“Don't stand by the water and long for fish; go home and weave a net”

I arrived in Africa at possibly the most fragile time of my life and my entire being. My father having died only months prior, left me raw, confused, uncertain and scared. Arriving in the middle of the African bush to live in absolute simplicity, in a tent, amongst nature, wildlife, a group of complete strangers, in a foreign land, a foreign country and all the natural forces of mother nature put me under a microscope and challenged me in ways I never thought I could be challenged. Africa showed me in large screen format, as if I was standing in front of a life size mirror, my past, present and the mystery that my future holds. It stirred emotions in me that I never thought could happen in such a raw format. It forced me to let go.

As a temporary tenant of Africa's wilderness I am keenly aware of the privilege I have had. I have had an opportunity that few have ever had or ever will. I didn’t go on safari, I was completely and utterly submerged in the wilds of Africa. I actually lived in the bush in a private camp in a tent for 7 months straight. I showered under a bucket outside, water heated over a fire. There was no “washroom” no flushing toilets or faucets to waste water. No stores to walk to when we wanted some urge satisfied. I was 4 hours from the closest town. Confined to a space so vast it’s hard to imagine or explain how that contrast can even exist. I got to cling to nature, participate in the environment, blend in with the magnificent animals, gain friendships and knowledge, a better understanding of myself and mankind,and of course live among and get to know up close and personal a pride of lions, all of which was a constant reminder to me that we are merely humans, living in the wild where ever we are, and how privileged I was to be able to experience the the magnificence and wonderment of the Delta

I was a guest in the home of wild game, I was humbled by their presence as I sat and watched them in their world. I sat only feet away from a roaring lion, and felt the sound reverberate through my bones, the most majestic sound imaginable, and was incredibly humbled in such powerful presence. Possibly the most impressive natural sound that has ever fallen on my ears.

I got to see a star filled southern sky every night, and touch the African full moon. I got to lay in bed (a bed roll) and listen to the laugh of the hippos, the universal song of the night insects and crickets every night. I woke every morning to the bird songs and the sunrise, and I reached out and touched the African sky as I said good morning to the world. Every breath I took was in sync with the natural rhythms of the earth, I felt the heartbeat of the land pump through my veins. The wilderness, the wildlife, the soil, it gets in your soul, in your blood. I’ve breathed the dust and scents into my lungs and it has changed me completely, it now circulates though me. Africa showed me humility. I am forever grateful for the opportunity and know I couldn’t have done it without my support network along the way.

I came to some startlingly common sense realizations while here in Africa. There was many lessons that the first world can learn from the third world. Sustainability for one, is a way of life here. It isn't a campaign or a movement or I fear say a trend, like it has become in the West, but it is evident everywhere here, woven into everything Africans do. Africans live with resource scarcity. They have not experienced consumption out of whack with production because it has never been a possibility. And this isn’t only amongst the black Africans. In Maun one can’t help but notice, (well at least as a north American) that the need for ‘things’ just does not exist. You make things last, you don’t just replace them. It is not the disposable society that I am used to living in. All Africans value what they have, and even more so the loved ones in their life.

Some of the images I saw in the townships showed circumstances that could seemingly only equal misery. I once bought into the lie that circumstance defines happiness. The truth is, in Africa I found hearts full of victory, and joy. In places where despair should thrive, children are playing soccer with a ball crafted of tied up trash and waving happily as we drive by. There is no escape to a cottage in Muskoka on the weekend to provide relief from the pains of daily life. Relationships and faith provide joy. Love is sovereign. This is not to say that many don’t need help, and live in unacceptable conditions, I am just saying the many , despite their circumstance still manage to find happiness.

And so I’ve come to realize that my happiness should have no regard for my circumstances. Or even the circumstance of that which is my past. I have been forced to redefine the meaning of having much or having very little in my life. And I have more then enough. I no longer need the "next thing" to be happy.

The horrific statistics of Aids, the statistics of death, crime and violence are enough to crush the soul of the strongest, and it did often crush my soul and yet somehow I managed to look past it as do all the Africans I’ve met. For it is the beauty that holds me and them together. It is the beauty here in the land and it’s people that moves me. Even in the death, the crime and the violence, all I see is Africa. Africa’s journey, history and it’s altered destiny. Africans have a deep devotion and love for what their country, and what their continent, means to them. Africa is unpretentious, uncomplicated, and magical.

