Bush Baby

I have been a horrible blogger as of late, and so this one if going to be super long and a big ole catch up. Fingers crossed I will also try and post some pictures along with these stories since there are of the immensely epic variety. Let us start out with a little trip out to Gobojango to visit my bestest of friends, Janina.

This trip started out with one of the coolest hitches I have ever experienced. It was Friday and since there wasn’t anything going on in the afternoon at the library, I tried to catch a hitch out early. My friend Lebo was driving out to the junction to sell inche (sugar cane) and megapu (watermelon) so I caught I ride in her truck figuring if I could make it to the junction on the main highway, that it would be easier to then snag a lift into Palapye. I’m waiting at the hitch post for about 15minutes before a giant big rig truck pulls over and offers me a lift into town. Now, I’m not going to lie, I have been privy to enough American cinema, camp fire fables, and general down home edumacation to believe that taking a ride in a big truck means a slow and painful death, or that I’m going to be solicited for sex. Luckily I am curious enough, and also doing my darndest to understand that I’m not in Kansas anymore, to ignore these stereotypes and catch a ride anyways.

So I amble on up into the cab, and find that the driver has actually already picked up another hitch, which makes me feel a lot more comfortable right off the bat. I sit in between the two dudes and we get to talking. I find out the trucker is actually from South Africa and that the passenger is Motswana. We are chatting for a little bit and the question that invariably seems to present itself in every conversation I have with men of a certain age here, presents itself, do I have a boyfriend? Let me preface this by saying that after almost a year here, I made the choice to start telling strangers that I have a boyfriend back home. Not only does it give me a good reason to shut them down quickly but it also lays down an opportunity to talk to people about fighting against MCP (multiple concurrent partners.)

The conversation at this point takes a unusual turn, normally in these types of interactions the guy, dude, man child, or what have you, tells me that even though I have a boyfriend in America that I need to have one in Botswana, and then, in an oh-so-chivalrous manner, offers up himself as an available option. This is not what happened this time around; this time around the conversation geared toward how I take care of my own needs...*ah hem* intimately. I have been through this variation of the standard conversation more times than you would think and now that it is pretty much old hat, I really don’t have an issue talking about it with strangers. I view it as an impromptu opportunity to do some sex education! At this point in the post I would like to invite my grandparents, parents, priests, and any other member of my family to skip down a few paragraphs, this might get awkward for you.

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I chatted about masturbation, birth control, sex toys, abstinence, and climaxing with this trucker and the random Motswana guy for about a half an hour. I told them about my habits, I answered questions about whether or not jerking off would cause a woman not to want to sleep with a man any more (which I connected to the idea that, that would never happen for them as males, so why would it be for females?) I dispelled rumors that going without sex makes you an angrier person, or less likely to be able to control your emotions, and we chatted about how this gentleman, as a married truck driver, was a part of an especially vulnerable population since he was away from his wife so often, and since the routes through Botswana are plastered with young girls who sell sex for money, cell phones, or clothing. We talked about using a condom, and remaining faithful, and getting tested for HIV and a plethora of other sexually transmitted diseases. At one point in the conversation, and there is no way I could make this up, both men acted out an orgasm for me...

This is my life, and I love it. It’s grassroots sex education at its finest and its conversations like that, that make me feel like I am making a personal impact. Maybe that trucker won’t sleep with someone outside his marriage, or maybe he will but will use a condom because he knows that he is not only protecting himself, but the girl he is sleeping with, and his wife back home. Maybe the Motswana passenger will use his hand instead of having sex outside of his next relationship. Or maybe, the next time these guys are talking with their buddies at the local bar, they will tell the story about the crazy American chick who was telling them about sex and toys and condoms, and someone will take note. We can call it the sexy butterfly effect.

I don’t put this on my blog to horrify you, or to be shocking, I put it out there because I think we have to stop being afraid or ashamed to have these types of conversations with people. It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask the elders of my village to start talking to the youth about sex and their bodies, if I myself am not willing to do it as well.

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After being dropped at the bus rank I boarded the bus to Bobonong and then caught a combi to Gobojango. The weekend was full of wonderful company (my friend Daniella came down from Maun for the occasion), insightful conversation, and earth shattering food; which in my book makes life about perfect. We went for a picnic out at the Thuni Dam, with homemade bread, cheese, and pudding. We saw an elephant that was hiding in the bush and munching on a tree salad, and the weather was cool enough that none of us wanted to peel our own skin off. It even rained, which is a big deal in Rams but is even larger a deal in Gobojango, which is one of the driest villages in Botswana. It was rejuvenating and a great way to head into a week that involved a trip to the capital and some medical business.

