Ahh Spring! I mean, Fall! No Spring! Whatever.

This is an odd feeling. Winter in Botswana is ending. Only because winter here is a sight warmer than anywhere else I've ever been do I feel like it should be cooling down soon.

It ain't. Sure we had some mornings when I'm pretty sure it was below the freezing temperature of fresh water (32 degrees Fahrenheit, 0 Degrees Celsius). But always by 10 AM it was at least pleasant shirt-sleeve weather. The Motswana don't buy that. I'm always amazed when in what is surely 80 degree F. weather people are wearing sweaters, hoods, thick jackets (I saw the same thing in Puerto Rico).

But I tremble to think what lies ahead. Apparently 40s C aren't uncommon. Yikes! At least I'll save electricity by not heating the water.

Still I feel like I should be getting a new coat...

Hey! Primanti Brothers!

I’m not making a political statement. I just can’t see why they would ruin a perfectly good picture of Primanti Brothers (in Pittsburgh) with Cindy McCain’s mug. This was in a recent edition of Newsweek the Peace Corps sends us.

Man, what I would give for a Primanti’s roast beef piled with fries and cole slaw! And a stroll down the Strip to Mon Aimee Chocolate to drop about $70 on dark chocolate, then across the street to pick up some flavoured pasta and up to Mt. Washington for a look see at the city, then a Pirates game, then throw the kayak in the Mon for a paddle, then stop at Starbucks afterward for a Venti caramel Frappuccino, and then, and then, and then…

Oh well, maybe the Engen station has meat pies today.

Amazing what one picture can do?

What They Need

Following my picture of the Pre-School I was asked by a loyal reader (one of six) if the kids needed supplies of any kind.

Sigh! Where to start? The government provides the VERY basics, paper, pencils, etc. but these kids (and even or ESPECIALLY older ones) need EVERYTHING! Those who know me well know I'm not the most sensitive SOB in the world. I tell you when I visited that little school and saw what they DIDN'T have it about broke my heart. By that I mean things you wouldn't ordinarily think about: games, puzzles, coloring books, crayons... Americans would blow a gasket if their kids were supplied as poorly. They mean well. It's just there isn't enough money to get the things little kids, EVERY little kid, should have.

Things that make you have to think to solve, to work together with others.

See, the educational system here is about where the US was a century ago. Rote learning. The teacher drills them and they respond accordingly. When you ask a kid for his/her opinion you get a blank stare. You get that even from the adults. After all, they are products of the same system.

You talk to kids and they are stunned that you consider them as thinking people. If you can send anything along those lines you will be doing a world of good.

We talk about building capacity among the people in Africa. Get them to the point where they can develop without outside help. So, how does a coloring book build capacity? If one child realizes he or she CAN think and DECIDE for themselves you have built capacity.

The other Peace Corps Volunteer in my village recently met the former Botswana Minister of Health, a physician. Female even. She told her she was inspired by a Peace Corps volunteer teacher she had in Science class Standard Nine (9th grade). That volunteer will never know she gave a push to a future Minister of Health for a country. that's like a Cabinet post.

So you never know.

Also, if anyone with IT expertise could give some advise or help. One of the schools actually has some IMacs, circa 1997. They are all of course basically paperweights. The operating systems are so corrupted as to be about useless. The kids are taught typing skills on turned off computers. Does anyone have an old Windows OS Disc to try to re-format these things? I don't even know if that is possible. Even if you let me know it can't be done would be helpful information.

My address again is:

Mike Wigal
PO Box 170
Charles Hill, Botswana

That's in Africa

My First Picture of Wild Game That Was NOT Donkeys!

OK, so donkeys aren't actually wild game. I've seen a jackal, a hyena, a fox and a Springbok (look it up). But those were at night while speeding along the highway. This was taken also speeding along the Trans-Kgadihadi Highway (150 Km/Hr), so it isn't the clearest. I've been spotting them from time to time between Ghanzi and Chuck Hill, but could never get my camera ready fast enough. This was the best I could do.

Africa is famous for the Big 5, Zebra, Hippo, Lion, Rhino and Elephant. No one talks about these guys. The big game is located farther north. Maybe in a few weeks or months when I get sprung from lock-down (Peace Corps requirement for the first three months at site) I'll run into some of the big boys.

More Pictures from the Petroglyphs

Some of these weren't carved in stone. See if you can tell which.

