Wrapping up Gay Pride Month

There’s quite a backlog of things I want to post since arriving home after mid-service training (and that minor addition of shaking hands with the First Lady), but as June gives way to July I didn’t want this little story to pass by.

Relative to many African countries, it’s my opinion that Botswana is on the progressive side of homosexual tolerance. Not being gay I can’t speak from personal experience, but I’ve observed an interesting aspect to Botswana culture that crosses over from the urban to the rural communities. It appears that though heavy religious influence leaves many in Botswana totally averse to the idea that homosexuality is an acceptable lifestyle (look at any internet comment thread on the subject in this country and this aversion becomes clear), I still think that with this culture in particular, tolerance is possible once people are given the opportunity to understand more of what being gay is, where it comes from, who is gay, and why. I feel fortunate to have been able to elaborate on this to a small group of people living and working just outside of central Francistown.

My co-worker and I attended one of the monthly ward multi-sectoral AIDS committee meetings,  which is a gathering of people from different sectors of society (religious, medical, schools, etc.) who meet to discuss matters arising surrounding HIV/AIDS. This meeting included people coming from an area that’s mostly impoverished, somewhat uneducated, and highly religious. During the meeting, one woman brought up increased delinquency and “homosexual tendencies” among students in her middle school, and wanted to know how to put it to rest. The parents were starting to worry that their kids were going to become gay if they were around other kids expressing homosexual behavior.

Now, I’m thinking that in middle school if a child is “acting gay” it probably means either he or she is going through a phase of sexual or emotional exploration without much meaning behind it, or the child is in fact, gay. Either way, some parents were sure that if their child became friends with these “delinquents” then they, too, would “get the gay.”

The coworker I was with and I have discussed homosexuality before, and she knows me to be pro-gay rights. She’s previously told me that as she learns more she’s becoming increasingly confident that intolerance towards homosexuals is an important human rights issue.  Given the chance to share the knowledge she’s learned, she asked me to address the meeting and give them my understanding of whether people are born gay, or if they can become gay by observing such behavior at a young age.

Nervous, I stood up thinking that the best way to explain it would be to put it in a blatantly clear and understandable way. So I compared sexual orientation with the other big controversial biological issue: race. I said, “It’s of my personal knowledge that choosing to be straight or gay is like choosing to be black or white. It’s how we are born, and it’s something we cannot change. I could paint my skin black every day, but at the end of the day I will always be white.”

An immediate sense of pride took over me, followed by a small dose of fear. It was the first time I had expressed my thoughts to a group of Batswana on such a sensitive topic (I usually keep it all to myself to keep the peace) and had no idea what people would say to that. They could have yelled at me, told me I was wrong, and that I would be punished in hell for such thoughts. But instead I got initial looks of shock but then quiet nods of understanding. I further explained that if the child acts gay it might be that he or she was actually born gay, and if he or she had not expressed that before it could be due to commonly understood societal pressures against homosexuality. I clarified that if the child was not born gay then he or she will not become gay by befriending someone who is.

The “painting skin” element to my comparison was particularly important, because these societal pressures don’t stop at adolescence - many Batswana grow up knowing they’re gay, but paint themselves to look straight every single day of their lives. Some get married, have children, and essentially live a lie to keep from being outed. I’ve occasionally asked people to think about it with the tables turned – to think of a world where they had to marry someone of the same sex in order to please everyone else. Looking shocked and disgusted, I think they tend to get the idea this way.

After the meeting, many of us sat around talking and enjoying our tea, when the ladies started giggling and laughing. They were reflecting on a man they all used to know – they used to call him “one of the ladies,” and referred to him with the feminine prefix “Mma” before his name, as he used to shop, socialize, and talk effeminately with them. They didn’t speak negatively about him at all, in fact, they spoke fondly of how nice he was and how easy it was for them to get along with him, and they were also discussing the realization that he was probably gay. For some it was the first time they realized that they had actually known someone gay. It seemed to click that just because he might have been gay did not mean he was a bad or negatively influential person.

