Worth every Pula….

August 22, 2010 2:33 PM

So if you're reading these online and you haven't read one or more of the previous posts, go back and read 'em in chronological order. Seriously I just posted like four days worth of posts. So go back! It's more fun that way I promise. And I'll add pictures later on.

Currently I'm sitting at the "terminal" for the Kasane Airport, hoping that the 45 minute delay doesn't turn into longer. I've gotta make it to Mass by 6 PM! But let's not get ahead of ourselves now…

August 21, 2010

One of my two cell phone alarms woke me up successfully on Saturday morning…I'm not sure which. However, somehow while lying in bed watching TV I had managed to fall asleep with the lights on. Later in the course of the night, I noticed said lights, and got up to turn them off. However, the one on the desk next to the bed, about a meter (they tell me that's about a yard plus a bit) from my head was one whose operation I could not figure out in my sleepy state. Therefore, I slept all night long with that bad boy on. It made it easier to not trip and fall when getting out of bed in the morning at least, because the sun sure wasn't up.

I quickly dressed, packed everything that had been taken out of the bag, plus free shampoo and soap (I am determined not to buy more here and I am running low on the latter), checked my room, double-checked my room, noticed a pair of boxers hanging on the back of the bathroom door, shoved 'em in, downed a cup of coffee, and ran downstairs, hoping not to be late for the shuttle even though it was a few minutes past.

Ha! We waited until about 6:30 before our shuttle arrived. It did not sit well with the Australian family (children appropriately named Izzy, Millie, and George of course). Almost everyone was complaining about something: one ordered breakfast for quarter after 5 and it didn't come till ten till six (and it was cold! Imagine!), one asked for a wake-up call that was late, etc. I was simply upset that when I went to check out the receptionist told me that I owed 25 pula for tips. I asked and the woman said the airline did not cover these "tips."

So okay, I was very nice about the whole deal. I didn't get mad at the nice guy at the airport the day before, I paid for my own internet, the delay would eventually make me miss out on Victoria falls, etc. But I'm sorry, when you say you're covering accommodations and food, I assume that this means that if I don't buy anything you told me not to, that I pay ZERO. Air Botswana will be getting a letter from me (and it will do no good, but I'll feel better). At the time it didn't bother me too much, as it's really like 4 bucks. But in retrospect…it's a little more perturbing.

Things went off without a hitch at the airport though. We didn't board until seven, but as I sat typing on my netbook to catch up before the trip (haha) a woman from the UK who had ordered breakfasts for her family at the hotel (and brought them packed in to-go boxes) came over and told me they had been given one extra, and would I like to have some breakfast. I must give off a helpless look, or maybe it's just because I was the only one traveling alone. In any case, I enthusiastically accepted and thanked her very much, and dove into my build-your-own egg sandwich with sausage (yes I ate it and I know maybe I shouldn't have) and an orange. Just as I was stuffing the last bits into my mouth, it was boarding time. We walked out onto the tarmac, up the stairs, and we were on or way.

I was excited that it was actually happening, but a little concerned that the phone numbers given to me by the Travel Woman who was supposed to help me arrange both transport from the airport and activities for the day did not work. I asked around, and everyone already had arranged transport via the lodges at which they were staying. I didn't worry too much, but still I kinda wondered what I'd do as I typed during the flight. Though the arrival time was supposed to be two hours after the scheduled departure, we were on the ground thirty minutes early. I suppose maybe that they allot so much time because they seem to be always delayed.

As we got off the plane, I laughed at the airport, tiny as it was, and the fact that there were two simple signs: one stating "International Arrivals" and the other "Domestic Arrivals" The two signs were MAYBE 200 feet apart. Nonetheless, we surely were in front of the "Domestic Arrivals" sign. I walked through the airport, which took about 20 steps, and out to the parking lot, looking around for a taxi, as I still had not heard back from the Travel Woman.

Then I met one of the nicest ladies I've met on this trip. I asked her about taxis and if she knew how much they would cost. She told me no more than 30 pula, at which I laughed and said the Travel Woman was going to charge 100 pula for transfer from the airport. She thought that was ridiculous, and gave me a number for a local taxi. Then as I was getting ready to call, she introduced me to her husband, who lived extensively in Kasane and used to manage the Chobe Safari Lodge. As we were talking about how I was a medical student working at the Pediatric HIV clinic in Gabs, she said she had done work in that area and had also gone to Baylor (I didn't really tell her that I never went to Baylor and that the two schools weren't affiliated, but the opportunity didn't present itself ideally). The conversation was coming to a close since the shuttle from Chobe had arrived, but she stopped and told me that I should just get on with them and get a ride into town that way. I was more than eager to accept, not knowing when or if I'd get a taxi. As we got onto the shuttle, the driver checked off party names and numbers. As I prepared to get caught and left at the airport, the woman gave her name and then said, "Three. No no, there are three of us." The driver didn't skip a beat, and I was on the shuttle, mouthing a heartfelt "Thank you!" to the lady as I took my seat.

We took a short ride through terrain that was obviously different from Gabs, with taller trees, hills, and eventually the Chobe River sparkling in the distance. As we approached it by going down into the valley below, we came to a fork in the road and Chobe Safari Lodge was to our immediate left. As we got out of the shuttle, the lady invited me to walk into the lobby to see it if I'd like. By this point in time I had already decided that I would ask to see if this place had any rooms available, thinking how nice it'd be to have someone REMOTELY familiar to ask questions of…and the difference in price would have been no different than if I'd spent two nights in the budget place like I had planned anyway. I thought I was a longshot, as I'd called before and been told only Friday was open and not Saturday. In any case, I proceeded, partly hoping that there had been a true cancellation, and partly hoping that this lady could somehow pull some strings and get me in. As I waited in line to ask, I overheard her talking to someone from the place that she knew. Then after the conversation, she walked away, then turned back and I heard her talking about me and asking if there were any rooms. Nope, all full. Unfortunately, this string of luck had just run out. She came up and told me what I'd already heard, but suggested that I try the Chobe Marina Lodge just down the road a few hundred meters. I said okay and thanked her and she wished me a good trip. I realized later that it was kind of a quick conversation and that I wished I had been able to thank her more properly, but I did not want to overstay my welcome, so I split:-P.

Down the road I passed a grocery store, the small hospital for Kasane, and came upon a wall covered in bright flowers of various sections of vivid colors. Following this was the entrance to Chobe Marina Lodge. I asked the man at the gate if I could go ask about any open rooms, and fortunately he allowed me in. I walked up to the receptionist desk and was probably staring all around, because this place was pretty. In any case, I focused myself enough to ask if there were available rooms. There were, as it turned out. Then I asked how much. See, I had looked online and noticed that the "special" there was a room with two activities, breakfast, lunch, and dinner for something like $500. Seeing that online made me not even look into the place. The woman at the counter answered my question saying 1100 pula for the room and breakfast. Now, I paused and stood there for a second thinking, even telling her that I wasn't sure. It was about $150. I really had not planned on spending that much on a hotel night.

However, I justified it to myself this way. It was the same I'd have spent on two nights, and since this was my only night, I wanted to stay somewhere I knew was comfortable. The place I at which I had held a room for Saturday had somewhat iffy reviews online, was much farther down the road, and was not as nice I was sure. Further, I had already saved about 100 pula not getting the transfer to the other place. Also, staying here would have allowed me to book activities right away, including a sunset boat ride that I was not about to miss again (and the prices were the exact same as the Travel Woman had stated). I paced back and forth in place, and finally decided I REALLY wanted to stay there and not worry about anything further going wrong. Done and done, and I had a room for the night. But check-in was not until 2.

In the meantime, I figured I'd schedule my activities and then head into town to kill time till 2. From what I understood, all the game drives left at 6 and there wasn't anything to do until after check-in. I waited a bit at the scheduling office, set up a boat ride and then a game drive in the morning, and was about to head out to town. I took a moment though to notice how pretty the place was. Wood decks, a layout for the main lodge in an L-shape, with a small pool of water leading to the river below and trees above towering next to the thatched roof on the 2 story building. As I walked around, however, I noticed a boat sitting at the dock down on the river, and a line of people standing waiting for something. I put two and two together and realized there was a morning boat ride that still had not departed!