The Mamuno Rock Carvings

Went out into the bush last weekend. The head of the Village Development Committee (George), took an archaeologist from Gaborone (Judge), the other Peace Corps volunteer in Chuck Hill (Lesedi) and her mom and me to view the rock carvings done by whomever it was who lived in this area 35,000 years ago.

It was pretty remarkable. Too bad I'll NEVER have enough internet time to upload all or even the best photos of the petroglyphs. But I'll throw up what I can here.

I've spent a half hour trying to get one more picture up. Forget it. This one was about the best. Pretty self-explanatory

I Need A Favor

I was walking down my road today and was called over by the Cow ladies to take this photo of their day care centre. I would love to give them this picture. But it will be a month of Sundays before I can get to a place that can develop it. It's a big favor, but could someone print this out in color on glossy paper and send it to me?

Again my address is:
Mike Wigal
P.O. Box 170
Charles Hill,
Botswana

MAil takes forever to get here. At LEAST three weeks. But it would give the ladies and those kids a thrill.

Thanks in advance

Good Bye Baba

Word has reached me that Betty Gill, my mother-in-law has passed. She was 84. And another link to Jan fades away.

Baba (as she was affectionately known) was the Gazda in the Gill family. I don’t know exactly how Gazda translates, but Sloko, my late father-in-law, called her that. Undoubtedly it was Ukrainian in origin and meant she ruled the roost.

Betty was a great lady. She had more than a little influence on raising Mick. Jan’s dying hit her hard of course. It’s tough enough to lose one’s spouse. But to lose your child, regardless the age, it’s just not in the seeming order of things.

Words cannot express my sadness at her passing. She had a big heart and was proud of her Slovak heritage. She accepted me into the family and always went out of her way to make me feel at home in her house.

I’ll miss her and I know Mick will miss his Baba.

I’ve been reading “The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying” lately and it has made Betty’s passing and Jan’s too even more meaningful, if that is possible.

Tsamaya Sentle Baba(Travel Well)

What I Miss....

It has been asked what I miss. To tell the truth not much. I have pretty much everything I need on a day to day basis. Sure, access to a decent pizza parlor (or just A pizza parlor!) would be nice. But all in all I'm pretty happy with my situation.

I neither have nor want a TV, although a Seinfeld rerun would be enjoyed now and again. If I had the series'DVDs I could play them on my laptop (hint, hint.) But otherwise it's all good. I have a fair-sized stash of books. But I'm always on the lookout for more. ANYTHING by Paul Theroux! I read his "Dark Star Safari" a couple years ago and knew I wanted to go to Africa. Read it again about a month ago and it merely confirmed how glad I am that I came.

A few eons ago, when I was in Korea with the army, I used to absolutely fantasize about drinking Mountain Dew. But there's none of that sort of thing now. I hear other younger volunteers going on about this or that specific thing they crave. Maybe it's a function of age, but there's nothing really that comes to mind.

One thing I have realized is that I am basically stuck (if that's the right word) in Botswana for the next couple years. I'll be able to travel around southern Africa during leave. But my usual jaunts are out for a while. To relieve the travel itch a bit I hiked five miles to the Namibian border last weekend. Just to go through customs, have lunch and walk back.

It was a good feeling just to get a new stamp in my passport. Funny thing, the guy on the Bots side of the border took my passport, looked up and asked "Mothusi?" I tell you I'm famous here!

Anyway, I stopped at a petrol station just over the line, grabbed a bite (love the meat pies here) and crossed back. By 12:30 I was back home. But it counts: Namibia is in. I think number 46.

The road was the Trans-Kalahari Highway, fortunately for me a (more-or-less) major thoroughfare past Chuck Hill.

JOHN LEY YOU HAVE REACHED ME!!!!

Use my email, John.
mike247worldwide@gmail.com
It's more direct.
Mike
Charles Hill, Botswana

And While We're On The Subject...

The subject being foodstuffs, They have this catsup here (They call it "Tomati Sous") called All Gold. I'm sorry, but this stuff puts Heinz to shame. I know that is sacrilege to those of us who come from near Pittsburgh. But it's true! It's a little bit spicy (They have a hot and spicy sous too). I tell you I could eat this stuff on applesauce! When I'm finished in Botswana I'll be shipping All Gold to the States by the case.

