tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6000308704757727052024-03-05T13:05:51.614+02:00The Botswana ExperienceNow that my days of romping in Europe are long over, I have staked out new terrain for a long-term adventure: Botswana. As many people know, I will be studying at the University of Botswana in Gaborone, the capital of this great southern African nation.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.comBlogger50125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-51184308067031297132009-05-13T12:47:00.005+02:002009-05-13T13:35:43.265+02:00Lifting the Veil of IgnorancePhilosopher John Rawls wrote much on the topic of justice and in his seminal work, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Theory-Justice-Original-John-Rawls/dp/0674017722/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1242212567&sr=8-1"><span style="font-style: italic;">A Theory of Justice</span></a>, Rawls describes a "veil of ignorance" that blinds representatives from seeing the individual characteristics of the represented. This lack of information about traditions and culture, religion and beliefs, results in a breakdown in leadership. And as George Kimble, an early 20th Century geographer so rightly stated, "The darkest <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiP0XQ2lF9iahdVdiRPfXwt2QiFFEkgId2KbkMRBdoC1-FLVzJIOuGqCnz5QzEmkYnCUs0zi9N4bzjCm6ZwvXN311DXQ4OpGNfnJOr_h1_PsdeY5LUcTXWuHpGFsQbnnmo-pFl3mUhzKgC/s1600-h/P1000380.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 247px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiP0XQ2lF9iahdVdiRPfXwt2QiFFEkgId2KbkMRBdoC1-FLVzJIOuGqCnz5QzEmkYnCUs0zi9N4bzjCm6ZwvXN311DXQ4OpGNfnJOr_h1_PsdeY5LUcTXWuHpGFsQbnnmo-pFl3mUhzKgC/s320/P1000380.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335266693904903746" border="0" /></a>thing about Africa has always been our ignorance of it." So many of our leaders, President Obama included, have the best intentions of helping my new, second homeland, Africa. And what I learned here in Botswana is that as much Africans appreciate our help and acknowledge its necessity, they desire to help themselves and develop their own homegrown solutions above all else. They worry that we are all to willing to disregard what distinguishes Batswana from the Shona from the Luo when creating development plans. Ignorance still describes most Americans' relationship to Africa and I can only hope that my semester here as poked a few holes in my own veil.<br /><br />On a lighter note, today is my last day. Tonight I will go to bed and wake up tomorrow morning, jump in a cab and head off to the airport, America bound. I am going to miss all of my friends, local and internat<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaG2w5TRE5RLWjEKZwcO4nMQ43-EnMTi5afcfgtHDol2bSOKA-8cZiIxnHPkBra_4kvS8RWE-cHks1U25rr49ay9bzT_66il3PCBNR-hsGipltAVFl5INkGKnamDhVVfU8EG8nRhzBdCd/s1600-h/P1000512.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 230px; height: 173px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicaG2w5TRE5RLWjEKZwcO4nMQ43-EnMTi5afcfgtHDol2bSOKA-8cZiIxnHPkBra_4kvS8RWE-cHks1U25rr49ay9bzT_66il3PCBNR-hsGipltAVFl5INkGKnamDhVVfU8EG8nRhzBdCd/s320/P1000512.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335268023323774562" border="0" /></a>ional. I will miss, perhaps most of all, speaking Setswana with people who think I am still wearing a veil. A special thanks to my fellow CIEE comrades. They have put on a bold face in this new country and have truly carped some diem. Batsi Chidzodzo, our program director (pictured left) has made all of our lives here in Botswana as carefree as possible so we have the confidence and freedom to try new things, be them dried caterpillars for dinner or a road trip to South Africa.<br /><br />As sad as I will be to leave this beautiful continent and country, I am excited to share so much of it with you. My summer will be quite busy and it will be a nice change of pace from Botswana time. I will be working for my uncle's new food recycling company, a <a href="http://www.eaedc.org/aboutus.html">financial literacy center</a> for Somali immigrants in Minneapolis, as well as <a href="http://www.entenza.com">Matt Entenza's gubernatorial campaign</a>. Once I am back in my ancestral home of Carver County on Friday, I look forward to seeing and talking with all of you, so make sure to be in touch.<br /><br />I will still have some more thoughts and facts to share with you on this blog before I finish the Botswana chapter of my college career. So keep checking back over the next couple weeks.<br /><br />Go siame, boRra le boMma!Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-85028412746027198452009-05-11T16:49:00.008+02:002009-05-11T19:16:31.512+02:00Stranded comfortably in the KalahariA long time ago, in a post far, far away (check my January archives), I mentioned a Kalahari sunset. This weekend I saw one for the first time, and then again for a second (unforeseen) time. It was so serene out there in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Veld"><span style="font-style: italic;">veld</span></a>. After a long day of driving in a stadium-seating safari vehicle, setting up camp, eating and a game drive, our last vestiges of daylight were too short.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXESXTvGJU3kmlIUM8LMyEwzdssWZVhLa550bW2qcZLacRA2BkoJXeztt6DusIzsZf4dHTTYQx_eiOoQJuh_Z9orVC1L4PbpW-UyDZ_fSJzQIkAnDff0me5GktRqFvgIKlCIskENTa3u_/s1600-h/HPIM2051.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTXESXTvGJU3kmlIUM8LMyEwzdssWZVhLa550bW2qcZLacRA2BkoJXeztt6DusIzsZf4dHTTYQx_eiOoQJuh_Z9orVC1L4PbpW-UyDZ_fSJzQIkAnDff0me5GktRqFvgIKlCIskENTa3u_/s320/HPIM2051.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334592079943039586" border="0" /></a>My roommate Alex decided he wanted to go out into the "bush" one more time, and when he discovered it was going to cost more than a small herd of goats if he went alone, he invited all of us to split the costs. Our safari company took several groups of international students from UB in recent weeks, all of whom gave the guides high marks but lamented the lack of wildlife. In any case we got very excited at the prospect of traveling one last time before the mammoth flight back to the US. Four of us went and we were joined by seven <a href="http://www.upenn.edu/botswana/">UPenn</a><a href="http://www.upenn.edu/botswana/"> medical stud</a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_9-iuSxAH9yfjd1upj13D6OR8VBctaFf6nVbfKWGLlRaEI9ZvN1LBWSvlWlD27huqEDTIFzikvOkXdRlIONOWs9-XJkDibax52NcYEwCfLB-Ja18y_mpmbUPXwTFSVAz9Fe60NqeEdOv/s1600-h/HPIM2021.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0_9-iuSxAH9yfjd1upj13D6OR8VBctaFf6nVbfKWGLlRaEI9ZvN1LBWSvlWlD27huqEDTIFzikvOkXdRlIONOWs9-XJkDibax52NcYEwCfLB-Ja18y_mpmbUPXwTFSVAz9Fe60NqeEdOv/s320/HPIM2021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334596490600444066" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.upenn.edu/botswana/">ents and residents working at the local hospital</a>, Joe the trusty Motswana guide, and Tim, the gregarious Rhodesian safari operator.<br /><br />Joe picked us up on campus right around 9 am on Saturday morning, followed by the UPenn students. The three-hour trek up to <a href="http://www.botswanatourism.co.bw/attractions/khutse_game_reserve.html">Khutse Game Reserve</a>, adjacent to the <a href="http://www.botswanatourism.co.bw/attractions/central_kalahari_game_reserve.html">Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKG</a><a href="http://www.botswanatourism.co.bw/attractions/central_kalahari_game_reserve.html">R)</a> transitions from national highway to a seemingly endless gravel road crowded with feral donkeys. Another hour of slow driving in the reserve brought us to our campsite, one of a handful huddled together, all complete with rudimentary shower and bathroom facilities.<br /><br />While Khutse itself is an amazing place, the CKGR offers up the most incredible stats: larger than Switzerland or Denmark, and even larger than Swaziland and Lesotho<span style="font-style: italic;"> co</span><span style="font-style: italic;">mbined</span>, and is the second-largest game reserve in the world. For those interested, Tanzania's <a href="http://www.ivorynet.com/tanzania-parks.htm#Selous%20Game%20Reserve">Selous Game Reserve</a> is the largest. Our Saturday afternoon game drive included a sojourn into the CKGR. The landscapes found in the Kalahari Desert are not the sand dunes of the neighboring Namib Desert nor the barren stretches of the American Southwest. Instead it can be called verdant at times, as it is covered in hardy plants and grasses. The soil is very light, most likely from the high concentration of minerals (especially salt) that manifest themselves as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Playa">pans</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCcydvFqTQNZXXRj7ThLLfw_xPvvU-dzKeto78Z0nMwxnJTQ-sbQn8tFwu20H_4P3cLuCeYlWJruxkdUTTIcvtwvv-h-HnG5VKgli0reEwuM4gwqTklVqwdbyPk4DyofWPlsaEPt3WSihw/s1600-h/HPIM2036.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 295px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCcydvFqTQNZXXRj7ThLLfw_xPvvU-dzKeto78Z0nMwxnJTQ-sbQn8tFwu20H_4P3cLuCeYlWJruxkdUTTIcvtwvv-h-HnG5VKgli0reEwuM4gwqTklVqwdbyPk4DyofWPlsaEPt3WSihw/s320/HPIM2036.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334600199424136050" border="0" /></a>These flat expanses of short grass are perfect for viewing game, and we saw more than our fair share of ostriches (or ostrii, as Alex would prefer the plural to be), red hartebeest named for their heart-like shape formed by their horns, springbok, steenbok, bat-eared fox and wildebeest.<br /><br />The flying varieties were equally incredible. <a href="http://nationalzoo.si.edu/Animals/Birds/Facts/FactSheets/fact-koribustard.cfm">Bustards are the heaviest bird able to fly</a> and <a href="http://www.kenyabirds.org.uk/secretary.htm">secretary birds seem capable of pecking a lot more than an Underwood-5 typewriter</a>. Our great hope for this trip was the rarity of spotting a lion, not literally of course, but our trip was feline-free: no lion, no cheetah, not even the faux type, the <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkWs3HVww4I">meerkat</a>. The closest we got to realizing our dream was a herd/pod/armada/colony (oh Lord, the confusion of <a href="http://www.hintsandthings.co.uk/kennel/collectives.htm">animal co</a><a href="http://www.hintsandthings.co.uk/kennel/collectives.htm">llective nouns</a>) of ground squirrels who looked like little Timons with long tails. It was an incredible change of pace from both Gaborone and our other game drives in northern Botswana. The medical students told jokes around the campfire with punchlines like "And so he gave him Vitamin K!", which were met with roars of laughter from medical students and distant jackals alike.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXGTRyxF3xhh3abGGIIkx43oHvVyAHZg7Z2YYVcFCXKxrVqL4MBJNhVp9RQUUaxlhx7-QjvoqtPvYkP4s7K89ErLboIClZZAMcIr7a5Knh3IqhwyjWiohWXdTS2gHpdKKKn_0K08KX_Ka/s1600-h/HPIM2023.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 386px; height: 292px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQXGTRyxF3xhh3abGGIIkx43oHvVyAHZg7Z2YYVcFCXKxrVqL4MBJNhVp9RQUUaxlhx7-QjvoqtPvYkP4s7K89ErLboIClZZAMcIr7a5Knh3IqhwyjWiohWXdTS2gHpdKKKn_0K08KX_Ka/s320/HPIM2023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334610182872043666" border="0" /></a>Our morning driving went off the hitch, not without one. A bolt on our tire broke during the trip and the safari vehicle was deemed to unsafe to drive back to Gabs. The plan was for the UPenn students to head back first in Tim's <a href="http://www.landrover.com/global/default.htm">Land Rover</a> while we (Joe, CIEE students and one (un)lucky Penn student) were to drive the ailing truck to the lodge right outside the reserve and wait for a rescue car. The caveat was that the rescue car was coming from Otse, at least three and a half hours away. We got to the lodge just before noon and were not "rescued" until half past seven in the evening.<br /><br />I say "rescue" because we spent the lazy, hot afternoon tanning around the lodge's pool reading ancient <a href="http://www.nationalgeographic.com">National Geographics</a> lying around as well as novels like my handy volume of Henry James. Tea was served all afternoon and two meals were on the safari company. We made out like the fiscally-strapped college bandits we are. Finally, around 11 pm we <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCcL1L65QgHy_krjTOR9cNqFP9JRDL_bHXOfb9zu1aCDkcRoqRldKvA5Fn_z_S5YJBggFk0pqLWAAC19gOJZpwpPKv8U5FsvszQV6CCUCvBCodWcsravfScsn4YXd_DpgGEB-1iR_wLmw/s1600-h/HPIM2048.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 190px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglCcL1L65QgHy_krjTOR9cNqFP9JRDL_bHXOfb9zu1aCDkcRoqRldKvA5Fn_z_S5YJBggFk0pqLWAAC19gOJZpwpPKv8U5FsvszQV6CCUCvBCodWcsravfScsn4YXd_DpgGEB-1iR_wLmw/s320/HPIM2048.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334613595553129842" border="0" /></a>arrived back on campus, fully rested and yet extremely tired. It must have been the crisp, untainted Kalahari air.<br /><br />The Kalahari weekend was a perfect note on which to end our Botswana and indeed, African, travels. I have one more final tomorrow afternoon, followed by a Wednesday packed with packing. I will have just a couple more posts up before I get home, so keep coming back for a bit longer.<br /><br />Thank you for following my semester in Africa and see you all soon enough!Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-81328880065385231832009-04-30T12:36:00.012+02:002009-05-04T22:55:52.532+02:00And there were bishops from Zimbabwe and other phantasmagorical things . .While I still need to write a post about my stay in Cape Town, I thought I would continue first with my religious thread. This last Saturday, the 25<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">th</span></span>, I was invited and accompanied by my "cousins", who live here in Gaborone, to attend the ordination of the new <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diocese_of_Gaborone">Bishop of Gaborone</a>. These are the cousins of my host family in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Mochudi</span>. My female cousin, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Lapo</span>, has been a big fan and great friend of mine here in the city. She is currently on the job hunt, whereas her brother, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tshepo</span>, is studying graphic design at <a href="http://www.limkokwing.net/botswana/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Limkokwing</span> University</a>. The best part about visiting my cousins is that they live on the railroad tracks, and I get to walk along and over rails frequented by aging, blue-and-white passenger cars and, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">occasionally</span>, trains heaping with coal.<br /><br />My uncle, their father, is a foreman for the railroad and he showed me the massive, outdated panels used. Th<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbrJLaW5wBvW0PWJLDHdYUe-Xv94o94Uxqef7Bdr-Ad1359MuPuQ4Uetp9Lohm9oPY7J0X4TKNKpynyAx7e0K4kGgMbc_ndaZ2XqTnR1nnUVEHILJsE2g73nnkhfJBjeCQac2HzhsLTQS/s1600-h/HPIM2010.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 168px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbrJLaW5wBvW0PWJLDHdYUe-Xv94o94Uxqef7Bdr-Ad1359MuPuQ4Uetp9Lohm9oPY7J0X4TKNKpynyAx7e0K4kGgMbc_ndaZ2XqTnR1nnUVEHILJsE2g73nnkhfJBjeCQac2HzhsLTQS/s320/HPIM2010.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332057232976115970" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ey</span> looked like the command center in Apollo 11. As for the rest of the family, I don't exactly know their names, occupations, or even their relation to me. My aunt (pictured with me, left) is a reserved, but cheerful woman. Every time I visit my cousins' house in Gaborone, all the neighbors (whom I've never met) yell from their respective "backyards" (read: hardened red dirt with the occasional weed, which is merely a plant out of place, as my boss always told me), "Michael is here!"<br /><br />On more than one occasion I have been asked in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Setswana</span> if I am <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Lapo's</span> boyfriend/husband/<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">soul mate</span> . . . to which, I answer dutifully in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Setswana</span>, "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Nyaya</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">rra</span>. O <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ntsalake</span>." <span style="font-style: italic;">No, I am her cousin</span>. Very believable I'm sure. In any case, the issue was raised at the grocery store "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Choppies</span>" in my home village of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Mochudi</span>, where I was explaining myself to half the<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguV3TYpjR3JMbaNqBfj1TC2fnzbx0DkKHEo3z8dMXP3In1mGJxmdswNFV6uPrtpzvaFzUGgj-MWmW9Jd8m3J3_hkgdWYDgzGFNhTvPENHPGxoiSW9VyxNovdo9FfZRi9WsaeHQMuSpBWTr/s1600-h/HPIM1987.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 244px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguV3TYpjR3JMbaNqBfj1TC2fnzbx0DkKHEo3z8dMXP3In1mGJxmdswNFV6uPrtpzvaFzUGgj-MWmW9Jd8m3J3_hkgdWYDgzGFNhTvPENHPGxoiSW9VyxNovdo9FfZRi9WsaeHQMuSpBWTr/s320/HPIM1987.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332059517846071394" border="0" /></a> customers and workers. They laughed and cried when I tried my darnedest to talk my way out of being the best marriage prospect my cousin could have.<br /><br />Anyway, back to the subject of this blog: the ordination of Bishop Valentine <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Tsamma</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Seane</span>. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and I took a cab to the bus station and after getting completely lost for twenty minutes, found my way to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">home base</span>. In true Botswana fashion, I was told to be there promptly at 8 am and we left around 9:30 am. Thankfully, there was two small breakfasts scheduled in that time.