I quickly walked over to the scheduling office, manners aside, and asked the woman there, who was on the phone waiting for someone, if there was any way I could get on that boat. Two boat rides would be better than one, I figured (I'd turn out to be right). She said yes and then kinda didn't say anything, resuming her waiting on the phone. I waited about thirty seconds, asked if I could just go and get in line to get on, and she said yes. I was off and super pumped to be less than an hour from leaving the airport and going on a boat ride/game ride. I really figured it'd be the afternoon before I got to do anything.

After waiting about a minute, the line moved down the dock and onto the boat, and I grabbed a seat at the front facing south. The river was beautiful by itself, and I was ready to go. The guide had everyone sign their names on a list, and without any questions I signed and it was official. We were off!

We made our way down the Chobe past the other lodge I had been at with Super-Nice Lady to our left. I looked to see if I could see her, then realized it was unlikely given we were out in the middle of the river about two football fields away. After stopping at the "Entrance" (read a shack on the side of the river where the guides have to drop off a list of people entering on the boat) to the National Park, we continued on. I really don't know how to describe adequately the scene. The River parted into two channels around a large island whose end we could not see from where our journey began. Along the way we noticed so many different birds I can't even tell you. Off in the distance, though could be seen two grey boulder-ish things. Eventually, we'd get closer and realize they were elephants. I was done…I had figured there would be no way I could go home without seeing an elephant, and now I had. However, this was only the beginning. We made our way somewhat near the two elephants, but passed them and continued down, passing a group of impala eating on the island, and a group on the riverbank. We sailed (loosely used because I can't think of a better verb and don't want to keep using "continued') by what I think are called waterbuffalo…but I'm not sure and I'm probably wrong. In any case, they were big, dark, and looked like bulls. Oh, maybe they are called water bulls. Whatever.

Next was the BEST part of the entire ride. It wasn't enough to see the vegetation, the couple distant elephants, and the other creatures. We next came upon a group of about 7 elephants standing at the edge of the island. It looked like they were all getting ready to cross over…and the river was at least 100 yards wide at that point. As a few smaller boats and two larger ones sat there, it was looking like a stalemate. The boats didn't want to leave before the elephants crossed, but the elephants were wary of the boats. I didn't care. We were sitting so close that I could have just stayed there all day. I wasn't even in my seat anymore. I was on the floor of the boat, sitting trying to get as close as possible to the edge to get better pictures/better view. I had my legs out on front of me, and even slid my head underneath the front rail a couple times (there were about 18" of space in front of the rail…it wasn't like I was dangling over the edge of the boat…and since we were just sitting, it was safe…plus the guide didn't say anything about it.) Eventually we noticed another group of elephants on the other side of the river coming our way. Four in all, they came to a stop across from the group on the island. One elephant on the island side took a step forward, and then stopped as the group of four from the bank side began moving into the water. In a perfect line, three larger elephants and a smaller baby elephant began to cross! They got lower and lower and lower as they took about 2-3 minutes for their cross. However, the baby elephant wasn't tall enough and disappeared under the water completely! To our comfort, he eventually reappeared on the other side gradually about 2 minutes later with his friends, still all in a line. It was AWESOME. At that point in time I knew I had made the right call in staying at this lodge.

So this post is getting super long, so I'll summarize briefly. We made our way around the end of the island, noticing more waterbulls and starting the trek back. Along the way we came across two great groups of hippos, sitting soaking in the water like you'd expect a hippo to do I guess. They poked their heads out long enough for some pictures and to give us a slight worry that we'd gotten too close. We kept on, eventually making it past the start of the island, up the river past the lodges and to our lodge. All told us "passengers set sail that day for a three hour-cruise, a three-hour cruise"…anyone? Anyone?

Back at the lodge, we de-boated and walked up the ramp to the main part of the lodge. Almost immediately Victor, one of the bellhops (for lack of a better word) said that my room was ready and that he'd been looking for me. I apologized and told him I thought they'd let him know where I had gone. It was only 12:30. At any rate (this rate being 1100 pula I guess), he showed me to my room, which was just about as great as the main lodge itself. It was on the top floor, which meant my roof was a "grass" roof, but vaulted. The bed was nice and large, loomed over by a frame from which a tied up mosquito net hung. The lighting fixtures looked like hollowed out tusks (surely they weren't actually) and the décor from the bathroom to the sink in the room were all very appropriate. Out the French doors at the far end of the room was a small balcony with two chairs that faced tall trees and the river below. It was an AWESOME view. I thanked Victor for showing me everything and set my bag down in awe. It was a good decision to stay there! I decided to say late Morning Prayer on my balcony, and realized in doing so that I had almost forgotten to take my malaria prophylaxis. I guess that's why I stored the pills inside my Liturgy of the Hours coverJ

Feeling a bit guilty about how many pula the room was, I decided to walk down to town to buy some food and drinks in order to save money and not eat at the lodge restaurant for lunch and dinner. It was only about half a mile to the shopping center, if that. As I arrived at what must have been the Kasane mall, I headed straight for the Spar…I knew that meant groceries. Just across from there was the brand new "KFC Kasane" that distracted me with it's advertisement: Free Soccer Ball with purchase of a "Streetwise Two" combo. Basically, it was a six dollar combo. Skeptical, I walked in just really wanting the ball. I asked how big the ball was, and the woman showed me a regular sized soccer ball in red and white with the Colonel's image on it. Somehow I decided that I was going to have to get this ball. I asked if I could just buy the ball. They lady gave me the impression that the meal was required, so the question of lunch (and subsequently dinner) was answered. A few minutes later, bag and ball in hand, I walked across to Spar. I was there for about two minutes and bought nothing. My chicken would be enough, I had decided.

However, in the event that I wanted an adult beverage in the evening, I stepped into "Tops" to buy a couple local bottled drinks. What would have cost about 20 pula at the lodge was now 6. "Bargain shopper, and sneaky too," I congratulated myself in my mind. I walked back to the lodge, holding the bags of food carefully like they were contraband or something, expecting the guard at the entrance to stop me and tell me I wasn't allowed to bring cheap food in. No such nonsense, and I headed to my room for lunch. After eating, exploring the room a bit, and relaxing with a bit of TV, it was just about time for another boat ride. This one was the one I really wanted to do…and it would be worth it!

So by now you're sick of reading and I'm tired of typing. I'll say this. The sun on the water as it was setting was beautiful, we took a slightly different route this time around, running into a group of 13 elephants, then stopping at a group of hippos (among whom was a baby hippo…cute) and not even really paying much attention to the 7 elephants on the other side. It was okay, however, when we eventually noticed and came upon a huge group of FORTY-SEVEN ELEPHANTS at least. I counted. And we got up close, and elephants are surely my favorites. They ate grass like spaghetti, sprayed themselves with water, and were just awesome. We rounded the turn, noticing more impala (who look so out of place on an island in the middle of a river (how did they get there?!), bird birds birds, a crocodile, some giraffes out in the distance (who were hard to spot as they looked like trees from far away), and capping the trip off with an elephant who swam across the river, gliding along his way, then ending up under water for about a minute as the river was too deep. Successful and exhausted I am sure, he made it finally to the edge.

Finally, we came to a stop where the river forked around the island to watch the sunset. It was just incredible. I kept trying to take pictures, but eventually just gave up once I noticed the colors on my camera weren't doing the purple sky and the blazing red sun justice. The BEST way to see Chobe is on a boat in the afternoon/evening/sunset. Incredible and worth EVERY single pula the trip cost. And I would have said that even after the morning ride!

As we pulled into the lodge dock in the dwindling light, we were greeted by chants and singing in Setswana. At first I thought maybe it was just a continuation of the "Lion King" soundtrack that had been playing in my head the whole evening. As we walked up the ramp, we noticed some local dancers dressed in traditional garb looking over the deck above waiting for us to arrive back. Low on battery power and out of memory on my camera, I quickly deleted some of the blurry pics and unnecessary video and made a little room, using the actual viewfinder to save power. The teenage dancers performed for about 15 minutes, singing different songs while dancing. I recognized one song's main word "Dumelang" meaning "Hello everyone", which made sense since they were dancing and waving at us as the main portion of the more complicated dance. As the performance finished, they danced their way up and across the lodges decks and out the front door. Again, this was the right place to stay.

