charity

Hey, so there is a new post below that you should check out, but I wanted to quickly mention that we have a bunch of extra t-shirts from the tournament and we are selling them and giving the proceeds to Stepping Stones (an NGO described in previous posts). If you would like a shirt, I could just buy one for you and then give it to you whenever I see you or send it to you once I'm home (depending on where you are). The shirts are only $5 USD. I need to know if you want one by Tuesday, because that's when I'm leaving Gabs. If you want one, leave a comment on this post with the size you want (sorry, only M or L). Or email me at msnavely@macalester.edu. Thank you! Here are some handsome models wearing the shirts and a more detailed view of the logo:

lesotho, part 1

In between the end of classes and the beginning of finals we had a nice big window with no commitments, so a group of five of us decided to go on an excursion down to South Africa and Lesotho and then up to Victoria Falls. The story really can't be told without the pictures from the trip, but while I'm waiting on the photos, I thought I'd throw my journal entries from the trip up on here as a teaser. enjoy

After a marathon drive yesterday during which our friend Bryce was an extremely impressive driver and leader (a theme that continued for the next 11 days) we got into Sani Lodge Backpackers in the Drakensburg Mountain National Park of South Africa, just southeast of Lesotho. We arrived at 8:50 pm, leaving us just enough time to check-in before reception closed at 9:00 pm.

We set up our tent in the dark, which was quite the feat, and loaded it up with blankets and sheets. We moved to the kitchen/common room and heated and stirred together our preemptively cooked pasta. We sat around a table in the common room with a fire glowing and fellow backpackers resting and relaxing. It was Good Friday and as such, a group was reading bible verses out loud to one another. We stayed up telling stories and playing cards. Bryce fell asleep on the couch and eventually the rest of us started to fade and so the boys and I retired to the tent and the girls headed for the car.

The night air certainly had a bite to it – we could see our breath and my three layers of clothes still left me shivering.

The next night Derek, Audrey, Katie and I started a game of Spaids that, little did we know, would last for the entire 11 day trip.

Fried bratwurst and beetroot and macaroni for dinner…

exposure

The national paper here in Botswana ran an article about our tournament today. If you shoot me an email
I can send you a scanned image of the article, but it should also end up online, and I'll try to post the link
when it does.

Lose the Shoes, reprise

Group shot with the top four teams. A couple kids
from Stepping Stones woven in.

In a word, it was amazing. In true Botswana style, many things happened at the very last minute, and I was very nervous that everything was going to fall apart but somehow it worked out. The morning of, when we first got to field at 7 in the morning the gate was already open (which hadn't been a guarantee) and a crew from Standard Chartered was already setting up gazebos and flags and banners and tables and chairs. So it was off to a good start.

Advertising banner on campus

I ended up having to run around with one of our directors all morning buying meat for the braai, buns for the meat, ice for the coolers, charcoal for the braai and water for the players. The cool thing was that we got the meat and the water at half price thanks to the generous support of the The Butcher Shop (subsidized sausages) in G-West Industrial and Moghul Catering (subsidized water), which is the company that runs one of the refectories on campus.

I got back just in time for the games to start. The other student volunteers were doing a great job registering teams and distributing t-shirts and fresh watermelon that fellow exchange students had selflessly sliced and pack for us the night before. We had 17 total teams register! Although we were ready to handle 32, 17 was more than we could have hoped for, after we only had 7 or 8 that had pre-registered.

Organizing committee joined by a German
participant (in white) and a rep from Standard
Chartered (in the glasses)

A student DJ was playing the whole time and he had two cordless mics that were incredibly handy. Kids from Stepping Stones (the NGO receiving the proceeds) were there and we introduced them to everyone. Once the players realized who the kids were they started mingling and kicking balls around in the free space. We had raffle drawings in between every round of games and we let the kids pick out the winning names. We took a break halfway through the day and six of the kids got to play a 3-a-side game on the main field while all of the players and volunteers cheered them on.

The champions! The blue shirts are the prizes they won

The sun started to come out part way through the day, which brought on the sweat, but also the smiles from the players. Everyone kept saying they were having such a good time and everyone was obsessed with the raffles - Standard Chartered Bank supplied nice Liverpool polo shirts and t-shirts and mini soccer balls and caps. It was really cool.

We sold sausages at P7 (to undercut the vendors’ price of P10 at the North Gate) and they were a hit. We sold over 100 of them.

Eventually we got down the championship game and it was pretty exciting. The eventual runner-up scored first, but the other team came back with 3 unanswered goals. They were great sports throughout.

We publicly thanked Standard Chartered for making it all possible and one of their representatives got to award the winning team their UB soccer jerseys (retail value of P200) which were donated free of charge from the UB souvenir shop.

Overall it was a real success and not a day soon to be forgotten.

More pictures to come! And let me know if you have any questions about the tournament - I'm sure there's things I forgot and I would love to talk more about it.

Don't even remember what I had for dinner - I couldn't stop thinking about how much fun the day had been...

extracurric's

So far I’ve focused all of my posts on trips that I’ve taken and other things that I thought would be the best reads, but perhaps its time that I talk a little bit about what I do while I’m at school.

I’m taking four courses this semester – two of them are courses at the University of Botswana (UB), and two are run by our study abroad program director, Phoebe.