Witnessing this was amazing. It gave me a sense of hope that if people are simply provided more education on the subject, then they might come to understand how hard it can be for some homosexuals in Botswana. Luckily, Gaborone is already somewhat of a hub for homosexual expression and tolerance. There are dance clubs akin to gay bars, and I’ve heard from a few friends there’s even a secret “I’m also gay” handshake. Hopefully, with more education and reflection, a slow but steady acceptance will enter people’s hearts privately, and then public action against this intolerance will follow suit.

The Botswana Worker’s Strike – Part 2 – Effects of the Long Strike

The strike was seemingly unending.  Since the first 10 days ended almost two months ago daily questions still float around the office: What’s going on with the strike today? Any progress? News? As the days passed the government publicly and repeatedly stated that money wasn’t available for a salary increase, but this didn’t seem to pacify anyone. Increasing the strike’s intensity was the fact that the unions couldn’t hold their promise to pay the strikers a salary when the government refused.  The workers fighting for a raise began to realize that they may not be receiving any paycheck at all.

A few weeks ago in Molepolole (the village where I spent pre-service training), students who were left without teachers to teach them began vandalizing schools and looting shops, demanding that the government end the strike. This caused schools to close throughout the country for about a week, and reopened only when they could be patrolled by police. Aside from a skeletal staff that was not allowed to strike, hospitals and clinics also shut down. Subsequently, government employed teachers and nurses on strike started getting fired.

Later, Ministers of Parliament held public meetings in various villages to address the issues surrounding the strike. Probably a well intended outreach, but the people only got riled up and angry and ended up physically running the ministers out while chanting and exclaiming that they would ”rather be led by President Mugabe.” (this article link is from a Botswana newspaper and is especially colorful and dramatic)

Just a week ago on Tuesday, things culminated towards what I hope was the worst of the whole ordeal. Supposedly June 7th was the day an agreement was to be finalized – a 3% increase across the board for all government employees – and the strike was to end.  A 3% increase, however, for someone making one of the the lowest pay grades of P1200/month ($185), would be a raise of P36/month ($5.54). To put it in perspective that’s about the cost of a large bag of rice.

So Tuesday the strikers returned again to the forefront, but this time with a different attitude. Instead of peaceful protesting outside Ntshe House, Ntshe House employees fled from the building when rumors surfaced that the strikers were heading there for a confrontation.  I left with my coworkers.

Though my supervisor, Mma Mathumo, was running in jest, it was because none of us were quite sure what to expect. I exited the building and could feel the air of the city change as I walked down the street. Cars honked loudly at each other, taxis sped through intersections, and people’s pacing seemed quicker and more deliberate. All of a sudden I noticed the ladies who perch at tables surrounding the perimeter of the building to sell fat-cakes, boiled eggs and candy were hastily packing up their tables.  People were hurrying to get out of the strikers’ way.

I passed through the popular nearby shopping center, Galo Mall, on the way home and came across a woman repeatedly sneezing and crying in what looked like a painful allergic reaction. Once I got to Galo I learned that the civil unrest prompted the use of tear gas, forcing the stores to close early. Strikers charged down the streets and trashed another popular shopping center down the road, setting car tires on fire.

This video was not taken by me, but by someone down the street from where I was.

That afternoon Peace Corps told me to stay home and not come back to work the next day if the civil unrest persisted. They also put a temporary travel ban on FTown for all traveling volunteers. What’s interesting about this event (and all previous related events) is that Botswana is such a peaceful country, so this feels uncomfortable for everyone. No one is used to seeing Batswana react like this, and I think it’s clear the strikers themselves don’t want this to escalate into violence. All of this drama happened and then it stopped, as if it was a mid-morning mini riot and then people broke for lunch. Afterwards Francistown became calm, and I went to work the next day.