As I made it back to my room, I felt like wanting to dance like a local in the shower…okay, whatever, you'd have felt the same after that. When I got there, the lights were low, the bed covers pulled back, and the mosquito nets lowered, making my bed like a little square tent. Turn-down service again, I thoughtJ.

I cracked open a drink (using a soda can as a bottle opener as I had seen the bartender on the boat do) to go with my refridgerated leftover chicken, and dinner was set. After finishing up, I tried to walk around with my drink to see what was going on, but the place was actually very quiet. I stopped at the deck overlooking the river to look at the stars for a bit. They looked so different from the southern hemisphere, but they were definitely out for the viewing.

There were some visitors watching Chelsea beat the every living tar out of Wigan in soccer at the Riverside Bar, but otherwise the only activity was upstairs at the restaurant. I tried to figure out if there might be some way to make it to Victoria falls after all, but after talking to the receptionist and mulling it over I decided that it wouldn't be the best to try to force it. Another time, I figured…hopefully. Thinking it had been a long day anyway, I was content to finish my drink and head back to my room. I showered (no dancing…by that time the urge to had passed), made some decaf coffee, and slid under the nets into my bed. Though it had been a long day, somehow I managed to stay up AFTER MIDNIGHT watching TV, even though the game drive in the morning was at 6 AM. But I got to watch TV, and it was exciting…and also worth every pula, I thought. Some things never change…

(Now for a behind the scenes look! The following is what the post looked like when I was in Kasane just jotting things down. I give you "Marley & Me" list #1)

"Things to remember for this post.

Almost being late

The late vans

The british lady who gave me breakfast

The flight here and not being able to reach my transfer lady

The deplaning and the nice Baylor lady who told me not to pay 100 pula for transfer, got me on the Chobe bus, said there were three, etc

The chobe arrival, her asking for a room for me, etc, and pointing out chobe marina

The decision to stay at chobe marina

The booking of activities

Noticing the 930 boat

Getting on the boat free?

The trip, the animals, the crossing, the video, the pictures.

The arrival back and Victor

The posh room

The walk to the spar after asking security

The KFC and the soccer ball

The Spar

The Tops

The sneakiness getting back in

The Afternoon ride: 13 then 7 by the hippos then 47, the hippos, the swimmers, the baby hippo

The Arrival back, the dancers, the no battery power.

Coming back to recharge and turndown again…with mosquito nets down…evening prayer and starting the stash.

Wanting to dance like the dancersin the shower.

Eating leftover cold chicken

Walking out to see the stars

Shower and the mosquito nets

Debating vic falls

The end"

Aren't you glad I didn't just give you that list. Really, without the video montage in "Marley & Me," you'd have been bored then too:-P

I think it’s called “Turndown Service”

August 22, 2010 11:50 AM

So as I write this I'm currently sitting poolside…and it's Sunday morning…but don't worry, I've been taking brief notes to remind myself what I want to write. You know that segment of the movie "Marley & Me" where the main character is narrating about a million different occurrences in a three minute montage but a number of years go by? "Chased Marley down the beach, caught Marley, took Marley to the Mall, etc" It's kinda like that, but I'll fill it in before it gets posted and you'll never know. Except I just told you…

Friday, August 20, 2010

So Friday began a bit more sleepy than I would have liked, but I somehow managed to get up and get to the clinic anyway by 7:30ish even though I wasn't working Friday. I needed to edit my Personal Statement, send it in, and talk to my wife in the process. I was also hoping to find some information on activities to arrange in Kasane from the lady I spoke to at the Old House, but no such luck. Using about every last minute I could, I sent in the Personal Statement and CV, left the clinic, ran home and took my dry clothes off the line. By the time that was done it was just after 9, and with Tendai coming at half nine (read nine thirty), I had just enough time to pack the way I usually do: last minute. I threw a couple pairs of shorts, sleep pants, three t-shirts, a polo, etc, and toiletries, along with my laptop, Office, and camera into my backpack…somehow it all fit, but just barely. I seriously used just about every moment I had, and then Tendai was ready to roll.

We got to the airport just about ten, and Tendai assured me that he would be there when I landed on Sunday at 4:20. I walked up to the terminal and got really excited, not for the trip itself but I think more because of the fact that I hadn't been there in so long and knew that I'd be making the walk to the terminal to go to Johannesburg then Dakar then D.C. then HOME (Whoop!) in about a week. It was unreal that I was coming that close. I kinda wondered if would have forgotten how to live at home, like Tom Hanks in Cast Away (btw check it out the movie isn't called Castaway…it's called Cast (Space) Away…think about it). In any case, since he was gone for years, I think I should be okay.

As I checked in for my flight, I was greeted with the news that the flight had been delayed until 1:30. This was PERFECT (sarcasm), and though I was about as upset as the two Japanese men in front of me that almost threw a hissyfit, I was nice (I haven't perfected the being confrontational thing yet). It really didn't work well for me because my plan was: Sunset boat ride on the Chobe Friday evening, Victoria Falls day trip Saturday all day, return to Kasane, then game drive in Chobe Sunday and fly home. However, as the evening boat rides started at 3 PM, the 1:30 flight time did NOT work out. The thing I wanted to do the most was the evening boat ride, and so it meant something was going to be sacrificed.

As we waited, I had a sandwich and Coke Light at the airport "cafeteria," then went ahead and went through security and started catching up on my blog while waiting at the gate. As time went by, I saw our plane land and passengers get off. As 1:30 approached, however, one of the managers from Air Botswana began making rounds telling people that the plane had a "technical problem" and that he was calling around to find another plane. This made a lot of passengers, particularly 4 British men who were going on a pre-paid fishing trip, very upset. They had to be picked up by 4 at the latest, and we didn't even have a plane at the time. After apologies, explanations, etc, the man disappeared for about half an hour more, only to return to tell us that he wouldn't be able to get a plane there until 4:30 or 5. The problem with that, though, was the airport in Kasane was without lights on the runway, so no planes could land after dusk. And as it's winter here, that meant 4:30 was too late. Our flight was cancelled and moved to the morning at 7 AM. The manager said that arrangements were being made for us to stay at a local hotel.

Now at this point I was trying to decide if it was even worth it to make the trip still. I thought for a while about just asking for my money back since the trip was so short already anyway. I was frustrated at the fact that I had missed a trip to an outreach clinic in Nowheresville, Botswana that I could have made it to anyway. After thinking about it for a while, and realizing that we were getting reservations at the Grand Palm Resort and Casino, I decided to treat the situation like it was already vacation anyway and stay the course, though the course had been modified. Sure I had a house to stay in in Gabs, but I wasn't about to go back and sit at home all night with no TV, no internet, etc while on "Vacation.' So I graciously accepted the arrangements and we all made our way out to the parking lot to wait for the hotel shuttle to pick us up. As we waited I met a German medical student (strange, right?) who had been working at a hospital in the middle of nowhere for 5 weeks and was spending a week traveling to Chobe and the Okavango Delta before heading back. He asked if I was doing any research project while here, and when I later asked him if he had an area of medicine that he wanted to go into, he said that he wanted to study the blood-brain barrier. I was kinda thinking of answers like Pediatrics, Neurology, Surgery, etc. I got the impression that this guy was a lot smarter than I was. But even though he was pretty much ripped and a future doctor, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and started smoking. I felt better thinking I was at least smarter in that respect. :-P

Finally about 3 PM the shuttle picked us up and took us to the hotel, and it was really nice. As we stood waiting to check in, one of the workers brought a tray of juice in fancy glasses and offered us each one. Yes it was just juice, but come on. The polished floors, fancy music, and plush lawns outside made me think that this might be the nicest place I'd ever stayed before. I checked in and was given room 332 and headed upstairs. Once there I went inside, but noticed that my room door was slightly ajar. That, coupled with the slightly out-of-place bed cover made me think that maybe I had been given the wrong room. However, nothing else was disturbed, so I figured they must have just finished cleaning the place in a rush since our reservations were last minute.