<br /><br />Shortly before the start time of 10 am we arrived at what appeared to be an airport hangar-cum-cathedral. Rough estimates put the<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diocese_of_Gaborone"> audience at 7,000 to 8,000</a>, a healthy number for any Catholic event these days. The crowd, as I discovered, came from all over southern Africa: Botswana, a very large <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">contingent</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcvDUnvF6h6ePqeRmnimK_MQDF8PNf7fUATpkO-Oa8cUgss_P_qK-gGRu_q0eFPR67UDc-bNzZUv2cDN-GkW-mT07J6uoKa0dFnSotElnROb9LKKpXf32sj2abagGhyphenhyphen2b9TrAGr-GEP0X/s1600-h/HPIM1993.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 192px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWcvDUnvF6h6ePqeRmnimK_MQDF8PNf7fUATpkO-Oa8cUgss_P_qK-gGRu_q0eFPR67UDc-bNzZUv2cDN-GkW-mT07J6uoKa0dFnSotElnROb9LKKpXf32sj2abagGhyphenhyphen2b9TrAGr-GEP0X/s320/HPIM1993.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5332060742922547714" border="0" /></a> from Zimbabwe, Namibia and South Africa. Representing every parish and diocese south of the Congo, the mass commenced with a parade of priests and prelates.<br /><br />The singing was lively, although in perfect Catholic form, dancing was kept to a simple step-slide-step-slide back. A great boon to my religious <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Setswana</span> vocab was the thirty-page guidebook to the ordination, which contained all the hymns. Morena, Lord; <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Modimo</span>, God. For four and a half hours, we stood, sang, sat, sang, stood, sang (207x).<br /><br />I tasted my first African <a href="http://www.emersoncentral.com/lordsupper.htm%27">host</a>, although my cousin refrained, admitting she needed to confess her sins first. As most "firsts" in foreign countries require a "monkey see, monkey do" method of observation and instruction, I lost my cultural crutch. Thankfully, Catholic mass is catholic, i.e. universal, just like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">KFC</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">McDonalds</span>. After a few platonic kisses amongst the holy men, we sang a bit louder in competition with the pouring rain. A <a href="http://www.sundaystandard.info/news/news_item.php?NewsID=4864&GroupID=1">newspaper account</a> had this to say:<br /><br />"During the proceedings, it started to rain and the masses went wild at the 'coincidence'."<br /><br />Personally, I think the only 'coincidence' was that sun umbrellas suddenly had a function. A better coincidence was that of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">mass's</span> denouement and the return of clear skies. It was, nonetheless, a wonderful exhibition of Botswana's ability to put on a show replete with spontaneous singing for hours on end. Although I didn't buy any of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">souvenirs</span> (or as they say here, curios) imprinted with the new Bishop's face, I agree with the Sunday Standard's belief that "Catholics in Botswana are not likely to ever forget Saturday, April 25, 2009."<br /><br />Somewhat <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">sobering</span> after such a ceremony was news that Bishop <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Seane</span> released a statement blasting the use of condoms, saying that Batswana* should stick to the "traditional" ways. It is a large point of contention among all of the faiths here, perhaps more so for the Catholic community, but HIV/AIDS is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">plaguing</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">Batswana</span> much more than a crisis of faith or tradition.<br /><br />Even more sobering is the fact I am leaving on May 14th, in the morning. Until then I only have two finals, one this Friday and one next Tuesday. This weekend four of us will go camping in the Kalahari desert, hoping to spot a lion or a cheetah, and catch a great African sunset one last time. Otherwise, this week is just a lazy week to hang out with friends and buy those last-minute trinkets.<br /><br />Til my next post, cheers mates!<br /><br />*Before I typed "that Batswana should stick", I wrote "that <span style="font-style: italic;">we</span> should stick", signifying either I now self-identify as Motswana or that Catholic indoctrination really works.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-8387745573863573352009-04-23T12:24:00.004+02:002009-04-23T12:52:24.860+02:00Genesis according to OudtshoornIn the beginning <a href="http://www.catholic.org/encyclopedia/view.php?id=5217">God</a> created <a href="http://www.catholic.org/encyclopedia/view.php?id=5593">heaven</a> and earth. Now the earth was a formless void, there was darkness over the deep, with a divine wind sweeping over the waters.<br /><br />God said, 'Let there be light,' and there was light. God saw that light was good, and <a href="http://www.catholic.org/encyclopedia/view.php?id=5217">God</a> divided light from darkness. God called light 'day', and darkness he called 'night'. Evening came and morning came: the first day . . .<br /><br />God said, 'Let the earth produce every kind of living creature in its own species: cattle, creeping things and wild animals of all kinds.' And so it was.<br /><br />God made wild animals in their own species, and cattle in theirs, and every creature that crawls along the earth in its own species. <a href="http://www.catholic.org/encyclopedia/view.php?id=5217">God</a> saw that it was good . . .<br /><br />The <a href="http://www.catholic.org/encyclopedia/view.php?id=7463">man</a> gave names to all the cattle, all the birds of <a href="http://www.catholic.org/encyclopedia/view.php?id=5593">heaven</a> and all the wild animals. But no helper suitable for the <a href="http://www.catholic.org/encyclopedia/view.php?id=7463">man</a> was found for him. <br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">This is where the narrative found in the small churches of Oudsthoorn differs</span>. You see, many would have you believe that this 'helper' was to be a woman, and so forth. Yet, God looked in all the wrong places for a helper suitable for man (honestly, a chest cavity?). It was not among the birds of heaven, rather among the birds of earth. Namely, the ostrich. And so it was in Oudtshoorn and it was good. Man and ostrich lived side by side in perfect harmony for eons.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQdvPNX6qyBV3DffPkp0ogmBvW7aX5CSQd7aSjlfEQp1HEzFVgeKmC-0_ApfgHljWwvQbZ-9eaN0OScI7kVHh-J-Ntsloc6FBGz9ZZdbKru7LJqSEhGZF5AOrhxRb52fROdOdkJ63DIdE/s1600-h/Copy+%281%29+of+IMG_2959.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 430px; height: 287px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUQdvPNX6qyBV3DffPkp0ogmBvW7aX5CSQd7aSjlfEQp1HEzFVgeKmC-0_ApfgHljWwvQbZ-9eaN0OScI7kVHh-J-Ntsloc6FBGz9ZZdbKru7LJqSEhGZF5AOrhxRb52fROdOdkJ63DIdE/s400/Copy+%281%29+of+IMG_2959.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327837152834619234" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1PUW_98nm_iPChCgkKUkr03kFGlXWiINcq5trJ7RRJkfUglWM78zkrhTGxFMq2FDlkpWHy9S4NmbPSYrwv-VthVAoroOVZj3WhYjOezKiAjrhyphenhyphenC8Y6tqropzIap9CoXaD2tzsxwGcBKN/s1600-h/IMG_2966.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 438px; height: 385px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1PUW_98nm_iPChCgkKUkr03kFGlXWiINcq5trJ7RRJkfUglWM78zkrhTGxFMq2FDlkpWHy9S4NmbPSYrwv-VthVAoroOVZj3WhYjOezKiAjrhyphenhyphenC8Y6tqropzIap9CoXaD2tzsxwGcBKN/s400/IMG_2966.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327837144116521394" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisaQX1s5JKVDdtwuYq_wqBsB8__nGnwEOJEa_L9gs-nkMTorJ_XTigbQZ4q3wDYuvKAjmH4jx5BKDeAzxZI2NqiucmTeR8xeL0yGrJmgZN88Zu0cOoJGBD-oP9HvTlD5c9MySMUU3Iv1nH/s1600-h/IMG_2971.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 428px; height: 454px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisaQX1s5JKVDdtwuYq_wqBsB8__nGnwEOJEa_L9gs-nkMTorJ_XTigbQZ4q3wDYuvKAjmH4jx5BKDeAzxZI2NqiucmTeR8xeL0yGrJmgZN88Zu0cOoJGBD-oP9HvTlD5c9MySMUU3Iv1nH/s400/IMG_2971.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327837139243502946" border="0" /></a>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-57127289969708713492009-04-22T23:51:00.007+02:002009-04-23T00:21:55.420+02:00The Klein Karoo's strange resemblance to America<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGYR2FXhyG5d5YWSRvzD_DqWe6AZCHQ15mxquffpmLcwjcQTMVWDxTF-Z0grkOxa90bY2bwQJMM8dR1vZCUd5ffxSp7NKb1M3kpN1N23BbRhjj1xAc4myZGe0zzjT1mQOgjwJ0sPp5OUs/s1600-h/HPIM1892.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuGYR2FXhyG5d5YWSRvzD_DqWe6AZCHQ15mxquffpmLcwjcQTMVWDxTF-Z0grkOxa90bY2bwQJMM8dR1vZCUd5ffxSp7NKb1M3kpN1N23BbRhjj1xAc4myZGe0zzjT1mQOgjwJ0sPp5OUs/s400/HPIM1892.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639591578115362" border="0" /></a>While the ANC might not win over many Boer votes, it still put out its message in Afrikaans everywhere: "Working together we can do more." Check out my earlier, prosaic post for more on the election.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBU_YmhEB-J_pyesM0pUElmGYD7SyyGXbTxOc_kuofHED6w_Cp8BxNC16kkZnts-y_pf9aG71rChyphenhypheneC_lOChQNKBuxuu4F54MBA5L_JHyGcYLMOAIce5fhThOYpP2Gwb8L7UGhq1OXeAER/s1600-h/IMG_2844.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBU_YmhEB-J_pyesM0pUElmGYD7SyyGXbTxOc_kuofHED6w_Cp8BxNC16kkZnts-y_pf9aG71rChyphenhypheneC_lOChQNKBuxuu4F54MBA5L_JHyGcYLMOAIce5fhThOYpP2Gwb8L7UGhq1OXeAER/s400/IMG_2844.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639586902317618" border="0" /></a>The mountains seemed to follow us everywhere on our journey, and there were no complaints coming from the passenger seat. Check out any map of South Africa and you will see strands of <span style="font-style: italic;">Berge</span> criss-crossing every which way.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvofrFLbNOazq5ANI1m4b-uNY49JYGc0O8eLWbirZLkO1-LJVxUPvnZxWWGGhHs9vDWD9-ncTn-l9-4IQJO7uGrY3yYUMM5pIv30mkSYHLvI-lVcaCX1PJU8Q8ORovXA8QGxeFJFKuBIDR/s1600-h/IMG_2865.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvofrFLbNOazq5ANI1m4b-uNY49JYGc0O8eLWbirZLkO1-LJVxUPvnZxWWGGhHs9vDWD9-ncTn-l9-4IQJO7uGrY3yYUMM5pIv30mkSYHLvI-lVcaCX1PJU8Q8ORovXA8QGxeFJFKuBIDR/s400/IMG_2865.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639583427295506" border="0" /></a>Plettenberg Bay only looks this beautiful from far up. Any closer and you might see the townships, precariously built upon pencils of stilts, ready to crash down at any "fresh" wind gusts.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWr0CHRpcKfikzD9JxFab5mHuR5tIB67cdJ-mcXBbzoRgre8VaeyEaKiW8ZljjXtHLMUMX-yeZ7obDcGytXHaqdJn10kqaUtVDOSD1MD_0ji0UcEWKThxWymsDSaGz6aspQOM7kCdXn8Vf/s1600-h/HPIM1848.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWr0CHRpcKfikzD9JxFab5mHuR5tIB67cdJ-mcXBbzoRgre8VaeyEaKiW8ZljjXtHLMUMX-yeZ7obDcGytXHaqdJn10kqaUtVDOSD1MD_0ji0UcEWKThxWymsDSaGz6aspQOM7kCdXn8Vf/s400/HPIM1848.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639578231196546" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5LKOQp_idTSqREpab-SXVHKjxAdQryjnepzQFcI0Xu-gBzA7TXYHuQZI_zCRcB_Yxo4MXzhCSybW-SN16k978TZY9oTld_cMkIsRlRkq770xWEtjoJyfY-IbuCbTAu1D1Ph_jIvgmJw9/s1600-h/HPIM1843.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ5LKOQp_idTSqREpab-SXVHKjxAdQryjnepzQFcI0Xu-gBzA7TXYHuQZI_zCRcB_Yxo4MXzhCSybW-SN16k978TZY9oTld_cMkIsRlRkq770xWEtjoJyfY-IbuCbTAu1D1Ph_jIvgmJw9/s400/HPIM1843.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639068859180850" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Bc-Zz9uKeohpr9WOjVmcwB9xCFaqvEWhlKvZQRT7r6ZA__1lZFxOTsjlX5QJSRfWyBn9Q8WGjkO4gXMdu6KZjFmb8UgMLuapbPBu3_5gydTuzFbrdIbkmxmocbf0OXZANy8Lz3yFmch-/s1600-h/IMG_2911.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4Bc-Zz9uKeohpr9WOjVmcwB9xCFaqvEWhlKvZQRT7r6ZA__1lZFxOTsjlX5QJSRfWyBn9Q8WGjkO4gXMdu6KZjFmb8UgMLuapbPBu3_5gydTuzFbrdIbkmxmocbf0OXZANy8Lz3yFmch-/s400/IMG_2911.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639064292787842" border="0" /></a>The above three pictures are from the first mountain pass we went through, just north of George. It was also the first time we got a picture of the two of us together. Thank God for timed photos! I felt the mountains behind us were missing some sherpas, yetis, and a few Tibetan prayer flags, but I had a very Zen moment nonetheless looking at their rocky greenness.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kLGEQAvpEfMJrLei2_G26SmjC9jSUYcIcYnYhKRYFvfrhtURd7Y_aXpUsPaQ6SzLGcbk7wnN748x_hVCdrVP3VcCGfWMVhi2e5c1TjGEMUmsnJGi5RdB3hhSus2GiV-IhMqOHCDOG-qx/s1600-h/HPIM1885.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0kLGEQAvpEfMJrLei2_G26SmjC9jSUYcIcYnYhKRYFvfrhtURd7Y_aXpUsPaQ6SzLGcbk7wnN748x_hVCdrVP3VcCGfWMVhi2e5c1TjGEMUmsnJGi5RdB3hhSus2GiV-IhMqOHCDOG-qx/s400/HPIM1885.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639061917038258" border="0" /></a>To be honest, I don't remember where this was taken, but it is the Everytown, South Africa, at least in the interior.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4z7XHXzZ91AOMI48LpAojyOLfRZoac8sbTCkh1cMhdKcvGZvh5TuKl9eMuVa7VrFHVoxxvCLxhj6-lzau22_XkqRN-8vsoOavpVdUUJbdN-PujZPc55RNxkSk_-zfoFm0AxTosrjO5y0E/s1600-h/HPIM1874.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4z7XHXzZ91AOMI48LpAojyOLfRZoac8sbTCkh1cMhdKcvGZvh5TuKl9eMuVa7VrFHVoxxvCLxhj6-lzau22_XkqRN-8vsoOavpVdUUJbdN-PujZPc55RNxkSk_-zfoFm0AxTosrjO5y0E/s400/HPIM1874.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327638320423937698" border="0" /></a>Another pass, with a bit more rocky and a little less greenness. Alex gives the new composition a thumbs-up.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimPzA1sH0OA1SRIu8CBdD9J7GPpGMCHb-Vl8hN57aRFxJ3ML0ZROBMy1fn7W9I_D90QpVGvl47UxuuqGkPsrFqFXpiovsdh5skal6rvq2WLxQroMPynFtS85mOJLRlYkcKietHWL61snfB/s1600-h/HPIM1852.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimPzA1sH0OA1SRIu8CBdD9J7GPpGMCHb-Vl8hN57aRFxJ3ML0ZROBMy1fn7W9I_D90QpVGvl47UxuuqGkPsrFqFXpiovsdh5skal6rvq2WLxQroMPynFtS85mOJLRlYkcKietHWL61snfB/s400/HPIM1852.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639052996379218" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxZwAmBDfBwUYXxfXwDK3rVuejbx-S-EN1pH4wyh0wGCxElVoWLl4rNbKXjFoolxaEcyCOL647a8XsGFi4c2_ZnEdAAvpIAChS6xOurHA4zzju2K2GHuxY_5_CF2pGo5P9tyCHHjVGg5t/s1600-h/HPIM1853.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUxZwAmBDfBwUYXxfXwDK3rVuejbx-S-EN1pH4wyh0wGCxElVoWLl4rNbKXjFoolxaEcyCOL647a8XsGFi4c2_ZnEdAAvpIAChS6xOurHA4zzju2K2GHuxY_5_CF2pGo5P9tyCHHjVGg5t/s400/HPIM1853.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327639048101560994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVI9C-qg04nN_Fs45lxyhaqdN_JSRTh1vMfpxEt2fImkuwnxo3yXMBfXHcPn7_oW78rCWdQlqEKc4331c-j7WWm7pjQR8v0vBkI4deuxjdiq9wYLMEuO4OLApJUCRQa5jVibjRdiPFkkzB/s1600-h/HPIM1855.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 304px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVI9C-qg04nN_Fs45lxyhaqdN_JSRTh1vMfpxEt2fImkuwnxo3yXMBfXHcPn7_oW78rCWdQlqEKc4331c-j7WWm7pjQR8v0vBkI4deuxjdiq9wYLMEuO4OLApJUCRQa5jVibjRdiPFkkzB/s400/HPIM1855.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327638316003889266" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctOs_dH6C46TokZaochJzEaaMuZYBNr9e0Bv2TpwJxWOa7AsFpwNhMQDBnLM0psZFfwx1rvDXmrKap7xyiqqLHTaYp1QR1PZf52pXi85NjM6eijQXsz8w-d9VI0s0WDFx2rr3hJkcCLIG/s1600-h/IMG_2924.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgctOs_dH6C46TokZaochJzEaaMuZYBNr9e0Bv2TpwJxWOa7AsFpwNhMQDBnLM0psZFfwx1rvDXmrKap7xyiqqLHTaYp1QR1PZf52pXi85NjM6eijQXsz8w-d9VI0s0WDFx2rr3hJkcCLIG/s400/IMG_2924.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327638313899702258" border="0" /></a>A sort of visual tautology. Different views of the foothills of the Klein Karoo from Alex's camera and mine. Just imagine, this was all hiding 70 miles from aquamarine waters.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkh3LibfITAcFsM54kMyZWf8RuhsXa7_K0DLQr5r-TYG-4bLhEsJESDywBLcTBr3Rja5aD9yDB9LdGC60_tNdy394Tv8B0Rt9aXpLh4azfa-Thdk_16IoyDcPjCVNqbkFdJN02HU9_ZXd/s1600-h/IMG_2722.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAkh3LibfITAcFsM54kMyZWf8RuhsXa7_K0DLQr5r-TYG-4bLhEsJESDywBLcTBr3Rja5aD9yDB9LdGC60_tNdy394Tv8B0Rt9aXpLh4azfa-Thdk_16IoyDcPjCVNqbkFdJN02HU9_ZXd/s400/IMG_2722.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327638309284415298" border="0" /></a>Can you say straight?<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9Wjk0tWZZduCmkkudRjmM7yaENXhJcSHET_2PfXEvK6JJUCHjqpRgscPuPQi96PVOGFkqZ7MJ_GihbiTLq3RIa_sDvtVD_GGCQBxnwWtOGqTo0dMCrN5RgnhAj5h6LVDgc4LWR2WG-Y_/s1600-h/IMG_2745.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS9Wjk0tWZZduCmkkudRjmM7yaENXhJcSHET_2PfXEvK6JJUCHjqpRgscPuPQi96PVOGFkqZ7MJ_GihbiTLq3RIa_sDvtVD_GGCQBxnwWtOGqTo0dMCrN5RgnhAj5h6LVDgc4LWR2WG-Y_/s400/IMG_2745.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327638303667562130" border="0" /></a><br />The loneliest stoplight. Several times in the middle of nowhere we stopped for imaginary traffic in one-lane-only construction zones.<br /></div>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-36996838249274645952009-04-22T22:37:00.007+02:002009-04-22T23:51:08.218+02:00Electrical Plants in Bloemfontein to Beaches in Port Elizabeth<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfwCfet5QGFJoLwwfp4f3Rg5l8NJmQ3UE13aL1bICRV8JTz9yXKiBG4qv-3TXLt0yhhLZpgL5dmfVpChx46Yq_TM7VNf3zGF_Q0RjM7VH3QMtHZu7XiwVbrK3ehsG2c5nNJIAhvAYzHaj/s1600-h/HPIM1811.JPG"><br /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C4QuGTywygkia1q-WzDd43Vcb8AV93qEPRpXNIMfjYCSsXwRZ7dbDMS3YxWDv6uSpu-zq-xGbNn3cQvd7Gbi0vP4gBPOKE_1-NmANqHQEw3BNJ0bV_UToFvoz9-IV90xlZ22GMsdbp4W/s1600-h/IMG_2704.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0C4QuGTywygkia1q-WzDd43Vcb8AV93qEPRpXNIMfjYCSsXwRZ7dbDMS3YxWDv6uSpu-zq-xGbNn3cQvd7Gbi0vP4gBPOKE_1-NmANqHQEw3BNJ0bV_UToFvoz9-IV90xlZ22GMsdbp4W/s400/IMG_2704.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327629188026837346" border="0" /></a>Some great radiation stacks (terminology?) in Bloemfontein, our first stop. As it was mostly a place to sleep and the city was empty due to Good Friday, we didn't see much more than the city's skyline.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS682XphwqYASeXQ1umRMAQn8vNvrsY_sCh8ugI5uxf5ffc-xhXL6HDKRLlO5-F9qMzUE0q4316YjFKB7oeBEOYcqDTtDJkhrA1igOGE4m8j3Tqp0iwpsuArvGKo3tNROFHepWlXVHPhkH/s1600-h/HPIM1761.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS682XphwqYASeXQ1umRMAQn8vNvrsY_sCh8ugI5uxf5ffc-xhXL6HDKRLlO5-F9qMzUE0q4316YjFKB7oeBEOYcqDTtDJkhrA1igOGE4m8j3Tqp0iwpsuArvGKo3tNROFHepWlXVHPhkH/s400/HPIM1761.