Us on the Bus

It's been a few weeks since I've posted anything.  I think it's because now that I've settled into a familiar routine, things don't seem so interesting to me anymore.  It's funny, because some of the things I wrote about the life in Botswana were pretty routine and mundane (my daily commute, for instance)  -- but because they were new to me, they seemed interesting at the time and worthy of sharing through a blog post. 

Who knows ? Maybe someone out there in cyberspace has a slightly different perspective than me and would like to know about the daily commute of a downtown Edmonton office worker -- so here goes nothing....

In Gaborone, I lived close enough to work to justify a morning walk to the office.  It was one of the highlights of my day -- the opportunity to think through the tasks ahead while passing by friendly faces, sweet smells, and feeling the sun warm my face.

In Edmonton, I live too far from the office to consider walking to work.  Even if I did live closer, I might be detered from a walk by our mostly wintery climate.  I am not a fan of driving at the best of times, and parking downtown is very expensive, so I take the bus.  

It's not so bad, really.  The entire commute takes about 50 minutes, which, ironically, was the same time it took me to walk to work in Gaborone.

I have a community of neighbours who take the 118 Jasper Place bus.  There are about 6 of us who catch the bus before it leaves Rio Terrace for Meadowlark and Jasper Place, where it transforms into the 120 Downtown route.

We call ourselves "Us on the Bus".

First, there is my across the street neighbour, John.  John catches the bus at the same stop as me, and is with me for the entire commute.  He not only lives across the street from me, but he also works across the street from me.  John is probably one of the friendliest and most upbeat people I know.  His early morning good nature can be a bit hard to take for an introvert like me who values her time alone in thought, but I read somewhere that happy neighbours are good for your health.  I have to remind myself of that from time to time when I feel a dismissive response to his comments or questions coming on.  I do miss him when he is not on the bus.

The next to join us is Duncan.  I don't know what Duncan does, but I do know that he recently returned from a trip to Italy and that he is facing similar issues as me with basement flooding (sigh). We have bonded over the sharing of prevention and repair tips.

At the next stop, we are joined by the stylish and studious couple, Bob and Sylvia.  I only recently started getting friendly with them, as they would poke their noses in books and newspapers as soon as they got settled in their seats.  I didn't want to disturb them, knowing they must value their quiet time and space as much as I do.  For the longest time, I tried to guess what they did for a living.  I figured they worked in media, and imagined them running a communications firm that provides news clippings and summaries for businesses and government offices.  I was close -- they do work in media !  Bob is a reporter and Sylvia is an editor.

Finally, we see Ken.  Ken is a neighbourhood icon.  He is a dignified, well dressed, and cordial gentleman.  I figure he must be close to 90 years old now.  He owns a menswear and tailoring shop downtown.  His shop makes the robes for judges and lawyers.  I am not sure why he still works, but seeing him on the bus every day is reassuring -- a gentle reminder that all is well in the world. 

Spring Cleaning

When I moved to Botswana, I stored most of my personal effects at my father's house -- the house I grew up in. 

Prior to leaving, I spent many weekends at Dad's house sorting through some of my late mother's things.  I didn't get through it all.  Some processes take time, especially when they evoke memories. 

My father lived for all that time, navigating around my things and my mother's things.  A couple of times when we were speaking on Skype, he talked about donating some old clothing and other items to the many charities knocking at his door.  I asked him to please wait until I returned. I wanted to make sure we didn't give away anything of measurable or sentimental value. 

Of course, I am likely the most sentimental one in the family about some things.  I realized that when I looked through the contents of my old childhood bedroom closet.  I kept school books from the first grade onward, newspaper articles, plus some cherished toys.  You see, I was going to become a famous author, and some day, someone was going to need articles from my childhood for the "Stephanie Bishop Museum".  My followers would want to see what influenced and shaped my worldview, right?  What can I say?

When Dad recently expressed an interest in moving to a retirement home in Ontario to be closer to my brother and the grandkids, I knew the time had come to take stock of the household inventory.  I didn't want the daunting task of clearing out and packing up a house to hinder his move, if and when the time comes.

