Short Break (Spring Break)

For the record this post is written with my partially repaired laptop cable that is working well but does constantly threaten me with electrocution.

So after my last midterm on Wednesday I was "free." That was the unofficial beginning of my spring break, as the rest of my classes for the week were canceled. I say "free" because as of Wednesday my plans for the break were still TOTALLY up in there. I knew I wanted to travel, and I knew I was going by myself because I had arranged to tag along with some other people, but I found out that they had gone and made plans without me.
I quickly decided that what I wanted to do was go places by myself that I thought other people might not want to go. That narrowed the list very quickly. Most people would be too nervous to go to Zimbabwe (I have on good authority that I have nothing to fear), and Lesotho (one of my obsessions ever since I had learned of its existence) is at best a niche country which most people would not care for. So there it was.
The problem was I had to do all the planning myself, because I was going by myself. No small feat. I also learned that for the exact reasons I wanted to go, planning would be a challenge. Namely, that due to low tourist figures infrastructure was limited. Finding a bus into Lesotho is impossible and finding one to the Great Zimbabwe was very limited. After much searching I came up with a plan and set about setting it into action.

(my "plan")

What I found was a challenge at every turn. The internet resources for most of the places I was going where limited. I was able to only purchase three bus tickets so far.
I leave Sunday (tomorrow) morning at 6:30 AM and still I am unsure of how I am getting from Bloemfontein to Malealea; I don't have a concrete reservation at the hotel I plan to stay at in Malealea (Lesotho), I have confirmation that they have do have room for me but not technically a reservation; I don't know how I am getting from Malealea to Johannesburg; I know how I am getting from Johannesburg to Masvingo (the town closest the Great Zimbabwe) but I don't have tickets yet there or back; and I don't know how I will get visas to either Lesotho or Zimbabwe, I have been assured that I can get them at the border, but if something goes wrong I might be out of luck.
There are many point along the way where things can go horribly wrong and I will have to simply find something else to do, all I really have is a plan and enthusiasm.
I keep saying "it will be an adventure either way." That has encouraged me along the way, I have never taken a trip like this before, and might never be able to again. I will be totally by myself, totally self reliant, with little more than the clothes on my back. I will also be pushing myself harder than any human really should. I will be gone 5 nights, only two are in hotels, the rest are on buses. I need say little more to demonstrate how physically exhausting this trip will be.
No matter what I plan to have a trip of my lifetime, good or otherwise. I plan to learn a lot about myself, you know how they always say, "you can learn a lot about yourself by how you deal in crisis situation"? Well, one week of constant near crisis, here I come!
That is all I can say for now, I will post about it shortly after I arrive back at school on Friday.
Love to all,
Tommy