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327629183357875666" border="0" /></a>If I could offer the South African tourism office some advice, it would be to put up <span style="font-style: italic;">signs</span> for lookout points. We passed so many at 120 km/hr, that it was only after hours that we finally could stop at one instead of look at it in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">rearview</span>. NB That's our trusty <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">VW</span> Golf. We named her "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Lekgowa</span>", or "white person" in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Setswana</span>. Because we're white. And she's white. Witty, I know.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuutUNx0WyJBFHgmfh9Av6qK64LMmJTwpE0O59mvh_QBGCQjbwhLj02eA3U3oC2O4F5n5km2nuDz6a80_KypeNBeih2V9CvzypPPAB2OBV4f4FGIrnEuXT6G0IOosGcYQSfQQFAkWIyiRV/s1600-h/IMG_2781.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuutUNx0WyJBFHgmfh9Av6qK64LMmJTwpE0O59mvh_QBGCQjbwhLj02eA3U3oC2O4F5n5km2nuDz6a80_KypeNBeih2V9CvzypPPAB2OBV4f4FGIrnEuXT6G0IOosGcYQSfQQFAkWIyiRV/s400/IMG_2781.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327629175629104290" border="0" /></a>The small pool-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ette</span> (once again, terminology?) in the courtyard of our second hostel. 1 Cora Terrace in Port Elizabeth exceeded my expectations, with its charming host and architectural splendor.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgI_y5azW0tLIxrbghZmf45R_j62PX_qngMdA0kCoYgBoPK_TXKXQHnK5vEerd8PwIXIGYtKQFMQ2hL5G5XAa4PUjkJKGBVSo54eVxH3MlrEzFHdZu-z6NIfO5UjmLhQUcaoQt9YxUD4o/s1600-h/IMG_2772.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirgI_y5azW0tLIxrbghZmf45R_j62PX_qngMdA0kCoYgBoPK_TXKXQHnK5vEerd8PwIXIGYtKQFMQ2hL5G5XAa4PUjkJKGBVSo54eVxH3MlrEzFHdZu-z6NIfO5UjmLhQUcaoQt9YxUD4o/s400/IMG_2772.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327629162870507362" border="0" /></a>Our first drive around <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Algoa</span> Bay revealed that Port Elizabeth is not just English in name, but in its eerie, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Boggart</span>-inhabited coastline too.<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcOd7UmCRukv-Y0J8EVs0DYVcouqbSqI2i2VFNxes52sX9NHx5JB5uoDlzUJPi09ZbxdFerEGb-cF3Kn09CAstbQujP1qpSnhQByTfEVjBJPt3BXJfGs9kKK0GKlRpL4Xh8zJYgwm05bk6/s1600-h/IMG_2809.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 347px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcOd7UmCRukv-Y0J8EVs0DYVcouqbSqI2i2VFNxes52sX9NHx5JB5uoDlzUJPi09ZbxdFerEGb-cF3Kn09CAstbQujP1qpSnhQByTfEVjBJPt3BXJfGs9kKK0GKlRpL4Xh8zJYgwm05bk6/s400/IMG_2809.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327632906791588498" border="0" /></a>Who doesn't enjoy a smiley, old African? "<span class="body">If there are dreams about a beautiful South Africa, there are also roads that lead to their goal. Two of these roads could be named Goodness and Forgiveness" - Nelson Mandela<br /></span></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfwCfet5QGFJoLwwfp4f3Rg5l8NJmQ3UE13aL1bICRV8JTz9yXKiBG4qv-3TXLt0yhhLZpgL5dmfVpChx46Yq_TM7VNf3zGF_Q0RjM7VH3QMtHZu7XiwVbrK3ehsG2c5nNJIAhvAYzHaj/s1600-h/HPIM1811.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigfwCfet5QGFJoLwwfp4f3Rg5l8NJmQ3UE13aL1bICRV8JTz9yXKiBG4qv-3TXLt0yhhLZpgL5dmfVpChx46Yq_TM7VNf3zGF_Q0RjM7VH3QMtHZu7XiwVbrK3ehsG2c5nNJIAhvAYzHaj/s400/HPIM1811.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327632896868912658" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8mXzDR-aOxCg9fDozmU3mV3NZRhHAn0_3glSH55pbeM_3mEO0hHgYJC4mP5xM9mkdDBYqjO4YVXshCDc6WoQRtxJ8WUvuxaAdrtQObL3X6J3U_5tfBPGGGdcRGCXQ73yAkxvAAmNGvCq/s1600-h/HPIM1809.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl8mXzDR-aOxCg9fDozmU3mV3NZRhHAn0_3glSH55pbeM_3mEO0hHgYJC4mP5xM9mkdDBYqjO4YVXshCDc6WoQRtxJ8WUvuxaAdrtQObL3X6J3U_5tfBPGGGdcRGCXQ73yAkxvAAmNGvCq/s400/HPIM1809.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5327632899547092994" border="0" /></a>My first glimpses of the Indian Ocean in Port Elizabeth. What you cannot see in the pictures is the 30 km/hr wind blasting those poor souls with sand, as well as the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">line fish</span> which became my dinner that night. Needless to say, it was quite mind-boggling that the next stop from PE was Antarctica.<br /><br /></div>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-88643047100174397682009-04-20T19:51:00.006+02:002009-04-22T22:37:13.544+02:00An impossible taskThe nine full days I spent in South Africa were so intense that unpacking them into a series of blogs will prove daunting. My last blog detailed our itinerary, which went off without a hitch. Our <a href="http://www.hostelworld.com/">hostel reservations</a> were correct, our route was almost unaltered (we switched our last night to the diamond mining capital of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kimberley,_South_Africa">Kimberley</a>). Therefore, not too much time will be spent on the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">nitty</span>-gritty of the hours-long drives through South Africa countryside, although not at the expense of beautiful landscape photography coming shortly.<br /><br />I think the best way of going about sharing my experience is to offer an analogy, which while rough and sometimes inconsistent will perhaps familiarize my (American) readers with South Africa. The analogy is this: South Africa is like the African America, not to be confused with "the African-American". By this I mean that it was colonized by white Europeans who, in the words of my wise professor <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">RKK</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Molefi</span>, "came preaching the Bible and when the Africans closed their eyes to pray, the Europeans took the best land." The native peoples and the European newcomers lived in precarious peace, interspersed by civil conflicts and British-Dutch military spats (not unlike the French and British on the other side of the Atlantic).<br /><br />Those who couldn't handle the British coastal culture (read: New England), headed eastward (read: westward) and founded farms and ranches (read: Midwest and Wild West). They became people of the cattle, the African cowboys if you will. Whites thought themselves much superior than the natives and in a unique combination of America's policies toward Native Americans <span style="font-style: italic;">and</span> blacks, simultaneously relocated them and made second-class citizens of them.<br /><br />These policies of relocation and racism resulted in major protests in the townships (mostly urban, in the African context) and in 1994, political fissures in the apartheid government gave way to Nelson Mandela and his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ANC</span> party. Today marked<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/23/world/africa/23safrica.html"> the fourth election</a> since the fall of apartheid and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ANC</span> is likely to stay in power, mostly due to its large investment in improving the situation of the nation's blacks. Like African-Americans in the US, South Africa's blacks were consigned to designated township areas, usually the worst pieces of land in the country. Note: while this separation resulted from social pressures and practices like red-lining in America, they were official government policies in South Africa.<br /><br />The dire situation of many blacks in SA (South Africa) can be traced back to the physical separation. What shocked me most was not the tales of the black and colored (official racial designation of mixed race individuals under apartheid) townships in Cape Town. Similar settlements are to be expected in any major city in the developing world, in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_of_God_%28film%29">Rio <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">de</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Janeiro</span> for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">exampl</span></a>e. It was the presence of townships in the middle of the interior, South Africa's "Wild West". Driving through towns like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Craddock</span> in the desert terrain between Bloemfontein and Port Elizabeth, we saw not only the heights of mountains and depths of arid valleys, but the high class of quaint European main streets and the dismally constructed, corrugated iron shacks in the surrounding shantytowns. It was like moving <a href="http://weblogs.baltimoresun.com/news/crime/blog/">West Baltimore</a> next to Ely, Nevada.<br /><br />Our gas station attendant in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Vryburg</span> (in the north) told us he lived in the township there, but contrary to our perception, there was not much crime at all. It was merely that they were poor. Crime-filled or not, the shantytowns would make any <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Motswana</span> cringe with good reason. The villages of Botswana may not have much materially compared to America, but are practically oases in the Kalahari next to what we drove past.<br /><br />The combination of geography and economics is very evident in South Africa and cannot be overlooked, that is why I went on at length here about it. The next couple posts will offer my light-hearted and fun experiences of mine, including the life-changing ride on a bucking ostrich. Stay tuned for more about SA and lots of pictures!Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-71585930386147876652009-04-09T09:54:00.012+02:002009-04-09T11:03:07.404+02:00The Ocean<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdXPu7g22AZaLFaG2qm-_iKgTu1IY2Wi4Wh3bZBCFYuQ3XZzpZRb8vAtCvqOzRLBP1F2_KG3ImBMrM1ZzXpJu9o2cTElyK0JIXTRSzlfqNHu4v2uQs68d5Zsu7pU8hFaUIi7h8WuT-jhyphenhyphen/s1600-h/HPIM1194.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 352px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdXPu7g22AZaLFaG2qm-_iKgTu1IY2Wi4Wh3bZBCFYuQ3XZzpZRb8vAtCvqOzRLBP1F2_KG3ImBMrM1ZzXpJu9o2cTElyK0JIXTRSzlfqNHu4v2uQs68d5Zsu7pU8hFaUIi7h8WuT-jhyphenhyphen/s400/HPIM1194.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322613899841326578" border="0" /></a>I grew up in the middle of a huge continent. My idea of a large body of water was <a href="http://www.co.carver.mn.us/departments/PW/parks/lake_waconia.asp">Lake <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Waconia</span></a>, and then once I sailed around the <a href="http://www.nps.gov/apis/">Apostle Islands</a> off of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Bayfield</span>, Wisconsin, I thought I could die peacefully having seen Lake Superior. What is an octogenarian in Duluth's Canal Park other than Hemingway's "Old Man and the Sea"?<br /><br />Until my trip to Europe in the summer of 2007, I can only remember seeing the ocean once: the Gulf of Mexico at Galveston Island. I was maybe 10, possibly younger. Because of dead jellyfish strewn across the beaches, however, I didn't even get to taste the saltiness of the ocean. While in St. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Brieuc</span>, France, I spent nearly eight days on the beach, splashing in the Bay of Brittany. My next encounter with the Atlantic was last October (2008) when I drove to <a href="http://www.townofbethanybeach.com/">Bethany Beach, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Delawar</span></a><a href="http://www.townofbethanybeach.com/">e</a> with my friend Ryan.<br /><br />And now, in the course of nine days, I will be swimming in <span style="font-style: italic;">two</span> oceans and escaping the dry, inland country of Botswana. My roommate Alex and I are renting a car from Budget this evening, and leaving early tomorrow morning for the border. Since South Africa is such a large country and <a style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);" href="http://oregonstate.edu/">Alex</a> will be the only driver (automatics are a luxury here and I can't drive stick), we won't be making our days too long. That means the first night we will simply taking a break, in the provincial capital of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloemfontein">Bloemfontein</a>. Here's a map of our whole route so you can get acquainted:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJ6lxkk52x1cGoXVrBxeG8xT4R_15vy7andTtsn0KW2OlQmfHJzl8gt8hW3KbF3_-QeIcjAhpaZzeUlu68BZKEgrxxOQWyPyNGmO6_9zMkuNbQD1eiE1-qAVNHaG2Mzk1RLvymdIakaio/s1600-h/South+Africa+Map.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 360px; height: 305px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJ6lxkk52x1cGoXVrBxeG8xT4R_15vy7andTtsn0KW2OlQmfHJzl8gt8hW3KbF3_-QeIcjAhpaZzeUlu68BZKEgrxxOQWyPyNGmO6_9zMkuNbQD1eiE1-qAVNHaG2Mzk1RLvymdIakaio/s400/South+Africa+Map.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322602516928728786" border="0" /></a>Then on Saturday, we reach our first major destination: Port Elizabeth, or simply, PE. A local friend of mine told me PE has some of the most beautiful beaches in Africa. Moreover, the buzzing seaside city has the largest selection of second-hand books on the continent, with vast collections of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Africana</span> literature. Could you imagine a more <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">perfe</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbLx0i3pbvGpDoW9nl0pATRfwjwzLbyb8dM4UuASOZebpMdIRMYOFS-wwSTzLJ3puUvqZwf7b8snLor8ARoajJx8o8_GSYhbFeAG85DtC2DT1uN1alyZ6Ng66JEuKrAvuN9OYWbHKkKxx/s1600-h/garden_route_beach-600x320jpg.png"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 227px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwbLx0i3pbvGpDoW9nl0pATRfwjwzLbyb8dM4UuASOZebpMdIRMYOFS-wwSTzLJ3puUvqZwf7b8snLor8ARoajJx8o8_GSYhbFeAG85DtC2DT1uN1alyZ6Ng66JEuKrAvuN9OYWbHKkKxx/s320/garden_route_beach-600x320jpg.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322608899362637170" border="0" /></a>ct place for me?<br /><br />After two days in PE, we're <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">moseying</span> along the famous Garden Route, a verdant stretch along the coast between PE and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Mossel</span> Bay. Beaches, tropical vistas, and mountains: a drastic and welcoming change from the flat expanses of the Kalahari. While we won't be stopping much along the route, we are looking forward to spending a couple days along Route 62, traveling through the Little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Karoo</span> and its wine country.<br /><br />Our base city <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">alon</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW1jzAL8-F2V0gjAU9k9LbSi3OYORgvXn7hs-hwwQpRWTplTt3NZJxynpZp471WFd8xywIGybVl6Xmb4jDuWDjZgX18memEtDXCE81dzjejtZxhZvazWwCiripiY8cQprGXeb2jNdKlag/s1600-h/southafrica_littlekaroo_mainim.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 159px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCW1jzAL8-F2V0gjAU9k9LbSi3OYORgvXn7hs-hwwQpRWTplTt3NZJxynpZp471WFd8xywIGybVl6Xmb4jDuWDjZgX18memEtDXCE81dzjejtZxhZvazWwCiripiY8cQprGXeb2jNdKlag/s320/southafrica_littlekaroo_mainim.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322609355648743538" border="0" /></a>g Route 62 will be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Oudtshoorn</span>, the ostrich capital of the world. If the PETA part of my soul doesn't object too much, I may even ride an ostrich at one of the farms. Between <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Oudtshoorn</span> and Cape Town, we will be brushing up on our <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Viticulture">viticulture</a>. There is no way I could pass up the opportunity of legally enjoying a day sampling some <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Cabernet</span> amidst some incredible, South African scenery.<br /><br />Then, our last stop is a three-day stay in Cape Town, or CT. Beside the major tourist attractions, including Long Street (where our hostel, Cat and Moose Backpackers Lodge, is conveniently located), <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Robben's</span> Island and Table Mountain, we will be visiting my friend Mary, who is studying at the University of Cape Town this semester through <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">CIEE</span>. Back at Hopkins we always joked about being on the same continent and how we should meet up, but it is about to become a reality. A James <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Bond-ian</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">rendez</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">vous</span> in a foreign port, how classy!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCYwFbAkcdAVvfBVoGPJOvGbEGyncllQySdb-uzak9R5BYGMt4b8amq2x0QUQPOEZnvmxTIeP7zVCcjlsCERpWjtmIMxfhUkEyB-SHSdfMWqYOFaoFOYYLu5Zt_mXRUcTrGEeIltLl4OB/s1600-h/GP_stad_07.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 347px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOCYwFbAkcdAVvfBVoGPJOvGbEGyncllQySdb-uzak9R5BYGMt4b8amq2x0QUQPOEZnvmxTIeP7zVCcjlsCERpWjtmIMxfhUkEyB-SHSdfMWqYOFaoFOYYLu5Zt_mXRUcTrGEeIltLl4OB/s400/GP_stad_07.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5322612438779256338" border="0" /></a>Our trip home will mostly just be driving for two solid days, although my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Setswana</span> instructor tells me that N1, the major highway, is also one of awe-inspiring views, especially near the Hex River area. It will be a while before I can adequately update this blog with pictures, etc. but I hope to at least let you know I'm alive and well along the way. Just a recap: renting a car from today until Saturday, April 18<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">th</span>. Visiting Bloemfontein, PE, Garden Route, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Oudtshoorn</span>, Route 62, and Cape Town.<br /><br />They tell us it is impossible, but we talked to a couple Americans here at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">UB</span> who pretty much did the same thing. You give an American a car and the open road, and amazing, unbelievable things can happen. Even the pessimists amongst us, like <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Chaska</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">substitute</span> teacher Mr. Nelson, can only muster, "Nothing is impossible, only highly improbable." Here's to high improbability and the slightly better chance that I am about to do the unforgettable!Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-86788501533338179572009-04-07T12:42:00.003+02:002009-04-07T12:53:30.376+02:00A Baldwinian InsightOne of my favorite authors, <a href="http://www.randomhouse.com/features/baldwin/">James Baldwin</a>, once wrote:<br /><br /><span class="body">"Voyagers discover that the world can never be larger than the person that is in the world; but it is impossible to foresee this, it is impossible to be warned."</span><br /><br />What truth.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-77349687675820225372009-04-06T21:34:00.004+02:002009-04-06T23:03:39.760+02:00The Daily RoundsBelieve it or not, but it is already registration time for the fall semester at <a href="http://krieger.jhu.edu/">Hopkins</a>. Amidst the electronic page flipping, deciding whether to take a political economy course in the economics department (with a professor whose class I dropped like a hot <a href="http://www.lefsetime.com/all_about_lefse/lefse_recipes.php">lefse</a>) or in the political science department (with the craziest Scottish man since William Wallace), I realized that I haven't even written about my courses here in Botswana. So I shall now rectify that grave injustice.<br /><br />CIEE requires we take 16 credits, four of which are Setswana courses offered by UB and CIEE, and twelve from the regular university course schedule. This translates, in my case, into four 3-credit courses: two histories, a political science course and an economics course. For the first time in my college career, I have the same professor for two courses: one R.K.K. Molefi for both HIS342 and HIS446. The names of these courses are so ridiculously long, that it might just be easier calling them <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4b-Z0SSyUcw">"</a><span style="font-size:100%;"><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4b-Z0SSyUcw">Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious I and II"</a>. In short, one should be on modern West Africa history, the other on economic growth, policy and development in the developing world. Yet, both have somehow become about Botswana: past, present and future.<br /><br />HIS 342 has consisted of group presentations for the last month and a half, and has about forty students in it who surprisingly all come to class despite the mindnumbing monotony. It's another story in my intimate, 8 am HIS446. Only eight or so of us are registered and some are in absentia for weeks at a time.<br /><br />My economics course, billed as Development Policy and Problems, is quite straightforward and standard American university fare. Once again, though, the focus is Botswana. The last course is one of which I'd rather not speak. The first professor, who taught most of the semester thus far, was possibly the worst lecturer I have yet encountered. I think Botswana snails were outpacing his lecture notes and we were no closer to discovering "Politics and Poverty in Southern Africa" two weeks ago than when I got on the airplane in Minneapolis. In fact, we haven't touched on politics <span style="font-style: italic;">or</span> Southern Africa, really.<br /><br />BUT, have I had an education on Botswana. Even if we have been off topic in all of my classes (although, econ less so), we have been have frank and open conversations about everything Botswana: politics, HIV/AIDS, youth culture, alcohol, education, you name it. And this all something not found in the books listed under "Recommended Reading".<br /><br />It has been a large adjustment for the group, myself included, to move at a slow pace in all of our endeavors, especially the academic ones. We are now feeling the pressure, however, as we close in on final exams. Professors are cramming in their mid-term assignments (continuing assessments, as they say) just a couple weeks before finals, end-loading their courses greatly in terms of work. This week alone, I am turning in two papers, a project, and presenting on <a href="http://www.sahistory.org.za/pages/people/bios/kruger-p.htm">Paul Kruger</a>. This is in part due to my absence from campus next week. Because of a road trip.<br /><br />Through South Africa.<br /><br />For nine days.<br /><br />Exciting!<br /><br />Find out more in my next post, coming in the next couple of days. And I will try to work some multimedia of some sort in, since this post is visually underwhelming. Apologies.<br /></span>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-43582571994296120962009-04-02T21:49:00.011+02:002009-04-04T21:16:48.913+02:00Inside the Botswana BeltwayLife has been pretty ho-hum on campus the past couple of weeks. Not much to report. Before I get to the meat of this post (I apologize for this pun in advance), there is a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/04/01/dining/01goat.html?em=&pagewanted=all">great piece in the New York Times about how one can acquire a taste for goat</a>. As much as I've come to enjoy seeing herds of <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">dipodi</span></span>, or goats, crossing highways more intelligently than most pedestrians in American suburbs, I'm not quite sure I will stomach a <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg00IfFPI6Zj34ajv_9GDNKyZ172FfFeGbP1fG1mvPQReaeOq5rGWEZj9NdgoK6ejshdV4pT9UPWZgi3n6EgJ6ASArCz0Wq1RrM96BSMXYeYbN0vqlcfomqOmnGqToUKp_x1gtR-Hem2i8/s400/DSC_8058+0711.jpg">nice, juicy goat steak</a> on my Ruby Tuesday's menu.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirHJcS6OpVjVpS4ZUPCxkgV5rzryF7N1A1aOBnn-ZO3NxQOQd9Q5zWL-RRqLZU59-s14Z_a0-AHp4qf7b2nJVvCjuTp-Vv_7WEpJexBySzzrs6oqUMGxQuMSCQX6edhrvo_QGUl2r_83Jp/s1600-h/506956546_614156ccb5_o.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirHJcS6OpVjVpS4ZUPCxkgV5rzryF7N1A1aOBnn-ZO3NxQOQd9Q5zWL-RRqLZU59-s14Z_a0-AHp4qf7b2nJVvCjuTp-Vv_7WEpJexBySzzrs6oqUMGxQuMSCQX6edhrvo_QGUl2r_83Jp/s320/506956546_614156ccb5_o.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320192008187617698" border="0" /></a><br /><br />We should be, as my economics professor Dr. Laurence Ball would say, "steaming ahead". This post will try to be as neutral as possible and a disclaimer to all <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Batswana</span> reading this article: I know that I have only been here a few months and these observations are based upon my own interactions with other <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Batswana</span>. They may not be representative of every <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Motswana</span>, but bear with me.<br /><br />Botswana's claim to fame in Africa is its serenity, thus the lack of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pan-African_colours"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">traditional</span> <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 153, 0);">Pan-African</span></span></span> <span style="color: rgb(255, 204, 51);">colors</span></a> on its flag (photo courtesy of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">FutureAtlas</span>.com). Instead, the light blue reflects the peace this country has enjoyed in its <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">forty</span>-four years of independence. Unlike most other countries in Africa, Botswana was never colonized in the formal sense and was only taken on as a British <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Protectorate">protectorate</a> when Botswana's chiefs felt a physical threat from South Africa. Then in 1964, Botswana leaders put forth proposals for independence which were granted and in 1966, Botswana's first general elections were held with the winner <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XLY1aDmcK3D9Pj_PZ0mcMcrj91nckpEIjvMoB7KpY72oKQ4pJpfg8R2dFNYPDRmxIaHd7Uq5IAz4wUjGtZEF7VG93SOvzRFA5qYXCaKsV5wmR6tCKb0BDcSygj8WbBA0_FriGz0pvBpS/s1600-h/Wright03.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 314px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4XLY1aDmcK3D9Pj_PZ0mcMcrj91nckpEIjvMoB7KpY72oKQ4pJpfg8R2dFNYPDRmxIaHd7Uq5IAz4wUjGtZEF7VG93SOvzRFA5qYXCaKsV5wmR6tCKb0BDcSygj8WbBA0_FriGz0pvBpS/s320/Wright03.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320199832349504914" border="0" /></a>being <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seretse_Khama"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Seretse</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Khama</span></a> (left).<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Khama</span> is a looming figure in Botswana, not only noted for his central role in creating the modern nation of Botswana, but now his son, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ian_Khama">Lt. General <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Seretse</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Khama</span> Ian <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Khama</span></a> is the fourth president. When President <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Festus</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Mogae</span> resigned in April 2008, Ian <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Khama</span> became Botswana's fourth head of state, a number which is not lost on those critical of Botswana's democratic regime.<br /><br />More than once here, someone has asked me how many presidents America has had. "With Obama, that's 44," I tell them. "See we are forty presidents behind you!" they respond, as if the strength of a democracy is the number of leaders. A quick counter-example in Mexico sticks out, as its one party regime produced a new president every four years for nearly eighty years. The <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">PRI</span> is hardly the democracy I believe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Batswana</span> or Americans envy. A more accurate assessment of the situation shows that the US has had nine presidents (including Obama) to Botswana's four since Botswana's independence.<br /><br />This is still a marked difference, just as the political monopoly held by the <a href="http://www.blogger.com/www.bdp.org.bw">Botswana Democratic Party</a> is. Founded by big <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Khama</span> and now led by little <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Khama</span>, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">BDP</span> has held the majority throughout the nation's history, leading many in the opposition to question the democratic character of Botswana. The main opposition party, the <a href="http://www.bnf.org.bw/">Botswana National Front</a>, currently holds 12 of the 57 seats in the national assembly. My (in geographic terms) representative is one <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Dumelang</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Saleshando</span>, the only seated member from the <a href="http://www.bcp.org.bw/">Botswana Congress Party</a>, commonly known as the "most outspoken" MP. Per usual, the opposition parties have their base in the urban areas, and the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">BDP</span> has very strong appeal<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaI79vv__dAeXwxddyXKIOfNbRE37wlhXhyphenhyphenBrjDcskuG1-HtaBs5ZZfQs-D0-S9E-SeflbWJ9GPtuj2N1Ir4d16r6T6zrmsGqYZZsb4-KTuSVFe7YuhiUvQnmpfWHbAY2S4cLtMiLnNsS/s1600-h/910966413_BOTSWANAx.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 280px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOaI79vv__dAeXwxddyXKIOfNbRE37wlhXhyphenhyphenBrjDcskuG1-HtaBs5ZZfQs-D0-S9E-SeflbWJ9GPtuj2N1Ir4d16r6T6zrmsGqYZZsb4-KTuSVFe7YuhiUvQnmpfWHbAY2S4cLtMiLnNsS/s320/910966413_BOTSWANAx.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320207365414161666" border="0" /></a> in the rural areas.<br /><br />The current president, however, has shaken the nation in several profound ways. First off, Ian, as we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">CIEE</span> students affectionately call our new leader, is not seen as truly of Botswana. Raised abroad, his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">Setswana</span> has not quite attained native fluency. Hard to hold that against him, considering America's own era of presidential grammatical incorrectness. Yet, even more pressing to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">Batswana</span> is his failure to find a wife and start a family.<br /><br />It is truly a sad state of affairs to be alone in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Setswana</span> culture. Many have pity on my status as an only child, thinking I have no friends or playmates and must therefore be depressed. Families are the ultimate goal of many African traditions, and in the traditional ways, the larger the family, the more powerful the father. My roommate Josh, from Malawi, recounted to me once an argument with an elder of his. "He told me to sit down and said until I had three wives and fourteen children, my opinion didn't matter." It is easy to see then, once again pardon the pun, why some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">Batswana</span> see the new president impotent in a certain traditional sense.<br /><br />In the world of policy, the true nuts and bolts of government, the new president has left much to be desired by the nation's progressives. Seeing moral decline as the largest threat facing Botswana, especially reckless driving and alcohol abuse, Ian <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">Khama</span> took his first few political steps in the area of social policy. More specifically, he raised the taxes on alcoholic beverages by 70%, much to the ire of university students and youth in general. More recently, he elevated the fines on traffic violations.<br /><br />Personally, I can see the rationale. Traffic deaths are the leading cause of death in Botswana, and are at the highest levels in all of southern Africa. Alcohol abuse, which not only increases the amount of traffic accidents, is proliferate in a country with almost 20% unemployment. Many jokes are made about the <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_29">chibuku</span></span> (traditional beer) drinkers in Botswana. Ian's newest controversy is the civil dress code, which aims to return a paternal sense of "decency" to the government's female staff. Even the <a href="http://http//news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7977859.stm">BBC picked up this story</a>.<br /><br />More worrisome to outside observers is Ian <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_30">Khama's</span> seeming disinterest in the economic crisis engulfing his country. <a href="http://www.debswana.com/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_31">Debswana</span>,</a> the joint venture between <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_32">DeBeers</span> diamond company and the government of Botswana, suspended operations in its largest mines. Not only is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_33">Debswana</span> the largest diamond mining group in monetary value, it is only responsible for almost half of Botswana's annual revenue. Drastic cuts are being made, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_34">Khama's</span> opponents feel that he has done little to mitigate the damages.<br /><br />General elections are scheduled for this fall, and the newspapers are littered with political scandal in all parties, but especially within the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_35">BDP</span>. Opposition supporters are hoping to steal a majority in the Assembly. The level of political criticism in this country is a testament, despite the somewhat undemocratic nature of the ruling party, to the peaceful and tolerant nature of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_36">Batswana</span>. The ability to speak one's opinion without fear of retribution is something many Americans hold most dear, and it is reassuring to find it so close to the hostile politics of Zimbabwe and South Africa.<br /><br />I hope you are happy, Miriam. This post sapped the energy out of me on this Thursday night, but I really needed to blog for you all. My next blog will talk about my upcoming road trip through South Africa. Until then, <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_37">boroko</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_38">boRra</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_39">le</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_40">boMma</span>!</span> (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_41">Setswana</span>: Good night, ladies and gentleman!)<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Q09xUav4ScyHEvYy-QrjPuV2X7amPo2h9ujZOYybBoxNrXeJCVOu1TDXBRycDfMq87gDQUnueBEqvBaDdC8eCHZq1gIfVZsVQF_tb75WmfqIt2iyGWByOF3Sbp5Zy7J6mAIbJKfswSO0/s1600-h/HPIM1546.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 238px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9Q09xUav4ScyHEvYy-QrjPuV2X7amPo2h9ujZOYybBoxNrXeJCVOu1TDXBRycDfMq87gDQUnueBEqvBaDdC8eCHZq1gIfVZsVQF_tb75WmfqIt2iyGWByOF3Sbp5Zy7J6mAIbJKfswSO0/s320/HPIM1546.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5320212595635640994" border="0" /></a>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-61102207215567558982009-03-23T17:08:00.011+02:002009-03-28T14:11:56.147+02:00If there's no running water, then you don't have to catch itIt has been an unbelievably fast week, especially by Botswana standards. It was not so much that I accomplished that much, rather that I was constantly on the move. As you may know from the previous post, I spent the last nine days in a village, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mochudi">Mochudi</a>, about forty miles northeast from Gaborone. The caveat was that we weren't staying in Mochudi but commuting every day to class. As most of us had class at 8 am, that meant waking up at quarter to/of five (in numerals, 4:45 am) to make the 5:30 or 6:00 bus. Then we had to leave after our three o'clock afternoon classes to make the 4:30 or 5:00 bus back. Altogether I spent at least four hours a day commuting, ugh.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VxlvB1j3zCyC0b581sWazdRBhmAHN4uVBNK9qUarPtce18MooRS1aoA5oBFIVFUfPI0mI6ihh-wOTAqmyxiofwsRpTC-cbSedsJBLJSy6vOulyZ0UyKI5NmV5708Dnvdgyp7kH-OoIlA/s1600-h/HPIM1660.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3VxlvB1j3zCyC0b581sWazdRBhmAHN4uVBNK9qUarPtce18MooRS1aoA5oBFIVFUfPI0mI6ihh-wOTAqmyxiofwsRpTC-cbSedsJBLJSy6vOulyZ0UyKI5NmV5708Dnvdgyp7kH-OoIlA/s320/HPIM1660.