I have developed an obsession with Africa; even before I arrived here physically, somewhere along the way, I still don’t know what or how the seed got planted, maybe it was just a spiritual pull, or maybe I felt the connection of my own native roots that all man originated from this continent and it was put into my heart as a place calling me. Knowing the honest simplicity of its people, its wide-open spaces, and its vast herds of untamed creatures whose mere existence reminded me that there are still settings where the world lives quite peacefully without us, now I know why. I suppose that in a way Africa found me, when I couldn’t seem to find myself.

I’ve learnt that you can kiss your loved ones goodbye and put miles between you, but you always carry them with you. Because you do not ever just live in a world. But a world lives within you. I missed those closet to me so dearly. I’ve missed “home”.

I am also so grateful to all those along the way who opened their doors, their homes and their hearts to me and welcomed me with open arms. The hospitality of south Africans is something I hope will live in me forever.

I could go on and on and on, into the depths of my souls learning's. But simply put, I am forever transformed. And not to miss lead you, it wasn’t always easy. Facing such emotional and physical and mental challenges can exhaust ones being, and it did. But no one ever said looking yourself in eye was easy. It’s always hard work, and I am all too aware the lifelong commitment of this. But for all the hard work, and when times were tough, still every moment of it helped me grow and learn and I embraced all of it.

You all know I believe in documenting life in the last year in an effort to bridge the gap between each other and nature, to expose our innumerable similarities, and increase empathy for, and acceptance of, one another and nature. I believe in the laws of attraction. That thought is the origin of all things. That what we believe we bring into being; by focusing on abundance rather than lack, what we need and want rather than life deficiencies. I believe there is an incredible power in the moment we call now.

And now the time has come to go home. After trying to find “equitable” employment in south Africa to no avail I must part ways with my second home, Moma Afrika.

I am happier than I have ever been, which is in deep contrast with the fact that I am poorer (financially) and heartbroken to put the distance between myself and a great love, and many new friends of whom I will work towards being next to again. Societal norms and statistics would suggest this should leave me in a much different state of mind. Within the mixed emotions and the tears, I am truly happy. I’ve found clarity and calmness in myself and in life, I am richer for the experience I have had. I hold more value in my hands now then I have ever held before.

I arrive home, by choice just days before I will mark the one year anniversary of my fathers death. I will remember and honor him on our land.

Africa has taught me that possessions in my hands will never be as valuable as peace in my heart, my family and my friends. I've learned that I don't need what I have and that I have what I need in those, in you, my family and my friends.

“You leave home to seek your fortune and, when you get it, you go home and share it with your family.”

I will stay with my baby sister, and what a joy that will be, I am thrilled to have this opportunity to spend with her as “adults”. She is many years younger and so we never really have had the opportunity to live together as adults. It will bring me much joy to get to know her and her husband in this way.

My journey is not over, it has really just begun. As it always will be.... just beginning. It’s been a long road travelled. And there is still a long road that lay ahead of me. Africa is a sacred memory, a spiritual connection. A liberating force that has in some way freed me. The earth of Africa held me together when I came closet to losing my soul.

Thank you to all who have followed along the way providing much needed encouragement, and support and love. I can’t wait to see you all!

I will see you all at ‘home’ after November 11th.

If you have some time, below is a slide show of my time here.

Hamba Kahle (goodbye, or go well in Zulu)

Penny

Mind your color

In all my time in Africa I've asked many to help me understand Apartheid. I've come to the conclusion that it may very well be impossible to ever fully understand. Even after my morning today the Apartheid museum. To me it's incomprehensible. And as it also seems to many white south africans my age. Because of censorship many of them were sheltered from it's harsh sting unable to really tell me what it was like.

Once again this is a very very short very uneducated re-cap with a lot of help from the internet.

Apartheid is an afrikaans word meaning "seperateness" - it was a legal system whereby people were classified into racial groups - White, Black, Indian and Coloured; and seperate geographic areas were demarcated for each racial group. Apartheid laws were part of South Africa's legal framework from 1948 to 1994.

The apartheid policy of the National Party, which came to power in 1948, brought a barrage of legislation to bear upon South Africans that categorised them by race and then controlled their freedom according to their race group.

Race laws effected every aspect of life for South Africans. It provided whites with access to the most privileged suburbs, education, jobs and positions, even to the extent of exclusive access to beaches, theatres, parks, bridges and public toilets.







The system ensured that 'white' privileges were beyond the reach of blacks.

The government enforced apartheid ruthlessly. Large areas of Cape Town were designated 'white suburbs' and coloured and black communities were forced to leave and settle on the Cape Flats.