My thoroughly cultural weekend

Friday
So Friday night I finally convinced Matt (my American Roommate from Florida) that we should go to this bar we discovered on a field trip in Setswana Class. The bar I was referring to was actually two bars right next to each other. They were both located in a neighborhood called Old Naledi. Old Naledi is the quite possibly the poorest part of Gaborone. It is a community created many years ago to provide quick housing for people moving to the capital to find work. Since its creation many attempts have been made to either move it or do away with it all together but so far all have failed. On one occasion the government tried to get the people who live there to move to a different location but the people simply couldn’t afford to live in the new location. On another occasion the government gave money to the citizens of Old Naledi for them to renovate their homes. To no one’s surprise, except the bureaucrats, the money was all spent, but none of the house improved.
So anyway, we knew full well that this part of town wasn’t the best place and a white tourist would never go here, in fact, even UB students almost never go to Old Naledi, I asked Onkabetse to go along and he laughed and at me and said, “why would I want to go there?” So we went, Matt, Thomas (a german), Thomas (a different german), and me. We got a cab and told him where we wanted to go, he did a double take but eventually we convinced him we were serious and we were on our way. He warned us that, “this part of town is very dangerous and you should be careful,” and as soon as we got out of the cab and paid a police officer approached us and informed us that it was a dangerous place to be. We told him that we had less than 50 pula on us and that our cell phones were not worth more than 100 pula. He was convinced and he reminded us just to use caution.
I realized once we were there that the bar I thought we were going to was actually next to another bar that Matt thought we were going to. We decided collectively that we would try both on for size. First we went into Matt’s bar the ‘Yarona Bar’. It was actually quite quaint inside. Perhaps twenty people standing around three pool tables and a medium sized well stocked bar. Immediately al of us were convined there was little to no real danger here. We stood around for a while and my friends got some drinks and we all sort of agreed that the place was actually surprisingly nice considering the location. Some guys started talking to us and they seemed nice. One guy initially started by saying that a very small patron, that Matt and I had joked “looked 9,” was actually 25 and frequented the bar. Another guy approached and just started chatting. The second eventually launched into a prepared speech about why he loves white people, including, that they are just “so much smarter than black people like me.” (mind you he gave that speech dozens of times throughout the night) Eventually both guys started chatting with us and kept telling us that this bar was a bad place to be, despite our impression that it wasn’t that bad. They said the other bar is so much better you should go there. The two germans thought that this might me some kind of trap so we drug our feet in leaving the Yarona Bar. Eventually I said to Matt that I just wanted to get away from these guys. So when they both disappeared for a minute we scurried out of the Yarona Bar and into the mall area outside. The mall area had as many people dancing, talking, but mostly drinking as either bar did.
We walked across the court and into the ‘Speak Easy Pub’ my pub. It was almost exactly the same as the Yarona Bar. Three pool tables, but more people. The only real difference was the color scheme, the Yarona Bar was painted in Black and Gold (Black Label Beer Colors) and the Speak Easy Pub was in Green and Gold (Hunter’s Gold Beer Colors). Immediately the two guys from the other Bar found us and told us ho much better this place was. One of them disappeared for a minute and a few other guys approached us. These guys also told how dangerous this place was but they all promised if we stuck with them we would be safe. We hung out for a while and the other guys had a few more rounds. The guy who had disappeared came back and said that he had arranged for us to go to the “Cocktail room” which was supposedly some VIP place where we could have even more fun. All of us strictly refused. Sounded a little too shady for us. We were comfortable to stay out in the public part of the Bar.
Finally, it came a time and Thomas said he was ready to leave so we all walked outside, escorted by our “body gaurds” and I called a cab “15-20 minutes” was the response which what they always say, so we knew to expect them in 25-30 minutes. During this time more people kept coming up to us and telling us we weren’t safe, at this point we knew we were pretty safe, but they insisted. One of these protectors was a kid named David who looked about 12 but claimed to be 18 (he was very drunk, for the record, I think everyone but us “White guys” was). He talked to me for a while and then began begging for a pula to buy a cigarette. I told him, “I like you too much to help you kill yourself David, I’m NOT going to buy you a cigarette.” He didn’t like my answer but after a while he gave up, but hung around. After about 10 minutes. David saw someone he thought he knew, and didn’t like. He told me “Don’t talk to that guy he’s dangerous,” I didn’t know what to think, after all David seemed a little sketchy himself but I was willing to take the advice but David felt this guy (who was a lot bigger than David) was getting too close, he started pushing him and throwing punches at this random guy who had clearly never seen David before. We decided we would move closer to where the cab would pick us up and wait there. Finally the cab arrived and we all got in. As we drove off we saw David, with no shirt, still struggling to fight some guy, presumably to protect us. We all laughed.
As we drove away we all agreed that it wasn’t a wholly bad experience and we were glad we had done it, in fact I quite enjoyed myself. We also agreed that none of us really needed to go back. It was the first time that I had felt as if I was doing things that a normal Motswana might do. We asked the cab driver how much danger we had actually been in and it finally came out that the only real threat was that we might have been pick-pocketed. Not real danger in any of our minds.
Overall, I think it was a fun and valuable cultural experience to see a bar, that was not so touristy or polished as what we were used to seeing.
Saturday
I was glad we had turned in Early Friday night because I wanted to get up early Saturday to go to a very special event. In Mochudi, a village about 20 minutes outside Gaborone, they were Coronating a new Kgosi.
On a linguistic note, I use the word Kgosi here based on a discussion we had in my archaeology class. We discussed that a Kgosi is the Setswana word for Chief, but it can also mean king. In my experience it has been, in the past, the habitat of some scholarship to use the word to imply primitive social organization and as such, inferior people when compared to the ‘kings’ of Europe. So while it is not entirely accurate to use the word King, it is unsatisfactory to use the word Chief, so Kgosi is the best possible word to use.
I felt that this was quite an opportunity to really see a part of the culture that an outsider has to be pretty lucky to see.
I met Thomas at 8am (way too early for a Saturday, but the event actually started at 7am so this was a comprimise) near our dorms and we set off. We caught a Khombi (a minibus used for public transport) to the Bus station where we caugh a bus to Mochudi, another guy on the Bus was headed the same place so he agreed to lead us. We caught one more Khombi in Mochudi and walked a little ways further before we finally arrived at the Kgotla at 9:30. The Kgotla is the center of the village where tribal proceedings take place.