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316403314802190834" border="0" /></a>BUT . . . my family made up for whatever exhaustion and grumpiness the commuting aroused in me. My mother (to the left), Lebogang, is worthy of her name since it is derived from the Setswana <span style="font-style: italic;">leboga </span>"to thank", something which I cannot do enough of for her. T<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGEv1G3Ic91KIvpIk4BOIzYzuNTSR8ZcM9u9Ygb_2sS0_wEuQZ6SCAK2LPiz63UJ6jzVaiH84zDo9EDNsQeP34xDcD1RP3UTlRVzQu5xK_lrtPqaLq4Kn_EkZkxmsZMUzMoVGKqTsSKHR/s1600-h/HPIM1605.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKGEv1G3Ic91KIvpIk4BOIzYzuNTSR8ZcM9u9Ygb_2sS0_wEuQZ6SCAK2LPiz63UJ6jzVaiH84zDo9EDNsQeP34xDcD1RP3UTlRVzQu5xK_lrtPqaLq4Kn_EkZkxmsZMUzMoVGKqTsSKHR/s320/HPIM1605.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316407601574403234" border="0" /></a>umi, my 12-year old younger brother, attached himself to me as tight as a Kalahari barnacle but as an only child, I understood his want for companionship perfectly.<br /><br />While Tumi's love for <a href="http://www.wwe.com/">WWE championship wre</a><a href="http://www.wwe.com/">stling</a> didn't quite mesh with my interest in <a href="http://http//www.uncp.edu/home/rwb/paris_camille_pissarro.jpg">French expressionism</a>, my astonishing ability to give him piggy-backs and watch Jean Claude van Damme movies without falling asleep ensured instant success with the kid. Throughout the week, we spent a lot of time meeting all of the relatives. My mom has one brother and is herself one of five girls. Adding a certain historicity t<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNg1WtcCLghBhZ2dTlDugYQVcJtJHLJfWVyLeo-GifkB-NnVuYUrf1WRRbGjHDGHvkVfqW-XgB1gFRwKr2NWgicoskxR38fYDuOEUglSDH6C9y4tKdosKJNd1A2nV0lqpme505-FNfoFJg/s1600-h/HPIM1608.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNg1WtcCLghBhZ2dTlDugYQVcJtJHLJfWVyLeo-GifkB-NnVuYUrf1WRRbGjHDGHvkVfqW-XgB1gFRwKr2NWgicoskxR38fYDuOEUglSDH6C9y4tKdosKJNd1A2nV0lqpme505-FNfoFJg/s320/HPIM1608.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316447494623148802" border="0" /></a>o her house, my mom hung up decades-old pictures of her family.<br /><br />My new home for the week was a simple concrete home with a porch, a large living room fully furnished with satellite TV, a kitchen (without a sink), and four bedrooms. The bathroom you ask? Why, the pit latrines outside. The running water? Why, the spigot out back. Hot water? That's what happens after you boil the water from the spigot out <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZUM0FgQUAtILmMRfo957GhjOnis0gOzQoRrDK3IpVU4V0ttFpY-4Y49jJ8RKvX3iQzsYASpdZcK2o1zcxz_4obkUchS4PdSoojFFic0P79I5DHUGaJCGagY-jpOdQ8PBKa_fWYDajX95/s1600-h/HPIM1697.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 173px; height: 228px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4ZUM0FgQUAtILmMRfo957GhjOnis0gOzQoRrDK3IpVU4V0ttFpY-4Y49jJ8RKvX3iQzsYASpdZcK2o1zcxz_4obkUchS4PdSoojFFic0P79I5DHUGaJCGagY-jpOdQ8PBKa_fWYDajX95/s320/HPIM1697.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316449493201794194" border="0" /></a>back. Bathing in the morning was more or less me sitting in a plastic tub (sorry for the PG-13 image that conjures) splashing water over myself and the floor.<br /><br />I only make a point of the water situation because there I was the son of a plumber in the least plumbed of houses. Not to mention garbage disposal consisted of throwing the garbage on a pile in the back yard hidden by trees. (The grandson and nephew of garbage men that I am, How did I find this house?) I jokingly told my mom that my whole family would be better off in Minnesota since they'd be unemployed here.<br /><br />Despite the village's modest size (around 40,000 Mochudi-ans), it felt quite small and the pace of life made Gaborone feel like a bee hive of activity in comparison. My home sat along a great expanse of floodplain, making the views and walk to the bus stop extremely verdant and truly breathtaking. While everyone I met, and those with whom I only had passing conversation using my <a href="http://www.day12.com/phrasebook_setswana.htm">ice-breaking Setswana phrases</a>, was very welcoming, I was still met with the most penetrating stares since my arrival at UB. Not too many Americans, i.e. whites, pass through town and very rarely do you see them walking alone and taking local transport or back-alley paths. And we were often alone since every CIEE student lived in different households throughout the village, so there was no accidental run-ins between us. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVjltR46fRE7pHGMCoYz_wOIa8nlMRIMRJ9o8iwbcahNG-uHKFLCUfAqmOEqjkbKVltnZGiuFRP9ae3IBiK5Vc6mRbRR7mRANJ5d-hyCEkXi1V-hI8dOI308HP6ByYp71AfCXIZMmF-Ay/s1600-h/HPIM1638.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 381px; height: 289px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLVjltR46fRE7pHGMCoYz_wOIa8nlMRIMRJ9o8iwbcahNG-uHKFLCUfAqmOEqjkbKVltnZGiuFRP9ae3IBiK5Vc6mRbRR7mRANJ5d-hyCEkXi1V-hI8dOI308HP6ByYp71AfCXIZMmF-Ay/s320/HPIM1638.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316453522470516834" border="0" /></a>My time with my family was largely constrained during the week due to my traveling and classes at UB, but in the evenings, family life revolved around cooking, eating, washing and most importantly, South African soap operas. More specifically: <a href="http://generations.sabc1.co.za/">Generations</a>, <a href="http://www.etv.co.za/soapies/index/scandal_">Scandal</a>, and <a href="http://www.etv.co.za/soapies/index/rhythm_city">Rhythm City</a>. Strangely enough, living in the village afforded me my first opportunity to freely watch television. But make no mistake, lugging water around in five-gallon buckets all day made up for whatever relaxation I gained on the couch.<br /><br />Sunday is church day, and in fact, one of the Setswana words for Sunday is simply church, <span style="font-style: italic;">Tshipi</span>. Right on time for me here, we showed up about an hour late to church this past Sunday. This week was a local revival for several of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_Reformed_Church_in_South_Africa">Dutch Reform congregations in Mochudi</a>. Long story short, the Dutch settlers-cum-Boers brought with them their own brand of Protestantism into the northern part of South Africa, near the border with Botswana, where it crossed with the help of the migration of the local tribes. The revival was not quite the Bible Belt experience I had anticipated, but it was filled with spontaneous four-part harmonic singing. It was one of the most moving musical moments or <span style="font-style: italic;">moments musicaux</span> (excessive alliteration, completely unintended) of my life. Three non-stop hours of dancing, singing, clapping, and complete joy.<br /><br />Ernest Hemingway prefaced his accounts of life in 1920's Paris with the following: "For reasons sufficient to the writer, many places, people, observations and impressions have been left out of this book. Some were secrets and some were known by everyone . . ."<br /><br />There is no way to recount everything I've done in Mochudi, or in Botswana for that matter, in this blog. I hope, however, that it will provide material for many stories to come when I'm back stateside.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqrW077CblgDI7vFYN8yp_nJCdxpHoiwT_gDvYoeTJta6tRIdEGDdaKJee0049YwDXdEzbBi6cQiAJ24DncijrKgHdcLpU7xtdWTfv0ff-Coyvs5KcfnX7jEY4SsNHYWHmRNeFFjVEhmI/s1600-h/HPIM1633.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 338px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsqrW077CblgDI7vFYN8yp_nJCdxpHoiwT_gDvYoeTJta6tRIdEGDdaKJee0049YwDXdEzbBi6cQiAJ24DncijrKgHdcLpU7xtdWTfv0ff-Coyvs5KcfnX7jEY4SsNHYWHmRNeFFjVEhmI/s320/HPIM1633.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316479467663533122" border="0" /></a>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-36317217251587231562009-03-12T15:23:00.005+02:002009-03-12T18:44:21.205+02:00Heading to the VillageOne component of the <a href="http://www.ciee.org/study/botswana/"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">CIEE</span>-Botswana program</a> that aims to immerse us in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Setswana</span> culture and language is a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">home stay</span> in a nearby village of Gaborone. We learned a while ago that our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">home stay</span> would be in the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mochudi">village of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Mochudi</span></a>, which is approximately 35 kilometers north of Gaborone. Now while we have already been to Mo<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVUFjVDOB6dBlujinQaKeaQ4HAIgG2YSBRJQ2oR2sCjawFvRqrDwic7pb9Wmy7KdMP27hl8kpZlZcohVAfHSUEG_vqO9zaL72W_S00zfZ80ZQYpAxzXzsb34TJLu5t9TDfIADEQDRyGBiZ/s1600-h/HPIM1258.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 251px; height: 331px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVUFjVDOB6dBlujinQaKeaQ4HAIgG2YSBRJQ2oR2sCjawFvRqrDwic7pb9Wmy7KdMP27hl8kpZlZcohVAfHSUEG_vqO9zaL72W_S00zfZ80ZQYpAxzXzsb34TJLu5t9TDfIADEQDRyGBiZ/s320/HPIM1258.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312296479108651138" border="0" /></a><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">chudi</span>, our visit was limited to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Phuthadikobo</span> Museum, which has an extensive <a href="http://www.phuthadikobomuseum.com/">web site</a>. As I've noted in an earlier blog, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Mochudi</span> is well known for its strong ties to traditional ways, including a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">kgotla</span> (the village meeting place where communal decisions are made) and brightly painted houses.<br /><br />We leave this Saturday for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Mochudi</span> on an 8 am shuttle, and will remain there all of next week until the following Sunday. This translates numerically to the 14<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">th</span> until the 22<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">nd</span>. On the weekdays we will still have to come to classes at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">UB</span>, which should be very fun considering every day my classes start at 8 in the morning. Considering it's over an hour each way, I will be waking up with the sun and roosters to catch the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">combi</span> in to town.<br /><br />This small detail doesn't bother me all that much, as almost all the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">CIEE</span> students have class that early, so we can <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">commiserate</span> in our Politics and Poverty of Southern Africa class. Today, I found out who my host family is, and somehow in a country with a fertility rate hovering around three children per mother, I was placed with a mother and her 12-year old son. Do not take this the wrong way; I am ecstatic about the set up. As an only male child, I am sure that I will be able to get along with/understand my new host brother much better. Moreover, my host mom is a local teacher in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Mochudi</span>. I'm hoping her teaching skills extend to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Setswana</span> over family dinners; I am in sore need of practice!<br /><br />I think many of us are dealing with mixed expectations <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">vis</span>-à-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">vis</span> the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">homestay</span> but now with our family's demographics in hand I think we can now construct a realistic expectation of the week-long experience. Plus, didn't I mention the view from the hill is amazing?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTiwnRYsg0K8i5w9W9RlLWXHTyub1PAAWbDmq0Gp3bYaevF7UnfaTHu343hnaWw3XBI9nvICMOiVnrGEpzpS9QE5t8CZdIdMVBuZ4ci03hCi4XChY8t21ouIlKDjTFEKk4iPaxP2NueFf/s1600-h/HPIM1262.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 423px; height: 319px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoTiwnRYsg0K8i5w9W9RlLWXHTyub1PAAWbDmq0Gp3bYaevF7UnfaTHu343hnaWw3XBI9nvICMOiVnrGEpzpS9QE5t8CZdIdMVBuZ4ci03hCi4XChY8t21ouIlKDjTFEKk4iPaxP2NueFf/s400/HPIM1262.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312331367739297986" border="0" /></a>In other news, we had an unexpected and sad visit from Zimbabwean Prime Minister Morgan <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Tsvangirai</span> in Gaborone. <a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/africa/03/08/zimbabwe.tsvangirai.accident.return/">Here is a link to the tragic story </a>about <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Tsvangirai's</span> car accident which resulted in his hospitalization here in Botswana and his wife's death. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Batsi</span>, our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">CIEE</span> director and Zimbabwean, returned from a trip home with both news and a surprise. Of the incident, he said the national mood is one of mourning and this event may have advanced the cause of the new unity government in ways unforeseen just days earlier.<br /><br />The surprise was both welcome and, literally, completely worthless: a 50-billion Zimbabwe Dollar note for each of us. One could hardly buy a few text messages here with that.<br /><br />Borrowing from Garrison Keillor, whose impression of Lake Wobegon is not too dissimilar to mine of Botswana: And that's the news from Gaborone, "the little town that time forgot and the decades cannot improve . . . where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average."Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-19247198690471289042009-03-11T01:11:00.006+02:002009-03-11T01:49:35.264+02:00CampusI apologize for my dismal updating this past week. It should have been a great time to catch up on different aspects of life in Botswana, but I blame the heat for my laziness. That or I am picking up the African ability to spend hours doing nothing and enjoy it. While I have a couple more substantial blogs coming up answering your questions, I thought I would share a few pictures of campus and the surroundings for your enjoyment. You may be wondering where the students are. I took these pictures early in the morning and in the evening, when campus is literally empty. Someday I'll be touristy enough to pull out the camera during the day. No worries. Cheers!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDuhL5bQt_NsNyRVuMois4HBMT24o8mdxhaqbfnN8a-RBrGkapMHh5dH3xvV6yOdyabx5ZcMvBbSBIbEXpYwUcelQG2izZwN7B4shNCFTmNJeLVIeDLtiwEOVJS7jjK6lio1iHpfJmXqXz/s1600-h/HPIM1581.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDuhL5bQt_NsNyRVuMois4HBMT24o8mdxhaqbfnN8a-RBrGkapMHh5dH3xvV6yOdyabx5ZcMvBbSBIbEXpYwUcelQG2izZwN7B4shNCFTmNJeLVIeDLtiwEOVJS7jjK6lio1iHpfJmXqXz/s320/HPIM1581.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311701754335413682" border="0" /></a>A sunset over the sparse Gaborone skyline<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gDQiYhtoP0dA077liy3z3dhTPqOhBs9heWL5DuC30BxUfM1k46juzwYJCagBRQMf1FKtjgLBerHj8IpecsWk_l-LfiMH7X0x4fJj-7dBMuSjMi1aQYhsShmxyvDHdxavq31UhcoW9g_C/s1600-h/HPIM1582.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 345px; height: 259px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5gDQiYhtoP0dA077liy3z3dhTPqOhBs9heWL5DuC30BxUfM1k46juzwYJCagBRQMf1FKtjgLBerHj8IpecsWk_l-LfiMH7X0x4fJj-7dBMuSjMi1aQYhsShmxyvDHdxavq31UhcoW9g_C/s320/HPIM1582.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311705873246866610" border="0" /></a>A view of the student center, with our dorms right behind the clock tower.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-vc5qM47WoDP940jIG1m1LJg2xSIIXaR7xwd4TO5L7V2mBASvjH_5sj27TrE6cNO_DkfZx-SNZpo6quZJHLNHbjQNmMlMMPqG-L3Vu42wxGnn9DlVahUdBp5VZt6EdF-2N-vwVbQFHCh-/s1600-h/HPIM1574.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 316px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-vc5qM47WoDP940jIG1m1LJg2xSIIXaR7xwd4TO5L7V2mBASvjH_5sj27TrE6cNO_DkfZx-SNZpo6quZJHLNHbjQNmMlMMPqG-L3Vu42wxGnn9DlVahUdBp5VZt6EdF-2N-vwVbQFHCh-/s320/HPIM1574.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311705868934626594" border="0" /></a>The UB Library, one of the most complete in all of Africa. The small buildings in front are normal classroom buildings.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5RYT50gOS_y2j_54Uu8u28V6w5l1j_oTPkAv2du7Jf0NN7-9pBxWZ7p06W2DUZ4sB8YZXQ7SZXgRiyZ5JrtrA7FGSOqvmobz0Uj_XhTN_5JLmoTpjkFGc3S6D2UN3-S71pCIX5mUv98E/s1600-h/HPIM1531.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 335px; height: 253px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS5RYT50gOS_y2j_54Uu8u28V6w5l1j_oTPkAv2du7Jf0NN7-9pBxWZ7p06W2DUZ4sB8YZXQ7SZXgRiyZ5JrtrA7FGSOqvmobz0Uj_XhTN_5JLmoTpjkFGc3S6D2UN3-S71pCIX5mUv98E/s320/HPIM1531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311707607679519794" border="0" /></a>A typical undergraduate dorm, with the ubiquitous red and white color scheme<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLq5zJHFSJ1i0BKm2kXqbsCfO_QtKmvO7d6I0VXxl5W_aOGiS7Vb4Kk_4PPf4OlYXjyp_pHQjsnWw8ENMulbTLX2Bmshjl6uQqSZNNd58z1a3JtwJ4Mejee_nA9IYFgbRFG88hjfOZx7CF/s1600-h/HPIM1565.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLq5zJHFSJ1i0BKm2kXqbsCfO_QtKmvO7d6I0VXxl5W_aOGiS7Vb4Kk_4PPf4OlYXjyp_pHQjsnWw8ENMulbTLX2Bmshjl6uQqSZNNd58z1a3JtwJ4Mejee_nA9IYFgbRFG88hjfOZx7CF/s320/HPIM1565.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5311707603516004482" border="0" /></a>The "Graduate Village" as Block 417 is so affectionately known. This is what I call home here at UB. Each suite consists of six singles, a shower, a toilet, and a combined kitchen/common area. It's a better set-up than most of us have at our American universities, believe it or not.<br /><br />.<br /></div>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-62755017413920197952009-03-03T23:45:00.002+02:002009-03-03T23:50:51.285+02:00What's on your mind?While brushing my teeth, a time of much prodigious thought for me, it occurred to me that I should ask you what YOU want to know. From me, about Botswana, that is.<br /><br />It's all fair game.