A few minutes later one of the porters came by and showed me where everything in the room was: the safe, the TV (YES!!), the hot water pot for tea, the hair dryer (why I needed to know where that was I don't know), the shower, and the slot where you put your room key in while inside the room to provide power to your lights. Pretty nifty way of making sure you don't leave your lights on…either that or a way of making sure you'll lock yourself out and have to go down to the front desk to get a new key while wasting electricity because your lights are on.

Anyway, after he left I spoke to Ali on the phone, and we decided that it'd be best to just pay for the internet at the hotel for the night so we could skype rather than just use the phone. I ran downstairs to buy a voucher for the internet when the entire world other than the US pulled a fast one on me. I jumped in the elevator, hit 1, then got out at on the first floor. I looked around and noticed a balcony to my left and the reception desk one floor down. Ya got me, world…I thus remembered that the "first floor" everywhere else is not the actual first floor, but the floor above the ground floor. So I guess the ground floor shouldn't count…it's not like it has an actual floor or anything.

After getting the voucher, I went outside, got the internet going with the help of the IT guy at the hotel, and took a few pictures before sitting down at the poolside restaurant to talk to Ali and the family back home. Dad was out of the hospital (way to go Pop!) and I got to see him for the first time since I left for Botswana. After a while we all hung up and I promised to call back after dinner. I made my way back into the hotel past the pool, playground, tennis courts, pond, and indoor restaurant and asked where to go for dinner. After being given directions, I headed there and remembered what it was like to be an American again…

…because it was a buffet dinner. Seriously, I've never been to Vegas, but I imagine this was essentially a slightly miniaturized version of what you'd see at a Vegas buffet. Desserts, salad bar, Chinese food made-to-order, random things like French fries and mashed potatoes, etc. The dining area was even complete with a lounge singer (who no offense to him but I promise you he looked like David Blaine if you added 20 years and about 40 pounds to him) who sang as he played electric guitar on top of generic recorded tracks to songs like "The Girl from Ipanema" (spell check anyone?). It was great and kinda disgusting all at the same time. I ate far too much, but was happy to:-P. After stuffing myself, I dedided that I had also had my fill of David Blain's future self (who by no means was making magic happen) and headed back upstairs ready to relax, shower, and use the internet while watching TV for the first time in a while.

When I got back to my room, at first it appeared apparent to me that something was very wrong. I walked in and the curtains were shut, the main lights were off and the bedside lamp was on. The TV was on and tuned to CNN (clearly not something I would have left on). There was a bottle of water and a glass on the desk next to the bed, and the bed covers were pulled back on one side. Surely, I thought, especially after what had happened previously with my room door being ajar, someone else was also staying in this room. But all of my stuff was there. Then I noticed my coffee cup and trash was gone and the hot water pot back where I had initially found it. Eventually I noticed, on the pillow one the side opposite where the covers had been pulled back, a shiny gold wrapper. It was at this point in time that I became familiar with the concept of "Turn-down Service" (or so I believe it's called) and felt both assured that I was the only inhabitant of my room and silly for not realizing this sooner. I've never stayed somewhere where they come into your room while your gone, clean it, and pull back your sheets for you. Actually I think it's a bit creepy…I can put myself in bed just fine…you can just leave the mint next to the shampoos and such…I'll find it without trouble. Plus, if I had known they were coming, I may have tidied up the place a bit.

Unfortunately, the internet's plans for my evening differed from my own. Once I got to the room, it no longer worked. After calling the IT guy again, he checked it out, tried multiple times to fix it, and then determined by taking it down to the lobby and back to the hallway outside the room that for some reason the access point literally ten feet from my door was not working. Therefore, he said, I'd have to use the internet in the lobby. That's a good 15 bucks spet there folks. That's what you pay the good money for. It took me going downstairs, complaining to my dad and wife about the stupid internet via skype, and Ali asking me about three times if I was okay for me to realize that I needed to get over it and not let it bother me so much. Finally, I let it go and just decided that if I could go all the way out to Riverwalk to use the internet on most nights, I surely could walk downstairs at my free five star hotel.

After signing off, I ran upstairs, showered in a clean tub (have I told you how I'm afraid to actually set bare foot down in the shower in the house in Gaborone?) without my green "Irish" flip-flops on for the first time in the month of August. Afterwards, I plugged everything in to charge overnight (yes they had an American plug!), and set both of my alarms so that I'd make it up in time for the 6 AM shuttle. With that, a day of adventure (of sorts) was over and I was hoping the next would be more promising. Not knowing what would come next, I drifted off to sleep while watching TV for the first time ever in Botswana.

What an exciting ending, huh? Just wait…tomorrow gets better!

 

Two Irish Siblings, an Argentinian, a Med student from Gabs, an Indian, and Me…

August 21, 2010 7:44 AM

 

Well, guess where I was when I started to think about writing this blog. You guessed it! The Gaborone Airport! What happened? Where did I go in between? Is my trip ruined?

 

Very good questions…I'm sure the answer will get posted someday. But look at you trying to distract me from catching up on the blog…

 

Thursday, August 19, 2010

 

Wednesday night Vincent had messaged me saying that he hadn't seen me at Mass and that he hoped I could make it to Mass Thursday since it was the day that our Lord instituted the Most Blessed Sacrament. I texted him back saying that I'd make it either to morning or evening Mass…

 

So the morning didn't happen. My alarm went off, I was super sleepy as always, it was dark outside, and I quickly reset my alarm. As it went off again I heard the sound of the housekeeping lady creaking the screen door open, unlocking the door, setting the alarm off temporarily, and then disarming it. Time to get up! I got dressed and said a quick hello to her and headed out the door, hoping that I'd get some laundry taken care of while she happened to be there. You see, I'm not sure how to indicate that my clothes are in fact dirty. I've left them on the floor, nothing happened. I put them in a basket, nothing happened. This time, I tried the basket again, perfectly happy to do my own laundry if she wasn't able to/didn't have the time/didn't want to. I'm sure she's not paid enough anyway.

 

Thursday's day at the clinic was a bit trying at first. I worked with Dr. Brianna, and the first few patients we saw were just not the best. They had social issues, didn't want to take their meds, etc. Worst of all, a kid who had perfect pill counts, and came in by himself without a parent, had a detectable viral load, which shouldn't be possible given the meds he is on. Eventually, through a translator, Dr. Brianna was able to get him to admit that in fact sometimes he forgot to take his meds, and that when he did his mother, rather than telling him to try to do better, told him he should throw his pills away! Goodness people. It just goes to show that there is more to medicine than just developing treatments and handing out pills.

 

However, the day finished strong, with one poor child who had HIV, Inflammatory Bowel Disease, and thus severe malnutrition. However, she was doing better and was sweet as could be. Madeline, along with one of our last patients, Junior, made the day, and Dr. Brianna and I agreed that we'd rather have the problem kids first and the sweeties last. With that, my third week at the clinic was complete, and I was ready to get things set for the weekend (Ha!).

 

After running home for some leftover Pasta a la Gaborone (one of these days I'll think to bring lunch with me, but it's only a five minute walk, so it kinda breaks up the day anyway), I returned to the clinic, bought some cell phone air time, and set to work trying to arrange things. I called the two places I was staying, confirmed, and ultimately decided it would be best to just meet with the travel people who arranged the drives and such once I arrived in Kasane.

Somewhere that afternoon, however, one of the PAC doctors informed me that the docs and the other clinic workers were meeting for "Challenge" clinic, where they discussed patients who were particularly difficult and basically had a pow-wow of everyone involved (psychology, social work, nursing, docs) to see what could be done for them. It was actually pretty interesting, and I was happy to have stumbled upon it. I suppose that happens when you spend the entirety of the afternoon sitting in the clinic using the free internet.

By the time challenge clinic and the necessary phone calls were made, it was about 20 after five…and I had missed the evening Mass too. I did not think Vincent would be very pleased, but I really couldn't help it as I had to make the phone calls before all of the businesses closed for the day. My flight on Friday was to leave at 11 AM and I figured I would not have time to call in the morning. I did decide, however, to go home and sit in the back yard to say Evening Prayer, as had become my regular custom for the previous three days.