Black people had to carry a pass giving them permission to stay in Cape Town and were forced to leave if they were not in work.

The government closed down mission schools and excluded blacks from advanced education.

There were widespread attempts to protest against the apartheid system in the 1950s.



Coloured people campaigned against their removal from the voters roll. But their opposition became divided and broke down.

The ANC-led Congress movement developed more unified opposition, but they faced various laws that gave the Government draconian powers to suppress opposition.

As large-scale anti-pass demonstrations and marches broke out in Cape Town and elsewhere in 1960, a State of Emergency was declared, and the ANC banned.

In the 1960s the breadth of apartheid laws and the power of the police made it impossible to legally protest against the system.

Opposition groups were banned and many leaders exiled or jailed. Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison and sent to Robben Island.

The ANC and PAC turned to armed resistance, but the police successfully suppressed their activities.

Shanty towns continued to grow as poor people migrated fearlessly into the city, driven by poverty. There were brutal slum clearances and the eviction of thousands of people.

Following the example of the children of Soweto, near Johannesburg, youth in the rest of South Africa demonstrated against apartheid in 1976.

Street battles ensued as police tried to crack down on demonstrations. 128 people were killed and over 400 injured in related violence in cape town alone that year.

The scale of the violence shocked the world, and marked the beginning of a new phase of struggle against the authorities.

Under pressure at home and abroad the Government promised change, and ceased to enforce petty apartheid.

City Councils and private companies were quick to remove segregation. Public places were opened and people began to mix more freely.

However, laws that required segregation of residential locations and schooling remained firmly in place throughout the 1980s.

Political changes to allow coloured participation in government were seen as tokenism, and blacks remained excluded.

The reform of apartheid did not impress the growing number of activists and a formidable range of organisations began to work together to fight apartheid.

Church leaders, such as Desmond Tutu, students, unions, welfare organisations and civic bodies began to work under the United Democratic Front to coordinate protests.

Although most protests were peaceful, many ended in violence as the police tried to break them up.

By the mid 1980s the tide had turned and the movement against apartheid gathered an unstoppable momentum.

The government resorted to declaring a 'State of Emergency' several times, but these only confirmed the failure of apartheid and the government's illegitimacy.

Opposition groups were banned and many leaders exiled or jailed. Nelson Mandela was sentenced to life in prison and sent to Robben Island.

Against a backdrop of increasing economic hardship and international pressure the government secretly began negotiations with Nelson Mandela.

By 1989 a mass movement for democracy had developed that included people from all backgrounds, including City and church leaders.


As anti-apartheid pressure mounted within and outside South Africa, the South African government, led by President F. W. de Klerk, began to dismantle the apartheid system in the early 1990s. The year 1990 brought a National Party government dedicated to reform and also saw the legalization of formerly banned black congresses and the release of imprisoned black leaders. In 1994 the country's constitution was rewritten and free general elections were held for the first time in its history, and with Nelson Mandela's election as South Africa's first black president, the last vestiges of the apartheid system were finally outlawed.

Zimbabwe

Driving back from Victoria Falls through Zimbabwe to South Africa provided me with the stark contrast of one of Africa’s most beautiful landscape and people vs. the current sate of affairs of what can happen when rulers behave badly and leave it’s people in a bleak reality.

I can only provide what little information I have learnt along the way as to why Zim is in the state that it is. Here is the abbreviated version.

Zimbabwe’s current political instability arises from difficult political and economic transformations that have strained its capacity to manage crises effectively. The first—the transition from war to peace with Zimbabwe’s independence from white rule in 1979 was incomplete and set the stage for conflicts to arise throughout the 1980s. The second, overlaying the first, was Zimbabwe’s transition from a developmental to a neoliberal state, producing intense social hardships on the population. And in 2005 the government stole another election, the opposition imploded and half a million of the poorest people were evicted in the midst of winter. Unemployment is at 70%, inflation has topped 1000% and women die younger in Zimbabwe than anywhere else on the planet.