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Update: Union leaders met with the Directorate of Public Service Management (the Government Employer) on Sunday, June 12th to agree to temporarily suspend the strike, but a portion of the strikers are refusing to go back to work. Though the decision might have caused a chasm within the striking population, it seems most agree the strike is essentially over for now. Those who lost their jobs are requested to reapply, and workers can expect a 3% increase in salary starting in September. More later…

Related articles

• Botswana: Not so perfect after all (economist.com)
• Striking workers in Gaborone barricades the roads (gabzfmnews.wordpress.com)
• The Botswana Worker’s Strike – Part 1 – The Build Up (alexiskanter.wordpress.com)
• Saleshando attacks President Ian Khama (gabzfmnews.wordpress.com)
• Botswana strike takes toll on health care (foxnews.com)

The Botswana Worker’s Strike – Part 1 – The Build Up

On March 22, I sat working at my desk at Ntshe House when my coworker and I heard what we thought was a thunderstorm. As the rumblings became louder I realized what I heard was not thunder, but feet. I grabbed my camera and discovered this:

Batswana government union members were publicly taking a stand against a three-year salary freeze attributed to the global economic crisis.  The protest also took place shortly after the country hit 8.5% inflation. At the time I was clueless about all of this, but the protest was somewhat expected by my coworkers. They knew the unions were not happy. The protesters wanted a 16% increase in salary to compensate, and if that wasn’t met then they announced they would soon go on strike.

It was the beginning of something huge. This significant population of government employees is interlaced throughout every major government provided service in Botswana, and fulfills an incredibly high percentage of the overall working population. For them to band together in this capacity is kind of a big deal.

Still, the protest was peaceful, and was followed by an evening candlelight vigil. People went to work like usual the next day.

But by mid-April no one could come to a deal, so on April 14th the protesters returned to Ntshe House to formally hand in a petition stating that the following Monday would be the beginning of a 10-day strike.

and them singing the anthem

The crowds were bigger and sounded more determined to see this thing through.  The following Monday, they began their strike.  In order to make sure they didn’t head out on extended vacation, the union required either a sign-in at work (going on strike was not mandatory for union members) or a sign-in at designated meeting spots throughout the country. At these meeting spots they were to appear in work clothes, arrive at the time they would for work, sit, represent their union, and leave when it was normally time to knock-off.

They did this for 10 days, but still no compromise was met, and so the strike continued. It turned into what became the longest strike in the country’s history (which, admittedly, isn’t that long).

Teen Club Feedback Meeting and Subsequent Realization of Winning

It’s been said most Peace Corps Volunteers don’t fully begin their real work until about a year into their service. In most situations, PCVs are dropped off at their home after training and basically given the green light to “begin service,” whatever that may be. Some PCVs have a very open ended service, while others know to report to a classroom or office regularly. In any of these situations, however, it can take months just to acclimate to the lifestyle and work environment, get people to like and trust you, and learn enough about what the community needs to actually begin to give back at a substantial level.  As someone who works in a modernized office with people who speak fluent English, I never thought this path applied to me quite as much (my job is a definite exception to the norm). But, in my own way, I recently experienced something akin to this phenomenon, and as a result I see whole new possibilities for my service beginning to open up.

A couple of Thursdays ago the District AIDS Coordinator asked me to attend a stakeholder feedback meeting for a group called Teen Club, a peer support group for HIV-positive adolescents. I was to report to the Cresta Marang Hotel for a morning meeting in which we were to review the organization’s progress from the last year and round off the meeting with a catered lunch at the hotel.  Surely I had gotten used to these types of gatherings already.

But this time the meeting was drastically different. While normally I would attend a similar conference accompanied by either the District AIDS Coordinator or some other member of the District AIDS Office team, this time it was just me. Also, usually the group meeting is relatively large – I’d say an average of 20 at a time – so the pressure to participate isn’t always that high. And when I would participate, it was often with a confidence only backed up by a general, superficial understanding of the situation. This time I sat in a small, windowless room with seven others around a very intimate conference table, and the participants at the meeting were looking to me to represent the District AIDS Office and give adequate feedback on the organization’s progress. Lastly, I would usually be told ahead of time if I was expected to give any type of meeting presentation. This time that realization came only after reading it on the agenda at the meeting’s start.