One of the courses that I’m taking at UB is the local language, Setswana, which I’ve mentioned before (and there isn’t much to update). The other is a course in human physiology, which I’m taking with my good friend Derek, who also goes to Macalester. The physiology course has been a growing experience not so much in the curriculum we cover but in learning to cope with a fundamental difference in grading rubrics and student-teacher dynamics between UB and Macalester.

I perhaps take it for granted that at Macalester professors are always willing to talk and answer questions and develop relationships with students. Moving to UB where there are 15,000 students (compared to Macalester’s 2,000) and being in a class of 150, the professors (one lecturer and multiple lab instructors) are swamped and on multiple occasions when Derek and I have tracked them down outside of class they have explicitly said, “don’t talk to me right now; maybe come back tomorrow.” That was a new one for me.

So as Derek and I try to adjust to a new system, the lack of communication with the professors has made it especially difficult. But we saw it as a challenge and continued to do our best work and attempt to connect with the professors. And we’ve had some success; at least one of the professors knows our names (doesn’t hurt that we’re the only two white kids in the class) and our grades have vastly improved as we have been molded into the UB grading system. We now know to never indent the beginning of paragraphs (“no scientists in Botswana indent their paragraphs”) and that if a question is worth 10 marks then the answer is expected to contain 10 separate statements of fact.

The two classes independent of UB are: The Biology and Public Health (BPH) of Tuberculosis (TB), Malaria, and HIV and the other is a guided Independent Research Project (ISP). Both are taught by Phoebe and have proven to be major highlights of the semester.

The BPH course is refreshingly rigorous. We get healthy loads of reading to prepare us for a three-hour class every Friday morning where we get into deep, scholarly discussions about pressing public health issues. Phoebe is a microbiologist by training, so often there are technical biology lectures and as a Bio major, I revel in them. A friend of mine put it well, when Phoebe gets into the Bio and starts talking really fast and covering a ton of interesting material, it makes you feel at home.

The course is broken down into three parts: for the first month or so we covered just about every possible aspect of malaria, then moved onto TB, and we are currently in the final unit on HIV/AIDS. The HIV unit has been made especially riveting, as there are a handful of local people in the class that have indispensable firsthand knowledge about behavior and trends in Botswana.

The course was brought to another level last Friday, as we had a guest speaker who was HIV+ and spoke openly about her status and how it has affected her life. She was inspirational, to say the least. She has taken an alternative approach to dealing with HIV, as she doesn’t take ARVs, but chooses to eat healthy and employ positive thinking to deal with the infection. She wryly said that HIV is the best thing that ever happened to her, and went on to explain that it has made her step back and think about what life is really all about. She volunteers with home-based HIV care services and spreads her message of positive thinking and healthy eating to all she meets. We all appreciated her talk, and I’m sure everyone learned a thing or two from her passionate words.

The ISP course has also been a facet of the program that I have been happy to pour energy into, as it one of the few avenues where I feel I can be really productive, and it’s one of the main things I’ll have to show for all of my time spent here. My research question is whether or not urbanization correlates with increased risk in sexual behavior among students at UB. I’m interested in this question because Botswana has an anomalously high HIV prevalence rate (it has the strongest economy and the broadest intervention programs in the region, yet has the second highest prevalence rate). So I want to see if a unique aspect of Botswana, its high level of urbanization, has helped create the anomaly.

My research is quantitative in nature and is based on a survey. So far 375 students have responded to the survey, out of a goal of 373, so I’m feeling pretty good about it. The next step is analyzing the data; I’ll let you know what I find. (There is a lot more about the study that I’d love to talk about – if you’re interested you should leave a comment or email me)

Saving the best (but most stressful) for last, I’d also like to give an update on the soccer tournament that Derek and I have been planning. After two frustrating months of trying to secure of venue and being maddeningly rejected and redirected by various places on and off-campus, we got the Botswana Football Association to let us use their national training field (which is right across the street) free of charge! I guess hard work really does pay off.

We also got the t-shirt completed last week, and will be filled in time for the tournament. The souvenir shop on campus has given us discounted soccer jerseys to serve as prizes for the winning team, and we’re hoping that the catering service that runs the cafeteria will donate refreshments.

The tournament is on Saturday, April 9^th and is called “Lose the Shoes”, as the kids will play barefoot. It’s a 3-on-3 format and is a fundraiser for a local NGO called Stepping Stones International, that works to empower orphaned and otherwise at-risk youth. Kids from Stepping Stones are going to come to the event to help out and get to play exhibition matches with some of the UB students, as to create a tangible connection between the participants and the kids they are supporting. We’ve booked a student DJ and HIV counseling and testing services are going to be provided. As one of our committee members said last week, “I think it’s going to be a day to remember.”

I should have a bunch of pictures and news on the tournament by next weekend.

A side note: My flatmate taught me how to make phaletshe (pah-LAY-chay), which is a traditional food made of maize meal. It’s a bit of an acquired taste, but I’ve had it a bunch now and I’m hooked.

Chili beef and vegetable stew with phaletshe for dinner…

spring break, part 2

The next morning we loaded up the trucks for our excursion into the Central Kalahari Game Reserve. We kept asking the drivers how long the drive would be, and we couldn’t get a straight answer. Our driver said nine hours but then all the other guides laughed, and then another said two hours and there was more laughter. So we decided it best to just sit back and enjoy the ride.