In the last few years, Mugabe's decision making has become very questionable and the nation is rapidly slipping into economic oblivion. The situation began to unravel when the economy slowed down around 2001 and it became evident that Mugabe's political party was rapidly losing popularity. He tried to gain favor with poorer voters (the vast majority of Zimbabweans) by allowing squatters to illegally occupy and take over high production farmlands owned by a small minority of the population. Naturally these subsistence farmers were not able to be even remotely as productive as the previous high-skilled agribusiness operations, so Zimbabwe lost its largest source of export earnings and actually had to start importing food to feed its population. This in turn made Zimbabwe have a huge shortage of foreign currency reserves which it had used to pay its debts and buy imports. Mugabe decided to take the easy way out and just print more money to exchange for the desperately needed foreign currency. Not surprisingly, inflation immediately spiraled out of control. A travel guidebook from 2002 shows 1 US dollar = 35 Zimbabwe dollars. The current "black market" exchange rate is 1 US dollar = 1,400,000 Zimbabwe dollars or basically non existent. Think about what that would do to the value of any savings you had! Of course this had had a devastating effect on the economy and the Zimbabwean people, crime has increased, unemployment is rampant, many businesses have shut down, there are shortages of anything imported (especially gasoline) and many rural residents are on the brink of famine.

The currency is an ongoing and unmitigated disaster that can put a huge strain on visiting there. As mentioned the local currency is valueless and only foreign, south African rand and american dollars, are accepted. You can’t draw from the bank therefore you must budget your money and spend wisely.

It is so bad there now that we had to make sure fuel would be available. The importation laws on fuel can change from one day to the next with a capricious government.

Zim was once one of the healthiest economies in Africa. And it is apparent in it’s buildings and it’s people. It’s obvious that there was once a thriving economy. Driving through Bulawayo was like driving through a time warp. What I imagine Cuba to be like. We stopped at the first gas station to find they only had diesel and no petrol, the next petrol but no diesel. We tried to find food to buy no only get a bag of crackers that were stale and old. It really is desperate at the moment and sad. I didn’t feel comfortable taking pictures here or in any urban setting as this could be construed by Zimbabwean authorities as misrepresenting oneself as an accredited journalist, a crime punishable by arrest, incarceration and/or deportation. So I thought better not.

The stark reality of it all became even more real once we crossed over into Botswana and drove through a similar city, Francistown. Botswana is thriving and alive with new buildings going up, huge new stadiums, business open and line ups at the counters and road works everywhere. The extreme difference in the two countries highlighted the grim reality of Zimbabwe even more.

Still with the extreme poverty in Zimbabwe under their oppressive dictator, you can only try to understand how the people must feel.  Although, passing through villages, I found that most of the people are smiling and waving like they are glad to see us. I am intrigued with the large bundles that women easily balance on their heads while leaving their hands free to hold on to little ones. There is no reason not to travel there at the moment and Zimbabweans need the money. And while the government has some stake in the national airline and some hotels, stay in a hostel as we did and drive to insure the money isn’t going to government cronies. For the rest, waitress, artists, guides and small business tourism decline has put them on the bread line. These people need tourism. I never felt unsafe and the locals are friendly and happy to see you. Perhaps too happy in that I felt harassed at times, but never unsafe. It’s a beautiful land with beautiful people in a sad sad state at the moment.










.

Victoria Falls

Also known as Mosi-oa-Tunya - The smoke that thunders, in the Kololo language.

I approached the falls through the rainforest with all my senses on alert. I was so excited to see something I had only ever dreamt of seeing. I could hear the roar of the water, and even feel the light mist of spray on my hot skin that left behind droplets of water. As we turned a corner, and the roar got louder, I caught my first glimpse of the falls.

My heart raced and my breath was stolen from me and yes my eyes watered over as I gazed in awe at this incredible feature of nature and millions of litres of water spilling over the abyss that I once had only ever imagined.

The Victoria Falls is a spectacular natural wonder where the mighty Zambezi river flows tranquilly over a forest lined plateau dispersed with small islands, lagoons, hippos and deadly crocodiles, before plunging 110m into a terrifying gorge producing the world’s largest sheet of falling water, over one and a half kilometers across. It tumbles at a rate of half a million cubic meters per minute creating a unique tropical rainforest in the heart of scrubland.
 As it tumbles the river sends up a towering column of spray 400m high which is visible more than forty kilometers away during the wet season, appearing like rising smoke hence its African name ‘Mosi-ou-Tunya’ or ‘Smoke that Thunders’. David Livingstone, the famous explorer, first saw the falls on 17th November 1855, naming them in honor of Queen Victoria and marveling at their heavenly beauty saying;



“ No one can imagine the beauty of the view from anything witnessed in England. It had never been seen before by European eyes; but scenes so lovely must have been gazed upon by angels in their flight.”



