Gabs week 5. Sick week.

School has been legitimately busy, lots of papers and discussions. It feels good to be compelled with my work.

The theme of my African Lit class is defining what constitutes African literature (work about Africa, literature by Africans-White Africans Black Africans ?).  In a class discussion it was agreed that African literature written with the objective of telling “truths” about Africa should be composed by Africans (makes sense)- to which my professor responded: “but can Africans tell the truth about themselves?”

It has really resonated with me and understanding my time and place here. There are so many assumptions I have worked hard to avoid, African’s are poor...schools are lacking...things are inefficient...why...Colonialism...maybe things are unfair...perhaps because there is a culture that is so dependent on aid that one of the national development goals is ‘rid Botswana of the “give me” attitude by 2016.’ There are assumptions I have worked so hard to avoid, that I am finding to be true; and truths that are entirely unexpected. How to navigate them proves to be the continual effort and another point that is testing and growing my patience. 

All the school work, has resulted in many hours in cafes so Gods of Rock week on VH1 was a happy surprise and break from the top 40 insanity of the usual cafe/restaurant/dorm life background. Jason DeRulo’s Whatcha Say is playing literally always- its actually playing as I type this- but most delightfully at 5:15 every morning when Millie’s alarm goes off.

This is the morning process for most Batswana women. You have a giant bucket and a hot pot (the sort you make tea with). You take your hot pot to the common room sink, fill it up take it back to the room, let it boil then dump it in the bucket. This is repeated until the bucket, probs five gallons, is filled with hot water. Then you cary your bucket (heavy) and all of your shower stuff to the shower and sort of sponge yourself from the bucket. It is a ridiculously involved process that I have yet to experience. Though I do get to experience the array of sounds it creates in my room every morn just before sunrise.

Almost as rigorous, as the process of the bucket-bath was my first endeavor doing a full load of laundry by hand. The university has a laundry room with about twenty washers and twenty dryers, it is really cheap and (usually) works well.  But it is super chaotic and people tend to hold a washer or dryer for someone who is ‘on their way’ so even if you are waiting you aren’t really waiting for something that is immediately usable. My last efforts resulted in me waiting just over an hour, removing someone else’s clothes from a washer (which weirdly, was like 20 pairs of baseball pants(?)) that was seemingly abandoned, and proceeding to use a dryer with a broken latch by rigging a wedge made of a broom and a chair to keep the door shut so the cycle would run. Rachel and I decided we’d give hand washing a go.

It felt really nice (or at least very authentic) to be out behind the laundry room at the sinks, under the hot sun using freezing hose water, everyone shouting in Setswana and laughing at us (friendly laughter) in our struggle.  We were brutally unprepared both for the amount of manual labor- my greatest feat will be removing the indian food stain from my white linen pants- and the wind. Evidently, line drying your clothes on a windy day is quite ideal (and looks very picturesque), but it is essential that you use clothes pins (rather than just a drape kind-of-thing) as your method of hanging. So as we watched our clothes dry (you have to watch them so they are safe !) every 7 minutes someone’s t-shirt or sock would fall off the line into the dirt. I think most of my clothes were significantly dirtier after, or a the very least were not entirely rinsed out- so still a little laden with detergent.  I have been wearing a lot of crispy underwear as a result.

Unfortunately, crunchy undies seemed an easy inconvenience after my sick week began. Tuesday night was pretty standard, I had been feeling a little funky but opted to go play soccer for a few hours (between the locals and the european exchange students they are ready to play a LONG time) too exhausted for much else, it was the executive decision to order Debonaire’s pizza (the delivery people all wear bowties) and have our first collective viewing of Planet Earth.  Still feeling a little wonky, Nick gave me a vita-immune-boost-juice-thing and I was sent to bed.

2 a.m. I am no stranger to tummy troubles, getting ill does not totally phase me but this was rough, and urgent. I spent the majority of my night with my head over the latrine. Debonaire’s and vita-boost round two were more than unpleasant.

The ultimate moment occurred around 4:30 am roughly my fifth trip to the bathroom, (this is gross) I vomited and the toilet water splashed on my shoulder (yuck) as I recoiled from the toilet, bare foot and with no glasses, I stepped and crushed one of the larger cockroaches I have seen yet. This was a low.

Its very hard to be far from home and sick.

For three days.

Rachel ran many flights of stairs to insure I had water.

Adam and Axel nursed me with excellent bedside manner.

Nick and Monica brought me a lovely balloon with Winnie the Pooh shooting hoops (?).

Millie bought me banana flavored porridge that you can drink from a carton.

Feeling recovered by Friday I decided to be adventurous, head out into the heart of Gabs, see some things I have been meaning to see. I had been notified that there was a package for me, so I began my inaugural expedition by heading to the post office. About halfway across campus (which is maybes a 10 minute walk) I realized I would not be making it very far so shifted my plan to studying/reading at a cafe in Riverwalk.

A quick commentary on the package. It was a really lovely and very much needed package coming from my beautiful mother in just the right moment of exhaustion, sickness, all of that. Upon getting it I noticed the customs form she had filled out listing the contents, the list she had written was scribbled out, but I open it to find a sweet family photo, somethings to expand my mind and heart, a note on a Mt. Rainier postcard so I can see Rainier from here etc etc. I emailed her as soon as I could, and she responded saying “hope you can eat the reese’s when your tummy is better.”  (!?!?) There were no reese’s in this package!? I went over the custom’s list for a second time, sure enough the item that was so cleverly scribbled over was ‘CANDY.’ “Your things are safe...though sometimes they will be tempted to try your food because it is exotic,” this was Batsi referring to the cleaning staff at UB during orientation - apparently also postal employees. ***

10 more minutes into the heat ridden excursion to Riverwalk I am near fainting into the dirt on the side of the road - mind you this is my first journey outside of the room in a while and all I have consumed in 4 days is a rusk* and a banana- I opt to hail a cab, even though I am five minutes from Riverwalk and am priced gouged for 25 pula by my taxi driver.  Ironically enough, this man’s legal name (he showed me his license) is Decency.

As it turns out, after sitting and working for about an hour consuming a frozen lemonade (seemed gentle enough) I was not recovered. I** had to buy more toilet paper because I used all of Riverwalk’s.

I had to buy the mall more toilet paper.

My diagnoses have ranged from G.I. infection to Ebola (Adam’s Swedish Aunt) and Cholera (Axel).  I attempted to go out Friday night (the same night of the Riverwalk incident), it ended in  Axel and Rachel getting a cab and Monica tucking me in by 9:30.

Rachel ended up on South African Mtv in my absence and it was a weekend with no (very minimal) dancing which is always a bit disappointing. 

There is rumor of a teachers strike for the week, which would prove very exciting. Evidently the professors union has been negotiating a pay increase that they have yet to see for the past five years. If there is a strike class is canceled and we go shark diving.

I apologize for the somewhat graphic and lack luster blog entry of week five. It has been a more low energy time. My full recovery will be celebrated with a ‘choc-o-holic spinner!’

Also evidently Wednesday marks the first day of summer here so it is now officially ok to show your legs !?

I miss you so.
love love love,

Jackie

*A delicious (Di Monante (DEE moe NAAN teh) means delicious in Setswana) granola type bar, I would equate it to an Oats and Honey Bar.
**Monica actually had to go buy the toilet paper for me because I couldn’t make it to the pick n’ pay.
*** Never the less, please please mail me things, be strategic in your label.