<br /><br />All you have to do is leave me a question in the comment space or in an email. I hope this experiment works and just to make sure it does, I will invoke the great Setswana call for luck, rain, money, etc:<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">PULA! PULA! PULA!</span>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-81942620135037992042009-03-03T20:21:00.000+02:002009-03-03T23:04:15.901+02:00Wait, there aren't Barnes & Nobles in Africa?Despite the lack of in-store Starbucks serving caramel <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">macchiatos</span>, the bookstores have some interesting selections: Criminal Law of Botswana, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Setswana</span>-English phrasebooks and the latest from Robert <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Ludlum</span> of "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Bourne</span> Identity" fame. While I have not been reading nearly as quickly as I'd like, (the heat sure takes a lot out of me during the day) I have made significant progress on a number of books. This blog will give my take, thus far, on a number of <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyeejR4suxvBIQioeRLRXpxk3FztahWWJOgWeGCbJzNHzPKdG7JwVRQNKH4yptuJkaCGGPeRbOOkkKOx8_XT24zbOAYdN8PFgpT894dCa92fVqgwclC6NeNzrNoHq7ETaxJ3xml4l58FY/s1600-h/mugabe3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 108px; height: 164px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNyeejR4suxvBIQioeRLRXpxk3FztahWWJOgWeGCbJzNHzPKdG7JwVRQNKH4yptuJkaCGGPeRbOOkkKOx8_XT24zbOAYdN8PFgpT894dCa92fVqgwclC6NeNzrNoHq7ETaxJ3xml4l58FY/s320/mugabe3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309048254904695090" border="0" /></a>books and a few <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">CD's</span> from and about Africa.<br /><br />First up on the review is Martin Meredith's "Mugabe: Power, Plunder and the Struggle for Zimbabwe". I just finished it tonight and it was like everything else I've read by Meredith: straightforward, accessible, and concise. With people already familiar with Meredith's subject matter, it will probably not be of great use, but as a Zimbabwe crisis primer, it's indispensable. The 2007 update of the original 2002 edition only proves how hopelessly stagnant the situation is next door to Botswana. Check it out on <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mugabe-Plunder-Struggle-Zimbabwes-Future/dp/158648558X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236109156&sr=8-1">Amazon</a>.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTz4EinD9fvVXhgOm_D7V9ud0SrI1pRv4WFkj0L-r85WLKreFCCVwO5ca0_NiCzuNo_lieJwQ4Yk3gueLp2ri0OY71yQTT_5sSz5j1aewpBNRRZ-0uiJagNhjTamVVDGmvyExEyxPXofH/s1600-h/ColourBar225.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 139px; height: 203px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMTz4EinD9fvVXhgOm_D7V9ud0SrI1pRv4WFkj0L-r85WLKreFCCVwO5ca0_NiCzuNo_lieJwQ4Yk3gueLp2ri0OY71yQTT_5sSz5j1aewpBNRRZ-0uiJagNhjTamVVDGmvyExEyxPXofH/s320/ColourBar225.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309050339115240834" border="0" /></a><br />The first president of Botswana was at one time exiled before independence. Why? Because he married a white woman. Susan Williams' "Colour Bar: The Triumph of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Seretse</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Khama</span> and his Nation" follows the star-crossed marriage of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Seretse</span> and Ruth <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Khama</span> when Botswana was still <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Bechuanaland</span>, a British protectorate. Their marriage was condemned by apartheid South Africa and nearly caused conflict between the UK and South Africa. Williams' writing is extremely well-researched, lucid and surprisingly riveting. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Khama</span> remains a great figure in Botswana and knowing his story is knowing Botswana's. Available <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Colour-Bar-Triumph-Seretse-Nation/dp/0141026138/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236109507&sr=1-1">her</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Colour-Bar-Triumph-Seretse-Nation/dp/0141026138/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236109507&sr=1-1">e</a>.<br /><br /><br />Like geology? Agriculture? Economics? There is little that is not covered John Reader's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">encyclopedic</span> and almost self-aggrandizing <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Africa-Biography-Continent-John-Reader/dp/067973869X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236109757&sr=1-1">"Africa: A Biography of the Contin</a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Africa-Biography-Continent-John-Reader/dp/067973869X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236109757&sr=1-1">ent</a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzorwsHbBwKmyl5rw8mMccKbd-DKa0svgfDwAZzVQiHxhBvALHitpIEgKCztzaMYOs1iQWGzLWNRJjMA9kD0Hh-KZHeXbXhb7sxND6IbiVdcAzYZCOomGlvLicGg-gr5F0heIY4uk7GlQ/s1600-h/513TQHF78PL._SL500_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 221px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMzorwsHbBwKmyl5rw8mMccKbd-DKa0svgfDwAZzVQiHxhBvALHitpIEgKCztzaMYOs1iQWGzLWNRJjMA9kD0Hh-KZHeXbXhb7sxND6IbiVdcAzYZCOomGlvLicGg-gr5F0heIY4uk7GlQ/s320/513TQHF78PL._SL500_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309055151231678066" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Africa-Biography-Continent-John-Reader/dp/067973869X/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236109757&sr=1-1">"</a>. The 682-page tome includes chapters like "Zulu Myth and Realities", "Bananas and Cattle", and "The Invention of Africa". Each chapter is nearly self-contained, and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">chock-full</span> of fascinating facts. What sets this project apart, however, is that the majority of the book is about Africa before formal colonialism began in the 1880's. Reader pushes us to explore the history of a continent long before military coups were the norm, while simultaneously dispelling myths of a pastoral Arcadia. Mosquitos and elephants have determined the farming patterns of Africans for centuries, hampering local economies long before IMF structural adjustment loans existed. For those willing brave enough to tackle this behemoth biography, it's well worth it.<br /><br />The only novel I've been reading here in Botswana, is actually Kenyan. Perhaps the country's most famous native son, Ngugi wa Thiong'o, was imprisoned as a political prisoner in the 1970's. His novels are snapshots and critiques of life and politics in Kenya and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Devil-Cross-African-Writers-Thiongo/dp/0435908448/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236110984&sr=1-1">"Devil on </a><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Devil-Cross-African-Writers-Thiongo/dp/0435908448/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1236110984&sr=1-1">the Cross"</a> is no exception. In fact, according to legend, Ngugi wrote it on the prison's toilet paper. As I'm only halfway through I don't feel I can give it a just review. When I'm done, perhaps I will share some more thoughts.<br /><br />What's this? You want to shake what your African mother gave you? Yes, music, the music of Mother Africa. While "house" music is the musique du jour here in Botswana, most of us Americans find the heavy beats and techno-feel a bit overwhelming, leaving us reaching for the Advil. But just as hip-hop does not need to define American music, "house" music is only one facet of a continent known for its complicated rythyms and musicality.<br /><br />First off, two African giants are worth listening to no matter which CD you find: Miriam Makeba, of South Africa, and Youssou N'Dour, of Senegal. Along with Ladysmith Black Mambazo, also from South Africa, these African artists have made a name for contemporary African music in the wider world. Now for more of my finds while here in Botswana . . .<br /><br />South African music is huge in this country. There are a multitude of reasons for this. Botswana's small population and economy have always been tightly<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIeb9dvpXzE2lfT7nCLkujjBCdG0WJDAtLVKvQhVMchAOB4hMro9zqvms-d-iXaNPs-2feEIBcTwqB_l4sp_hyphenhyphenCpMvz5lt-SRojjMA5XYPt7o3fZWb7uA3hTOj7gnhKzZxIpmR6IXMXog9/s1600-h/51REPVZXGRL._SL500_AA240_.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 189px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIeb9dvpXzE2lfT7nCLkujjBCdG0WJDAtLVKvQhVMchAOB4hMro9zqvms-d-iXaNPs-2feEIBcTwqB_l4sp_hyphenhyphenCpMvz5lt-SRojjMA5XYPt7o3fZWb7uA3hTOj7gnhKzZxIpmR6IXMXog9/s320/51REPVZXGRL._SL500_AA240_.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309060850315987410" border="0" /></a> linked to South Africa, and the large musical output coming from Jo-burg to Cape Town is no match for the up-and-comers from Gaborone. It is no surprise, then, that one can hear Brenda Fassie, the so-called Queen of African Pop, on any radio station. One of my favorites is her track <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WfG3JxU0B28">"Nomakanjani"</a>, although many locals prefer her big hits like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tdo-xntr_FM">"Weekend Special"</a>. The latter I heard while on my bus ride from Kasane to Francistown and couldn't resist humming along. I'm finally fitting in . . .<br /><br />Yet another South African musical invader is the township music out of Johannesburg. With a long history stretching back before the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soweto_uprising">student riots in Soweto</a>, township music has undergone many transformations from a laid-back, reggae-like feel to the more contemporary <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kwaito"><span style="font-style: italic;">kwaito</span></a>. Some artists on my compilation include <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A4gMZBznaSM">Chirro</a>, Yvonne Chaka Chaka, and Cijamlenze Nkwanyana. If you've ever seen a documentary of Hollywood film about Africa, watch the scene where the journalist is driving in a cramped bus, and this is inevitably the soundtrack.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUrrsC3ukPMNkqJD9cip0YM7m5clITtfi9_co1Z7JOMUpKR_Lef5e0PVKUSCEMiEwpMopU_NZEuYLSWw7iaf692P4jQyxiM1hg-O-XxwoK0ktzTBBjVNt-iSEW-674iCB32PUgpGJfNsx/s1600-h/DSCN0859.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 201px; height: 312px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsUrrsC3ukPMNkqJD9cip0YM7m5clITtfi9_co1Z7JOMUpKR_Lef5e0PVKUSCEMiEwpMopU_NZEuYLSWw7iaf692P4jQyxiM1hg-O-XxwoK0ktzTBBjVNt-iSEW-674iCB32PUgpGJfNsx/s320/DSCN0859.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5309069100041473314" border="0" /></a><br />Up last is local hit, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_89YtmaHlhs">Captain Dira</a>, whose new album "Ke Itse Keje" is advertised everywhere in town. Against traditional African gospel harmony and whistles, Captain Dira takes on difficult relationship issues and social vices like drugs. Now only if I knew enough Setswana to understand the lyrics, I am sure the contrast between the words and the upbeat music would be fascinating. Alas, tis not the case.<br /><br />More so than any other post, the hyperlinks here are very useful. Much of this music is hard to buy in the US, and so I encourage you to waste away a day at work on Youtube, clicking, clicking, clicking away! And while you're at it, get up, and shake what this traditional Setswana mother gave ya.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-54961100380551701592009-02-28T19:13:00.012+02:002009-02-28T22:20:41.994+02:00Oh what a tangled web we weave . . .. . . when first we practice to deceive, or so saith Sir Walter Scott. Perhaps it is precisely because the women weavers of the small village of Oodi do not "practice to deceive," that their quilts belie the mythologized, and mesmerizing, simplicity of Botswana village life. Started in 1973 by two <a href="http://www.swedenabroad.com/Page____75174.aspx">entrepre</a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglEnLJ3OWP1WcKcvhJPD9IGT5I2VjNEakUhYMov5Xe1kleWFr612etUDyWM0daG0PQml30bPJzt3EkmT9krRN5W_70RqjBXNmvnI8HKH4YOrVNNrDvtde9DY1giYCYpug0e4OiwrxcS-nn/s1600-h/HPIM1553.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 227px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglEnLJ3OWP1WcKcvhJPD9IGT5I2VjNEakUhYMov5Xe1kleWFr612etUDyWM0daG0PQml30bPJzt3EkmT9krRN5W_70RqjBXNmvnI8HKH4YOrVNNrDvtde9DY1giYCYpug0e4OiwrxcS-nn/s320/HPIM1553.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307904591739008338" border="0" /></a><a href="http://www.swedenabroad.com/Page____75174.aspx">neurial Swedes</a>, Ulla and Peder Gowenius, "Lentswe-la-Odi" is a cooperative run mostly by women which is renowned for its quilts portraying scenes of village life, complete with herds of goats and hard-working women preparing the evening meal.<br /><br />Oodi is the first village outside the city limits of Gaborone on the road to Francistown or in other words, about 20 kilometers northeast of town. Four of us (Max, Jeremy, Rebecca and I) took a taxi out there; an expensive option, but the only one which would get us back sometime this weekend. After our cab driver, who was very nice and<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU16IKhNMOmHKoEy3nCpoRCe6qKo4Dd5quOmUcM3be_3Jka06mVWkuA-YygR35qryhCmYTtWT8u-O5UAvkcZBD9FCdigvpVQZmQmQpO4u7R1hxkjM8ohpR8ItGTR_ZQRh_pfvjuzalljYk/s1600-h/HPIM1550.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU16IKhNMOmHKoEy3nCpoRCe6qKo4Dd5quOmUcM3be_3Jka06mVWkuA-YygR35qryhCmYTtWT8u-O5UAvkcZBD9FCdigvpVQZmQmQpO4u7R1hxkjM8ohpR8ItGTR_ZQRh_pfvjuzalljYk/s320/HPIM1550.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307935922404449522" border="0" /></a> I don't mean to make him sound "sketch" in the East Coast vernacular, met an associate in a parking lot to drop off some money, we drove for the next thirty minutes down a flat and straight highway. Familiar to those who traverse the rural Midwest.<br /><br />A very "village-y" village, we were greeted not by roadside rest areas, but by herds of goats (!!) and wandering bell-toting cattle. As if its "authenticity" didn't make the trip worth it, Oodi is nestled next to hills. Anybody who has been following my blog knows that the two most impressive things for me are goats and hills.<br /><br />But back to the weavers. Between two dozen and thirty women work daily in the workshop, making both their signature depictions of African village life, but also more utilitarian items like placemats and coasters. The cooperative has had a very interesting past, with some major obstacles and subsequent breakthroughs, as documented in books like <a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=8SOaUyx_u80C&dq=Oodi+weavers+equal+shares&printsec=frontcover&source=bl&ots=tZNYMzyYuh&sig=aOTZs3jhUBQq_dOmgH1K3X8CG8A&hl=en&ei=HpWpSd7LHIG4twfAjNXYDw&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=1&ct=result">Equal Shares: Oodi </a><a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=8SOaUyx_u80C&dq=Oodi+weavers+equal+shares&printsec=frontcover&source=bl&ots=tZNYMzyYuh&sig=aOTZs3jhUBQq_dOmgH1K3X8CG8A&hl=en&ei=HpWpSd7LHIG4twfAjNXYDw&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=1&ct=result">Weavers and the Cooperative Experience</a>.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97bF1B6GPXT-NE7ftyH_ZZbDjL_qJqp7gjzITJk3uGCjafYREl8qpDxv6QIc27XcXq34SbTXs0twUOP6cNh5XfUOw9FvCmhJatsE6Dg19Left9532SDrlu0sniGu4FZx5HAD_pntqoLFA/s1600-h/HPIM1562.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 399px; height: 303px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi97bF1B6GPXT-NE7ftyH_ZZbDjL_qJqp7gjzITJk3uGCjafYREl8qpDxv6QIc27XcXq34SbTXs0twUOP6cNh5XfUOw9FvCmhJatsE6Dg19Left9532SDrlu0sniGu4FZx5HAD_pntqoLFA/s400/HPIM1562.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307940571222367266" border="0" /></a>For those who won't be traveling to Botswana anytime soon, it is extremely difficult to find these Oodi treasures outside of the country. Instead, you might want to try <a href="http://www.quiltsofgeesbend.com/quilts/index_quilts_exhibitions.shtml">the beautiful quilts out of Gee's Bend, Alabama</a><a href="http://www.quiltsofgeesbend.com/quilts/index_quilts_exhibitions.shtml">.</a> Almost the definition of backwater, the tiny town of Gee's Bend had been separated by geography and the color barrier from the rest of the state for generations. Check out its website to see if any museum exhibitions of its work will be in your area. Sorry, that was the cheesy promotion habit I picked up from working in <a href="http://www.artbma.org/join.html">Membership at the Baltimore Museum of Art.</a><br /><br />In the next blog, I'll talk more about the books I've been reading and music I've been jamming to here in Botswana. Until then, tally ho, sally forth, and ta-ta.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-76739692126677918852009-02-23T22:01:00.008+02:002009-02-23T23:08:21.372+02:00Sunday in the Jazz GardenThere really wasn't much jazz (mostly good South African music, like <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9MUvfmY604">Brenda <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Fassie</span></a>) and the garden needed some tending, but around the fact it was Sunday remains no doubt. Our program director and quasi-Messiah, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Batsi</span> (pictured), took our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">CIEE</span> group out to the Jazz Club Mountain Rest f<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqCgpG8mtgzuoEMtCwpeL72tGq78gUj4oUylzxlj8dFZWppolM0LeHxa7RQGCQ19oiwUlSCZetJ6dP8eRzaqxqZLa2dM7wvxNL-bmy21JURuxNE_LqOJlNILhnqzlUH86FaMtc5ZPtWNK/s1600-h/HPIM1540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 178px; height: 234px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFqCgpG8mtgzuoEMtCwpeL72tGq78gUj4oUylzxlj8dFZWppolM0LeHxa7RQGCQ19oiwUlSCZetJ6dP8eRzaqxqZLa2dM7wvxNL-bmy21JURuxNE_LqOJlNILhnqzlUH86FaMtc5ZPtWNK/s320/HPIM1540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306095547393517090" border="0" /></a>or a good old-fashioned <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Braai"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">braai</span></span></a>, Afrikaans for "roasted meat". While I enjoyed the atmosphere and the company, the drive out to the village was amazing.