The unique geography of the Victoria Falls mean that you can gaze at them face on from only 200m away, offering an unparalleled closeness to this awe inspiring natural element. From this close distance you can experience the spray, noise and spectacular rainbows that are ever present. I’ve spent a lot of time defending our Niagara falls up until the moment my eyes set on this spectacular sight. I can’t speak now of Niagara falls. In fact we are not talking about it at all.

We spent about 5 hours walking and taking in the view, the sounds, the feel. It’s is a playground for the senses. The hot Zimbabwean sun was soothed by the faint spray off the falls.

Eventually, hot and hungry we pried ourselves away from the beauty to see a few other sites, though could have easily spent the entire day there. The famous and historic Victoria Falls hotel which is the oldest in Zim and oozes elegance and has the most amazing view of the gorge and bridge into Zambia is where we found home respite from the heat (40 Celsius in the shade!) and had a kip under a beautiful tree to be awoken by the local, or resident warthogs.

Later we made our way to the Big Tree, which is indeed a big tree, a Baobab tree which I LOVE! It’s as if the tree is turned upside down and the roots at the top. And then on to watch a local “watering hole” to see if any Elephants might come to feed.

Eventually we made our way to supper at a local eatery called “in-da-belly” with a limited menu of Meat, crocodile or warthog.

I had ice-cream for dinner.

Graham full, and me on a sugar high we made our way back to the hostel and took in some african music and gin and tonics. It was the most wonderful day and more than worth the 12 hour drive.

Warning: a lot of photos below

Rhino's!

Graham needed to go back to Maun to pack and ship his printer back to South Africa, so we decided best make a road trip out of the long drive and include Zimbabwe in the mix. It’s about 12-14 hours from Johannesburg to Maun give or take allowing time at boarders and rest stops/photo opportunities. Music playing, bad singing and lots of junk food we hit the road. On route we passed and stopped for a tacky tourist photo opportunity at the post for the Tropic of Capricorn.





This long drive isn’t ever boring, we pass herds and herds of cows and horse crossing our path, and wiz past old and current gold mine dumps. African children in school uniforms making the long trek under the hot african sun from their villages unseen from the road to their school. Family’s on an outing. And flocks of Ostrich. Yes Ostrich! all make for wonderful reasons to stop, stretch and take it all in.




















Because of the long haul we decided to break it up and spend the night at the Khama Rhino Sanctuary just outside of Serowe. This humble place was magnificent. A perfect half way mark. And having been in the city for a month I was relieved to be in the “bush” albeit small, and pale in comparison to Moremi, I was still hearing the song of birds and insects and wind in the trees providing a calmness and re-energizing my soul.

I hadn’t seen a Rhino yet. There were none in Moremi. Sadly they had all been poached out of Botswana and were on the verge of extinction. With three left in Moremi the Botswana government relocated them into the Rhino sanctuary to start breeding them and are slowing being reintroduced into the delta. And yes, poaching is illegal.


It was an amazing afternoon. In such a short span of time I managed to see four animals I hadn’t yet seen. The Eland, a beautiful antelope and the largest antelope in the world.

Spring Bucks, similar to an impala but with beautiful white markings.


















A Kori bustard bird, the largest flying bird.











And last but not least the magnificent white Rhino. As the hot sun was setting and the desert dust blowing a thin layer of dust onto our sweaty bodies we came across a magnificent scene. In a small pan of water were rhino, impala, and zebra all mingling around with each other. As they ran, and played they’re hooves disturbed what sand the wind hadn’t yet stirred and left a mystic trail behind. It was absolutely stunning and provided for an incredible opportunity for photos.

Food for thought

"At the heart of every human experience is the desire to survive and prosper. To live without fear, hunger or suffering. To imagine how your life could be better and then have the means yourself to change it. Yet, every day, 1.2 billion people – one fifth of the world’s inhabitants – cannot fulfil their most basic needs, let alone attain their dreams or desires"

Before I left Maun I was faced with probably the biggest lesson of my life thus far. I didn’t write about it sooner because I was so shifted by the experience that I needed time for it to really reach the depths of my being.

While shopping for the road trip ahead of us I ran into our temporary camp hand that was suspicious of taking some things that were not his. On his wrist was my bracelet. He greeted me like he was innocent and I quickly and calmly told him how disappointed I was that we had brought him into our home and he had taken from us. He denied of course that the bracelet was even mine, let alone having taken anything else.

To be fair and equitable I told him he had a choice. He could give me my things back or I could call the police. It was up to him. After some wrangling back and forth, and Graham now at my side we hoped in the car to go to his home to collect our things.