Before we get to that though, there is one more epic adventure that must be recorded. Nina and I made a trip out to the Lepokole Cave Paintings! These paintings are some of the oldest in the world, and were done by the Basarwa people when they were being forced out of their land. It involved a trip on an incredibly bumpy road out to the village of Lepokole, there you have to ask permission of the kgosi to visit the site and pick up a local guide because it would be impossible to figure out where they were otherwise. You then continue on the incredibly bumpy road, through bush, and over dried river beds and you probably get stuck once or twice (luckily the locals are very much aware of how to navigate this type of terrain, so we weren’t worried.) At some point you will hit a riverbed that very clearly would suck in even the most intense of safari trucks, and so you park and start hiking along the over grown road.

We are following our guide, and Lorato (a woman who both Janina and I call family at this point) is eating berries and showing us what is edible and teaching us the tswana names of things, and everyone is grinning from ear to ear when the guide, quite abruptly, turns into the bush. There was no sign, no big tree, no anything other than pokey thorns, and little pricker dudedads that stick to your socks and shoes, and he just turned right into it. We walk, with no path, for about 20minutes when we come across a big orange sign outside a bunch of rock escarpments. I swear the people that put that sign out there were the last trace of civilization that this site has seen, since there is really hint of people anywhere. We hike over the rocks, and through more bush, and I still have no idea in the faintest how our guide knows where he is going. At some point (we have been hiking for over an hour) he tells us to quiet down and wait a moment. He turns to Lorato and Charity (Lorato’s daughter) and speaks in rapid Setswana. Lorato translates that he is going ahead to ask permission from the spirits for us to enter and that from this point on we must be silent and respectful. He comes back and we duck under some tress and around some bushes and bam, we are in a giant cave that I hadn’t even looked up to notice before.

On the wall, painted on pieces of rock that have been bleached by mineral deposits, are beautiful pictures of impala, waterbuck, cows and people. They are in deep red ochre colors, and faded whites different sizes and shapes, and the sense of primal sacredness echoes off the walls along with our voices. Botswana is not the most desired of African destinations, I’m guessing most of you reading this imagined going to Cape Town or Cario, before you ever thought of Maun or the Delta (if you thought of them at all, which I am guessing you didn’t.) Because of this there are no ropes, plaques, no signs and nothing that would prevent you from climbing up to the paintings and adding some of your own if you wanted and were so inclined. Though we did take the opportunity to climb up, we were careful not to touch anything in order to make sure that the grease on our hands didn’t strip the pigment from the eyes of future generations. It was breathtaking, it was beautiful, and a peaceful sense of universal connectedness seemed to wrap itself around the place like a warm blanket on a cold day. After about 20minutes of just looking and appreciating it was time to hike back to the car, and drive back to Gobojango but it was an experience I will never forget, and I’m hoping I can get back there before I close out my service.

Amazing way to end an already amazing weekend, so with this I set out for Gaborone, to get some business done! In an effort to give you the best picture I can of the full Peace Corps experience, I’m going to disclose some medical information which I am not at all worried about. The first of the appointments was for a dermatologist to see about a funky little bump on my hand (it ended up being a foreign body which he removed with a razor blade...different story for a different day.) The second appointment, and I think this is the more important one to be open about since not enough people are in my opinion, was to see a counselor for a follow up visit.

We aren’t going to spend a lot of time on this, but a few weeks ago I was having some issues dealing with anxiety, and had a few panic attacks. I don’t have a history of either of these, and though I (like most other human beings my age) have experienced stress/ anxiety, I could usually pinpoint the source of that within my life and then deal accordingly.I like thinking I am the type of person who can work through my own problems, but I am also the type of person who knows when to ask for help, and this was one of those cases.

It boiled down to some issues I left at home, paired with dealing with what it is to be here. As my wonderful counselor lady put it, part of being a volunteer is giving up what she termed as some of my “Americaness.” I am not the same person who boarded the plane almost one year ago, and I am never going to be that exact person again. How I interact with people from home, how I view myself and how I see the world is changing every day, dealing with these changes in a setting that, for the most part, is almost completely solitary, is overwhelming.  I asked for help, and I would encourage anyone who is feeling similarly to do the same.

Gabs was fun, and I took advantage of my time there to do some work, meet up with some volunteers, eat lunch in fancy restaurants, and go see a movie in a theater (Django: Unchained I am a Tarintino fan.) 