With a stop for lunch, the trek ended up taking about seven hours. Geographically it might not have been that far, but half of the trip was over dirt roads pocked with unexpected ruts and bumps, keeping our speed in check.

We finally arrived at our “campsite” – there are no designated camping areas; our guides just picked a spot with some open space and decent tree cover. We set up camp while the guides rustled up another too-good-to-be-camping type of meal over an open fire.

Gemsbok

That night we got a briefing on a few safety things: wear long pants and closed-toed shoes on account of the scorpions and snakes, don’t make the walk to the pit-latrine at night, and so on. Little did we know just how pressing those words would become.

The next morning we went on a game drive at the crack of dawn. Just as in the Okavango Delta, the experience in the Kalahari was completely different from other game drives on which we had been. The reserve is hundreds of kilometers across, and so it was basically open wilderness. We saw herd after herd of springbok and gemsbok, as well as wildebeest and suricats.

That afternoon we heard lions roaring in the distance, and so on our evening game drive that night, our guides went in search of the pride. And we had success. Just as the sun was beginning to set we came upon one male, two females and two lion cubs. They were relaxing in the shade before their nighttime activity.

Suricat family

We headed back to camp before the sun was down and apparently the lions followed us back. That night the pride of lions came into our campsite! One of the cubs dragged away one of our tarps as a new toy, and a student stepped out of her tent to use the bathroom, scanned the bushes with her flashlight, and saw the reflection of two lion eyes not twenty feet away. We could hear their calls, too. One would call from one side of the camp, and then one would respond from the other so we knew we were encircled.

It was nerve-racking, but our guides handled it like veterans. They never showed a hint of fear, and reassured us that the lions weren’t interested in hurting us. We were told to remain in our tents for the rest of the night, though, which was advice obligingly followed. In the morning the guides used the trucks to subtly usher the lions away from camp.

The next day on the evening game drive we tracked down the lions once more, and got an even closer view of the pride. The cubs were adorable – pawing at each other and rolling around as the mom watched their antics from beneath a tree. The father stayed covertly behind some bushes, but every once in a while would raise his head to yawn or survey his surroundings, and he was majestic, indeed. With a full mane and a filled-out, muscular frame, he was a dominating presence. We heard the lions again that night, but they weren’t inside of our camp, so everyone slept a bit easier.

Me and the lion

The trip was very relaxing. Everyday consisted of a morning game drive, followed by a schmorgasboard of delicious lunch options, then a four hour break to socialize, read, nap, play cards and just beat the heat in general. Then came a shorter evening game drive where we tried to work up our appetites for the dinners of consistently delectable and monstrous helpings of food.

Lion cub

After four days of that, I was accustomed to the laidback lifestyle, and definitely wasn’t ready to get back to the grind of school and everything that came with it, but we had to go back eventually. The drive back to Audi Camp was much quicker on the way back (or maybe it was all in my head) and one thing I didn’t mind about getting back was taking a proper shower.

We spent one last night at Audi Camp and headed back to Gabz in the morning.

 

One more three-course meal at Audi Camp for dinner…

spring break, part 1

It’s 5:00 on a Saturday morning. The sun has yet to peek its head above the horizon. The streets are still teeming with exuberant kids whose celebrations from the night before have yet to cease. You pile into a minibus heading for the airport with friends whose eyelids are still heavy from an abbreviated slumber. It’s the beginning of a weeklong adventure into the wild.

This is the story of my mid-semester break trip to northern Botswana.

Sunrise painting the grassland gold as we search
for elephants and giraffes

The flight went quickly and we landed in gorgeous Maun, Botswana, with a view of the famous Okavango Delta off in the distance as we walked across the tarmac. The airport was tiny, as expected, and so I was taken aback when the sign read Maun International Airport, because I was used to only major cities having international service. But when your nearest neighbor is only a one or two or flight away, I suppose being dubbed ‘international’ is no big deal.

Eating like a king at Audi Camp. Gourmet pasta and
chocolate mousse. I never could keep my eyes open
for pictures...

When we walked into the airport a man was standing with a sign with our program’s name on it. I’ve always wanted to have a guy waiting for me like that. We loaded into two big trucks and headed to Audi Camp, which was a fancy campground where we spent the night. They served us a fabulous three course meal that night (see picture of chocolate mouse).

In the morning we headed out for our Mokoro trip, which was a trip into the bush that was to culminate in a ride through the delta in small dugout boats to an island where we would camp.

The truck drive through the bush that morning was an adventure in itself. We drove across a river where water started coming into the back where we were sitting, which was at least six or seven feet above the ground, and I was momentarily concerned that we would float away (for the Oregon Trail fans out there, there were plenty of jokes about whether we should have forded the river or caulked the wagon and floated across).

Mokoro "harbor"

Also, the sides were open in the back of the truck and so huge tree branches that would get initially snagged on the front of the truck would sling-shot into the back and so there was a constant scramble to predict which side the biggest branch was coming from and try to avoid it. One boy took one in the face and I was unfortunately sitting on the outside and was left with an arm full of cuts and scratches.

The guides took a few wrong turns as well, and so the drive ended up taking three or four hours. Some of the kids sang to pass the time. I channeled my eighth grade choir and chimed in on a few Grease numbers.