(A sign denoting the Kgotla area)

Even when we were a ways away we know we were getting a close because there was already a mass of people all over including on top of a nearby rock outcropping overlooking the village. We walked in and the guy leading us led us right into a huge crowd near the front. I decided I didn’t like where I was, I was being pushed and couldn’t see much anyways. I told Thomas I was going out but he wanted to stay so I left him behind.

(These three pictures illustrate how there were people everywhere)

I walked around for a while and found that there was no where I could go to see anything. There were huge loud speakers set up so I could see hear everything but it was all in setswana, no great help. I walked around the perimeter of the Kgosi and noticed a line of unusually nice cars with flags on them, the cars of the dignitaries. Nearby there was also a huge projection screen set up broadcasting closed circuit pictures of the proceedings but there were so many people there that I still couldn’t even see the screen. I continued walking around and went up on the rocks for a while but still couldn’t see. I heard them announce that the next speaker would be Seratse Khama Ian Khama, the President of Botswana, as well as the Kgosi of a neighboring tribe.

(Barely Visible but thats the Prez!!)

I got excited just like everyone else so I finally found a place where I could almost see. It wasn’t great but I could see if I jumped in the air. I couldn’t understand his speech but it was cool to see him speak. Finally I heard “Ke a la boga” the first words I had understood all day, meaning “thank you.” His speech was done, a short speech. I decided to walk around a bit more and found myself staring down a police officer at a barricade. I had my camera around my next with my biggest lens in tow and he asked “are you media?” Ok, so I fibbed and said yes. He let me by and I found a bit better place to see but I still had to be on my toes to see anything.Finally, it was time for the new Kgosi to speak.

(The Kgosi with Leopard Hood)

(Kgosi with Traditional Formal Attire)

He got up resplendent in his freshly killed leopard skin, (he killed it himself, apparently making his coronation especially special). His speech was well received and at one point he said “HIV/AIDS” the only thing in his speech I understood. Clearly, this guy was well liked and well received. Near the end of his speech everyone stood up and held there giant feathers in the air, now I really couldn’t see but it was an impressive site, I must admit.

(My best attempt at catching some kind of Salute.)

When his speech ended I found some other international students who had come separately. We walked around, now there were less people in front of the giant TV so we watched a huge dance (about 100 dancers) dancer some traditional dances and then it was time for lunch. It was clear that there was not enough food and even if there was it was going to take quite some time to be served. The other international and my self decided that we had seen enough and boarded the bus back to Gaborone.
Overall, I though it was a really cool event. It was a shame that I couldn’t see or understand much but I am glad I went and experienced a rare event.
Love to all,
Tommy

My Broken Lappy

Let me apologize in this post for the lack of posts of late. At the risk of sounding like I am making excuses let me explain why.
A while back, shortly after arriving in Botswana I noticed that my laptop’s power cable had begun to fray near the end and would occasionally lose connection, over the next few days the cord ot worse and eventually stopped working. I found that if I bent it at a certain angle I could get it to work as long as I didn’t shift the computer around too much. I decided that it wouldn’t last forever and I should buy a new cord so that when my current one finally died I would have a replacement on the way.
Well about two weeks ago the cable finally died, snapping completely apart at the part where it had frayed.