Though I love Gabs for all its fanciness, I’m not a huge fan of the city itself, and so when I leave there is both a sense of “man I am going to miss going to the mall” but more so a sense of “holy hell there are way too many people and cars here, and I’m so happy I don’t have to check someone in the face to get into a combi any more.” So I’m thinking that I might be heading back to Ramokgonami when a most interesting opportunity presents itself. Two volunteer friends of mine, Leia and Hollis, have for the past few weeks been putting together a week long retreat/ workshop with an organization called Legodimo Wilderness Center. This is what I was expecting: 6 days in the bush, sitting in some sort of classroom learning about how to save planet earth. It would be educational, but ultimately I was going out there because I thought it would be fun to hang with some other awesome PCVS.

What is actually was: MIND BLOWING. Legodimo is in deep bush, I mean we are talking getting onto a safari truck and drive for an hour on something that vaguely looks like a road, but not quite, kinda bush. The camp itself is a gorgeous plot of land on the Limpopo river; you could throw a rock into South Africa. The buildings and garden area are decorated with skulls and bones of animals, and beautiful mosaics that Mika, half of the married dynamo that runs the place, has created on the walls. There is a tree house, and a swimming pool that doubles as a watering hole, and a wonderfully large outdoor kitchen, and the lecture area is open air and there is a fire platform. Not a single bush or tree was cleared that wasn’t absolutely necessary so right outside the inhabited area is just beautiful forest. We split up into the dorms and then the really amazing stuff began, and didn’t end until we left the camp.

We learned about erosion and then went out and moved rocks to prevent it, we learned about invasive plant species and then went out and removed them, we learned about snakes and lizards, and a million other animals and then went out and saw them. Three times during the course of the week I was within 20yards of elephants. I saw hippo, and zebra, and impala, and springbok, and porcupine; I learned the difference between a feline track and a canine one, and the big five and small five, and the six pack challenge and the politics of conservation, and astronomy, and baobabs, and scorpions. I woke up every day before 6am just to hear the birds sing, and perchance caught glimpses of giraffes across the river, a heard of impala that had camped out next to the dorms, and curious monkeys and baboons that stared at me with the same curiosity I has staring at them. We hiked, and worked, and hiked some more, and saw more cave paintings, and came across animals, and were knocked out of our minds by the beauty of our surroundings. I climbed trees and rocks, and felt like a 6 year old again.

I spat poop...it’s a South African thing. Ask me if you want to know, this is how I can tell if you are paying attention. J

We cooked over a fire under the stars, and played African drums, and listened to the amazing stories of the three people that keep the place running: Mika, Gerrit, and Rene. Their passion, and experience and drive were inspiring, and even though conservation may never be my main life goal, it is more on my radar than it ever was before, and if I can have half the motivation that they do, for whatever passion I make the end all be all, I will change the world. I could’ve moved out there, I think I would have had they offered. Never in my time here have I had more appreciation for the land and the flora and fauna that call it home. I climbed to the top of one of the 20 oldest trees in the world (a 4,000 year old baobab) and felt like I was in the presence of God.

Volunteers here describe times that we refer to as “Africa Moments”; it’s when we realize where we are, and what we are doing, and the dream we are living. These moments happen less and less throughout service because Africa becomes our daily, and the things that used to amaze us, become our regular routine. This was my “Africa week” and I’m so happy to have found myself in a state of amazement all over again with this beautiful country.

I don’t like the idea of plugging certain organizations on this blog unless I am really committed to what they do and how they go about doing it. This is one of those times. Legodimo also runs a month to two month volunteer conservation camp. You can pay to go out there and live and work in the bush. It’s for all ages, and I promise it will change your life. You will also be giving business to a group that is trying to save whole species of animals, and are going about it in a way that only yield positive dividends for mother earth. If it sounds like you would have the funds to do this, check it out:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Legodimo-Wilderness/276830055674062?fref=ts
or
http://legodimo.com/

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end, and so to with this, we had to head home at the end of the week. Mieke and G gave us a ride back on their bomb diggity truck, and from there I was actually able to catch a hitch that took me straight to Palapye. Turns out my normal combi hit a donkey or a cow or something so I ended up taking another bus to my village junction and then hitching from that point on. I came back to find my house as I left it...a little bit of a mess, but myself, a thoroughly changed individual, ready to tackle challenges in my service anew. 

I hope at least a few of you made it to the end of this post, I am going to try and start posting more regularly again, and there will certainly be something up when I hit my one year mark a little less than a month from now. As a fun little inside, I also wanted you guys to know I’m working on a book of short stories about my experiences here. Maybe someday I will actually let some of you read it. ;)

Hugs and smooches,

Claire/ Tlotlo