We finally got to the Mokoro launch site (see picture of the “harbor”) and I did not realize how small the boats would be. But there wasn’t anything to do about it at that point, so I sunscreened up and helped load supplies into the tiny boats.

The polers were excited to see us and explained some guidelines while we climbed into the boats. There were thickets of grass in the bottom to give cushion and help with water that got in, and the guides folded bed mats into chairs for each of us, and so the boats were actually outrageously comfortable. And the poler took care of the transport, so there was no paddling! (I wish canoeing was like that back home) I leaned back into my mat and enjoyed a soothing glide across the Okavango Delta.

Derek and I in our Mokoro

As we wove our way through the reeds and crisp water I dozed in and out. One of the girls made an astute observation: it was like an all-natural spa treatment. Lying on comfortable mats with the sound of water passing by and birds chirping, while basking under the African sun without a care in the world. I could take that trip everyday.

Near the end of the ride we saw two hippos playing in the water, not 50 feet from our Mokoros. My first in person hippo experience!

We got to the island campsite and lunch was whipped up in no time. Again, we ate extremely well, even while in the middle of nowhere. I had a ham and cheese sandie with onions, tomatoes, peppers and chili sauce. Then on top of that I had fried chicken, salad, coleslaw, hard-boiled eggs and fruit juice. Talk about fit for a king.

We got a little naptime before an evening bush walks with the guides. We split up into groups of six or so and headed out into the wild. That first night we saw a herd of water buffalo, antelope, termite hills and a humungous spider with a colorful pattern on its back. At one point I was able to take a step back to soak everything in; before me was an endless green-amber savanna, with antelope gaily grazing in the neighboring field, and I was surrounded by good friends as we all silently enjoyed the heavenly sunset, not wanting to spoil the moment with inadequate words.

An early morning bushwalk with the lovely
Audrey hiding sheepishly behind a sprig
of sage, with Lurch in the background

When we returned we had another huge meal, and then everyone sat around the campfire as we shared stories, told riddles, and mingled with our local guides.

The next morning we had a bush walk at the break of dawn. It was hands-down the highlight of my semester thus far. We took a different path from the night before, and soon we could hear the calls of a group of baboons. The guide couldn’t believe that we hadn’t seen baboons before, so he tracked them for us (with some combination of their droppings, footprints and calls – I wasn’t really sure how he did it) and soon we were amongst a whole family. They were running from tree to tree and some had spotted us and had stopped to stare in return.

We made our way through some trees and came upon a lake. At the edge of the lake there were puddles, and I was about to walk through one thinking it was nothing out of the ordinary, but my guide stopped me and stuck his walking stick into the puddle. It was as deep as his entire stick! I would have been up to my chest in mud. Apparently elephants make theses holes as they pick up mud to cover themselves with. Good thing I didn’t have to learn it the hard way.

Then, as we circled the water, our guide pointed out a pair of eyes floating in the water. A crocodile! It was cruising unassumingly in the morning sun, probably keeping an eye on the silly group of humans wandering his shore.

Then on the next lake over there was a huge pod of hippos. We counted at least seventeen and they were frolicking and swimming and spewing water everywhere as they enjoyed the relief from the heat that water brought. They became curious about us as we approached, and some of the hippos slowly started making their way towards us. We enjoyed each other’s company for a few minutes, and as we left one of the hippos opened his mouth as wide as he could and let out a moan, and we yelled goodbye right back.

I couldn’t believe all of the experiences I was having, but the surprise waiting around the next corner is what made the entire trip. We rounded a bend and the path opened up to a clearing, and standing in the middle of the clearing were four of the most majestic, impressive elephants you could imagine. I was speechless. Here, in the middle of the wild – not a game reserve, no fences involved – were four real-life elephants, grazing to their hearts content and I was sharing the same field, walking along as though a brother in their kingdom.

Elephants in the background...look closely

Our guide explained that as long as we stayed downwind, we could approach them, and we did. We got so close that we had to whisper, as not to disturb them. Plenty of pictures were taken, and everyone reveled in the moment.

We headed back and after a quick, but hearty brunch we loaded the Mokoros for the return trip. It was as serene and relaxing as the first, and I was sad to be ending this once in a lifetime experience.

That night, back at Audi Camp: first course: butternut squash soup; entrée: pan seared fish with a roasted vegetable medley and a garden salad; dessert: ice cream! (I had 4 helpings) for dinner…

SERENITY NOW!

A female lion curious about these weird tourists
in her territory

Bushwalk

Mokoro trip

Serowe, part 2

Our gang at the wedding

The two couples then mentioned that they had been invited to a local wedding happening later that day and wondered if we would like to come along. On the inside we were bursting with excitement because none of us had attended a wedding in Botswana and we had heard such great things, but on the outside we exercised our Midwest politeness and said “oh no, we’re not dressed for it, we wouldn’t want to intrude, etc.” But they insisted; there was no dress code and no invitations were required.

So the eight of us packed into their two cars and headed for the wedding. It was around sundown when we arrived and apparently the wedding had been going on since 7:00 that morning (taking “fashionable late” to another level). As we sat down the best man appeared to be giving a toast (I couldn’t decipher the Setswana) and so we sat politely and looked around at the huge number of people in the crowd. After that we were all served dessert and non-alcoholic sparkling wine as the bride personally made her way around handing out thank-you gifts and posing for pictures.