Speaking of customs, I continued the tradition (anything an Aggie does twice is tradition right?) of having a happy hour beer at the Sun. However, this time, when I arrived, I saw the bartender pouring various liquids into a tall pilsner glass with ice. I had my suspicions, but when he topped it off with Coke I knew he was making Long Island Iced Teas…and they looked yummy. So obviously that became my drink, but apparently he was sick of making them because when I asked for it he jokingly said something to the other bartender that I took to mean "These things take forever to make! He should've just ordered it five minutes ago when he was watching me make the others!" However, he was still nice about it and made the tall, yummy drink. And it was a good and proper way to end my 3rd of 4 weeksJ.

While at the Sun, my fellow student and I texted back and forth making plans for the evening, since he had just finished his last day of his month. He told me that he and his friends were at the Riverwalk, so I decided to join them. I texted Tendai to see if he could pick me up, and lo and behold he was right outside the Sun! Further, I got him to agree to take me to Riverwalk for 25 pula rather than 30. I figured it made up for the half hour I waited outside Linga Longa a few nights before. Plus, I only had a 20, a 5, and a couple 200s, and somehow taxi drivers never have change.

Eden and his friends were at Primi Patti, an Italian restaurant at the Mall. We sat at a table inside to eat, with clear bottles of water on shelves in front of various colors of neon lights as décor, I suppose. That's a really poor way of describing it, but that's all I've got right now. Anyway, we ordered our food and talked for a while, and then met a couple more friends of his before deciding to spend some time at his house for the evening rather than going out.

After about a twenty minute ride (no taxi!) we arrived at this house. We basically just sat around and talked, played some cards, and had a drink or two (mine was some of the bottle of wine that I brought and was finally able to open…hooray corkscrews!). It was a rather random group: myself (random enough on my own I'd say), my fellow student who was from Botswana but studies in the Caribbean, a couple volunteers from Ireland, one from Argentina, a friend of his who is from India, and another guy whose origin is unknown to me still. It was a good time, but as one of his friends had a flight to catch at 6:45 in the morning, we called it a night relatively early, and I was able again to get a ride home.

Tired but content, I decided that I could pack my things in the morning. Tendai, who was taking me to the airport, suggested there was no need to get to the airport two hours early. Instead, the plan was an hour early, which meant one hour more to pack, and more time to sleep!

 

The day ahead was definitely not what I planned, however.

Walking on the Sun

August 20, 2010 1:00PM

 

Still at the airport…at least there's an airplane on the tarmac now that I think might be the one that's supposed to take us to Kasane. This delay means no opportunity for a sunset cruise on the river today. I think a partial refund may be in order:-P Now for Wednesday.

 

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Wednesday was my day to work with Dr. Parth in the inpatient ward at Princess Marina Hospital. As I said before, he's a pediatric hematologist/oncologist. Rather than just getting a quick glimpse as a did previously when we admitted one patient from the clinic, I was able to spend the entire morning on rounds with him and the two other doctors on the team.

 

Like I've said before, the differences between the clinic and the hospital are striking. The differences in the patients in each of them were equally if not more striking. We saw about 10 patients throughout the morning, with various cancer/blood disorders. The more serious were a small girl with a kidney tumor about the size of a small football, from what I could tell, and who was basically receiving comfort care as there was no treatment that would cure her or truly prolong her life. In addition, and maybe most surprising to me, was a young boy who was running around doing well but had recently come in because of a recurrence of a retinoblastoma (simply, an eye tumor). He had received surgery and chemo, and was doing well other than having to have his right eye removed. However, the tumor started to grow back. Rather than bring him in right away, the family waited until the poor kid essentially looked like he had a horn coming out of his forehead, from what I understand. The apparent thought process was that, in his village where hunting and other activities are of utmost importance, he was living an inferior life anyway. The quote I remember from Dr. Parth quoting his mom was, "He is already missing one eye. What is the point?"

 

Just a few other things I noted during the morning. The beds of course are next to each other in the main ward, with no separation whatsoever. Parents who stay overnight sleep on the floor on mats, if there are any. Like TCH, there is an oncology ward. However, the "oncology ward" is one room that looks almost like a classroom with four beds in it, again with no curtains or privacy. The chemotherapy, like almost everything else, is mixed and given by the doctor giving it, not simply ordered and left to be administered by a chemo nurse. Patients who were coming for treatment or to be admitted were seen by Dr. Parth: his office was a bench at the entrance of the pediatric ward. In general, there is just so much less. Less space, fewer resources, fewer nurses, less attention to cleanliness. Earlier in the year a sink overflowed and the water could not be turned off, spilling over right in the middle of the ward as maintenance caught it in a bucket while trying to fix it.

 

As the surprising and humbling morning concluded, I was able to run home for some lunch before returning to clinic for another lecture. After lecture I set a goal of finding a place to stay in Kasane for the weekend. Calling around and asking those who were full for suggestions on where to stay, I stumbled upon "The Old House" and reserved a room for Friday night there, and since unfortunately the nice lady on the phone insisted that they were full for Sautrday, I found another room at Thebe River Lodge. Victorious, I decided to head over to the Sun again for a half-priced drink before finally making a proper dinner. Added bonus this time: about ten after six the bartenders passed out bowls of beef jerky, cashews, and olives…salty snacks anyone? I think their magnanimity was a bit questionable:-P. Tricky tricky, bartenders. I however, fought their salty temptation and stuck to what I had planned on drinking anyway and no more…I didn't care how thirsty I was. Regardless, after finishing I had dinner to cook.

 

I arrived home and set to dinner. Trying again to revise my previous "Pasta a la Gaborone", I cut up red bell peppers, tomatoes, an onion, and about six garlic cloves (thank you very much SUPERSPAR) and cooked them all up individually, as the pan was far too small for all of them. After adding a bunch of salt and herbs to try to counteract the sugar in the essentially "Spaghettios" sauce that I had leftover from the previous week, I poured said sauce in with the vegetables. It was still really sweet, but better;-P. A pot of boiling water, some shell pasta (the sauce and vegetables could hide inside!), and straining later, and it was dinner! By the way, there is still a ton leftover should anyone want to come over and try some:-P.

 

After doing the dishes, I set to work trying to write out a personal statement for residency application. I hadn't realized it until receiving an email earlier in the day, but our Dean needed a copy by the end of Friday. Now, forced creative writing is really not my thing at first. At least, I'm not good at setting to getting started. In any case, I thought over what I could write, read some tips about what to write, and set to it in my room, pictures of my family surrounding the mirror above my desk. About two hours later, I had something that I was at least not disappointed in, and thought could be edited and revised at a later time. By then, though, it was about 11 and time for a shower and bed. Anyone who would like to read said personal statement is more than welcome, just message/email me. However I think I won't be posting it on the blog.

That's all folks!

It’s an English muffin…

August 20, 2010 11:46 AM

Still here at the airport….here's Tuesday

 

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

 

Tuesday started off like almost any other day. After a quick talk with Ali, I began working with Dr. Gomila, the ID (Infectious Disease) go-to guy for the clinic. He was friendly and efficient, and fun to work with throughout the morning. About halfway through the morning, he said it was time for a quick break to get some coffee. Since, like most mornings, I had not been awake early enough to boil water for some instant coffee, my ears perked up. "Coffee?!?" I thought. I didn't even know that it was accessible before Tuesday. How did I go two weeks here without someone showing me where to get coffee in the mornings?