(Yes ALL of those parts should be attached)

Needless to say I was distraught. I decided to go out and search for a new one. But, as I am in Botswana there isn’t exactly a Mac store on every corner. I found out that there is place called the “Apple Center” and was quick to scurry over there. Much to my dismay they also didn’t have the part, they said they could order it but they didn’t know how long it might take to arrive. YUCK! So I decided that the one I had ordered (3 weeks before) would arrive soon anyways. In the meantime I was able to, temporarily, use another computer that lasted only a few days. Soon I tired of waiting and decided to return to ebay and bite the bullet in a big way. I found a replacement part that would repair my cable until the new one finally arrives. I took the leap and bought it and ponied up for the expensive international rush shipping that was supposed to take 3-5 days ($30 on top of the $15 part). So here we are, on the 8th business day, and I am still without a power cable. I did learn today however that I have had a package waiting for me in the post office since Monday. I hope it is the repair kit.
In the meantime Onkabetse has been very kind. He too has a Mac and we devised a situation where we have been trading batteries for the last week or so. He gives me his full battery and while I am depleting it he charges the empty one I give him. The next time I need to use the computer we trade back and so on and so forth. The system is not perfect and I eagerly await a time when I won’t have to bother him so much anymore but in the meantime he is being a real great guy about the whole thing.
So that’s my story,
Love to All,
Tommy

Dylan Leaving and The First Day of the Rest of My Study Abroad

"Dylan Leaving"
So Dylan left for the U.S. yesterday (9.5.08) "never to be seen again in Botswana." Why did he leave approximately five months before the program was scheduled to end you may ask? Well, the following is his tale.

(Left to Right: Back Row: Dylan, Puso, Matt, K.T., Front Row: Onkabetse, Me)

Prior to coming to Botswana Dylan had some real demons including battles with addiction that saw him kicked out of his first school and transplanted to K. He tried in his first year at K (his Junior year) to take part in the study abroad program but his record kept him from participating. He tried again in his senior year and was accepted. He arrived in Botswana determined to straighten out his life but he had started drinking again shortly before coming. In Botswana he drank a lot but never got even a little drunk. We went out a few times and he always seemed fine then, perhaps a little pushy and he naturally has a confrontational (bordering on violent) personality but other than those he seemed normal. Eventually it became clear to me that often times (nearly every day) after I went to sleep Dylan would go out either with some Batswana he had met or by himself to either a club or the local casino.
While there is seemingly nothing wrong with this I have a saying that "nothing good ever happened after midnight."

(Dylan and Onky just being goofy)

He would occasionally come back and tell me stories of his escapades either some jerk he had met or some girl he had picked up. Occasionally his stories were very strange and he often said he would stop spending time with certain people and would constantly say "I am just a magnet for these crazy situations." I mentioned a few times that maybe if he stopped going to those places the crazy situations would stop but he didn't take my advice and the crazy stories continued.
At one point Dylan went to a house party and passed out. When he woke up his wallet was gone and so was his ride. He got up and walked a long ways back to campus (possibly several miles according to him) with no water or money. He spent a few days looking for the guy who stole his wallet but finally reported its disappearances to the police. After a couple days of waiting they called him to come to the police station. He went and they had found his wallet. When he got there some plain clothes officers (who the other police did not recognize) brought in a plastic bag with his wallet and some crack pipes in it. They asked him several times if the pipes belonged to him and he said no (the truth). Apparently they had picked up the guy trying to use his credit card, the thief was friends with the officers and as such no charges were ever filed. We presume that's who the pipes belonged to. After a little bit of interrogation they took the wallet and pipes away and Dylan left without collecting his wallet.

(Some of My roommates, Dylan and Onkabetse in front of my Dorm)