Ashley (bride to be) with Botswana bride

Things wound down after that. Our local friends speculated that there was an after-party for the wedding somewhere, but we decided to go our own way. We stopped by a bar/restaurant and sat at outdoor picnic tables, enjoying the lovely night air. We saw Derek’s flatmate there (a huge coincidence since we were in a town three hours from UB and sitting at a random roadside restaurant) and talked with him for a while.

Eventually we all agreed we were hungry, and I admitted to the group my careless misplacement of our dinner meat, and so our local friends invited us back to their campsite for a braai. They read our minds.

We got back and got the fire going (with, needless to say, music blaring from the car) and we supplied the al-foil meals while our local friends supplied the steaks. We had quite the time, as it was pitch black and Derek was trying to slice potatoes with a broken knife and the guy in charge of the steaks disappeared into their cabin and the local ladies spent the whole time dancing. Somehow it all came out, though, and it was actually a hearty, somewhat balanced meal.

The midnight braai

We had to retire after that because it was around midnight and we had a game drive scheduled for six in the morning. So we stumbled back to our own campsite and somehow managed to squeeze into our clown car tent. Sleeping proved to be a challenge, as there wasn’t enough floor space for everyone to lay flat on his or her back, but you could only lay on your side for so long before your hip went numb from resting on the ground. So it was a night full of adjusting and bumping and a questionable amount of sleep.

But as the next morning came around we soon forgot our troubles. Our driver picked us up at six and we had the whole nine-person truck to ourselves. We headed toward the “pan” (the open grassland area where the animals roamed) and just as we turned the corner from the camping area to the pan, we came upon a majestic, golden brown male giraffe who was indulging in a morning graze among the tops of acacia trees. I had never seen a giraffe in person before; they’re such unique creatures and they’re taller than I realized. They walk very methodically – shifting their weight in a calculated manner with each step – and our guide said they are sometimes called the beauty queens of the jungle because their smooth gait is reminiscent of an eveningwear round of a beauty pageant.

From there we moved to the heart of the pan and I experienced another ‘first.’ Two white rhinos appeared to the left and started ambling towards our truck. I had never seen a rhino before, either. It was quite the scene. It appeared to be a mother rhino with her child and they walked right in front of our truck! They joined a group of zebras and springbok that were grazing together to our left, and all three types of animals peacefully grazed and played rather harmoniously beneath the morning sun.

We drove around more and saw even more rhinos and giraffes, as well as wildebeests and ostriches and warthogs. It was an amazingly successful game drive and I’m glad my partners captured some of the best moments on camera.

An apple covered in peanut butter with some Salticrax (the Botswana version of Ritz crackers) for breakfast…

 

Serowe, part 1

Left to right: Ashley, Scott, Derek and myself

Last weekend, Ashley, Scott, Derek and myself took a trip to the town of Serowe (say-ROH-way) to spend a night at the Khama Rhino Sanctuary. We had heard rave reviews from a group who had went the week before and all of us were itching to get off campus, so we made last minute plans and hit the road.

We got up bright and early and took a combi to the bus station in time to catch the 8am bus for Serowe. As the buses are waiting to depart, vendors are free to come on board and push various foodstuffs or fake designer items towards you, and I had skipped breakfast so I bought a chicken pie. I love the smell of spicy chicken in the morning.

The ride took about three and a half hours, but it went by in flash thanks to my penchant for sleeping in moving vehicles. As we rattled into the sleepy bus station in Serowe, the change of pace from the bustling capitol was refreshing.

We had heard about a museum in Serowe dedicated to the presidents of Botswana (all four of them are from this village) and we decided to track it down. After asking for directions a couple of times, a young girl selflessly offered to show us the way – and it wasn’t that short of a walk.

Of course, after we had trekked all the way there it was closed. We found a boy banging away on the drums to a Shakira song out back and another boy said the managers of the museum were gone until Monday. So we headed back to the station.

We were planning on cooking dinner at the campsite, so we bought groceries to make al-foil meals (potatoes, onions, and carrots wrapped in tin foil and thrown in a fire) and bratwurst. Then we stopped by a small kiosk by the bus rank and grabbed lunch before we took the bus that would bring us out to the Rhino Sanctuary.

I fell asleep on this bus, too, and this time it proved to be costly. As the bus made its stop Scott poked me awake and I was able to come to my senses with just enough time to throw my book in my backpack and head out. However, as the bus pulled out of sight I realized I had left my half of the groceries in the overhead compartment. I couldn’t believe it. My one group responsibility and I dropped the ball. We were able to get on the phone with the bus company, but they said no buses ran until the morning, by which time our sausages would be rotted or already eaten by a lucky traveler. So we would make due with half-supplies.

Tiny tent beneath the Mokongwa

From there we moved to our campsite. Each campsite at the sanctuary is centered around a large, stately Mokongwa tree and has plenty of space to set up camp, though our extra-cozy four person tent didn’t need much space at all.

As we set up the tent and explored the area, we heard music coming from a neighboring campsite and so we went to investigate. As we approached we saw a group of four locals dancing to the music and we figured we wouldn’t bother them, but they caught sight of us and invited us over.