 

I found out soon enough that it was probably because it wasn't exactly "quick." We walked out of the clinic, in between a couple buildings on a covered walkway through the Princess Marina Hospital Complex, and turned in to a small cafeteria. Concrete floors and folding chairs, diner-like flat-top grill behind the serving line, and a couple of large but old framed movie posters ("A Walk in the Clouds" and "Shakespeare in Love"…about as random as the cafeteria itself), and two drink refridgerators. That was about it. Twenty people stood in line, but Dr. Gomila insisted we sit down, as he knew a friend who worked there (ie we'd get our coffee faster). He ordered coffee and something that sounded Argentinian, like the doctor himself is, and I just said I'd have the same. When his friend brought out the coffee, I found out the Spanish-sounding item we had ordered was a large English muffin warmed on the flat-top grill. As a lover of English muffins, I was happy…though I was surprised that it wasn't something more exotic based on the name:-P. We scooped our coffee, raw sugar (called brown sugar here, which is great and highly preferred by me for coffee purposes), and cream and poured in steaming water from a small pot placed on our table. Simple, but it was a better breakfast than I've had most days here. After talking for about fifteen minutes about my Kasane trip, where he had come from, etc. We moseyed back to the clinic to finish up the remaining hour or two of patients.

 

After clinic finished up, I spoke with Dr. Patel and the other medical student here briefly, ran home, ate a quick sandwich, and headed back to get ready for journal club. As we prepped the projector and made last adjustments to the slides, people started rolling in. Of course, as our talk was on HIV resistance, we played "Simply Irresistible" as the first few people came in. By the time we started, there were about 15 or so people there, which was a pretty good number for journal club! (I know I know the PAC docs probably all agreed to go to support us poor students). In any case, the talk went well, I think people enjoyed it, and I didn't pee my pants…not even a little (I guess I'm not as cool as Miles Davis.)

 

After everyone left, Dr. Patel thanked and congratulated us, and it was so nice to have the presentation done (really the one big thing that I had to complete here for the rotation outside of the clinic work). It was almost like a final exam, but without questions. It's really all downhill from here!

 

My fellow medical student and I agreed to meet up with some of his friends a bit later to celebrate being done. In the meantime, I continued my work on setting up things for my trip, second-guessing my decision to stay in Zambia rather than Botswana (visas and border crossings being kept to a minimum is probably a good idea). About 5:30, I left the clinic and ran home. At the time it appeared as if the plans for the evening were falling through. To make matters even worse, I had purchased a bottle of wine at the Riverwalk the night before (where the most expensive bottle was seriously about 20 dollars!) and had intended to have a celebratory glass with dinner that night. Instead, I searched and searched and could NOT find a corkscrew. I did come across what I believe to be some sort of other kitchen tool that I had never seen before. In any case, it had what could be construed as a corkscrew on it. However, after about 3 turns into the cork, it stopped, was not deep enough, and instead of going further dedided to let me bend and twist the straight part of the thingamajig. I pulled and pulled and pulled, and nearly destroyed the cork. No luck. I tried to wedge it out with a fork, with a knife (safely). Nothing.

 

At this point in time I recalled a sign I saw at the Gaborone Sun Hotel on Sunday saying that happy hour was from 6 to 7. I scrapped the plan to make dinner and have wine and instead headed over to have a drink and watch whatever sports were on TV. After quickly crossing the street, I walked back in to that beautifully landscaped and furnished area, and pulled up a chair at the bar. So the conversation with the man behind the bar there went like this.

"Good evening, sir."

"Hello. Is Happy Hour from six until seven?"

"Yes, sir."

"What does that mean?"

(Looks at his watch) "That it is still happy hour, sir."

"No no I'm sorry, what does Happy Hour mean?"

"It means that everything is half-priced."

 

Honestly though…happy hour means different things at different places, right? So I spent the next hour sitting sipping and watching soccer and SkyNews. I was able to text family back home, relax, and enjoy a calm evening without work to do. About quarter after seven, the other medical student texts to let me know that indeed he and his friends were on their way to NewsCafe down the road. Ready to do anything unrelated to work, I walked outside to the combi stop in front of the hotel and waited for a Broadhurst #5, undeterred by the events of the previous afternoon. As I waited, random dude from Botswana pulls up in his car, rolls down his window, and I figure out he's a taxi driver. I decided that him pulling up to the combi stop should be taken as a sign not to wait for the combi. I asked him how much, and since the 20 pula matched the amount of change I had just received at the Sun, I jumped inside.

 

Literally three minutes later I was sitting at a table with my fellow medical student and about 7 of his friends. Though the drinks were more expensive than the happy hour prices I had just enjoyed, the drink I was given was not the drink I ordered, and the place was otherwise empty, it was a good time. We sat talking and playing cards for a couple of hours until the management basically was just staring at us in a way that sad "Please leave, we want to go home." Thankfully, as we left one of my fellow student's friends offered a ride home. Thus ended another day in the land of instant coffee, random taxis, and backwards driving.

So I got a little lazy…

August 20, 2010 10:47 AM

Whew…week three in the clinic is DONE. As of right now I'm sitting in the Gaborone airport waiting for the now 2.5 hour delayed flight to Kasane/Chobe. In any case…now's as good a time as any to catch up on documenting the week.

 

Monday, August 16

Monday morning rolled around and I think I was about ready for some normalcy again. A day in the family clinic at the COE that was pretty uneventful did just the trick. We finished up seeing patients around one, and as we wrapped up Dr. Patel told me we would meet at 3 to discuss the powerpoint presentation for journal club. I had planned on going to Main Mall and one of the smaller grocery stores, but instead Dr. Patel suggested that I could probably make it to Riverwalk and back by 3.

 

A short walk home to empty my backpack and I was in the combi on my way. I am not sure how it works out, or why this is so, but Broadhurst Route #5 if supposed to go all the way down to Tlokweng Circle, where I stop to get out and walk the short distance remaining. Instead a couple of times, this time being one of them, it turns much earlier, and I, not sure where it is headed next and not wanting to lose myself in Gabarone, get out of the combi as soon as it makes the next stop. In any case, that means on Monday I was walking the rest of the way to Riverwalk, and it made it a bit of a time crunch. I was glad to go for a walk as it was a sunny day, but my time was dwindling quickly. After the trek, I came up to Riverwalk and its many stores content to go the the Pick 'n' Pay that I've been to plenty of times before. Instead I came upon a "Super Spar." Now the regular Spar that I've been to is nothing to write home about (even though I guess I did in my previous post "Botswana Hear a Story?" I figured I'd walk in and see what was so super about it.

 

AND IT WAS AWESOME! I walked in and felt like I was in an American supermarket. There was a produce section that I could not touch both ends of if I stretched out my hands, a bakery, etc etc etc. I walked around for a minute in wonder, though I didn't have much time to do so. In any case, I grabbed some of the staples (bread, milk, cereal, Coke Light (yes that's what they call it here…sounds better than Diet Coke doesn't it?)) and headed to the front of the store. I went through the line, paid for my groceries (and 3 cents or whatever nonsense they charge for plastic bags), and the lady sacked the groceries for me…

 

And where do you think she put the bread?

 

IN A BAG WITH THE MILK AND 1 KG SACK OF APPLES!

Seriously?!?!?! Now, friends, I don't know what it is about the people here. Maybe they like squished bread, maybe it's not included in the bag boy/girl training they receive, maybe they don't train their baggers, maybe they don't care… But doggone it in America we protect our bread and we're darn proud of it!!!

 

Horror! So of course, I thanked the lady as I grabbed the bags, walked about 20 feet away and around a corner, and of course stooped down onto the ground to save my bread and rearrange my groceries. Thankfully, the bread was not destroyed. On my way out, as I had on the way in, I noticed a woman at the front of the store (this lady worked for and in the store, it wasn't like she was standing outside) selling grilled cheeses and "Russian Hot Dogs" from a cart for like a buck fifty. Not having eaten breakfast, I didn't care what country was making the hot dog, it sounded great. So I asked for one. The lady pulls out this HUGE hot dog, really, it was more like the size of a banana, and places it on a long roll and tops it with what was called "tomato" but I could only describe as spicy ketchup. Hot dog in hand, I was out the door in a flash to catch a combi back to the clinic.

 

Now I want you to picture me, walking outside through the parking lot and along the road in the pleasant warm sun, with a backpack full of apples, a grocery bag hanging from each arm, and a delicious Russian hot dog as my portable lunch. It was delicious and wonderful, and I want you to know I was wearing a white shirt and didn't spill one drop of "tomato" on it as I walked to the combi stop. At that point, I decided it was a good day.