As we drove out of town a bit, and turned down the 1st road where the tar turned to dirt, then left again. This appeared to be a road but there were no tire tracks, no one who lives here has a car. We curved and turned around shanty style shacks, some with roofs, most without. Children naked, and women sweating carrying water on their heads, likely from kilometers away and the only clean water they can get. Eventually we came to his house. A one room mud hut. He has very little. He lives in this house with several family members, with mud walls and mud floor, with no running water, and no electricity.

I couldn’t stand myself in this moment. I was fighting back the tears. I was looking extreme poverty in the eye, deep into the soul of it, breathing in it’s dust, filling my being with it. How could I ask for my things back from someone who has so little. Who has next to nothing. A few items of clothing, my american cell phone that I would never use again. Things. Just things.

While he is gathering our things, Graham sees my eyes watering over and I tell him this is wrong. He is merely trying to provide and survive. Let’s leave. Graham assures me that it is wrong for him to have stolen from us. There is aid, and he could have asked and should have asked. We can't leave now, we can't condone theft. He didn't feel good about it either.

He comes out of the mud hut with four items. Two are mine and two are Grahams. There is a lot more than that missing and Graham sternly tells him to get the rest. At this point I am looking him in the eye and I notice how yellow his eyes are. There is puss in the corners and it occurs to me that he is more than likely very very ill. Aids without doubt.

Eventually he returns with my cell phone. Again knowing this isn’t all Graham tells him he has until friday and he will meet Brad at a said location with the rest of the items or they will call the police. I still don’t know if Brad got our things or if he even showed up. But I don’t care.

I was so put off by the entire experience, I was so shaken. Many assured me that we did the right thing, that he can not get away with stealing and by reprimanding him we are actually helping him. While I understand this, stealing is wrong no matter how poor you are. I still feel guilt. Here we get bored of an old couch and want to replace it and just do. We are never really happy or content with what we have. We should be so lucky. We should be so grateful. We should appreciate what we have and need for nothing.

People are more important than things. Relationships are more important than any material goods that I have acquired on the road to success. Without the love and support of family and friends in life, material goods are useless.

In this time of uncertainty for me, of not knowing what is next on my journey, weather it’s here or coming home, what I know is that I am homesick. And it’s my friends and my family that I miss and need for that support network. I am overwhelmingly rich in this. And am more than grateful for what I have in my support network.

I’ve also had difficulty with the labor here. It’s cheap so everyone has a nanny, or a maid, and a gardner. Often the maid is also the nanny. And it’s the blacks. It took me a long to to say “blacks”, as a Canadian this isn’t something we see the difference in. We don’t say blacks. There is just people. Anyway, everywhere we go and whomever we stay with there is a maid. It’s affordable. So everyone has one. I was so off by my laundry being done and ironed everywhere we went. My bed made. Dinner dishes done in the morning. It’s no wonder south africans are so laid back and seemingly stress free. Aside from work they have someone to take care of all those admin type things that often stress us out and take up our weekends or nights. Though one has to understand that they are providing work for them. Employing one maid actually eventually feeds about 20-30 more family members. It’s true. I get it, but I am still adjusting to it. It's just different for me.

As we drive out to the airport in Johannesburg we travel through beautiful white neighborhoods with every convenience of modern life. The business areas with neat brick buildings, trimmed lawns. Overhead, the sky blue and the birds sing. As we make our way out of these areas, along the side of the highway is the “informal township” (south African for squatter camp) where 43 water faucets serve 45,000 inhabitants. Race seems to determine the supply of all necessities. Though apartheid ended years ago, economically it still seems to breath it’s hot breath. I have seen with my own eyes the appalling conditions that millions live under.

Africa has taught me that poverty cannot be learned from books. Until now I had never really understood all those articles, books and movies about poverty. Until now, whilst staring it in the eye, tasting its sourness, until now I didn’t know or understand poverty. And I can not, even while it shakes hands with me, ever completely know their poverty. The next time you think you are having a bad day, or your leaking roof makes you so mad and frustrated, be thankful you have a roof to fix and a job to go to and a car to sit in in rush hour traffic. Ironically I am writing this on thanksgiving weekend.

Be thankful. I am.

"The difference between school and life? In school, you're taught a lesson and then given a test. In life, you're given a test that teaches you a lesson." 
Tom Bodett

We are the first generation that can look poverty in
the eye and say this and mean it: we have the cash;
we have the drugs; we have the science. Do we have
the will to make poverty history?”
- Bono, U2

Socializing

I’ve mentioned that Maun mainly exists to cater to the safari community, and it’s been said that it’s a drinking town with a safari problem. I would have to agree. There are few choices of outings so people tend to frequent their favorite, the bridge backpackers being one of them, great burgers, it is a wonderful mix of locals and tourists mingling together, this is Graham enjoying a beer while a local enjoys the bar.