We figured that even if he doesn't move soon, we would still need to clear out the things he no longer needs or uses -- things that are just getting in his way and could better serve their intended purposes with others. 

Afterall, he is now one person, living in house outfitted for a family of four, with odds and ends that had accumulated over close to forty years.  

Knowing it would take too long to tackle this task on our own, we decided to call in the pros.  Yes, we hired a professional organizer to help us make the tough choices about what to keep and what to send away. We hired, Anita, The Clutter Helper, for her experience working with seniors.

We undertook this process over the course of five days, sending heaps of once loved goods for donation and recycling.  We also took advantage of Anita's services to set up a new filing system to help my dad manage the mountains of paper that come to the house.

The task is now done, and I hope the house will now be a little more liveable for my dad.

Anita, The Clutter Helper, taking away a load of donations.

The garage as a staging ground for charitable donations and eco-centre contributions.

Clearing out my childhood bedroom. 



Of course, some things just had to be saved !

Rue Sansregret: Full Circle

I attended a debriefing session for recently returned Uniterra volunteers in Montreal. It was an opportunity to discuss and share experiences and give program related feedback to the Uniterra team.

I was in the company of those who recently returned from placements in Sri Lanka, Vietnam, Bolivia, Peru, Senegal, Ghana, and Malawi.  I was the only one there who had been placed in Botswana. 

While we had a range of experiences, we agreed on one thing:  when you experience life in another country or culture, you do so on the tips of your toes -- making everything you see, do, hear, feel, and yes, even smell, that much more vivid and intense. 

I stayed, once again, at the gîte (bed and breakfast) down the street from Rue Sansregret -- the street (alley) I happened upon one mild November evening when I was in Montreal for my pre-orientation.  If you recall from my very first post, I noticed the sign when I was startled by a clown.  To me, it was more than a street sign. It was a sign that beckoned me to take a detour from my regular life to explore an unfamiliar territory.  Sometimes, when you reach life's crossroads, there is no parking allowed. Sometimes, you just have to choose one direction over another...

...without any regrets. 

I am so glad I took the path down  Rue Sansregret. 

Like the graffiti painted on the alley walls, it was a fun and colourful journey !

I'm Back...

I am back in Edmonton...and also back to my blog.  My friends in Botswana encouraged me to continue with my postings, to show what life is like here, in Canada.  It is a good opportunity for me to look at the familiar with new eyes.  I am still getting re-settled, so haven't quite got my act together enough to start sharing stories and pictures...but I will soon !  I left Botswana Feb. 12, after a series of sweet good-byes (which I will write about another time) and returned to Edmonton on Feb. 13, after a safe and uneventful journey.  I then reported back to my job on Feb. 15.  I am adjusting to the streamlined work environment and life at home, which for the moment is my old, childhood home.  I am bunking in with my father until my tenant moves out of  my house at the end of this month.  So, once I get properly resettled, I will resume writing about the continuing adventure....

Marula Season

It is marula season.  They are ripening and falling off the trees in droves.  I was almost hit on the head on my morning walk to work today.  I have to step gingerly around then, to avoid slipping.  Occasionally, I will pick one up, break the skin, and suck the sweet/tart juicy pulp.  I don't see many people doing this, and am surprised that they are not scooped up and harvested.  The marula fruit is a great source of Vitamin C.  Each tiny fruit contains five times the amount of Vitamin C of a single orange!  They are also high in fibre, and can be dried, fermented, or cooked for jams or jellies.

One of our WUSC/Uniterra volunteers is working with a women's cooperative in Palapye to produce and market marula products  The folks in Gaborone, however, seem content to let them rot on the ground.  Maybe if I was here longer, I would learn from my friend in Palapye how to dry them or turn them into jam.

When I arrived here over a year ago, it was at the tail end of marula season -- and mango season.  I didn't know much about marula fruit then, but I knew I loved mangos, and I had the bright idea of making and canning mango chutney and salsa. However, by the time the idea occured to me, mangos were no longer in season. 