I quickly caught a combi and rode back to the house in the crowded van, backpack on my lap, groceries in front of me, and squished a bit such that I am pretty sure my knees we pressed up against what I could only identify, if I had to guess, as a trash bag full of unused condoms (ugh). I'd say "That's life" but well, it kinda is the opposite.

I dropped off my groceries and headed back to the clinic about ten after 3, and when we arrived we had another lecture on anti-retroviral treatment before meeting with Dr. Patel to talk over our slides. She was pleased with the presentation and just made some quick corrections and suggestions. Afterwards I stayed at the clinic to make the changes she suggested and to email the final product to her. Then it was time to head out before being locked inside the clinic.

I did head back to Riverwalk for the second time in the day to use the internet at Linga Longa (a restaurant and bar popular on weekends). I arrived just after 7, and unlike the night before when I arrived just around 9, it was BUSY. Since it was dinnertime, all of the tables were occupied. However, after standing around for a few minutes I just decided to walk myself over to one of the couches in the back of the restaurant where nobody was sitting and there were no tables around. Figuring that someone would come ask me what I wanted to order, I set to work accessing the internet there.

 

And nobody even bothered me! For three hours I sat there using the free internet, calling home on skype, looking up activities to do at Chobe for the weekend, and checking email. It was so busy that I suppose nobody even cared that I was there the whole evening. In fact, after a while when I became thirsty, I had to move myself up to the bar to ask for something, where I stayed until about half past ten when the place closed. StevenBoyTaxi picked me up, though his cab was rather different from the one I rode in the first Friday night I was here with my roommate (who shall remain nameless to protect their identity unless they should prefer I use a real name in future posts). Instead of pop and rap music that made our first ride with him so much fun, I found myself with a quiet Steven who listened to "Please Forgive Me I Can't Stop Loving You" by I'm assuming Rod Stewart? I guess that's a Monday night for ya.

 

Home again, shower again, bed again…

Oh the places you’ll go! (Part III)

August 17, 2010 4:30 PM

Whew...journal club presentation FINISHED. Later a celebratory trip to the Sun Hotel. But for now, step into this DeLorean with me if you would. Ready for a trip? 10, 15, 30, 50, 60, 75, 85, 86, 87, 88....(multiply by 1.6 if you're reading this from Botswana)

FLASH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sunday, August 15

Feast of the Assumption of Mary...Whoop!

So Saturday night I fell asleep even though I was afraid of a certain Kenyan somehow breaking into my house (out of anger for my cancelling on lunch) and beating me with a ceaselessly vibrating cell phone. But I woke up in one piece...

...at 7:37 AM. Seriously?! The alarm was set for 7 AM, and somehow I slept as it went off for 37 MINUTES. Babe, I know you aren't surprised, but still, for me that's impressive. You see, if I had been at home, either my loving wife would have just turned the alarm off, sleepily asked me to get up to turn it off, or made me wake up.

However, my loving secondary alarm was not there to wake me. Consequently, I pondered whether or not to even try to make it to 8 AM Mass. Needing to get a start on the day, I decided I could do it. about 10 minutes later I was dressed, deodorant-ized, teeth-brushed, and out the door. I booked it through the alleyway and the street behind Princess Marina Hospital...and of course as I walked to Church on Sunday morning along the side of this backroad I saw...

...two cars parked facing each other on the shoulder, with about 4 Batswana (this is the way to say what I think should be "Botswanian") dudes hanging out, sitting around, and of course drinking beer. 7:45 AM...Sunday morning...seriously? Maybe there was a reason, but I very readily decided that they just must have decided they wanted to drink ALL WEEKEND LONG. Literally. This, coupled with the comment Tendai the Taxi Driver made at Liquorama two nights prior ("People come here and buy to drink for the entire weekend!"), made me conclude that this must have been their goal. Seriously though...wow.

Anyway, I finally made it to Christ the King Cathedral, where I walked in to see the back of a certain Kenyan man's head in one of the pews as I found a place to sit. I enjoyed the Feast of the Assumption in my own language, with music that was not quite as lively as that of the Setswana Mass. As Mass ended, I said some prayers and then looked up to see Vincent waiting to talk to me...oh boy...

So we walked outside and Vincent proceeded to ask me about my work that I had to do. As we discussed my two projects, he asked if maybe we could switch and do dinner instead. I initially protested, saying that after I sent my project in to my supervisor here in Botswana I had an essay I had to write as well at night. He persisted, however, telling me how the problem was that he had gone to the store specifically for the food, was up until 1 AM the night before cooking, and made far too much food for just one person to eat.

At this point in time, I caved. I truly didn't think this guy had any ill intent. He had just told me how he comes to the English Mass at 8 because he doesn't speak Sestwana as well and wants to hear the Gospel in English. He then stays for the 10 AM Sestwana Mass because he prefers the singing. Plus I think he generally just likes going to Mass. Regardless, he had given me his CV and was hoping that I could help him find a job in the U.S. (reason for him not to kill me). So, with hesitation, I proceeded to agree that we would meet at 3:30, because there was no way in Botswana that I was going to go there after dark.

So, after going home and scarfing some cereal I concluded that I needed to get to a place with internet access to send revised slides for the presentation, check my email, and get to really scheduling a trip to northern Botswana. Not having much time, I settled for the Gaborone Sun Hotel just across the street, where internet is expensive but convenient and faster than Riverwalk.

Not having been inside this apparently five star hotel before, I walked in, purchased a one our internet voucher, and proceeded to the pool area bar where I was told the internet worked best. Truly, it was a beautiful spot to work, with a view of the clear pool as the sun moved into the western sky. The bar area was open air but covered, so the temperature was just right. The bar had granite counter and the tables around the bar area had plush chairs and polished wood. It was nice. In any case, I took in the scenery for a bit before setting to getting the most out of my hour on the internet. It was literally my oasis in the desert. Though I didn't know it yet, it would stand in stark contrast to the setting in which I'd find myself later in the day.

However, then it was time for frustration to begin. As I sat there sipping a drink and surfing the web, I found a flight to Kasane and a place to stay potentially, both of which could be booked online. I tried and tried and tried for the majority of the hour to get all my info put in and reserve my ticket and room. However, my credit card somehow decided that, even though I had called to tell them I was in Botswana for a month, they would put a hold on the card when I tried to buy a plane ticket. Subsequently, I spent the last 20 minutes on the phone with not just that card but my secondary card, and used up all the airtime on my phone in the process. To make a long and simply frustrating story short, it took an additional 30 minutes of internet time (twice!), two phone calls to card companies (one successful and one not), and about eight thousand attempts before I got things squared away, just before my last 30 minutes of internet ran out. Though frustrated, I was incredibly happy to have finally made a decision on where to go and when. As Ali knows, these kinda things are hard for me. I overanalyze way too much. Though I know it is a longstanding problem, I'm gonna blame med school for it anyway.

After leaving the royalty of the Sun, I headed home so that I'd make it back to the Cathedral on time. I took everything valuable out of my backpack save my camera and headed back to the Church. At exactly 3:30 PM, Vincent pulls up in a taxi and is ready to go. With what I realize could be the last time I boarded a moving vehicle, I stepped into the cab and we were off.

So Vincent insisted that we would drive to where he was staying, and then head back by foot. I may have argued the "walkability" of this distance, as we proceeded past Main mall, over a bridge, and through a neighborhood. Finally after navigating a few neighborhood streets we pulled up to Vincent's place. After getting out and paying the 20 pula for the taxi (Vincent had paid for all the food, after all), we went through a gate that entered into what Vincent told me were the servant's quarters of a man's house. Once we walked into the room, I knew that I didn't need to be afraid anymore.

Vincent lives in a tiny area of this man's house, where he has a room which is about 10 by 12 feet, a bathroom with shower, and the tiniest kitchen I have ever seen (no fridge, no cupboards, no oven...literally a sink, a counter top with one shelf underneath), and some hot plates on top on which to cook) all entered through separate doors that are entered from outside.

