a problem with mine. Bad news since classes had already been going on for a week and I had attended some. Monday of the next week I received my schedule but it was all messed up, I was in a class that was only worth two credits and I only had been registered for four of my five classes. I had to add two and drop one class and the add drop period ended on friday. I had to find new classes, get them approved, meaning walking to the department talking to the Chair and getting them to sign off. The whole process took until the last minute of Friday. The whole process was a nightmare and was a source of constant stress for me for almost two full weeks, the only good thing about the experience:its over.
Story #2: Getting My Passport Copy Certified
I knew from the get-go that in order to stay in Botswana for more than thirty days I would have to apply for either a waiver or a residents permit. For many reasons it became clear that a waiver would be better than a residents permit (save 500p). The international office assured us that we had nothing to worry about and encouraged us to put off worrying about it until after registration (see above). So that is just what we did. When registration was finally done we began thinking about our waivers. Step one of the process was getting a photocopy of our passports certified (kind of like a notary). This meant taking the photo-copy to the embassy of your home country and getting them to sign that it was indeed legitimate. I should mention that we were given 30 days right off the plane and those days expired 8/27/08 (yet again a deadline). We endeavored to get the whole thing behind us as fast as possible so that very day, the 18th of August, we went to the embassy at 3:30pm with the knowledge that it was open until 4:30. We arrived only to find that the person who we needed to certify the passports (the consulate) is actually only in on Mondays from 8am-12pm and Wednesdays from 12-4pm. With a big sigh we returned home knowing that this was going to turn into another ordeal. Wednesday came and went and on the following Monday I knew it was basically 'now or never' with only two days left on my visa. I skipped sociology to get to the embassy well before the closing time. I got in and talked to the consulate only to find out that in fact the consulate is not the right person to talk to, I needed to go to the police station. Mercifully I found the police station without too much incident. I found the room where certifications were going on and got in line. After about thirty minutes it was my turn and I went up and was told "We don't certify foreign passports." My jaw hit the floor. I explained clearly my situation and they sent me to a new office to talk to the chief. After explaining my story again he signed off on my copy and once again, at least this ordeal was over.
Story #3: The Waiver
If you have a pulse you have already found the pattern. This story is more a continuation of #2 and it picks up where that one left off.
With certified passport in hand I got up nice and early on Tuesday morning to get to the immigration office with some spare time before I got kicked out of Botswana for good. I got a cab and asked for the immigration office. The cabbie didn't hesitate so I didn't share any more. He dropped me off at a shack in the middle of the bush (it seemed) with lots of people coming in on the back of trucks jumping off and scurrying around (Desperate immigrants/refugees from Zimbabwe). I avoided eye contact and went to a man who seemed to have some authority. I explained what I was there for and he told me I was in the wrong place *SIGH*. I needed to go to some place called the Universal Building. He pointed and I headed off. I had no idea where I was going and only sheer luck brought me to downtown Gaborone. *Side Note* There is some very nice architecture downtown, but I was in no mood to observe it*/Side Note* After thirty minutes of brisk walking in no particular direction I stumbled into the lobby of a building and sure enough it said "First Floor: Immigration" I blinked in disbelief, Could I be this lucky? I went to the counter and asked about the waiver. I told them I needed a waiver and was told I wasn't in the right place. No, I can't be THAT lucky. I needed to go to the "regional immigration office" the rest of the women's directions were unintelligible. I returned to the same shack in the bush, by a shorter route this time after asking directions at the ministry of education. There I was told yet again I needed to go to Block #8. I KNEW that was where I had been before but I had no other choice. I walked back over there and this time I got more help. This women repeated the name of the Universal Building and said it was near the G4 Security Office. I walked to the U.S. Embassy and asked where I could find that. Please note that I had been wondering around at this point for 3 hours, I was lucky I knew my name, much less any manners at all but I did. They said I would need a cab for that. I got one (cha ching again) and finally at 11:30 walked into the Universal Building also known as industrial block #8, not corporate block #8 where I was before. I walked to the counter and the woman looked at my papers. "Everything's good but you're missing your letter." WHAT!?! impossible, GAH! I got back to school, another Taxi and went to the International office. Too bad the women who works there is out of town for the week. Fortunately the secretary knew what I needed and provided it for me. I know knew where I needed to go and I had everything. I decided I would rehydrate and go out after Setswana. I went to class and found a couple other students headed out there at the same time as me. We shared a cab, that made things feel better and I finally got all of my paperwork submitted. I haven't yet picked up the Waiver itself, but I trust that will be easy (famous last words).
Finally, the Message
I suppose all of these experiences have taught me that I need to be prepared for nothing to ever work as it should, that way, if by some miracle it does, I am pleased and when it does not I am not surprised. If there are deadlines to meet I need to be wary that it is me that is responsible for meeting them, not others. I guess all of this is a good learning experience but it sure was annoying all the way along.
Lots of Love,
Tommy