The next day some men called Dylan and asked him to meet them at the Stadium (not far from School). He did and they handed him the wallet and again asked them if the crack pipes were his, he again said no and they gave him the wallet. He shared a few choice words and turned to leave. At that time the guys slapped some hand-cuffs on him and tried to shove him into their car. Apparently disrespecting a police officer is a criminal offense here but these were plain clothes police who had not identified themselves in an unmarked car. Fearing that the men were trying to kidnap him he wrestled himself away and began to run (still in the 'cuffs). He got to security only a few seconds before the police and he began to explain the situation to them. The security were conspicuously on the side of the police and no one was of very much help and most of the time they refused even to speak in English. Finally one of the men presented a card that identified himself but still was quite shady, after some threats the police uncuffed Dylan and left.
At this point Dylan was very shaken and began considering leaving. To be honest I thought it would be best if he left, not just for me but for him because he needed to stay out of trouble and I didn't have a lot of faith in him doing that. One of out Motswana friends convinced him that he had NOTHING to worry about so he calmed down and decided to leave.
Several days later the security showed up at Dylan's room unannounced and demanded to search his room for no clear reason. He refused and closed the door. Dylan later learned that after that security had interviewed his roommates to try to learn anything they could about him but the truth was Dylan spent next to no time in his room, he was always in my room. After that the security would follow us around every time we walked around and constantly spied on us.
Finally, Dylan decided that he simply didn't feel safe here. Honestly I felt that he was making the right decision for himself and especially for me. His absence will force me to push myself out of my box and it will make me more comfortable in my own skin, I think. He contacted the CIP and got his reservation changed and returned at 6:50 PM on Friday. He wasn’t happy about it, in fact he was quite upset but it is for the best.
I will honestly miss him but as Ross and I discussed we know he wasn't ready for this and he needs to sort a few things out before undertaking such a big challenge in the future.
"The First Day of the Rest of My Study Abroad"
He left UB at 4:30 and at 4:50 I had been invited to go to the Gaborone Dam/Yacht Club with a bunch of the international students.

(Sunset at the Dam)

This was just the sort of thing that I wouldn't have done if Dylan was here because he would have said he didn't want to. We went by Taxi and this time I had fully charged batteries. I talked with international students who I had never really had the chance to talk with and some who have become good friends. After the Dam we went to Dinner. This is exactly what I love to do! Just hanging out with a group of cool people who all have something to say and don't mind sharing. It was a great night after a sentimental day.

(Me at the Dam)

That is my update for today,
Love to All,
Tommy

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

The Politics of Botswana

So I had a fascinating conversation about the political system of Botswana with a few Batswana today. I should note from the outset that the following is a combination of my observation and the results of my conversations with only a handful of people so it should be taken as only worth a grain of salt, but still, I believe them to be valid or else I wouldn't publish them in the public sector.
A short history to begin.
After tensions escalated between the Tswana and the Boers the Tswana appealed to the British for protection. In 1855 the British obliged and Bechuanaland (modern Botswana) became a protectorate. It maintained this status until 1964 when the British accepted proposals for Botswana to become a free and democratic state. Independence Day was celebrated September 30th, 1966. At that time Seretse Khama became the first executive and held that position until his death in 1980. After his death his vice president, Quett Masire, succeeded him and held the position until 1998. He retired and was replaced by his Vice President, Festus Mogae. He held the position until 2008 when Seretse Khama Ian Khama took over. If the name looks familiar (as well as unusually long) it is because he is the son of the first president's son and adopted his father's name in his memory.

(Seretshe Khama overlooking Parliament)

I describe this succession pattern in order to provide historical background as well as to demonstrate obviously one of the major peculiarities of the system. The system is parliamentary in nature and the executive is elected from among the ruling parties parliamentarians, very much like the British system except the Executive is then named President, not Prime Minister.

(The Parliament of Botswana)