As we walked in, Vincent told me to have a seat on the one plastic and steel chair in the room, turned a bucket over to use as a "table," and welcomed me. I was then staring across the room at a few thick blankets stacked to make a bed, a pile of clothes in the corner of the room, an ironing board in the other corner, and about 15 pictures of Jesus and Mary all around the room leaned against the red-orange walls or the single window. In the final corner stood a few statues of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, a crucifix with a green-stoned Rosary on it, and more pictures. next to my chair were two more statues of Jesus and Mary. As I sat there, Vincent pulled out a plate, then proceeded to pull his non-perishable groceries out of another bucket (again, no furniture in this room, no closets, dresser). He opened a package peanuts and raisins, poured them out on the plate, then spread out a package of sandwich cookies on top: our appetizer. He then pulled out two mugs and offered me the choice between two cans of orange Fanta or some juice from a carton. Choosing the juice, he poured it and said "If we do not finish, you will take this with you."

It was at this time that I began to realize how important this meal was to him. We proceeded to go to walk across through the door to the outside and then the door to the kitchen, where he showed me the pot of fish he had cooked, the spinach and grape leaves, and the pot in which we would make "Pap" or "Woogali." As he plugged in the hot plates, he put water into a pot and we snacked as we waited for it to boil. Then, as the water boiled abotu 15 minutes later, I watched, flies buzzing around the both of us, as he poured maize into the water and proceeded to stir it vigorously. Then, after about 4 minutes, he stopped, poured in more maize (to make it firmer), and stirred again. Finally, he gave it a few minutes ("To make it very hot...see that fire [referring to the steam coming off the food]"). Next, he proceeded to warm up the greens, and began to plate.

Out of the other pot, full of orange liquid boiling up, he scooped out pieces of whole fish, gutted and scaled. Of course, he gave me a head as well, but when he finished I had about the equivalent of 1and a half full tilapia on my plate. He then proceeded to put the Pap onto another plate on which to serve it. At this point, he was just about using every dish he owned. He then scooped some greens into two bowls, scooped himself a much smaller portion of fish (even still there was a bunch left in the pot), and it was time to eat.

As I sat on the chair, he sat on the "bed" to eat. Pulling up a plastic crate on which to place some of the food, we were set to go. We blessed the food and thanked God for our safety and our meal. We began to eat. A pot was placed in between us "For the bones". Of course, these whole fish had bones till in the meat, which meant you pulled a piece off, ate it, but carefully to make sure you hadn't missed a bone...some of which were tiny. Though an adventure, the fish was very tasty and good. (No utensils were used to eat this mean, by the way.) Vincent also showed me how to eat the Pap. After he literally sliced this mass of boiled maize with a knife, I picked up a piece and he showed me how to knead it in one hand to make it softer, then dip it in the liquid in which the fish had been boiled. It was also very good, of course tastier with the liquid than plain.

As we ate he proceeded to tell me about how he went to the store, started cooking, scaled the fish, and got my message about when he was really getting into the cooking. Hearing this, I felt that first I didn't deserve to be welcomed so graciously by someone who had so little and second that I would have greatly disappointed and saddened him if I had not attended this literal feast. Then, the topic turned to how he had worked for the man who owned the house for 12 years. Then, as the government stopped giving projects to the company Vincent's boss worked for, he was forced to lay off many of his workers. However, as his boss knew him to be a good man and worker, he offered for him to move to Gaborone from Serowe (the town Vincent had been working in) to stay for free in his servant quarters to look for work. He agreed, left his house and all his furniture in Serowe, and came to look for work.

Since April, Vincent has been doing this. He goes to 6AM Mass, searches for work all day, and then heads to Mass again at 5PM. Arriving at home later in the evening, he goes to sleep about 10-11PM. Then, he told me, he wakes up every morning at 3AM to pray the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, and is then up for the day, ready to do it all over again. Strengthened by this grace, and the motivation to help pay for schooling for his son and nieces and nephews back in Kenya, he searches and prays each day, thanking God at the very least for his health and hoping to be grateful for more each day. So far, the Lord has seen fit to allow him to continue offering up this trial...

As we continued to talk, we continued to eat. As I was beginning to feel full from fish and Pap, Vincent decided that I needed another piece. And he also decided that I needed the LARGEST piece. Literally, this thing was the size of a human stomach...and I had already been eating! So as we ate, I stuff my face, waiting to tell Vincent there is no way I can finish it all. Eventually, as I feel there is no room left, I tell him I am feeling very full. "Just finish the Pap, and that will be okay," he says. I looked down at the 80% of the second piece that was left: No WAY. I tried for a few more minutes and repeated myself, but Vincent was insistent that I finish the Pap (in a nice way, but still insistent) and that he would then pack up my fish. Still not thinking it was possible, I continued to try...but it was just so much. Somehow the conversation turned to Barak Obama, how people in the US felt about him, how I felt about him, how I first and foremost think he's detestable for supporting abortion, and how Vincent agreed that that was against the Church's teaching and was wrong and therefore was bad. Conversation aside, seriously, after a couple more pauses, a couple of belches that somehow made room, and a couple big bites later, I had FINALLY finished the massive mound of boiled corn meal on my plate. After this, I slowly exhaled, indicating to Vincent that I had fulfilled his gracious request (though somehow I felt almost gluttonous finishing all of that). He consoled my aching stomach by saying that after we walked to get back to the area where the Church was that I would feel much better. Further, he told me that the meal was special for him because, aside from a white priest he once met, I was the only other white person with whom he had shared a meal. I was suprised, humbled, and honored, to say the least.

Next Vincent proceeded to pack up my leftovers. No tupperware, of course. My leftover fish was carefully placed in a plastic grocery bag, with the leftover pap in it as well, and a bit of the extr juice, which I was sure would leak through. The leftover juice in its carton, cookies, nuts, and a couple of bananas (I don't think we were actually supposed to eat these during the meal?) placed in another plastic bag. After we moved all of the dishes from his room to the kitchen, he carefully put everything else away back in the storage bucket in the corner, put on his worn shoes, and we were off. I walked away from the meal and from the house knowing that I wasn't worthy of such a giving spirit and such an experience.

After we left the house, as the sun was starting to set, Vincent showed me a shortcut through his neighborhood, on which we somehow ran into a friend of his and a visitor who happened to be a Catholic priest (weird right?). He then showed me another shortcut through an apartment complex, where each balcony had bars guarding it (high crime rate here, ya think?), and eventually we were back on a main road I recognized near the bridge we had crossed over. We skipped the bridge and cut through an area nearby, an area that I soon recognized as the same area I had been lost among the combis in the night before! This time we crossed through another portion of that zoo for vehicles in which numerous busses waited to be filled to capacity before departing for their destination outside of Gaborone. After passing through this bustling area, I was again in the same spot where a stranger had helped me find my way to Broadhurst Combi #2 the night before. This time, though, I didn't as much mind the dark, since I had someone who knew what he was doing close by. We walked, cut across streets, and eventually passed by the American Embassy. I was so close to the U.S. (technically) and definitely closer to homeland than I had been in the previous two weeks. We continued to walk, passing Main Mall, the Cathedral, and eventually the Baylor Clinic. At this point, I thanked Vincent for everything, wished him well on his trip back home (yes he walked all the way back), and walked the last five minutes alone.

Truly, all I can say is that I NEVER would have expected to experience anything like what I described above. Me two weeks ago would have told me today that I was crazy to even consider going to have lunch at the home of a Nigerian man he randomly met in Gaborone....

Finally I arrived home about seven. I put my leftovers, which Vincent insisted on carrying till we parted ways, in the fridge. This was not the end of the night, however, as the presentation for journal club still needed to be emailed to my supervisor. As I had no internet, I hopped on a combi and headed to Riverwalk to use the free internet at Linga Longa (grill and bar). My partner for the presentation and I emailed each other slides, and eventually got them sent in. Content with the days' work, I called Tendai to pick me up at 10:30 when Linga Longa closed. About 11, he showed up (gotta love Gaborone time). As I got in he introduced me to his wife, Monica, who I assumed he had just picked up and therefore had a good excuse for being late. They were both very kind and pleasant on the trip back. They dropped me off, I took a shower, and bedtime concluded the weekend.

Seriously...Dr. Suess is a freakin' prophet. Oh the places you'll go!