Why Coke is King

I’ll say right from the start I’m a long time Pepsi fan. And you can get it here. But, in the Developing World Coca Cola is the 800 kg gorilla. For one thing, at least in Botswana, they have the 440 ml monster King can. Maybe a Pula or so more than your standard 330 ml dosage. But well worth the price.

PLUS, it just tastes better than that found in the US. Why? Check the label. Second ingredient: sugar. Not corn syrup or fructose, blah, blah blah. Real 100% Sukiri. The good stuff.

Hey! In Charles Hill it's the little things that help you keep it together.

My Postal Address

It has been requested and I am hereby delivering my postal address:

Mike Wigal
US Peace Corps Volunteer
P.O. Box 170
Charles Hill, Botswana

That's it. Mail takes at least three weeks to get here. PLEASE send me something. Anything! (Well, not ANY thing.)

The box cost me 82.50 Pula for the rest of the year. (So OK, that's only about $13US. But still...)

Mail only arrives in Chuck Hill on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I keep checking. But so far...Nada!

I Need To Learn More About This

OK, the most common "community" or tribe in Botswana is the Bakwena. They speak Setswana. But out here in the west are a group called Herero. I don't know what the whole story is, but apparently they were driven out of Namibia years ago by the German colonists. From what I gather they are largely involved in cattle raising. In fact wealth in Botswana is kind of measured by the number of cattle you own.

So clearly from looking at the Herero women there is some kind of cow influence. I've been told it's an honor to wear this outfit. You see them all over the place. These two ladies I met in Ghanzi at a kind of county fair. Kind of interesting along the lines of the Amish.

Mi Casa Es Su Casa...

All you have to do is get here. The donkeys are available as transport for small fee based upon hay burned per kilometer.

Actually I don't know what these guys were doing outside the house the other day. But this is my humble abode. The yard is pure Kgadihadi Desert sand. It's common for "yards" in Botswana to be skinned down to bare dirt. Deters the things that creep in the night.

But it's now home. Three bedrooms, ELECTRICITY(!), water, even a water heater. Kitchen, bath and a half, living room with ceiling fan, PLUS a fireplace (doubt I'll ever use it).

Why Soccer Rules the World

Soccer (Futbol) is THE game in this part of the world (“This Part” meaning from the middle of the Atlantic Ocean east and the middle of the Pacific west, plus everything south of Brownsville, Texas).

On one of my first runs around Chuck Hill I caught this moment looking into the setting sun. It’s just my opinion, but all the soccer leagues and all the soccer moms and dads in the whole entire United States won’t produce the kind of players that these fields do. Barefoot. Thorny. Rocky. A plastic bag stuffed with rags for a ball. Hunger. Passion. Desire. That’s why the best players in the world come from fields like these.

Playing Catch Up

Time to play catch-up. I’ve been here in Botswana a little over two months now. Early on I journaled my thoughts, feeling and observations. But til now I haven’t had the chance to post them. So here is how it went:

What a whirlwind! It’s hard to recall everything that happened from the time I left Columbiana to finding myself in Africa.

I pulled out of Columbiana (for the last time?) at 4:15AM the 16th of April. A last look across Arrowhead Lake at the home I once had brought tears to my eyes. It was there Jan died in my arms, Mick grew up and I moved out on this journey. I left a lot there. But Columbiana will always hold a special place in my heart.

On to Cleveland. After driving around the airport in the dark I finally located an Enterprise office to drop off my rental. It was 5:30 and the place was closed. There was a key drop which I found with no problem. A few days earlier I had checked it out online and learned though the office itself didn’t open til 9 a shuttle bus to the airport departure gates passed by every 7 to ten minutes. After 15 minutes and no bus I called the Enterprise 800 number. Wading through the various voicemails and helpful, but helpless operators took another thirty minutes.

My flight was at 7:30. So I had time, but was getting antsy. Dark as it was I could see the airport in the distance. My problem was no closer to being solved. Finally I said “screw it” and headed off, dragging two unruly rolling duffels, a back pack and laptop briefcase along an unlit highway with no real shoulder. “This is great,” I muttered. “I’ll be killed before I even leave Ohio.”

It turned out to be less than a mile to the gate and I was safely at the ticket booth in time.

Reaching Philly for three days of Peace Corps pre-departure training I took a shuttle into the historic district and my hotel. Along the way we passed by a homeless guy pushing an old battered grocery cart, piled high with bulging black plastic trash bags. All his worldly possessions. Then it hit me. That guy owns more “stuff” than me!