The wonderful thing that surprised me though was that none of these intimidating changes actually intimidated me, and I felt comfortable with the whole situation. Upon arriving I not only recognized 2 out of the 7 other attendees, but I also know and greeted the Marang Hotel manager. These connections made me initially feel at ease. When Teen Club presented their yearly reports and explained their recent successes and challenges, I immediately referred back to a bank of comparative references I had learned over the months to see if they were operating above or below par. I could read their graphs and charts and see gaps my Batswana colleagues didn’t initially see. To sum up, for the first time I realized my collected background knowledge of both the organizational structure and the culture enabled me to know what information I should give back that would be both useful and appreciated.

“That was too much. Too much good feedback for one person,” was the literal response by the co-chair of the meeting. He and others also admitted it was great to have an “outsider’s” perspective on the issues. Hello, Peace Corps Goal #2.

It felt like an achievement, and also like a turning point for me in my service.  It happened with appropriate timing too – our year anniversary for entering this country is just around the corner.

In Which my PCV friend Saved a Girl From Drowning and got me a Free Impala Steak

I love how routine lazing about can turn into something extraordinary.  About a month ago, my friend Salewa visited Francistown from her village 20 minutes south. She came in for some usual grocery shopping, and met up with me and our friend Heather for an afternoon ice cream cone. Halfway through our dessert we ran into Pete, our Australian geologist friend, and invited him to join us for a sundowner at the beautiful and serene Cresta Marang Hotel.

Me admiring Salewa's choice of free drink

The Marang always feels like a luxurious place totally disconnected from the city. Sitting by the pool on the hotel’s heavy, black metal chairs and sipping the first Castle lager draft of the day, we talked and enjoyed the sun coming through the tall trees and hitting the bungalos and the large, mowed lawn. Five dapper men in starched collared shirts sat at another table across the pool, seemingly doing the same with their afternoon. Shortly after we got there. a group of teenage girls also came to the pool.  Nothing weird, right? A peaceful Saturday afternoon. Then, without warning, the girls stripped down to their underwear bottoms and started loudly splashing each other in the shallow end of the pool.

Pete immediately and understandably became uncomfortable. He tried to play it cool but kept awkwardly looking into his beer not knowing what to do. These girls were underage, but they certainly weren’t children. Breasts aren’t as sexualized in Botswana as they are in our respective countries, and the group of dapper men (it was unclear where they were from) didn’t seem to care.    It even made me feel a bit strange to see the girls there, topless and splashing away.  The whole thing just became pretty freaking awkward.

So we sat, trying not to pay attention to this party of pubescent ladies enjoying their giggle-splash-fest (admittedly this was pretty difficult). It was clear they weren’t patrons of the hotel, and we found out later they came from a nearby birthday party down the road. We had passed this party on the way over – it had a bouncy castle. I made a comment about how strange it was that these girls wanted to swim since so many Batswana don’t know how. Foreshadowing!

After about 20 minutes, one girl accidentally waded out into the deep end, not knowing she couldn’t stand up.  There were no markings specifying the depth of the pool at different points, and with the pool floor being the same shade of white throughout it wasn’t necessarily intuitive to someone unfamiliar with swimming pools that it would be too deep to stand at the other end.

The bigger issue was that the girl couldn’t swim, and had inhaled too much water trying to keep up. All of her splashing for air blended right in with the giggle splashing coming from her friends.

Salewa - Saves lives, seizes days, and knows how to party

I was especially oblivious to what was going on because by then I had finally succeeded in manipulating my mind to situate the girls as background scenery. Salewa, however, noticed that the girl in the deep end was now floating at the surface with her head face-down and her arms and legs dangling in the water beneath her. The girl’s friends began to panic, and without hesitation Salewa placed her large Blackberry on the table and expertly dove into the pool to rescue her.

It’s good to have friends who know basic rescue. It’s also good to know that some learn how to do things in Girl Scouts other than sell cookies (who knew?!)

Meanwhile, as Salewa was determining if she had to perform CPR, the dapper men were now standing at the edge of the pool yelling at the girls for intruding on their space.  I went over to the men and asked them just what the deal was that they couldn’t do anything to help the girl. They had nothing to say, and I concluded that they, too, probably didn’t know how to swim. To make matters worse we discovered later that the men were all doctors. It made me furious.