Again, if I were to stay longer, I would jump on the mango wagon and make some products to enjoy for future times.  I would also eat more watermelons when they are in season in April.  I love watermelons. Did you know that watermelons originate in the Kalahari Desert ? -- Botswana's sweet, juicy gift to the world !

I have learned that these wonderful treats come and go, and, like most of life's opportunities, you have to make the best use of them when they present themselves to you.  How many of life's opportunities do we let pass us by because we do not recognize how precious and fleeting they are or are not prepared to reap them when they are ripe ?

 

It takes a good year or more of living in a place to get a feel for the rhythm of the seasons. I feel I am just getting into the groove, so to say --- but now I have to get ready to adjust to an old, familiar beat, back in Edmonton.

I leave in just over a week....can you believe it ?  

Let's hope I remember to take the best advantage of Edmonton's seasonal offerings and any opportunites that come my way. 

 

The Power of Soccer

There was 5 minutes left in the movie I was watching when the power went out at Riverwalk Mall.  The power went out just before 7:30 pm -- which is not so coincidentally when the latest Africa Cup of Nations game was about to start.

You see, Botswana has been hit by a series of power outages, following faults in the system and a delay in completing the country’s new 600 megawatt power station.  Until the new power station is complete, Botswana will continue to rely on power from it's neighbor, South Africa.

I have been learning to adapt to these power outages.  The other night, I hosted a dinner party entirely without power. Instead of calling it off, I used candles for light, my friend's i-pod for music, and the gas oven to bake our "build-your-own" pizzas.  It worked !  We had a fun power-free evening.

Last Friday, when temperatures soared close to 40 degrees Celsius, my office-mates plugged away in the heat, without air-conditioning, and long after the batteries on their laptops had died, until quitting time.  My colleagues are very ethical (I love them for that!) and no one wanted to set a bad example by leaving early.

Our power outages are happening more frequently these days.  This is because South Africa is also experiencing its own power shortages and has to ration the available amount.

It so happens that South Africa is also at this time hosting the Africa Cup of Nations soccer tournament.  When it is time for games to broadcast, the South African powers-that-be make sure they will air in their key markets.  Botswana is not a contender in the Cup this year, so they must suppose that no one here wants to watch the games and can do without power for a while.  So, just before a game was set to broadcast at 7:30 pm this evening, Gaborone experienced a blackout in the area around Riverwalk Mall.

On the dimly lit taxi drive home, I started thinking....if a soccer game can be the cause for a power outage, could it not also be the solution ?

When I was in Kenya last August, I learned about an ingenious invention called Soccket that harnesses kinetic energy generated from a soccer ball to power electrical appliances. Surely, the African Cup of Nations game balls could be so equipped to keep a movie projector running.  

I will have to see if the powers-that-be can agree to that proposal....in the meantime, is there anyone out there who can tell me what happens in the final 5 minutes of the movie Argo ?

On going away

"When in the end, the day came on which I was going away, I learned the strange learning that things can happen which we ourselves cannot possibly imagine, either beforehand, or at the time when they are taking place, or afterwards when we look back on them." 
 – Karen Blixen, Out of Africa, 1937

 -- Once I have returned home, and settled back into a familiar routine, will I look back on this past year, and wonder if it was all a dream ? --

Fish Food

It's no secret that I am a fan of spas.  Being pampered every now and then makes me feel good.  Call me crazy!  Last week, when I was recovering from my mystery Maun malady, I booked myself a spa appointment immediately following my visit to the doctor's office.  The doctor prescribed water and rest; I prescribed a back massage and pedicure.

My transition to life back home is going to be a little tough, as I will be leaving a job, a life and people I have grown to love.  My friends intuitively recognize this, so a couple asked what they could do to help me settle back in.  My answer: "Two words -- Spa Day".  So, I have a spa day with friends to look forward to when I return.  That will lift my spirits, I am certain.