During the whole history of the Country only one party has ruled, the Botswana Democratic Party. Opposition parties do exist and there are genuinely free and open elections, no one questions that. However in every previous election the opposition parties fragment and leave the BDP alone at the top. This has provided them the opportunity to maintain the presidency for the whole free history of the nation.
In itself this is odd, but not extraordinary. However, the succession pattern is irregular, perhaps even disconcerting. The first president was the leader of the freedom movement, the second was the first's best friend. At the time of the third president's election he was the most elite person in the country and a close partner of both the first and second presidents. And obviously the fourth is the first presidents son, a General, in fact the youngest general in the history of the country, thanks to who, his father the first president. This tangled web is not that surprising though, after all the first president, Khama, founded the party who has ruled the country all along so it makes sense that he would choose is his closest allies to lead the party after his passing, but does this sound like a terribly democratic process? I don't think so.
So the question becomes if this is a problem and there are no barriers to political change why has the democratic constituency not rearranged the leadership through the elective process.
In order to answer that question a simple knowledge of the demography of Botswana is useful. Botswana has two major groups of people, the rural and the urban. Botswana has only one real city (perhaps one would count Francis town but lets make it simple and say it is a large village) Gaborone. So politics become Gaborone vs. the Rural areas. Gaborone outnumbers the rural areas in terms of population as well as housing most of the richest, best educated people. The rural areas are traditional and as such, tribally driven. But even most of Gaborone is very traditional. As one of my Batswana friends said, of the 4 districts in Gaborone only the Central District, where UB is located, is actually political all the other are traditional.
This means that in most cases political decisions are made by who you are, not what you stand for. Chiefs and there relatives generally always hold political positions and once they have them, it is nearly impossible for them to lose them because there constituency, their tribesman, is fiercely loyal. To demonstrate Khama was the Chief of the largest tribe in Botswana, the Bamangwoto. His son Ian is also chief and thereby very powerful in Botswana politics. As my friend said, "real politics won't take place until the two systems [the Tribal and Political] are separated." The president is not the only incident either, most politicians have these types of connections and therefore political change is hindered. This means that the ruling party is allowed to grow corrupted.
An example of this corruption is the fact that the wealthiest people in the country are also the most powerful, the politicians. There has been significant public outcry recently about a P10million settlement given to an outgoing politician as well as the gross wealth of the BDP treasurer but the tribal nature of politics keeps electoral change from happening.
Another example is a vastly unpopular recent media censorship bill that would increase the governments control over the media, the bill was rejected in Parliament but significant media censorship already takes place. For example after publishing the recent pamphlet "Presidential Succession in Botswana: No Model for Africa" the author, Kenneth Good was deported. There is some thought that his deportation from Ghana, and Zimbabwe, may have some impact on his deportation but the fact of the matter is that serious political criticism is not easy to swallow here. (More Info on the Ken Good Case)
I pointed out to the Batswana I was talking to that the Government is not all bad and in fact has developed the country well and that stability and safety have value but they argued that any party could have done that.
Personally I think the government is more good than bad and they are truly trying to make the country a better place but there are serious ills that should be modified before the country can truly modernize and be considered fully developed.

The Cultural Experience Weekend

This weekend the International Office organized a trip to some of the "cultural" highlights of this region of Botswana. I thought it would be a great experience and at only 304P (around $50) I thought it was a good deal too.
So we met at around 9am and the bus left around 9:30 with around 24 internationals aboard including people from Norway, Germany, The USA, Zambia, and The Netherlands. The first activity was a museum about 20km from Gaborone in a town called Mochudi.

(A view of Mochudi)

The Museum was very small, about three rooms, and told the story of the local tribe that had been there since fleeing the Boer War in South Africa in 1891. We had a quick tour and while exploring the museum we overheard a lot of singing accompanied by some dancing. It turned out that there was a group from a wedding taking pictures on the rock outcropping that overlooked the villages right next to the museum. Many of the students were very curious so they scurried outside followed hesitantly by the more reserved among the group (including me).

(Some of the eager Internationals)

The location was really quite nice and the whole wedding (what we saw) was very beautiful.

(The Bride and Groom)

The older people were in more traditional clothing, but the wedding party was in outfits that were similar to American styles.

(Some of the wedding Party)
(The older people)

All the while people were chanting, singing and dancing and random group dances constantly broke out even while photos were being taken.

(A picture of one of the "random" Dance breaks)

While watching them take pictures the groom approached someone from our group and said that they would be thrilled if we would join them in celebrating at the reception. The group talked it over quickly and decided that we would like to see the reception, over the protests of some of us (again I find myself in the reserved group). We quickly gathered together some cash, although apparently wedding gifts aren't a major thing in Batswana weddings, to give as a gift. I contributed 20P (around $4) which is apparently VERY generous (crazy huh?).
The reception was at a nearby house at 1pm so we busied ourselves for the interim and then headed over to the reception. It is apparently tradition in Botswana to attend a wedding irregardless of the receipt of an invite. It is simply understood that if you have any relationship at all with the couple you are not only invited but expected. That means that the food is cooked for a huge number of people and apparently plus or minus a bus load of white people will not make or break the reception. Can you imagine a bus load of tourists showing up at an American wedding and not only being invited in, but becoming the guests of honor. I was very uncomfortable the whole time because we weren't formally invited, we didn't know anyone, and we weren't dressed appropriately but in hindsight I realized they really appreciated having us there. Some of our Batswana friends said that the bride and groom were probably thrilled to have us because it is considered honorable to have LOTS of people at your wedding and having exotic people (foreign white people) would probably make the wedding the talk of town for months. Anyway the wedding was nice but the unplanned detour put us well behind schedule.
After we left the wedding we went to a place called Matsieng.
Matsieng is apparently the "Garden of Eden" of the tribe that has inhabited the area for centuries. The legend goes that this is the sight were the first ancestor emerged from the ground and thereby began all of humanity. There is a very deep hole accompanied by some gigantic foot prints, except that all the prints are singles, not pairs.