Salewa got the girl to cough up the water, talked to her a bit, and luckily the girl walked away shaken up but alright. The girls sheepishly put on their tube tops and shorts and quickly left. The manager, a stocky South African man wearing a white polo shirt, khaki shorts and carrying a large walkie-talkie, marched over to thank us. It was obvious from the beads of sweat running down his temples that he knew Salewa didn’t just save the girl from drowning, but also potentially saved him from a lawsuit.  In addition to not having any pool depth indicators, the area had no warning or risk signs. He made a lame joke about hiring Salewa as the lifeguard and offered us drinks on the house. Salewa replied with, “Sounds great, but actually we’re all pretty hungry!” The manager winced at the thought of giving away four expensive dinners, but with an affected smile still agreed. I nudged Salewa that she should also get the hotel staff to wash and dry her clothes. We were not about to let the hotel off the hook that easily.

Turns out we all got free drinks, free dinner, and Salewa’s clothes cleaned and dried. In our collective opinion it was a small price for the hotel to pay to avoid becoming “that hotel where some girl died in the pool.”  Plus, we were feeling pretty lucky and elated that we were in the right place at the right time and actually saved a girl’s life.

While basking in Salewa’s recent feat and waiting for our drinks to arrive, two large men carried out a heavy brass and marble sign post that explained the risks and rules of swimming in the pool.  I guess it had been sitting somewhere in the hotel storage shed. The men placed it out by the pool, however naturally it was obscured by a large tree.

It was on this day I ate my first impala steak, and though it was a bit tough I still loved it. The freeness of the steak and the richness of the story made it even more delicious than it would have been had I actually been able to afford it.

Rounding the night off, we took our leftovers to my house and later ended up at the seedy, crowded bars at Area L, where we got sweaty and danced with all the hipster Batswana kids. It was a perfect way to celebrate.

By the way – today is Salewa’s Birthday! Happy Birthday, lady.

Hobbies

Sometimes I have free time

 

Remixed

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Both are the same pencil drawing – the second was colored using GIMP.

AIDS Support Group Defies Adversity

This is the first of several articles I’ll be writing for the Botswana Guardian and Midweek Sun.

Light poured into the one-car garage meeting room of the Francistown Network of Support Groups as Edward Moreki opened the heavy, vertically swinging door. “Today we are meeting to approve our new constitution,” said Moreki, chairman and founding member of the organisation, and eight core members took their seats around a wooden conference table that almost entirely filled the dimensions of the room.

Edward Moreki, Founding Member and Chairman of FNSG

The Francistown Network of Support Groups (FNSG) is a tiny, influential, and at times life saving organisation with a history of growth and struggle. Started in 2005 to fill a gap left by the closure of COCEPWA – Coping Center for People Living with HIV/AIDS, it served as the umbrella organisation supervising eight HIV/AIDS support groups in the Francistown district. Through its counselor training programmes for people living with HIV, FNSG has helped hundreds accept their positive status and correctly adhere to treatment programmes, and has mobilized other infected and affected individuals to lead healthier and more fulfilling lives.

But since late 2009, the organisation has been in danger of folding.  Once fully supported through the District AIDS Office and by the African Comprehensive HIV/AIDS Partnerships (ACHAP), funding ended when ACHAP’s focus shifted from HIV treatment programmes to organisations that specialise more directly in prevention.

“We were impressed with what they were doing, “says Charles Olenja, Senior Programme officer at ACHAP.  Olenja says they were so impressed that in 2008 they produced “Prevention with Positives,” a thorough documentation of FNSG that would be used as an example to help similar fledgling organisations throughout Botswana grow into what FNSG was at the time. “I still feel they are an important group in prevention, but if the principals say no, I have no control over it, “he says.

The funding cut left FNSG with an inability to retain members.  Both the organisation’s lay counsellor programme, which focused on counseling patients in clinics, and focal person programme, which spearheaded support groups, required putting in full-time work. ACHAP’s funding included small incentives to these trained members, and as a result of the cessation of funding, support groups collapsed and FNSG’s membership dropped significantly – falling from over 100 to five in a matter of months.

“It was a blow to us,” recalls Moreki. “Most have gone to greener pastures and joined other organisations.”