Last November, when I was visiting with my Czech friends in Cape Town, we had to come up with a rainy day alternative to the outdoor plans we had made. Alice and I decided we would book ourselves into a spa for pedicures.  Standa, the ever patient and obliging husband, resolved to hang out in a coffee shop and wait for us. The spa Alice and I found specialized in Fish Therapy.

I haven't blogged about this sooner, because I knew I would get a scolding from my public health friends back home. I am fully aware that Fish Spas have been closed in parts of Canada and the USA due to public health concerns. Please be assured that I did ask about their water filtration system and made sure I had no open wounds that would spread or receive infections. 

That being said, I was still a little uneasy about dipping my feet into a fish tank.  I couldn't look down.  I felt little electric shocks all over my feet and calves.  Soon, I got used the the tingly sensation, but I still couldn't look.

Alice, who had been chatting with Standa about which coffee shop he would go to, took one look at the activity around my feet and told the clinician, "I am cancelling my appointment.  I will join my husband for coffee and come back for my friend in 30 minutes."  That is exactly what she did -- but not before snapping this photo.

The fish did their job of sloughing off the dead skin before the clinician went to work on my nails.

As I was leaving, the spa offered me a frequent customer card.  I politely declined.

I Left My Mark on Maun

Last week, I flew to Maun to assist the Ngamiland Council of NGOs (NCONGO) with their Organizational Development Plan.   As an Organizational Development Advisor placed with BOCAIP, I had already been through this exercise once, so was happy to be able to help another organization with theirs.   I knew a couple of the dynamic, young NCONGO staff from Maatla project meetings, and was looking forward to working with them and learning more about their organization.

When it came time to board the plane, the dozen of us waiting in the departure lounge walked towards the Air Botswana plane, only to be redirected to a tiny, 20-seater charter plane run by Kalahari Air.  There was no standing room in the plane, so we had to duck to get to our seats.  I should mention that of the dozen of us, about half were unaccompanied minors.  The pilot crouched down through the aisle to buckle in the kids.  About 10 minutes into the flight, the passenger sitting in the front row reached into a cooler box behind the pilot and passed out cans of Coke and Fanta.  We dipped and turned to skirt past a couple of isolated rain showers, and the kids made the appropriate shrieks and yelps and airplane noises.   That was the most fun I’ve had on a flight in a long time!

I was greeted at the airport by a handsome young man holding a framed sign with the NCONGO logo and my name.  We chatted a little bit as he drove me the few metres to the airport hotel.  He seemed slightly disappointed to learn that I had been in the country for almost a year.  He had been told to pick up an Organizational Development Advisor from Canada. 

I settled into the hotel, which had only been open a few months. The staff was helpful and eager to please, which made it easy to overlook some of the kinks (unfinished fixtures, lamps with no light bulbs, a restaurant with missing menu items).  The bed was comfortable, the air conditioning and wireless internet worked, and I got my cable tv fix.  I was happy.

The next morning I met with the Director, and we agreed on a participatory approach for getting the plan done.  He assembled the staff and we went over the template format.  We then started to populate it by turning priorities previously identified through an organizational capacity assessment into activities with realistic targets, timelines, staff leads, and sources of outside support.  I noted their comments, and then worked for the rest of the day and evening on incorporating their input.  I also added items from their Maatla project workplan and their Strategic Plan for their consideration. 

I was getting a feel for what work must be like for consultants, who have short windows of time to become familiar enough with an organization to make a contribution.  The Director was quite keen to have a finished product at the end of my visit with them, and so was I.

On Day Two, we repeated the cycle of review, discussion, and incorporation of their input.  At the end of the day, I felt I had done as much as I could, so found a taxi driver to take me to one of the riverside lodges. 

We went to a couple of lodges before finding one with space on a sunset cruise.  It was a lovely, peaceful trip down the river, where we stopped to watch and learn about birds, spider webs, termite mounds, trees, and talk to local fishermen and women gathering lily roots.  The guide was full of information.  I would have loved to have asked him more questions, but I was coming down with a splitting headache, muscle aches, and a fever.  The most I could do was smile and nod and utter the odd “Aah” or “Is that so?”.