(Matsieng's Hole)

(Matsieng's Foot Print)

Apparently Matsieng had only one leg. Geologists and Archaeologists suggest that as opposed to the traditional explanations the hole was formed by ancient volacanoes and the footprints are ancient carvings, a common form of traditional art work. The site was fascinating for me because we had actually discussed this very site in my Archaeology class on Friday. Talk about learning in application.
From that site we decided that the wedding had put us so far behind that we would not be able to make it to our other two stops for the day before dark (remember the sun goes down very early here in the winter) so we headed straight for the place where we would sleep. I was disappointed because I had been very much looking forward to the next stop but they promised we would make it to them the next day.
Where we slept was a traditional resort. When we got there we were greeted by a group of women singing and chanting who marched us into the campsite, showed us where we would be sleeping, chalets for the girls, tents for the boys, and began to perform some traditional dances.

(One of the "Chalets")

(One of tents)

They were very impressive, and were made even more impressive by the fact that the dancers were not terribly young, in fact the oldest was sixty years old.

(The dancers)

After that we were fed traditional food but we all agreed it was nothing compared to the food we had been fed at the wedding. After dinner we sat around the fire chatting until late in the evening. As we went to bed we found our sleeping places, thin mattresses and only one blanket, which would have been fire except that Botswana's nights are very cold, this night was about 40 degrees (Fahrenheit of course). It was freezing and not terribly comfortable but I managed to fall asleep quickly and sleep reasonably well, my only major complaints being that the water tasted so bad it was almost undrinkable, and the temperature. In the morning we were fed and hurried to a place called Manyana. This was the part of the weekend that I was most looking forward to. Here we saw cave paintings that ranged over the period of two thousand years. The paintings were fantastic. I was fascinated at the techniques employed by those early people to create something so permanent. Apparently they used a mixture of iron compounds, animal fats, animal blood, urine and other dyes to form paints. It makes me wonder what of ours will still be around and beautiful two thousand years from now.

(An abstract cave painting)

(A flake of flint that would may have been carried hundreds of miles thousands of years ago)

After than we went to "Livinstone's tree" which is apparently the Tree. This is where David Livingstone set up camp for a while. The tree is massive and beautiful but to me was not terribly interesting, after all it is just a tree. (more info on David Livingstone)
After taking some pictures our group got back on the bus and headed to the main attraction of the whole weekend, Mokolodi Game Reserve. We got there a little early and had some time to check the place out. The staff provided our group with several bottles of champagne and we met a group of (apparently) world famous poets who agreed to perform a few poems for us. It was very entertaining and quite pleasant. It was clear that this was a major tourist attraction as opposed to some of the other places that only had a fence.
Eventually we were loaded on a bush truck and taken to a beautiful pavilion to have the best food we have eaten since being in Botswana (the traditional variations of Beef, Pop or maize meal, and some butternut squash). After the meal we got on the truck again and they took us on an hour long game drive. About half way through the drive I realized we were in effectively a glorified zoo without too many cages. The hyenas and Cheetahs were caged and tamed and when we asked I we would see any giraffes the guide responded that they had not yet been let out of the stables. Nonetheless seeing the Antelope (several species), the Rhinos (perhaps too close), Baboons, and other animals in close to a natural habitat was very cool.

After the drive we headed back to UB (University of Botswana) extremely tired but very satisfied.
It was a very good weekend.
(more pictures)
Lots of love,
Tommy
more pictures coming...