The Holiday Inn was busy and I couldn’t check in til the afternoon. So I kicked around a couple hours until eventually I began recognizing some faces from my Boits 7 facebook group. For a while there it was Old home Week. I kind of felt bad for those who hadn’t joined that online group. It made intros much warmer. Almost immediately I hooked up with my Scrabulous nemesis, Antonia, from Boston. The day before leaving I somehow managed to best her in our last game. (She probably threw it to make me feel good.)

As a group we spent the next couple days in pre-Departure Training, beginning the transformation process that resulted in our being sworn in as actual Peace Corps volunteers on June 18th.

The morning of the third day we tossed our bags aboard a couple buses for the ride to JFK, actually passing by some of our companion’s homes as we drove through Brokklyn (which by the way DOES look like “Welcome Back Kotter/”The Jeffersons”/”All in the Family”/”The Sopranos” territory).

Waiting for the evening flight I called Mick only (of course) to get his voicemail. It hit me as I was leaving a message that I might not speak to him again for over two years. That thought again had me choking back tears as I croaked out my good-bye. Fortunately he called back, asking if I had been coughing or something. [Mick update: My first text message to him from my new cell number in Botswana brought this response: “Who are you and if youre my father a buffer zone means NO CONTACT”. Nice. Also, Mick has been nominated for Peace Corps service starting next March in either Central or South America for eco-tourism. Good luck getting a CARE package from me!]

After last calls to my parents and “The Republican Girlfriend” I contacted AT&T to shut down my service.

Last plug pulled we boarded the South African Airlines Airbus (Much preferred over Boeing equipment) and took off into the night. We made a quick stop in Dakar, Senegal for passengers, but never left the plane. So, no new country!

The second hop brought us to Johannesburg, South Africa. Jp-burg. The city is considered too dangerous for us, so we were limited to the confines of a very nice hotel for the night.

After a magnificent buffet and glass of South African merlot I hit the sack. My first night in Africa. So far it could have been Pittsburgh.

Next morning we jammed onto another bus for the six hour run to Botswana with a stop along the way for lunch. Important because it qualified me for another country.

Shortly after crossing the border (I much prefer land crossings to flying in. It gives a much better sense of “going there”) we pulled into the Oasis hotel in Gaborone. I was pleasantly surprised to see the hotel faced Tlokweng Road, made famous in the First Ladies Detective Agency novel series as the home of Tlokweng Road Speedy Motors.

Again, however, we were confined to the hotel property for the three days training there. My roommate, Derek, and I did manage a three mile run by making 12 laps of a set of bungalows within the hotel property. My first African run.

While there we began our Setswana lessons, the language of the Batswana.

After three more days we dropped all our valuables and one of our bags to be held in safe-keeping for the next two months and rolled out to the city of Molepolole where we lived until late June.

Moleps (as it is sometimes called) is a fairly large, sprawling city with a distinctly country feel. The main paved (or tarred) road has a kind of shopping district along it, but most roads are dirt.

That pretty much brings it up to the earlier posts about my home and bathing situation. As I write this I am finishing my first week in Charles Hill. I’ll post a lot about Chuck Hill in the coming two years. But I wanted to finish off the initial impressions first.

Hard to believe it’s been nearly three months since my auction. The house appeared to have been sold on that last day. But alas, the deal fell through. So the place is back on the market. Other than that I am happy as a pig in manure here. Sometimes I feel like I wouldn’t care if I never came back. Of course I will.

Mma Kolane

My Host Mom and Me at the Host Family Dinner
Woman served up a mean plate of Nama Ya Dipodi.

That would be goat meat for you English speakers.

This is Mma getting her hair "Done Up" by Niece Dhumbo (Yeah, I know...)

My Home for the Last Two Months

I wrote about the bathing situation earlier. Here is the house. Three room starter, with no basement, no furnace, no A/C, no insulation, no GRASS(Awesome!), corrugated steel roof, no electricity, no water.

I loved it. My host family couldn't have been nicer. I loved walking home from class in the evenings. Mma Kolane would fix tea (Those Brits did have SOME good ides). It would be pitch dark shortly after 6PM, so I would read by the light of a paraffin lamp (They call it paraffin. I'm wondering is it's just kerosene.)

Chez Mothusi

I found my house in Chuck Hill on Google Earth. Can you see me waving?

The big building in the upper right is the Rural Administration Centre. That's where my office is.