As I was setting up the meeting room the next morning, I was overcome by a wave of nausea and left a not so pleasant gift in NCONGO's kitchen sink.  I managed to hold it together long enough to review the final changes with the staff and get their consensus on who would do what by when.  At the end of the morning, we had a realistic plan the Director felt he could present to their board for approval.  My work was done!

I still had several hours to kill before my return flight to Gaborone, the only one going that day. After cleaning up the kitchen sink, I had the NCONGO driver drop me off at the lodge where I took my boat ride.  It seemed a pleasant enough place to spend the afternoon.   I ordered a ginger beer to help settle my stomache, but that was just enough to set me off again.  I left the lodge a memento of my visit in their courtyard bathroom, and again in the bushes by the pool.  I just couldn’t get comfortable, and time marched slowly by.  Finally, I decided it was time for a change of scenery.  I called a taxi to take me to the café by the airport.  At the café, I ordered an iced coffee, and promptly left most of it in the washroom.  Not long after, I left the rest in the airport washroom.

I think it is safe to say I left my mark on Maun.  Not only did I leave an organizational development plan for their council of NGOs, but I also left a little piece of myself everywhere I went!

(Post-Script:  I did see a doctor once I returned to Gaborone, and we were able to rule out more exotic illnesses to come up with the medical diagnosis of "tummy bug" and too much heat. I fully recovered after a couple of days of rest and rehydration.)

I am WOMAN

On November 30th, I represented BOCAIP at the 50th Anniversary of a well-known international women's organization in Botswana.  The anniversary date happened to fall within the 16 Days of Action Against Gender-Based Violence.  The event organizers and keynote speakers were careful to note the links between gender-based violence, women's development, and the spread of HIV -- topics I could expand on, but will reserve for discussions with those willing to so engage. 

So, I was a little surprised, in this enlightened environment, to see some text in the inside of the event folder that seemed a little...shall I say...out of step with the times.

The word WOMAN was written out as an acronym.

W - Wise
O - Ornament
M - Multiskilled
A - Advisor
N - Noble

"Ornament" ?  Really ?  Need I say more ??

I am not even sure how the word "Advisor" is meant, in this context. 
Advisors to whom ? -- Decision-makers who are not women ?

I've struggled with blogging about this sooner, as I don't want to come across as judgemental or culturally insensitive -- afterall, women continue to be objectified as 'ornaments' in our Western society -- but I like to think that my Batswana friends are pretty progressive, and I welcome insights from those who wish to comment.

And, I welcome suggestions for an alternative "O".

Happy New Year !

I had picked up the ingredients for a pizza party for one, selected a dvd to watch on my laptop, and was prepared for a quiet night at home.  I had just returned from a Christmas trip to Kruger, Swaziland and Durban, and was ready for an early night to catch up on a bit of holiday sleep deprivation.  My landlord wouldn't hear of that, and insisted I join him at a house party.  I didn't think I could handle a long, loud, boisterous night, so I told him I would think about it.  As I was mentally convincing myself of the benefits of staying in, my body was hopping into the shower, picking out an outfit, getting dressed, and putting my keys and emergency cab fare in my purse.  Before I knew it, I was in Mike's passenger seat and on my way to the New Year's Eve house party.

We were hosted by a couple who run a Portuguese cafe.  It seems they are in the right line of work, because they had prepared a sophisticated, gourmet seafood feast of appetizers by the pool followed by a fish stew cooked in a South African potjie, a three-legged cast iron pot placed over an open fire. We lingered over dinner, as one should for a home-cooked, gourmet meal, and finished just in time to mark the stroke of twelve with a champagne toast.

After the toast, we jumped into the pool !  Apparently, it is Portuguese tradition to take a midnight swim in the sea to wash away the sins of the past year.  I didn't have a swimsuit, so jumped in fully (well, partially) clothed.  It didn't take long to dry off in the hot desert air.  A buffet of fresh fruit and Portuguese baking was then presented on the outdoor dining table. I was given a peck on the lips by the flirtatious resident parrot, who must have been after the crumbs.  At 2 am, when the host started dancing on his head to Shakira, we decided it was time to return home.