Without money or members, FNSG lost its structure as a multi-tiered organisation offering counseling and support to hundreds, and has instead whittled down to a group of determined members meeting once a week and now offering their support towards resuscitating the organisation.

FNSG Members working on their constitution

To make matters worse, at the time of ACHAP’s withdrawal FNSG was not a fully registered organisation and had no other backup funders. They relied solely on the District AIDS Office, the HIV/AIDS Technical Advisory Committee (TAC), and ACHAP for their technical and financial support. Part of this, says Sibatheni Phakala, FNSG member and lay counselor, was due to the fact that they were concentrating all of their efforts on their operations. Funding seemed secured.

“We focused too much on clinics,” says Phakala, “we realized that some of the important things are not done.”

The HIV/AIDS Technical Advisory Committee was also caught off guard by the withdrawal. “TAC was not prepared for the withdrawal of ACHAP,” says Dr. Paul Nashara, Public Health Specialist and TAC Coordinator. “Since this happened we have run out of ideas,” he says, adding that he hoped to include FNSG in the next meeting’s agenda.

While FNSG fights to regain its financial security and status, HIV positive patients who would be receiving benefits from the organisation are now left without much help to turn to. Mopati Mompati, FNSG member and lay counselor, says since he stopped working in his clinic in Gerald he has already noticed the situation regarding patient adherence to anti-retroviral therapy changing rapidly.  He explains that people are not receiving the right counseling to help them accept their status and thus feel uncomfortable waiting in the lines to receive medication.

“Since we left, the number of people who have defaulted has gone up. The number of people who have died has gone up,” says Mompati.

He also believes the FNSG lay counselor programme is essential and irreplaceable.

“The relationship that we have with them is the kind of relationship even a doctor cannot have with a patient. That’s why I think we are different,” he says. “We feel it’s only at FNSG where HIV positive people can find comfort within people they share the same feelings with.”

It is this aspect he and many other members feel sets FNSG apart. While other organisations offer support groups and systems for treatment, FNSG employs those who are already HIV positive to work with patients having a hard time dealing with the realities of an HIV positive life. They believe this helps new members feel confident about disclosing their status and beginning a new life, free of denial.

Aware of the vital role they play in Francistown, FNSG is now scrambling – implementing a new constitution, writing proposals to other donors and thinking of new ways to survive. It became a fully registered organisation in April last year, and in October it began a door-to-door campaign aimed at educating young adults on the importance of eliminating multiple concurrent sexual partnerships. This campaign, which is currently ongoing, is also geared at recruiting new members interested in volunteering.

In April 2010 FNSG began a catering service that provided traditional Setswana food both for individual and hired events and at a food stand outside Francistown’s government offices. Although it did not earn FNSG much money and eventually was put on hold, Wynter Mmolotsi – the Francistown South MP, occasionally still hires them to cater for his meetings. For the past year and a half he has continued to share his office space, electricity and water – a donation carried over from the previous Francistown South MP.

“We are working so well,” says Mmolotsi. “I wish I could do more for them. My office has limited resources – there is little that we can offer, but I wish we had more to share with them.”

Hans Rosling on HIV: New facts and stunning data visuals

I wouldn’t normally use this forum just to post a Youtube video, but I felt this one hits pretty close to home with what’s going on with the HIV/AIDS scene here in Botswana. During a TED talk, Hans Rosling, a doctor and researcher who is especially enthusiastic for giving visually stimulating presentations on global statistics, discusses the changing percentages of HIV infections over time, income, and location.  He highlights Botswana, and shows just how relatively high the HIV rate is here as compared to the rest of the world. It’s important to also note that the issues he brings up in terms of why HIV is so abundant in Southern Africa – multiple concurrent partnerships, lack of condom use, and intergenerational sex – are some of the key issues we face on a daily basis in our behavior change and prevention programs.

Click here for more info and presentations from Hans Rosling.

Severe Culture Hangover

It’s been a while since I wrote – my life’s been pretty hectic with work and play and hosting people. I spent Thanksgiving devouring American food with friends in Selebi-Phikwe, went camping in the rain with other friends at Letsibogo Dam (near Phikwe), and coordinated with the DAC office 5 World AIDS Day Celebrations in Francistown. Oh, and I attended National World AIDS Day in Palapye, where I chatted with our Ambassador Steve Nolan and watched President Khama give his annual WAD speech.