Hornbill

They were incredibly friendly and we talked for a while. There were two guys and two girls. One of the guys was a banker, the other a teacher. They knew a lot about the birds that inhabited the sanctuary and told us the story of the mating habits of hornbills. Apparently once a female hornbill is pregnant, she sheds all her feathers into a knot in a tree to make a nest, and then the male seals her into the knot by filling the hole with cow dung. He leaves just a small hole so that he can bring her food while she minds the eggs. The male does this faithfully until the eggs have hatched, at which point the female’s feathers have grown back. Talk about commitment!

Us and the local ladies

Then they showed us how to eat sweet reed, which is a smaller, softer relative of sugar cane. You have to peel back the outer layer with your teeth and then the middle is like a natural lollipop.

To be continued…

Stepping Stones

As the semester has worn on and I have continued to experience a variety of opportunities that immerse me not only in Botswana health care but also in the social impacts of HIV/AIDS, I have begun to see that although there is a long list of beneficial national policies and noble NGOs, Botswana has a long way to go before it can relinquish the hold HIV has on the country.

Some campaigns have called for an “AIDS Free Generation” across Africa by 2015, which is a tall order, but Botswana, at least, may be well on its way. Precedents have been set for controlling and treating HIV, prevention programs are in place and global funds are surging into the area. Now, there just needs to be work done on the ground to implement this change and begin shifting the culture and behavior surrounding HIV.

Last week I had the good fortune of visiting an organization that is doing just this type of implementation through grassroots work that empowers kids and gives them a place to belong. The organization is called Stepping Stones International, and it is an NGO located in the town of Mochudi that works with orphaned children and children from destitute homes who have been made vulnerable because of how HIV hit their families, and now are at-risk to contract the disease themselves.

Here is the story of my trip to Mochudi…

I heard about Stepping Stones through a colleague at the Center for the Study of HIV/AIDS on campus, who put me in contact with Lila Pavey, one of the directors at Stepping Stones. Within a week of contacting her she asked me to come out and visit, and I couldn’t have been more excited to go.

To get to Mochudi I took a combi (a minibus that is a facet of public transport) to the main bus station, and then asked for the bus to Mochudi. The bus was only P9 ($1.50) and took about an hour to get to the town. As the bus approached Mochudi, some people were already getting off of the bus, and Lila had told me to get off at the Shell station, so when the bus passed a Shell station I hopped off. It turns out I got off one Shell station to early, however.

I needed to call Lila but my phone had conveniently run out of battery, so I went to the Shell station and asked how to get to Stepping Stones. After a short lesson in Setswana, one of the attendants pointed me to a combi that would go in the right direction. I used the combi driver’s phone to call Lila and tell her I would be late.

The driver said he knew the stop for Stepping Stones but when he left me off at a dirt road with no clear buildings in sight, I was skeptical. I followed the road anyway, and soon I ran into a group of young kids.

They were so excited to me (because of the welcoming air I give off or because I’m white is up for speculation) and we played catch with a homemade tape-ball and I taught them how to high-five. They all went crazy for high-fives after that and competed for space to slap my hand and one boy kept slapping harder and harder until I feigned an injury, which sent them into more of a frenzy. I said hello in Setswana and they answered, but then I said, “my name is Mike” in Setswana, and they echoed, “my name is Mike” in unison back to me, so I figured asking the way to Stepping Stones wouldn’t get me very far.

Luckily a woman walked by who pointed me in the right direction, and I strolled into Stepping Stones fashionably late (ironic not only because that rule doesn’t apply to meeting with the director of an NGO, but also because at that point my business casual attire was dusty and sweaty and far from fashionable). The place was bustling when I arrived because kids had just arrived from school. Lila was busy meeting with a new hire, and so she had one of the students take me on a tour.

His name was Thero (pronounced TAY-roh) and he was a fantastic tour guide. He was super enthusiastic and refreshingly straightforward and thoughtful with his words and actions. To be honest, he reminded me a lot of my cousin Marcus, from whom I’ve always felt I have a lot to learn because of his genuine warmth and kindness. Thero was off to a great start at drawing me towards Stepping Stones and its kids.

I learned that the kids are split up into groups and each group is assigned different chores each week. Thero was on dishes this week. There was also an inter-team competition and when teams did something well they got rocks placed in their corresponding buckets (a “ten points for Gryffindor” kind of thing). Thero’s team was winning.

Then I learned a little bit about a profit generation program they have in place for the kids. I only got the basics, but it sounds like they have some kids who make musical beats, and then some kids who promote them and some that work on the finances. Thero is currently a finance manager for the project, and I promised to buy a copy of the CD as soon as it dropped.

At this point I should explain further my interest in Stepping Stones.

The potential that I mentioned earlier for Botswana to turn the tables on its HIV epidemic had ignited in me the desire to contribute to its progress and give back to the community of which I had become a part. My schedule during the semester wasn’t very flexible, so I started thinking, only wishfully at first, about staying here for the winter (American summer) to volunteer.

A friend of mine who grew up in a developing country once warned me about my aspirations to one day work in a poor part of the world because of the sentiment in these countries that they don’t need Americans to come and save them. So I was wary of any plans to stay and volunteer in Botswana. But as I have continued to contemplate the idea, I feel like I’m not someone coming to save anybody, but rather just a person drawn to a cause who happens to be in a place where a lot of good is being done, and I feel like good could always use an extra hand.