Who knows where I will find myself next New Year's Eve ?  Most likely, back in wintery Edmonton with my friends. I am sure I will enjoy the company and whatever repast is served, but it is not too likely that I will be jumping into any bodies of water or kissing exotic birds. However, I will issue a challenge to my friends to learn to dance on their heads -- we've got to have some fun, afterall !

A letter to my niece

My 10 year-old niece, Isobel, sent me a letter with some questions about how and what I am doing in Africa.  My whole family sent letters to me, in response to a request from the organizers of a recent staff retreat.  Isobel, in particular, asked some very good questions -- some that others have asked me before, and a couple that no one has ever asked me before.  I thought I would share my answers:

Dear Isobel,

Thank you for your letter.  It was a nice surprise to get letters from all of you – you, your sister, your Dad, Kari, and your Grandpa Bill.  My colleagues who organized our staff retreat planned that surprise for us.  When you are living far from family, it is so nice to get letters from home.

Thank you for telling me a bit about your life.  It is good to know that you have so many favorite colours.  That will make it easy to shop for you!  Orange and brown are very popular colours here now. 

I am looking forward to hearing you play the guitar when I see you again.  By then, I am sure you will know more than 4 songs.  I would also like to hear your sister play the Charlie Brown Christmas song on the piano.  Please let her know I am happy to hear that she is still involved with music.

I would like to see you riding horses again.  You wrote that you are “starting to jump horses a couple of feet high”.  Although I knew what you meant, I had to laugh, because I had a picture in my mind of you leaping over miniature horses.  I watched you at riding lessons when you were just 5, and even then, I was impressed with your skills.  You were doing acrobatics, flipping from one side of the horse to another.  I thought you were very brave!

Isobel, you asked some very good questions about what and how I am doing here in Africa, and I will answer them.

Is it everything you expected?

Although I had been to other countries in Africa before (Rwanda, Kenya, Tanzania, and Morocco), I had never been to southern Africa.  I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect to find in Botswana, so I did some research before I came. 

I learned that Botswana is a peaceful, stable country. Botswana had been spared the wounds of deep seated colonialism and Apartheid that were experienced by its neighbours. 

I have found that the people I meet here are very kind, gentle, and tolerant.  Maybe this is a reflection of their history as a nation -- or, maybe their history as a nation is a result of who they are, as people.

I also learned that Botswana is the number one diamond producer in the world, and because of this, it has been granted middle income status. The government has wisely invested its revenues in infrastructure and services, so it has good roads and schools.  However, once I came here, I learned that the wealth is concentrated in the city, and there are still many people living in poverty.  

I am working with a national organization that provides support and services to people living with an illness called HIV that can progress to AIDS. Although HIV and AIDS impact people from all segments of society, those most vulnerable are those who live in poverty.  Before I came here, I expected to see more people who look sick, but there are medications now that allow people with HIV to live relatively normal lives. The reality is that 1 in 5 people live with HIV, but you wouldn’t be able to pick them out in a crowd. 

If you want to learn more about things like colonialism, Apartheid, and HIV and AIDS, I can tell you more in another letter or when we see each other again. 

Is it too hot in Africa?

Right now, it is very hot here in Botswana.  While it is winter in the northern hemisphere, it is summer here in the southern hemisphere.  The sun is at its most intense right now at the Tropic of Capricorn, which happens to pass through Botswana.  Days here usually reach above 30 degrees Celsius, and sometimes temperatures get close to 40 degrees.  I am fortunate to have a pool to cool off in and air conditioning at home.  However, I don’t have air conditioning at my place of work, so it can be a little hard to handle.

Our winter (your summer) was quite cool.  It got to close to freezing at times.  Most homes and buildings are not heated, so people have to bundle up. 

Will it change the way you think?