<br /><br />Coming from the Midwest, hills amaze me. And not just hills like Hwy 41 coming up from downtown <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Chaska</span>, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">HIL</span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOokFL2VppQPU3TN7qSlt5_AgtBuekf2WhP4TZLDEDCkSfwx6uFnp2Doi1iLp5rerZaUJwh4NunZu_EPU6GsWGTmhVYK1kFtEOqM2XbOaCZyrBm6WavRwUkwIPvG21P96JOupJU19rY_J/s1600-h/HPIM1532.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 202px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkOokFL2VppQPU3TN7qSlt5_AgtBuekf2WhP4TZLDEDCkSfwx6uFnp2Doi1iLp5rerZaUJwh4NunZu_EPU6GsWGTmhVYK1kFtEOqM2XbOaCZyrBm6WavRwUkwIPvG21P96JOupJU19rY_J/s320/HPIM1532.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306089271521505490" border="0" /></a>LS. Botswana is nearly perfectly flat as well, except soaring high are these clumps of hills that carry a bluish hue that is almost magical in daylight.<br /><br />Finally, my blogs have caught up with real time and we're back to this past Sunday. Just to fill you in on last week, I had class as normal all week long. And then Friday came along, with promises of renewed striking.<br /><br />This time, the striking was over the suspension of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">SRC</span> (Student Representatives Council) by the Vice-Chancellor of<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlwQ1gptthrWCedsoZ9XCOenMUc3yVFZpTH5odzIXD1TSap1YrokQFuJQQM4Awu_B6AKmE0fSuAGSr1d0fyX0cnlzJercqpGXHHfaff43RyUziOBnEYKkLpiScqcoOFzHUBVUMEwVMhKS/s1600-h/HPIM1537.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 303px; height: 224px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNlwQ1gptthrWCedsoZ9XCOenMUc3yVFZpTH5odzIXD1TSap1YrokQFuJQQM4Awu_B6AKmE0fSuAGSr1d0fyX0cnlzJercqpGXHHfaff43RyUziOBnEYKkLpiScqcoOFzHUBVUMEwVMhKS/s320/HPIM1537.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306095542494157666" border="0" /></a> the university. It would be like Student Council getting disbanded. While I normally would consider that little reason for a strike, it is important to remember that this university is the only major center of tertiary education in the country. Only in the past couple of years have a couple small private, and a couple public universities been founded. Thus, student grievances are not just in the context of a single university, but represent nearly the whole of full-time university students in the whole of the country. This is not to say, however, that I'm fully in accord with the striker's tactics but by the same token, I cannot fully discount them.<br /><br />The movement in the talks between the ministry and the students has not been moving in a peaceful direction. Last night a score of students were arrested for demonstrating near the Faculty of Engineering building and reportedly, a few more were arrested this morning before the gathering could become more organized. We shall see tomorrow where this is all leading and as always, I will keep you all updated on the revolutionary activity going on here at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">UB</span>.<br /><br />If this talk of student struggles and police action causes you concern, relax and let me assure you my mind is on other things: namely, donkey-driven carts going many kilometers an hour through the village:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhIHt0F4oIFXUUdU6xdlbCegtr-2yOsu1WYfQzQoeHX5WtVR4gKdjr2yAmGszzbSEkq2u0BlNtIcOzugC3xBWPQigY34uK4UETWwyST01_WGKcr5J_xr90hwkiepoXBOIZvgzwBWzaYhV/s1600-h/HPIM1539.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 476px; height: 360px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfhIHt0F4oIFXUUdU6xdlbCegtr-2yOsu1WYfQzQoeHX5WtVR4gKdjr2yAmGszzbSEkq2u0BlNtIcOzugC3xBWPQigY34uK4UETWwyST01_WGKcr5J_xr90hwkiepoXBOIZvgzwBWzaYhV/s400/HPIM1539.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306101472709482114" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpB8ToqAzLpIZ0oRJWJUMVLnKHcztg96RZ9HgZwKieUNl4CAWKlTb_rukCrgdUAvqvniLx8KKpiDimWc6gnEocMWIwnuydv2nv7OC-vcFzdVapcqsFmNQmDwO5bBRIwujjmkT9RGjTEJGk/s1600-h/HPIM1542.JPG"><br /></a>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-16814804590054136822009-02-23T20:13:00.003+02:002009-02-23T21:05:37.879+02:00Spring Break: All Aboard for GaboroneThe only train in Botswana runs between Francistown and Gaborone daily, continuing on to Lobatse. In addition to only running once daily, it is an overnight train. By car, the stretch between the two "cities" of Botswana should take about four hours; the train, operated by Botswana Railways, rambles along at a slow enough pace as to make the trip a comf<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yLHrKuXTl1YvSyasibydk0ls6vfpkLX_DlAPK4SESPdZgdxwJZ3NLfRQe104NtUXa0J2zD7Y_UMZeY9g4qnIsxPrdd_nhb0DYjENXosLqCEINP_xqKJhtWvv9hp-mHK4V8SU3xXqZa_i/s1600-h/HPIM1529.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 182px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-yLHrKuXTl1YvSyasibydk0ls6vfpkLX_DlAPK4SESPdZgdxwJZ3NLfRQe104NtUXa0J2zD7Y_UMZeY9g4qnIsxPrdd_nhb0DYjENXosLqCEINP_xqKJhtWvv9hp-mHK4V8SU3xXqZa_i/s320/HPIM1529.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306063562372050114" border="0" /></a>ortable eight and a half hours. Since the train departs (or is at least supposed to) around 9 pm, we got there ninety minutes early to pay for reservations and experience possibly my most self-consciously "white" moment so far in Botswana.<br /><br />Upon our arrival at Francistown's train station, we were met by an anaconda-length queue. Mothers with two children around her neck, one in front, one in back, and elderly men with worn faces. Endless masses of people of all sorts. Here we were, six lost white twenty-somethings asking for clarification about which line was for what. Without answering, the security stopped the line into the train station and pushed us through. Prompt, preferential treatment. Wholly undeserved.<br /><br />There they were waiting to get their seat on a bench in a train car packed with people, carrying heavy loads, waiting. Then there were the six of us, with light luggage, sleeping car reservations, on our way to the first-class waiting room.<br /><br />After a normal, i.e. long, wait we boarded the train. The room consisted of two sets of bunk beds with quite comfortable mattresses, a small overhead, and a table covering a sink. Alex was my roommate, as he almost always is, and two Batswana joined us to fill the car. The first one, Mati, was about as yuppie as one could get. Blackberry in hand, he was headed for a business meeting in Gaboron<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrT1FjcwAdQCPiibg-0d-80GHvNGMBb5gWGZAHS_6hPPri8IajtAOxlNDLbbpUEeHYbaMTkNVhqhlaokpLoMsbqg_wNLfNdcaRKP3cjaarq3uxgauqJ4u9kOcUTyoruARYPZx7voFsiBF/s1600-h/HPIM1528.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 202px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdrT1FjcwAdQCPiibg-0d-80GHvNGMBb5gWGZAHS_6hPPri8IajtAOxlNDLbbpUEeHYbaMTkNVhqhlaokpLoMsbqg_wNLfNdcaRKP3cjaarq3uxgauqJ4u9kOcUTyoruARYPZx7voFsiBF/s320/HPIM1528.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306063553636992354" border="0" /></a>e before returning the next night. The other, whose name I didn’t catch, was mid-fifties and told us of his days training Peace Corps teachers out in the villages. Before the conversation finished, I had drifted off to sleep. Awakened by the room door closing and the flick of the light switch, I sat and waited for my slumber to begin again.<br /><br />But I noticed the air vents weren’t working. The heat became stifling and since I was on the top bunk, my face was about a foot or so from the ceiling. For the first time in memory, I became acutely claustrophobic. I wasn’t going to survive; I was going to die of suffocation. Every breath I took, every move I made, I was one step closer to my death.<br /><br />Luckily, however, I was not alone in this feeling. From across the upper bunks, I heard the older man open the door, panting, “It’s too hot in here.” Alas, it’s not just me. Even<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNl9X7O2kr2CN1es8OW1l3ldBIrEhyUvvjtFdg9mFY-MD_eBEBu1ry_ouSH5QBlhbIWBo9ZXZuwRLYFGrSxGm03HrcdGNOT9H4m1sb2xl_C6udXP1INdWe3w8bEOTqoudnFff-S2SoEaR/s1600-h/HPIM1530.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 209px; height: 158px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaNl9X7O2kr2CN1es8OW1l3ldBIrEhyUvvjtFdg9mFY-MD_eBEBu1ry_ouSH5QBlhbIWBo9ZXZuwRLYFGrSxGm03HrcdGNOT9H4m1sb2xl_C6udXP1INdWe3w8bEOTqoudnFff-S2SoEaR/s320/HPIM1530.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306063566764988034" border="0" /></a> Africans can’t handle the heat!<br /><br />Once things cooled down in the car, I fell fast asleep and awoke as the train rolled into Gaborone at quarter to six in the morning. Surprisingly well rested, we hopped in a couple of taxis and headed back to campus to enjoy a couple days of solitude before the reopening, as well as celebrate Valentine’s Day with a mocha frappe.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-74049288361642076532009-02-23T15:30:00.004+02:002009-02-23T16:06:32.012+02:00Spring Break: Kasane to FrancistownWhile waiting for the sun to wake up in northern Botswana, we stood outside a small bakery in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Kasane</span> huddled in a crowd of people. All of us had lined up our luggage in a line, attempting to secure a position on the bus. Unusual for Botswana, the bus arrived punctually at 5:55 am, and we left shortly after six. The bus, or better yet, shuttle, was of the retirement home variety: seating for 22, small, and a short cab.<br /><br />The three hour journey back to Nata was quite uneventful, if not a bit cramped. But that's what we came to Africa for, right? If I wanted comfort, I would have stayed home and cruised in Lola, my beloved white Malibu.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLaHDPrkLfvNPQaw_eJOCP542T0jP9BKzf0FWQF_zNRwUnnnI52KGm3IavzZjXXBVAD1VlaEsS_KMs6tLrXwVR34zH4Jq2c35-LAymv8QPwoYCUwH6J-m2Flww-Hb5tcjbMWrP3MIYnqW/s1600-h/HPIM1524.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 197px; height: 149px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLaHDPrkLfvNPQaw_eJOCP542T0jP9BKzf0FWQF_zNRwUnnnI52KGm3IavzZjXXBVAD1VlaEsS_KMs6tLrXwVR34zH4Jq2c35-LAymv8QPwoYCUwH6J-m2Flww-Hb5tcjbMWrP3MIYnqW/s320/HPIM1524.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305992867535957618" border="0" /></a><br />After a short lunch break, we continued on to our next destination: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Francistown"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Francistown</span></a>. This second largest city of Botswana is significantly different from Gaborone in one major respect: street layout. Whereas the capital is spread out and can feel like a gigantic suburb instead of Botswana's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">metropole</span>, there is no mistaking the certain Western influence in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Francistown</span>: street grids are the rule. The central shopping district centered around Blue Jacket Street is a well-defined, bargain hunter's paradise.<br /><br /><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Francistown</span> came into being because of gold discoveries in the mid-19<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">th</span> century, and the consequent influx of European prospectors turned the area into a boom town. This was among many things we learned at our visit to <a href="http://www.botswanatourism.co.bw/attractions/supa_ngwao_museum.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Supa</span>-<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Ngwao</span> Museum</a>. Also, we gained insight into the relationship between Botswana and Zimbabwe, as the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Kalanga</span> people are a minority-majority group. That is, they are a small percentage of the nation's population, but are the majority in town.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMNEYJd3Hu0MZAPO68qZORLk6-ASyPJtGSFTeiOu-v1K-PyTP5XtKfdN4Hx5EK36XeUYRhu2oF1H7nooZY4FPL5EAYiDoP52jdi6GOqYmN3elWyYKwPFSlTGdLtRbhBU8uP3tJPB0hMIg/s1600-h/HPIM1527.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 219px; height: 166px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMNEYJd3Hu0MZAPO68qZORLk6-ASyPJtGSFTeiOu-v1K-PyTP5XtKfdN4Hx5EK36XeUYRhu2oF1H7nooZY4FPL5EAYiDoP52jdi6GOqYmN3elWyYKwPFSlTGdLtRbhBU8uP3tJPB0hMIg/s320/HPIM1527.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305992872905921714" border="0" /></a><br />Many Zimbabweans have come for decades to get food and supplies in this border town, a human flow which has only increased under Mugabe's onerous treatment of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">Kalanga's</span> counterparts in western Zimbabwe. Not all are welcomed with open arms, however. It is a bit of a strained relationship, as many of the newcomers are stereotyped as criminals and thieves.<br /><br />To be perfectly honest, there is not much to do for visitors in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Francistown</span>. As much as I like to disbelieve the dismal description in Lonely Planet's guidebook, they nailed the lack of entertainment on the head. Even the lone movie theater (Cine 2000) was closed and converted into an evangelical church. In a city of over 100,000, imagine! Due to its perfect <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">walkability</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Francistown</span> can be covered on foot within a day and thus our second day was spent retracing our steps and cooling off at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">O'Hagan's</span> Irish Pub. Around 7 pm we picked up our luggage from the hotel and made our way to the train station for our first ever African train ride, the subject of my next blog.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-45566407329549634982009-02-19T21:27:00.008+02:002009-02-20T18:38:04.052+02:00Spring Break: Kasane for nowAs you might have gathered from the last few posts, traveling in this Texas-sized country requires a bit of time, especially if by land. After our long<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2DvdPMQ3JmOfeJWudRUmB4bSrnZ2NUqni_bDJ97dE9cv2FAqmMLSoeRESSAWk_Dc9dLpesfoNlTR_U32o4Usx0Iut2Qj6jCGBndUIpWL5sgLUQsj5PNXoLJnPt0q0_1SLMu0suMDDd8_/s1600-h/HPIM1478.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 198px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn2DvdPMQ3JmOfeJWudRUmB4bSrnZ2NUqni_bDJ97dE9cv2FAqmMLSoeRESSAWk_Dc9dLpesfoNlTR_U32o4Usx0Iut2Qj6jCGBndUIpWL5sgLUQsj5PNXoLJnPt0q0_1SLMu0suMDDd8_/s320/HPIM1478.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304902315339691458" border="0" /></a> journey, we finally arrived at Thebe River Camping and got ourselves a few permanent tents. They included such modern luxuries as floors, a rug, and a futuristic lamp which got brighter the more you tapped its base.<br /><br />The Chobe River, which runs next to the campsite, makes up the border between Namibia and Botswana and runs into the eponymous Chobe National Park. We spent the day walking around Kasane, which is a fairly spread out town, nothing more than a block or so from the main road. Our guidebooks pointed us to an ancient baobab tree from days of yore (below left), whose gargantuan interior was used as a prison by the local chief. One of the local men started talking to us, re-explaining the history of the tree and then pointing us to an even larger, living specimen located around back.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2TR2bZkinPkaKgt0jBZuYnqC-xOXLNtDrEPNLgZsCg0r52OzudN8ekB44dR1twURkyz6MB0PEpwWINjfT8FrodUULV6vHoQp-4E2a10tZFu0oPPnDXChJHjfIX3LkUV-qTJTkjnCPkook/s1600-h/HPIM1488.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 196px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2TR2bZkinPkaKgt0jBZuYnqC-xOXLNtDrEPNLgZsCg0r52OzudN8ekB44dR1twURkyz6MB0PEpwWINjfT8FrodUULV6vHoQp-4E2a10tZFu0oPPnDXChJHjfIX3LkUV-qTJTkjnCPkook/s320/HPIM1488.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304913531203551874" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdVTnby2e3TVj9r7G_dAZJnf6qCHsZogIy5zSPCaG7EYb9PNpmJ7QO-UBo7XTLQdRPSzQk49nVaZ_nAUpRQbpufsNSozatrvk0ST3LuTHzMhnNMtdB8GbUS_QipD0MBTL5M9TUMvmXdgB/s1600-h/HPIM1486.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 224px; height: 295px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMdVTnby2e3TVj9r7G_dAZJnf6qCHsZogIy5zSPCaG7EYb9PNpmJ7QO-UBo7XTLQdRPSzQk49nVaZ_nAUpRQbpufsNSozatrvk0ST3LuTHzMhnNMtdB8GbUS_QipD0MBTL5M9TUMvmXdgB/s320/HPIM1486.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304904050004087218" border="0" /></a>Made famous by Saint-Exupery's children's book, <a href="http://www.angelfire.com/hi/littleprince/framechapter5.html">"Le Petit Prince (The Little Prince)"</a>, and perhaps Regina Spektor's <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K7gX8UbDiGA">"Baobabs"</a>, the baobab, native to Madagascar, Australia and southern Africa, can reach diameters of 36 feet and heights of nearly a nine-story building. Their enormous trunks can store 32,000 gallons of water in times of drought. African mythology tells of every animal being given a plant; the hyena characteristically took his, planted upside, leaving the roots (or so the baobab's branches appear) in the air.<br /><br />In the late afternoon we boarded a boat (or embarked, if you will) and trolled into Chobe National Park, home of the largest elephant herds in Africa. Despite the almost painstakingly slow pace, the ultimate close-ups of elephants and bloats of hippos were worth the wait. As words are insufficient to describe the grace of these animals, I will just end the blog here and give you a sample of Botswana's unique flora and fauna. Until next time, <a href="http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/">"Be well, do good work and keep in touch."</a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEpl-CNva5Eni08dSVQtaT19c3EcyFhArKhYM5-BJdDK_mTSkINrvCxpGVCtPZQxd_3DDJCL2BoGYgNSOXy1oEARiIgK7iaonlME4bXLUdoX1Niyb61D68gbTbNgYBW0g21tTDKvdyYkuO/s1600-h/HPIM1514.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 174px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEpl-CNva5Eni08dSVQtaT19c3EcyFhArKhYM5-BJdDK_mTSkINrvCxpGVCtPZQxd_3DDJCL2BoGYgNSOXy1oEARiIgK7iaonlME4bXLUdoX1Niyb61D68gbTbNgYBW0g21tTDKvdyYkuO/s320/HPIM1514.