Fa letsatsi le phirima

Once one grows roots, it is hard to pull yourself from the soil.

Although, I suppose at the moment I am less like a tree and more like a water lily, tethering myself to whatever I can hold, letting myself rise and fall in the cool unknown of the water.

In the Okavango Region of Botswana, the local people pull the water lilies up from the river. They cook down the roots of the lily, and then they mix it with fish or beef and pound them together. They call it tswii. It’s delicious.

But I can’t help but wonder, what will become of me when I’ve been uprooted again?

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On the last day of class on September 27th, my students came up to the front of the class one by one to say goodbye to me, to tell me how thankful they were for having me here. They were so nervous, hiding behind their hands for some of the speeches or rocking back and forth on their feet, but what they said was inspired…

We enjoyed all the moments we spent with you.

I never thought I would know an American.

Your presence will always be remembered.

Thank you so much for your lessons and for your Drama and Spoken Word Club. I’ve learned so much about having fun while speaking English and I’ve learned a lot about America.

I enjoyed all of the games we played together.

We will meet again.

Even though you are leaving, you will be forever in our hearts.

I was surprised I didn’t bawl right there and then. I gave a small speech to the class, thanking them for allowing me a lot of grace in the classroom since I’m not a trained teacher yet. Then, I gave them my email and home address so that they could write to me after I left.

It is shocking when you realize how much of an impact you had on a group of kids. When I was in class, I often wondered whether anything had stuck. Whether anything I said would impact their compositions, their test scores. But my job in Shakawe, in many ways, was just to introduce the students to different ways of thinking and a different culture from their own. I would like to think I succeeded given what my students remembered about our time together.

____________

During my penultimate weekend in Southern Africa, I hopped in cars with some of Shakawe Senior’s Lexumdjira social club, who I had spent many weekends with at their football matches.

*The sign as we crossed into Namibia at the Mohembo border*

This weekend, though, we were spending three days in Rundu, Namibia since Botswana had two days off for its 48th year of independence.

The two hour drive took us through the Mohembo border and part of the Caprivi Strip. At one point just beyond the border in Namibia, we drove through Bwabwata National Park where we saw herds of zebra roaming in the bush.

*The car driving through the Caprivi Strip*

The drive was fairly peaceful, with small towns along the way with thatched, reed houses which looked slightly different from Botswana’s as they had a bit of a rounder roof. When we finally arrived in Rundu, we stopped at our guest house in the late afternoon.

Our guest house was small, but it had room for all twenty-two of us. And, tucked in the corner, there was a small pool that we quickly jumped into when we arrived. Some people didn’t know how to swim, so I offered lessons. After a while, dinner was ready, so we all hopped out to have some mafresh, which are fries covered in spices and vinegar, as well as some beef stew.

After that, everyone got ready to go out to one of Rundu’s many clubs. Unlike Botswana, which really only has a bar scene, Rundu’s clubs had large dance floors and pounding music which was closer in energy to some of the ones I’d been to in the US. We stayed there late into the night dancing to amapiano and watching people play pool. It was a lot of fun, as I hadn’t had a lot of nights out in Botswana.

*The mango tree at Gaga Guesthouse, where we stayed*

The next day, after breakfast, the club and I went shopping at the mall since Namibia’s currency is weaker than Botswana’s. Everyone stopped at multiple stores, finding things that were less expensive than in Botswana. I even grabbed a few things that I liked.

*The Kavango River in front of Kaisisi Resort with a horse!*

After shopping, we stopped at a local resort along the river which had mini golf, a playground, a pool, and a volleyball court. There was also a large chess board, so after swinging on a tire swing for a bit, I played against one of the other club members. While I did not play a good game, we were soon called over to join the group and called the game a draw.

*On the boat with friends / English colleagues*

When we joined the group, we hopped onto a boat for a boat cruise with drinks and music. It was like a party boat, and the group was really enjoying themselves on the water.

As we drove, I saw that some people were swimming across the river from Namibia to get to the other side. On that side, there were also children and adults bathing in the river.

The differences between the two sides of the river were like night and day. One side had resorts and jetties while the other had very little.

The other side was Angola, I realized. I had looked at Rundu on a map and knew that it was along the border, but it was strange to me that the border looked so fluid as people swam across to the other side.

At some point during the boat cruise, someone must have asked the driver to stop because he went ashore for a moment so that people could get off and set foot on the other side. I stepped off the boat and greeted the Angolan children who had gathered to look at us. The driver offered them 20 Namibian dollars to share.

We’re lucky in Botswana, someone said to me, looking at the people in Angola with slightly tattered clothing bathing in the river. It’s not like this. We have the things we need to survive.

And it’s fairly true, I suppose.

Due to its democratic socialist nature, Botswana provides its citizens with the bare minimum needs for survival. People in Botswana are rarely without food, water, or healthcare. I’ve never seen beggars on the street or people starving. In many way, I think it is a shining example of how socialism and community lifts up an entire country. Countries like the U.S. could learn a lot from this.

While we kept floating along, my friends danced and enjoyed the beginning of the sunset. Finally, we hopped off the boat and played some volleyball before it was time to head back to the guest house for dinner.

We went out again that night at a different club, this one with a real club feeling and a mirror along one wall. I danced a lot that night, and while I didn’t know a lot of the music, by the end of the night, many of my friends called me a good dancer, which I considered a huge win. After four or five hours in the club, though, I was exhausted and my legs hurt from dancing.

The next day, we spent some time in the pool, and I had brought Uno, so we played that for a while. It got rather competitive, with the club coming up with the rule that the two players with the most cards at the end would be out for one round of the game.

Then, we stopped at Rundu’s beach along the river to dip our feet in and take some pictures. At one point

Then, after it got dark, we went back to the guest house where I helped make mafresh and sausage for the group. It took up a lot of my energy, so I didn’t end up going out that night but slept very peacefully in my bed.

On the drive back to Shakawe, we stopped a few times at a few places along the way before I finally returned home and flopped down on my bed, mentally and physically exhausted.

While I had so much fun on the trip, by the end I wanted to do nothing except hide in my house where no one could bother me. Batswana are very social creatures, which can be taxing for a semi-introverted American like myself. It also takes a lot of emotional energy and focus to pay attention to the conversations in Setswana, trying to piece together what everyone is saying since I only know certain words and phrases.

What you don’t realize until you are in a country among people who all speak a language you don’t know is how hard it is to jump into a conversation without knowing what people are talking about. I miss a lot of the jokes and stories when people talk to each other in Setswana, and because of this, I often have to try very hard to connect with my friends and coworkers. And even when I do connect with them, it feels like I don’t have access to a whole part of their personality and life since I don’t speak the communal language. Eish, English is not my mother tongue, they would say as they lost the language for a moment when speaking to me. I often felt bad for forcing people to speak English when they weren’t comfortable, even when they were just trying to connect with me.

But despite this kind of language barrier, the friends that I have made in Shakawe are the kind that I will remember and cherish for life. They have been a comfort that has kept me from falling into the deep end. So, in many ways, they taught me how to swim as well I suppose.

But this is the end of my adventure. I have entered Botswana for the last time, and now all that is left is packing and goodbyes. Two of my least favorite things.

Although I suppose, at its core, I just hate thinking about and planning for change. It is hard once you’ve gotten used to life to change your patterns, your way of life. But as any water lily would, I will do what I must to survive in the most fluid conditions.

poetic interlude #9: past lives

poetic interlude #8: baobab fruit