This is a very good question, Isobel. 

One of the reasons I enjoy living in and traveling to different countries is that it does challenge the way you think about the world, and about yourself. 

When you go to a new county, it’s a bit like being a small child again.  You have to relearn how to do many things: how to count change; how to get places; how to cross the street safely; how to greet people; and how to eat new foods.  Sometimes, you have to learn a new language.  You have to think again about how to do very basic things.

You may come with a set of expectations about how people should act, and then learn that they have a whole different way of doing things.  Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that there is not only one right way to do things.  There are always reasons for the way we and others do things, and it's good to think about what those reasons are.

Sometimes, people may react to you based on how you look, where you are from, and what you may represent to them.  That gives you an opportunity to learn about how their history and experiences have shaped the way they think -- and also to think about what has shaped the way you think about the world.  

I wish many things for you and your sister, and one of them is that you, too, will have the opportunity to experience life in other countries.  Living in other places not only changes the way you think -- it also broadens and expands the way you think.

Do you even like it there?

I am enjoying it here, very much, Isobel.  

My favorite part of the day is my morning walk to work.  I pass many friendly people, who always say “Dumela” or hello with a warm smile.  I also see beautiful trees and blossoms.  I especially like the purple jacaranda blossoms and the red flame tree blossoms, both of which are blooming right now. 

I like the people I work with.  They are very passionate about what they do, and they know they are making a difference in peoples’ lives.  It is a pleasure to work with them.   My other wish for you and your sister is that you will find something to do in life that you are passionate about and is meaningful to you and those you touch.

When I come home in the evening, I take a few moments to watch the weaver birds building their nests in the tree in the courtyard.  I tried to count them, and there are more than 100 nests in one tree.  Then, if it is still hot, I take a dip in the pool and make myself dinner. 

Sometimes on weekends, I will go to a concert or out for dinner with friends.  I see different parts of the city when I go on weekly walks with a hiking / running club. 

My all time favorite thing to do when I have is enough time is to go on safari.  I never get tired of looking at animals.  They are always doing something different.

Is it safe?

Botswana is a relatively safe country, and has been fortunate to avoid the political and social turmoil that has touched many of its neighbouring countries.  I am not worried about things like political coups or wars breaking out.

I walk a lot in Gaborone, and I feel safe when I pass by friendly faces on the streets. I am careful to take taxis when I go out at night, though.

Like most places in the world, crime is a problem here, and people take precautions.  Many people live in gated houses with guard dogs.  I have six keys I need to use to get into my house: a remote control for the front gate; one key for the main house; another for the entry into my unit; another for my bedroom; one for the door to the courtyard patio; and one for the side gate.  So, I feel safe at home when all the doors and gates are locked.  We don’t have any guard dogs, but our neighbours’ dogs would kick up a fuss if anything strange were to happen. 

Although -- I do confess that I am not convinced that walled and gated houses are really the safest places to live.  It is very easy to come and go without seeing your neighbours, which is not good if you do not know if this or that person going into a house is the person who lives there.  I have a friend who lives in a neighbourhood without the big walls.  She knows all her neighbours, and they look out for one another.

You may also be wondering if I have encountered any safety issues with wildlife.  So far, I have managed to avoid dangerous encounters with poisonous insects and snakes.  I have been on several safaris, and although I have never felt threatened by the wildlife, I woke up to the sound of a lion growling next to my tent one night when I was camping!  Needless to say, I didn’t get back to sleep that night.

Isobel, I will be thinking about you and everyone at Christmas, and I am looking forward to seeing you in the New Year!  Please write again to tell me more about how you are doing and to ask more questions.

Much Love,

Aunt Stephanie

One Hundred

This is post number 100 since I started this blog, nearly one year ago.  At this time last year, I had just returned home from my pre-orientation session in Montreal, where I stumbled upon Rue Sansregret, a dark mysterious alley with no clear end in sight.

I started the blog even before I formally accepted the volunteer opportunity.  I still had a lot of arrangements and consequences to consider.  I think, in some ways, the act of setting up the blog and stating my intentions to the world gave me the final push I needed.