The ex-pat community enjoy a lot of Braai’s (that is what they call BBQs here) a popular choice of Braai is Peri Peri Chicken. Graham has mastered this process and I’ve enjoyed many a peri peri chicken braai, so much so I think it’s all he knows how to cook. The BBQ’s are not traditional (or on the contrary they are way more so then our modern contraptions) and often wood collected from along the river is used to cook. The other night we had a Braai at our friends Crispen and Lisa’s house and the BBQ was made out of an old wheel rim and leaf springs (Uncle Bob and old mechanic boyfriends take note at pic below, too cool). And Van and Justine, who’s house we live at has a BBQ made out of an old gyser.

911 radio's

Comparatively (to South Africa) crime here is low. However as a visitor, or “north american” we are automatically seen as wealthy and therefore that you will be generous. I didn’t mention it before we left camp but will now. One of our temporary camp hands decided to target me for this reason. Often asking me for money and a jacket. Later to find out that he cleaned me out, he took quite a few items of clothing with him when he left. This was particularly upsetting as he lived with us for some time. And paid close attention to the items of clothing I wasn’t wearing in camp and therefore may not notice right away as missing. While I try not to be attached to things I still from time to time think about it, what he took (there is someone wearing a lovely Lu Lu lemon yoga top) and it burns my ass so much that as I make my way around town I am on the look out for my distinct items of clothing that might be on the back of a local walking around. What I would do if I saw it, I don’t know, probably nothing, but still I look.

Security is high here as it is in South Africa. All the homes are fenced in. We are staying in a beautiful home of a friend of Grahams which is on the river with the most beautiful fig tree in the back yard. Fenced in. The view to the river is lovely though obstructed by this electric fence. As I sit here and the goats roam munching on grass outside the fence to be shocked into horror every time they touch the fence in hilarity. I have come to quite like the goat. They are sweet little things, the babies especially adorable and one day will have a pet goat. I find this fenced in life claustrophobic and I don’t know that I’ve had a good nights sleep since we’ve been here.


























911 here isn’t what it is at home. Everyone has a “911” radio. It’s a walkie talkie type radio and is more of a neighborhood watch sort of thing. When I asked the number for the police no one seemed to know. Apparently most of the police don’t have cars, and when they get a call have to arrange a “ride” to the scene. Comforting. So these 911 radios are tuned in every night to your neighbors and should something go wrong everyone gathers to save and protect you. It is also a form of entertainment and conversation for the next day. Did you hear last nights 911 call....etc. In the first week we were here there was a 911 announcement that three criminals had escaped from prison (this not too surprising as a conversation earlier that day was of someone who had to pay a fine at the police station to see two criminals being held in a room by a mere broom stick across the door way) and to be on high alert that evening and until they were found and captured. Evidently these particular criminals were beating people quite brutally for cash and cell phones. Needless to say, even within this electric fence, high alarm system and locked doors I was on edge all night. And every night until the announcement came over the 911 radio that they had eventually caught said criminals. About a week after escape and re-capture, the escape part of the news made the local paper. The Ngami times, and a week after capture, it was only then in the paper.


Here is an example of the 911 radio in use the other night as we had some friends over for a Braai. (BBQ)

Maun, Botswana

First I apologize for the lack of updates, internet is a hassle at best here in town, I've lost connection several times already while trying to load this post, and to be honest, it's not as inspiring here as it was in the bush. That and it is so hot by 11am one can barley move! I kid you not, you would think living in a hot climate is so exotic and wonderful, it's just really really hot.

I realize that all my talk about the bush and I’ve barley if at all touched on Botswana as a country. Landlocked, it is a country of contrasts. 80% of it is referred to as desert, but as you know the Kalahari contains substantial woodland and other vegetation and water. Botswana is the worlds biggest producer of gemstones, diamonds being the most common. Population, 1.2 million. The gap between rich and poor is evident in examples of expensive cars and big houses, excellent roads and modern buildings but high unemployment and rural villages with dwellings built traditionally of natural materials without sanitation, electricity or water. There are over 20 different tribes and languages, the most common language spoken is english then Setswana. The most common and universal greeting is “dumela” followed by “rra” (ar-ra) if speaking to a man, or “mma” (MAA) if speaking to a women. This is something I have now become accustomed to saying to everyone, as soon as you walk into a shop it’s “dumela mma”. Greeting is very important here, and it is considered very rude to not respond to a greeting, even if from a wave of someone as you drive past them.