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304918569982305106" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZe_6pp0Sn5LuVK7wZ-QrDOQ7WGz68uuWL4hng1LHP7BW1sRjT7QLO8w4prJEDp095Hcy4AsfLWOTvRRFdYb3vSSB1WpTpglquyj3gJnV_RYIoCg4WRDpWiq_YKHFAqffnhwcdDyt3r42/s1600-h/HPIM1518.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 277px; height: 170px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyZe_6pp0Sn5LuVK7wZ-QrDOQ7WGz68uuWL4hng1LHP7BW1sRjT7QLO8w4prJEDp095Hcy4AsfLWOTvRRFdYb3vSSB1WpTpglquyj3gJnV_RYIoCg4WRDpWiq_YKHFAqffnhwcdDyt3r42/s320/HPIM1518.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304918567253576098" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFPwiprJxvnPbV-2Kfm0LPZfqmnzUHbFbGIs4woEusRSZyEJ78nsH-s6waYrTV2x-Eea2ReCgfjjshEcliG_4QSk4dJXqRCvHhpJPJIrqfiCq8GPQOD_b_rFGrXSig4JbDUnSsm1OhOC3/s1600-h/HPIM1512.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 143px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOFPwiprJxvnPbV-2Kfm0LPZfqmnzUHbFbGIs4woEusRSZyEJ78nsH-s6waYrTV2x-Eea2ReCgfjjshEcliG_4QSk4dJXqRCvHhpJPJIrqfiCq8GPQOD_b_rFGrXSig4JbDUnSsm1OhOC3/s320/HPIM1512.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304918564081424466" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYm_y8GwBQ2MHLvkWRumv1XfY4XglhS2hvJXZOS3te3TGmM5gdwtnogYV3MpPKddVVjcgfUmepr9IjuL_Hc9_ffY87Jhr6_zkW2Nz6yvLk0OxqerFsiSeDJKjWFwkdEUvE0wbmonAt85NB/s1600-h/HPIM1508.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 318px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYm_y8GwBQ2MHLvkWRumv1XfY4XglhS2hvJXZOS3te3TGmM5gdwtnogYV3MpPKddVVjcgfUmepr9IjuL_Hc9_ffY87Jhr6_zkW2Nz6yvLk0OxqerFsiSeDJKjWFwkdEUvE0wbmonAt85NB/s320/HPIM1508.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304918559050493330" border="0" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEYneDpp7NS5Cozh6bPlJ5TkUzOHimsT7EqVTwqYeh8XYUDZmm04Rdl03vPpmuhlf9OnP9Umf0yGwOjByjkSc-78EjWS688xd0khFbrAsb_Sbscz4niSsq1ZrIDHbMhioz6apI4XzveoZy/s1600-h/HPIM1500.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 319px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEYneDpp7NS5Cozh6bPlJ5TkUzOHimsT7EqVTwqYeh8XYUDZmm04Rdl03vPpmuhlf9OnP9Umf0yGwOjByjkSc-78EjWS688xd0khFbrAsb_Sbscz4niSsq1ZrIDHbMhioz6apI4XzveoZy/s320/HPIM1500.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304918554810821330" border="0" /></a>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-8382054970060098422009-02-16T17:59:00.010+02:002009-02-16T20:23:35.184+02:00Spring Break: Maun to KasaneWhile <a href="http://www.lonelyplanet.com/botswana/northern-botswana/maun/transport/getting-there-away">Lonely Planet contends there are buses from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Maun</span> to Nata and then Nata to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Kasane</span></a>, our safari guide told us not to hold our breath on getting a seat. As we were six and my travel protocol is never to leave a stranded American tourist behind, we had to come up with a way of ensuring all six of us arrived in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kasane</span> safely.<br /><br />Enter good cop (Alex), bad cop (Max).<br /><br />Near the vending stalls, in the unofficial bus station, we started chit-chatting with some <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">combi</span> drivers; asking them the best way for us to get to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kasane</span>.<br /><br />Stage left, Alex, perhaps one of the most affable people I've ever met. He butters up the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">combi</span> drivers with the bait. Six "clueless" Americans looking for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">easiest</span> way to another tourist trap. They're thinking gold mine. After some of the craziest calculations on a cell phone, I've seen, they offered us a one-way to Nata for 1700 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">pula</span> ($25o).<br /><br />Spot light suddenly turns to Max, stage right. An unassuming stand-up comedian in the making, from Harvard. Unexpectedly, Max clears his throat and says with the straightest of smiles, "1200 <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">pula</span>."<br /><br />Long story short, the ploy worked, but we wound up getting a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">combi</span> all the way to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Kasane</span> from another driver for about $65 per person. A bit steep by Botswana standards, but as my friend <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Tlotlo</span> says, "You Americans will do anything to get anywhere."<br /><br />The three hour journey was fairly uneventful. I underwent my first foot-and-mouth clearance: a simple check of my bags for meat products and then a gentle cleaning of the shoes. Almost more symbolic than practical. Crossing nearly the whole of Botswana from east to west, our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">combi</span> ride took us through the Kalahari, a mixture of scrub and tall grasses. A bit off in the distance we could see the beginning of some of the largest salt pans in the world, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Makgadikgadi</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Nxai</span> Pans.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uuzjN_sX6lTXyyNg_IMmCF_f9H-piddaMzX28g0XbCV5wR3xXV44pwV8BDHe1Bs5F-fzaLDCNTycHxy3QdPOyF9TZ2K6M22ZC54J01nPTn0PbBxUbPeSr4tT-2kLmCamVRO7LYEym5RK/s1600-h/HPIM1467.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 152px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uuzjN_sX6lTXyyNg_IMmCF_f9H-piddaMzX28g0XbCV5wR3xXV44pwV8BDHe1Bs5F-fzaLDCNTycHxy3QdPOyF9TZ2K6M22ZC54J01nPTn0PbBxUbPeSr4tT-2kLmCamVRO7LYEym5RK/s320/HPIM1467.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303450437404491330" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxrJVPXE_wpJNA__0oSPr9CF2dxYnmJ_Q5uCmvtjgj0gwM9H_CjFpJt8oewGu5R3Yjtw7oWG161roZ6W8nVtBMjdUXSVkR2Sjoc8zdiKW6khnjpkFI0JOG0sHDewewfw9Z71Zcq1IeA6J/s1600-h/HPIM1465.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 245px; height: 186px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirxrJVPXE_wpJNA__0oSPr9CF2dxYnmJ_Q5uCmvtjgj0gwM9H_CjFpJt8oewGu5R3Yjtw7oWG161roZ6W8nVtBMjdUXSVkR2Sjoc8zdiKW6khnjpkFI0JOG0sHDewewfw9Z71Zcq1IeA6J/s320/HPIM1465.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303447159486167730" border="0" /></a> *Before we get to the pans, I simply have to say that no road trip is complete without a gigantic fibreglass statue of an animal. <a href="http://www.mn2020.org/index.asp?Type=B_BASIC&SEC=%7BAD4818C7-347C-4AFE-8AF6-11C8B26C0CAB%7D&DE=">See my previous writings.</a><br /><br />As for the pans (right), when we drove past them, the terrain turned incredibly arid with occasional white expanses and several seasonal ponds.<br /><br />Our mid-way point was the tiny but vital <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">transportation</span> hub of Nata. After a quick lunch, we jumped back in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">combi</span> for the equidistant stretch to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Kasane</span>. Our ultimate aim was to go to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Chobe</span> National Park to see its earth-shattering (literally) elephant herds which can reach upwards of 100,000 in the dry season.<br /><br />But as many of travel guides and websites warned, we may see that many simply on the way to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Kasane</span>. And moreover, see that many simply crossing the road in front of our vehicles.<br /><br />Which is precisely what happened.<br /><br />Aside from potholes as wide as the road and nearly a foot and a half deep, the most dangerous part of the only road crossing the northeastern part of Botswana was the foot traffic. Namely, elephants and giraffes. One particular elephant came a bit too close as it stepped out from the bushes twenty <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqBMi0i6d6UiT0nSiD_MugA24uiJUV08owfxPHcn6aREmucRtRd3rk0gEWcDkh7hyphenhyphen2IMrq6olp9f_uHKN2zoD2LAtMSnWFvywg10ehZDWfmGjdmywD9jz-s7v8Akr1Ntko_cBzMA_DeLN/s1600-h/HPIM1472.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 206px; height: 156px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisqBMi0i6d6UiT0nSiD_MugA24uiJUV08owfxPHcn6aREmucRtRd3rk0gEWcDkh7hyphenhyphen2IMrq6olp9f_uHKN2zoD2LAtMSnWFvywg10ehZDWfmGjdmywD9jz-s7v8Akr1Ntko_cBzMA_DeLN/s320/HPIM1472.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303455145386760482" border="0" /></a>meters in front of our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">combi</span> and I nearly got whiplash as we went from 120 km/h to a dead stop, then reverse.<br /><br />Some of the on-lookers looked unfazed, though (left). Despite lumbering elephants we made it safely to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Kasane</span> just in time for the electricity to go out and go to bed.<br /><br />You'll just have to wait until the next blog to hear about my stay in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Kasane</span> and enjoy this sunset over the only cultivated land I have seen in Botswana. Until next time, ciao <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">chicas</span>!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHLYc3PKWjZqWEwhJ0xp2nriGWywBZ5CrtSVqltAmedfx2MLUH5MJqOUaMxREBrjuKqFgcdIBdLaV9y2puIRMYkH8zEQdhOXv5RKwunuhEZeB_g0Ikoxhynvy3xamJz1xyEA8s4B3UwbH/s1600-h/HPIM1477.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 397px; height: 301px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFHLYc3PKWjZqWEwhJ0xp2nriGWywBZ5CrtSVqltAmedfx2MLUH5MJqOUaMxREBrjuKqFgcdIBdLaV9y2puIRMYkH8zEQdhOXv5RKwunuhEZeB_g0Ikoxhynvy3xamJz1xyEA8s4B3UwbH/s400/HPIM1477.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303460841089034850" border="0" /></a>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-45497509224503976542009-02-14T18:25:00.007+02:002009-02-14T19:00:02.949+02:00Just some Delta pics<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4eGPRTC5u_ITIHymH-P7Ctrzy4sizu11wGqxwv_-lO_k1QfTaY6fq695nJi2zPzXcJaW6HOpNgxcwPTTTODd9OhwRs7MHmCMQYDm9I3XJPpH5bVMB7eUE0srH5jrjxUu79GKxOJpnsXfV/s1600-h/HPIM1454.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4eGPRTC5u_ITIHymH-P7Ctrzy4sizu11wGqxwv_-lO_k1QfTaY6fq695nJi2zPzXcJaW6HOpNgxcwPTTTODd9OhwRs7MHmCMQYDm9I3XJPpH5bVMB7eUE0srH5jrjxUu79GKxOJpnsXfV/s320/HPIM1454.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302698314662830210" border="0" /></a>Sunset in the Delta . . .<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR7IluPjBGc1tCdQ-D-gGSVy153HzaORscbI_1gIFCdjZQeK7vzbYNA61jEgQhnAfXstGAx1S2nQnXZ4h-VDD7vbTUMPov0XkRrjwnGav9yUidd646SHEhV34RPkFPzLWfImziULraaIzw/s1600-h/HPIM1452.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR7IluPjBGc1tCdQ-D-gGSVy153HzaORscbI_1gIFCdjZQeK7vzbYNA61jEgQhnAfXstGAx1S2nQnXZ4h-VDD7vbTUMPov0XkRrjwnGav9yUidd646SHEhV34RPkFPzLWfImziULraaIzw/s320/HPIM1452.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302697084306698578" border="0" /></a> . . . and the concomitant moonrise<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxa7L2fGCYw3eBAK5tiiQxdAkiDrKq59LFArE8s6-vMMpegvfEXCijG7RaOTWQlKkc70ZHqR5XRG-qOAQGcDdMOSK5YbRvKT-klDtc0pauNcFmtvYU99WtWNjtwRmOyDk5vGqddNrG7p0c/s1600-h/HPIM1448.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxa7L2fGCYw3eBAK5tiiQxdAkiDrKq59LFArE8s6-vMMpegvfEXCijG7RaOTWQlKkc70ZHqR5XRG-qOAQGcDdMOSK5YbRvKT-klDtc0pauNcFmtvYU99WtWNjtwRmOyDk5vGqddNrG7p0c/s320/HPIM1448.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302695120201874130" border="0" /></a>The beautiful waters of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Okavango</span> Delta<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLYRu3D_LzOe0pVBaZ-jLuU92LPvlCPG3R478XhtT0ZlgwGf4_s0oTfMVokAofj6knCCvEZRY3EEr0PlJWQxm8pTcT-3jYeEGS25JFR7_w7waY0Nwq8j-avwu2wxGxDsIONRVel7XJZk-/s1600-h/HPIM1400.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHLYRu3D_LzOe0pVBaZ-jLuU92LPvlCPG3R478XhtT0ZlgwGf4_s0oTfMVokAofj6knCCvEZRY3EEr0PlJWQxm8pTcT-3jYeEGS25JFR7_w7waY0Nwq8j-avwu2wxGxDsIONRVel7XJZk-/s320/HPIM1400.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302692560175199874" border="0" /></a>Some national soccer stars (Botswana Zebras) and impala (the white-tailed deer of Southern Africa)<br /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8tdFmCeV2jaAwCa-l8J09kPiTEShv3FozqEiYphfoTeyrDRZCo28mMAd_Slu0iQ8xKc-kvbIw3VZBJH6kffuDBEIq8bEPfuMiT6w8HCOZ5RJ5h_M8Op-9gyDmXPau8-O8zvdsz9e6gqSG/s1600-h/HPIM1420.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 190px; height: 251px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8tdFmCeV2jaAwCa-l8J09kPiTEShv3FozqEiYphfoTeyrDRZCo28mMAd_Slu0iQ8xKc-kvbIw3VZBJH6kffuDBEIq8bEPfuMiT6w8HCOZ5RJ5h_M8Op-9gyDmXPau8-O8zvdsz9e6gqSG/s320/HPIM1420.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302691669478743282" border="0" /></a>A cute little monkey<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-27958597385519344492009-02-14T16:49:00.004+02:002009-02-14T18:24:32.402+02:00Spring Break: Okavango DeltaHappy Valentine's Day from Gaborone! A few minutes before 6 am local time, my train rolled into Gaborone and before 7 am I was on my bed catching up on emails and the news. Because of the extensive nature of my spring break sojourn, the next few blogs will be chronologically break up and tell the story of the last week and a half. Thus, this first blog will be about the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">CIEE</span> group trip to the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Okavango</span> Delta, to which my last blog post alluded.<br /><br />Here goes.<br /><br />At 2:30 pm on February 6<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">th</span>, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">CIEE</span> students boarded an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">AirBotswana</span> flight to the safari mecca of Botswana: <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Maun</span>. This small town (pop. 30,000) is <span style="font-style: italic;">the </span>starting point for foreign tourists heading for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Okavango</span> Delta and the <a href="http://www.botswanatourism.co.bw/attractions/moremi_game_reserve.html"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Moremi</span> Game Reserve</a>, our destination, which occupies the northeastern section of the delta.<br /><br />Our four-day, three-night trek into the bush consisted mainly of early morning, i.e. waking up on the wrong side of 6 am, and late afternoon game drives. Despite the near arid conditions we experienced all week long, it is still the rainy season. For a reason which escapes me, this translates into sparse sightings of the animals. But considering many of us had never seen many of these creatures in their native <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnWvIULs1LZgXDKnogTxnrqEgaojJbfzlB696WvJNTH7vbrMy8s4-INCQ12R15lRz0RtUlevkE3ti2hP4fdPK_aCFyIM87TvJIjRE0jd2Pg-k8f1IU-ogsaRZZhfQyZ1Nx8n9yxhznR3J2/s1600-h/HPIM1411.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 231px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnWvIULs1LZgXDKnogTxnrqEgaojJbfzlB696WvJNTH7vbrMy8s4-INCQ12R15lRz0RtUlevkE3ti2hP4fdPK_aCFyIM87TvJIjRE0jd2Pg-k8f1IU-ogsaRZZhfQyZ1Nx8n9yxhznR3J2/s320/HPIM1411.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5302675414476920626" border="0" /></a>environs, we were overwhelmed, to say the least, by our African <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ungulate">ungulate </a>encounters.<br /><br />Crossed off my checklist were: elephant, zebra, giraffe, baboon, monkey, impala, crocodile, hippo, wildebeest (to the left) and even leopard.<br /><br />While we apparently couldn't see them, there were lions nestled amongst the shoulder-high grasses.<br /><br />As Joe, our <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">indispensable</span> guide, said, "You people from the towns see with your eyes, but we from the bush see with our ears." An <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">irrefutable</span> statement if I ever heard one.<br /><br />Another highlight from our trip was the simultaneously touristy and traditional ride on a <span style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mokoro"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">makoro</span></a>. </span>While normally made from hollowed out trees, ours were of the modern variety: fibreglass. Essentially a flat bottomed, African gondola propelled by a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">poler</span>, the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">makoro</span> acted as the major form of transportation in the delta and one can see why after an hour long ride. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBKlyAIJGb03iUBnTsZLWzr1CqIOJxnQxklVgPBuDwRKNyF6EzkDMnyi6-1vE4-0kVRQDzigX0KDk6nUScSLmRa2S9A_VYqMgUlCzMzWQ3i0snqjyeM-_S1LvCpeVN24wVUxcYLNUjbjk/s400/IMG_4776.JPG">The towering swamp ferns create a verdant tunnel, with only the hollow croaks of frogs disrupting the silence.</a><br /><br />On Monday, we did a short morning drive and then headed back to Maun, where our group split up. My group stayed in Maun for the night and explored the very cultural town. Stands upon stands selling clothes, candies, bananas, mangos, cell phone airtime, and everything in between. Packed in alleys, crowding the bus rank, the stands were the closest thing to an authentic bazaar I've experienced thus far in Botswana.<br /><br />Next Post: From Maun to Kasane.Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-600030870475772705.post-69484932282117614532009-02-06T12:05:00.002+02:002009-02-06T12:21:07.441+02:00On HiatusAt about 9:00 am this morning, Batsi (our CIEE director here in Botswana) informed us that we were booked for a 2:30 pm flight this afternoon for a trip to the Okavango Delta in the north of Botswana. Our trip will take us deep inside Moremi game reserve for four days of camping.<br /><br />After that, I will be traveling around northern Botswana (Maun, Nata, Kasane, and Francistown) until my return on February 15th. A brave band of warriors is joining me, six of us in all I believe. A fellowship of sorts.<br /><br />Because we will be without internet for quite a while, I would suggest not checking this blog for a couple weeks. Take care and can't wait to share the pictures!Michael Arnsthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07354048009574565081noreply@blogger.com0