In fact, the intention for this sabbatical was set in motion about 5 years earlier.  I was travelling through Kenya and Tanzania with my dear friend, Roxanne, and we both mused about returning to Africa to volunteer in public health or community development.  Roxanne asked when I might do so, and I said, "Maybe in five years, if I can arrange for a one year leave of absence from work."  I didn't think much about it, or do anything consciously to make it happen, until I happened upon a serenidipitous opportunity through WUSC / Uniterra.  And then I arrived here in Botswana, almost 5 years to the day of my prophetic pronouncement.  Roxanne's life path took a different but equally exciting course, and she has been a source of encouragement and support throughout my journey down this road.

In this past year, I have found 100 things to share with you, my friends and family.  100 events, experiences, musings, and observations that I found interesting enough to want to share. 

I wonder...at this time next year, once I have returned to Edmonton and settled into my regular routine, will I have found another 100 things of interest to share ?  I may have to look a bit harder or longer or differently at the familiar, but I think I am up to the challenge !

Attack of the Flying Termites

We had our first big rainfall over the weekend.  Not the kind that pours for an hour or two at night, only to evaporate the next day, but the kind that is sustained for hours on end.  I sat outside under the patio roof Saturday morning, enjoying the refreshing relief from the heat.

On Sunday morning, I went on a hike with the Kalahari Hash House Harriers, dodging puddles and side-stepping masses of white termites teeming on the dirt paths.  We also came across the thickest and longest black millipedes, like licorice sticks with legs, and the reddest ants I had ever seen.  It seems the rain brought many interesting creatures to surface.

Later that evening, I met a friend for dinner at an outdoor cafe.  As the sun set and the patio lights came on, we found ourselves in the midst of a flying termite storm.  They were everywhere.  In our hair.  In our salad.  Everywhere.  It was like a scene from a science fiction movie. We tried to move indoors, but they had also invaded the inside through the open patio door.  At first, I thought they were moths, but their wings were too long and thin. 

I did some research, and found out that sexually mature termites are prone to grow wings and swarm as part of a mating ritual after the first heavy rain of the season.  Once they have mated, they lose their wings and start new colonies at their new location.  We had found ourselves in the midst of a flying termite orgy !

This morning, the ground was littered with thousands upon thousands of translucent termite wings.

Random Ramblings: Part III

Dogs

My house is surrounded by neighbours who are more security conscious than us, judging by the number of guard dogs they have. They seem to vary between 2 and 4 per house. We have none. I don't think we need any. If ever we are visited by an intruder, I am sure the neighbours' dogs will unite in a chorus of barks and howls to advise us, and everyone else, of their presence.  They are well practiced and serenade us at all hours of the night.  Of course, no one ever checks to see what all the fuss is about.  The dogs are doing their jobs.  But are their owners ?

The High Five

There is a high school kid I pass each day on my way home. He greets me with a broad smile and his hand in the air, which I meet to complete the high five. He then bursts into a hearty laugh - each time.  If that's all it takes to make someone happy, I'll slap a hand, anytime.  I think I will miss him, once school lets out for the year.

Exclusivity

When I was in Jo'burg recently, I went on a little shopping spree.  I have already written about shoe shopping, but I didn't mention my foray into the land of lotions and potions, aka, The Body Shop. I hadn't seen a Body Shop since I left Canada, and there really isn't an equivalent in Botswana. I sniffed and sampled new and familiar scents, and left with an impressive collection: peach body scrub and body butter; a pair of exfoliating mitts; tropical scented travel shampoo; vitamin E face cream and lip balm, both with an SPF factor; and tea tree oil exfoliating face mask.  I would be set for the hot and dry months to come.

Last week, I noticed they had opened the first Body Shop in Botswana, in Riverwalk Mall.  You would think I would be excited, right ? Convenient access to my favourite products ? Instead, I felt a mild sense of disappointment.  My Jo'burg purchases no longer seemed so... exclusive.