So I was visiting Stepping Stones to inquire about a volunteer position for the few months I would have off between semesters.

When my tour with Thero was complete, I sat down with Lila to talk more about the details of the program, as well as what they were looking for in a volunteer. The conversation went well from my point of view, and although Lila couldn’t make the decision on her own, she gave the impression that Stepping Stones would have a spot for me.

After we talked, I got to sit in on one of the group lessons. Students were acting out role-playing activities relating to prevention of risky social and sexual behavior. In the role-playing, one person was an “instigator” who was trying to bring the other person home with them and the kids had to practice saying “no” to these kinds of people in an interactive setting.

The kids really liked it and were great actors and loved being dramatic and performing in front of their peers. In one of the role-plays, a guy and a girl rounded up some old pop cans and chip bags and the boy pretended to buy the girl lunch and they flirted and then he tried to get her to come home but she said no, very emphatically. It was so cute, yet striking, because the boy looked like he was 10 and was probably only 12 or 13 and was talking about sex and bringing girls home and had such a flare for the dramatic.

The next morning the kids were going to play soccer and then a talent promoter was coming to watch the kids dance and select some for a performance or music video. The more I heard about the healthy experiences Stepping Stones created for the kids, the more impressed I became.

At the end of the day Lila gave me a ride back to UB, so I avoided any more bus mishaps. She had amazing stories from her days in public health. She told of sexual abuse, of girls sleeping out for nights at a time who were much too young to do so, and other situations that Stepping Stones was working hard to avoid for its kids.

As I got home I realized I was completely hooked on Stepping Stones. I wanted to hang out with Thero again; I wanted to participate in role-playing activities (even if I couldn’t keep up with the Setswana); I wanted to help launch the new education center that was under construction. So I started looking into what I needed to do to extend my stay. As of yet I haven’t made a decision, and some things still need to fall into place, but I might be staying in Botswana for a little bit longer than expected.

As I stepped out of Lila’s car, I had just enough money for a bratwurst from one of the roadside stands, and it put a cap on a fantastic day.

Foot long bratwurst with onions, tomatoes and chili sauce for dinner…

Princess Marina

Still in search of an extracurricular activities that are a good fit, last week Derek and I got connected with a shadowing opportunity at Princess Marina Hospital (PMH). The process was refreshingly efficient. We met with an administrator in the Medical Education department on campus, she made one call to PMH and had a meeting arranged for us later that day. At the meeting, the coordinator of clinical exposure for the hospital asked what our interests were and outlined a shadowing program that would fulfill our needs.

That same day we met with a specialist in the medical ward and she gave us a brief tour and introduction to the work she does. She told us to come back at 7:30 the next morning for the daily meeting and after that we could join teams for rounds. We obliged.

Despite the early morning wake-up, the meeting was fascinating. It opened with nurses reporting admittances and mortalities from the night before and we got to hear all of the different cases the hospital faces. The words I heard over and over were anemia, meningitis, pneumonia, TB, and the most common, unfortunately, was HIV.

More than half of all patients admitted to PMH are HIV+. Botswana is at the point in the epidemic, however, where patients are no longer coming in because they have HIV (they have already been diagnosed and are receiving treatment) but rather because of a secondary or concurrent condition caused by HIV.

Meningitis incidence is fairly low around the world, but due to its co-infectious nature with HIV, it is the number one diagnosis made upon admission at PMH. The same is true for pneumonia and TB, cases of which seemed to be everywhere I turned as I moved through the hospital.

Even if a person avoids co-infection, the antiretroviral (ARV) drugs that patients take have serious side-effects. One patient we saw had Stephen-Johnson syndrome, which is a disease of the epidermis that can be life-threatening. Rashes and painful lesions appear near mucus membranes all over the body, most notably in the mouth and eyes. Official websites list the syndrome as extremely rare, but the dermatologist at PMH said she sees it all the time here because it is a common repercussion of ARVs. Of course, the immunodepressant aspect of HIV makes the side-effects from drugs that much more serious. Also, Steven-Johnson syndrome is easily treatable by taking the patient off of the drugs that cause it, but with HIV, stopping a drug course risks the development of drug-resistant strains of the virus. It's like being stuck between a rock and a hard place and another rock.

After admittances, the nurses reported mortalities and the response from the room was not what I expected. When the first name was read, the doctor who had been responsible for that patient said, “I never saw it coming” and the whole room laughed. Apparently that’s what they say every time one of their patients die, and it's become an inside joke. Another name was read off and another joke was cracked. I was sitting there becoming quieter and more introspective, but I suppose I should have been developing my own coping mechanism; you certainly couldn’t sit through those lists day after day if you lamented the injustice of every passing.

Next, one of the doctors made a presentation about an interesting case he had the week before. It was an interactive talk, as the doctor would discuss the symptoms and ask the room what they would have done. It was such a good mechanism for professional development and keeping people on their toes. If I had understood more of the medicine I would have learned a ton.

The meeting broke after the presentation, and Derek and I were assigned to two different teams who were going on rounds for the morning. The first case my team saw was an elderly man who was recovering from a second round of TB. We looked at his chest X-ray and the doctors explained how his right lung was decreased and pointed out signs of chronic lung disease on the left side. I got to listen to his breathing through a stethoscope and experience what the breathing of a two-time TB sufferer with lung disease patient sounded like. Raspy, to say the least.