In 1966 Botswana gained independence and was one of the poorest countries in the world, as well one of the most traditional and conservative. Since 1966 the country has made enormous strides and makes international news in it’s success in comparison to other African countries. It’s government is Parliamentary democracy.

I’ve talked about Maun in past posts, merely just a weekend over night run for supplies. This consisted of a rushed in and out trying to get back to camp as fast as possible. So it was hectic and I can’t say I really got the feel for the town. Until now I hadn’t actually spent an extended amount of time in Maun. I’ve gone so far as to try to get myself aquatinted with the fitness community anxious to get exercising again I’ve been running with a sense of such freedom.. not far 5km at most, but it feels so good to run again. I’ve gone to the gym a few times, it’s far from fancy, the equipment somewhat resembles that of what the Flinstones may have used, but it’s all one needs. So my first day all excited to work out I head to the gym at 9:15am. “Dumela mma please may I have a day pass” I say smiling. “Pula 30” (about $4 canadian dollars) she says and I hand over my money. “Mma we close at 9:30am” she says. Hmmm. And so the conversation goes like this....

Penny: “but Mma it’s now 9:15 and you took my pula, what will I do for 15 min?”

Lady smiling sheepishly “mma I don’t know maybe you can carry some weight”

Penny: “Mma you took my pula so I can carry some weight from here to there just once?”

Lady still sheepish “Mma we open at 12 again, we need to clean the gym, maybe you come back then yes?”

Penny: “Mma, is it busy early morning?”

Lady: “ah yes very busy”

Penny: “ is it busy at lunch and after work?”

Lady: “ah yes it is very very busy”

Penny: “when is the best time to come to the gym?”

Lady: “ ah but now Mma!”

This is Maun.

Before I go on to tell you about my dealing with the local cultures and customs there are some things that are essential to understand. It is much more difficult to generalize here then it is in other places. Botswana is only 40 years from nationwide poverty and a practically nonexistent economy. In that short space of time the economy has expanded: cell phones, the internet (in Maun this has only happened in the last five years) corporate governance, big houses, consumerism have all become a part of life. For some, but not all. This is where the complexity in the huge disparity between those who have and those who have not. The “rich” and the poor. The “rich” have acquired such a status very quickly and participate in excessive consumerism. Even signs of obesity in them and their children are apparent. The poor, remain poor. With this extreme opposite you will encounter anything from the nineteenth century to the twenty first. Therefore one must be patient. Standing in line happens a lot. Generally this is respected, but people do cut in, typically Batswana will assume there must be some good reason for it and say nothing.



I’ve been driving Graham’s car here as well. Let me paint that picture for you. Wrong side of the road, and car, a standard transmission so that too is on the wrong side, switching gears with my left hand . Round abouts (intuitively the wrong way around for me, not to mention we don’t even have them) , shared with donkeys, goats, cows and the odd horse. The driving is atrocious here, there appears to be no right of way, or rules per-say. Unlike at home, pedestrians do not have the right of way. In fact I’ve often crossed the road and seen cars speed up when they see you. When running, at home cars will swerve around you, here I swear they swerve into you. Parking lots and such that are often shared with people are fearful places if you are on foot. You must watch out for cars, because they don’t see you at all and will not be watching out for you.

Getting things done here. Yes well, it might be the most unproductive place on earth. Where you think you are running out for a few things at the grocery store that should take 10 minutes tops, can take up to an hour. Maybe more. Work ethic is not generally part of peoples lives and I can fairly say (and they will too) that Batswana are lazy, I’ve never seen people move so slow. While yes I have slowed down myself since being out of the big city, Batswana move backwards if at all. Doing business on friday afternoon with any person is impossible. Saturdays are half days for business, and sundays forget about it.

Punctuality is non existent. We’ve all heard the phrase “in a mexican minute”, here it’s “Botswana time” which is about 10 times longer than a mexican minute and can be days even.

Amongst the extreme poverty, and those that live in it, everyone has a cell phone. It is amazing really. On the side of the road, in the middle of what seems like nowhere one can buy firewood, a goat, and air time for their phone. This is part of what fascinates me about Botswana. There is a parallel presence of two very different worlds: the old and the new and the boundaries are blurred.