We moved on and tended to patients throughout the ward. Some were anemic, others just had dizziness. One patient had such bad fluid build-up around her brain that she was delirious. She needed daily lumbar punctures to relieve the pressure and relieve her neighbors of her nonsensical screams.

One man, who was a 62-year-old named Rocket, had originally been admitted with a mysterious illness that left him bed ridden and speechless. Over the past week, however, he had made a recovery and was walking around, talking to whomever he could. My first encounter with him occurred as he was trying to fill up his water glass. He went to sink and turned the faucet on full blast. He stared, fascinated, at the stream of water. Once in a while he stuck his cup under the water and it was running so hard that it splashed everywhere. He would pull his arm back, but eventually test it again, like a curious child. The nurses courteously shut the water off as the basin began to overflow and I asked the doctor what the fascination was all about. She responded that Rocket perhaps had never seen running water before being admitted to hospital. It reminded me of the inequalities that are prevalent in Botswana – not only between rich and poor but between urban and rural as well.

In talking to Derek afterwards, he had been in the surgical ward for part of the day, and while his team was tending to a patient, the neighboring patient started to crash. The head doctor tried defibrillation, but it didn’t work, and none of the local staff could find a ventilator, and the patient died. It highlights the lack of resources the hospital has. Some of the doctors on my team were from America, and they were constantly saying things like “well in America we would do this, but Botswana doesn’t have the supplies, so we do this instead.”

One American doctor said the supplies aren’t even the real issue. She thinks the hospital desperately needs a workplace engineer to come and solve the issue of miscommunication between nurses and doctors and between various departments. It certainly reinforces my drive to go into public health and do what I can for places like these, where they run out of tape to keep IVs in place and have nurses lose track of patients' files. The list of things we take for granted in the states was building by the minute.

The hospital was enlightening in many ways. Going on rounds is not something I could do everyday in the states, and I tried to make the most of it.

If anyone has spare medical ventilators, maybe donate them to Bots…

Chicken quesadillas (Derek’s idea) with homemade guacamole for dinner… 

Miss UB

"Has he let the suspense build for long enough?" you might ask. Yes, he has. Here's the much overdo story of the 11-hour beauty pageant...

Last weekend was the Mr. & Miss UB (University of Botswana) pageant. My friend Robin was a contestant, and so a group of us went to support her. The tickets were on the expensive side, but we were told they included dinner and performances from local artists during breaks in the pageant.

The tickets said the show started at 7pm, so we showed up at 730, thinking we would be fashionably late. They were still setting up the stage and lighting at that point though, and we were told that the show in fact did not include dinner so I swung back to the room to make some food. I hustled back at 8:30 hoping I hadn’t missed anything, but my fears were premature. Not only had the show not started when I got back, but it didn’t end up starting for another three hours.

Despite the delay, we were excited to see Robin, who had attended daily practices for the two weeks leading up the event and was always bubbling with stories of the people she met and all the work she was doing to prepare. The show opened with pairs of guys and girls coming out together in casual wear. Robin did great, and she was paired up with the most popular boy, which didn’t hurt.

Then there was an hour break while a local rap duo performed. Next, the contestants came out as a group for a few minutes, and then there was another break while another performance was set up. We had been at the pageant for five hours at that point and a friend of mine and I were sick of the breaks and were getting hungry, so we went back to the dorms for a bit. We came back and caught the swimsuit competition. Robin was full of confidence, despite having to walk in heels while wearing a bikini with bright lights on her from every angle. With the first two rounds complete, she seemed to be a contender for the top five, which is what she needed to move on.

Next there was a group dance. This was an area was a strength for Robin, but she ended up in the back of the formation, where her potential to outshine the other girls was limited.

The final round was formal eveningwear. All of the guys’ suits were too big for them, which was amusing. It was as if they all borrowed them from their dads, or maybe the school supplied them without getting measurements. The girls looked fantastic, though. Robin had on a gorgeous yellow dress that she showed-off very gracefully. We were all screaming as loud as we could whenever Robin came out, hoping the judges would be influenced by audience approval.

At this point it was around 4:30 in the morning, and they were setting up another performance while the judges deliberated. We couldn’t handle sitting around anymore and went back to hang out in the dorms for a while. Around 5:30 we figured the pageant was over but that we might as well catch the sunrise since we had made it all the way through the night. But when we went outside we could still here music coming from the auditorium. We swung by and, sure enough, the pageant was still going. They had selected the top five (Robin didn’t make it, which was a fluke) and now the judges were deliberating again after a round of interviews. We went and caught the sunrise while the judges deliberated, and we came back to hear the final results come in at 6:45 in the morning.

So that’s the story of the 11-hour beauty pageant. It was a blast, though the end is somewhat of a blur. Robin said she had a great time, though her legs felt like rubber after spending the whole night in heels. A lot of the people that had originally come for Robin had bailed by two or three in the morning, so we were able to say that we had stuck it out for her. I finally got into bed around 7:30 and I won’t say how late into the day I slept.

A rushed bowl of macaroni with fried green peppers, onions, carrots and tomatoes for dinner…