Immediately after the final World AIDS Day celebration in Francistown, I hastily took off to Cape Town for a two-week long holiday. I had no idea 2 weeks could have such an impact on me – it made me realize just how slowly time passes here in Bots. If I could do as much as I did in those two weeks, then it’s become a resolution of mine to fill my time here more efficiently as well. Course, I’m back on my Peace Corps budget, so “filling my time” might mean “reading more books” and “exercising more frequently” as opposed to the following:

Things I did in Cape Town:

• Ate copious amounts of sushi
• Drank delicious, high-gravity beer with this crazy thing added called “flavor”
• Visited 6 vineyards in the Stellenbosch region (only really remember the first 5 though)
• Met and befriended several locals from Stellenbosch and Cape Town – sincere thank yous to Couch Surfing
• Saw Harry Potter at the Waterfront – a part of town near the ocean filled with malls and breweries and restaurants by the water. The area has a huge ferris wheel and other fun attractions like “still-dude-in-all-bronze” and “man who makes portraits of you and advertises this talent with his portrait of R. Kelly”.  Also, choirs.
• Visited Simon’s Town – the cute touristy spot just north of Cape Point – one of the most southern parts of Africa.
• Enjoyed many hours shopping the markets and cafes in Cape Town – and though it’s hard to find a restroom, the urban design of some of these areas are beautiful, welcoming, and green.
• Stayed at one hostel for the duration of the trip – the Kimberley Hotel – and by the end really felt like family there. Highly recommended, assuming they provide a fan in your room. Their cheap breakfasts of eggs, toast, beans and coffee really saved me a few mornings. It was also fun to watch people finishing their beers while eating these breakfasts.
• Climbed Lion’s Head with my friend Hays and viewed all of Cape Town and the ocean from one single point at the top
• My New Year’s Day consisted of visiting a Turkish Bath, watching The Social Network at the Labia Theater,  hitting up a Mexican Restaurant, a jazzy cigar bar… and a brewery at the Waterfront.
• Drank 2 exquisite martinis – one bar-made and one home-made
• Went salsa dancing, then later got booed off the stage singing Karaoke (crappy song + drunk people = little patience for anything other than “Sweet Caroline” by Neil Diamond)
• Ate at a Kurdish restaurant called Mesopotamia, shared a tobacco hookah, watched a belly dancer who later invited me to belly dance with her… which i did.
• Drank a neat Laphroaig (this deserves a bullet of its own)
• Ate a perfect meal with an incredible person at a restaurant called Blonde
• Laughed until I cried at least twice
• Danced and danced and danced with truly great friends

So from this experience I can see why some wait a long time before visiting the States during their service – I didn’t want to come back to Francistown. And though perhaps the sleepless night before the exhausting day of travel might have had something to do with it, I teared up a bit walking back to my house. Even in my wonderful tiny city of Francistown, everything seemed so flat in comparison to the saturation of culture and beauty I had just immersed myself in. I questioned what I was doing in Peace Corps again, but eventually resolved (again) to stick it out and use my time here as best I can. No sense in not living in a place like Cape Town if I’m just going to sit on my thumbs living in Botswana.

Though I don’t feel so energized to sit again in front of my screen in my FTown flourescent office,  I do, however, feel energized to fulfill some personal goals I’ve been sitting on for a few months. I need to act on them in a practical way  – like, inching forward by doing at least one thing a day on one of my goals. And I’ve got lots.

Will I mention my goals right now on this blog? Nope. Thanks to insight from Derek Sivers on TED I’ll be keeping them to myself for now.

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Happy New Year, everyone. And to quote the naked lady in the Turkish bath (who probably got it from someone else), “may the best of last year be the worst of this year.”

5-a-Side Football Tournament

Pie City Meat Pies

The day after the big storm the DAC office driver, Bob, picked me up from my house in a government truck and drove me, the DAC office supplies keeper, Albert, and about 200 meat pies over to a residential part of town called Area W.  We were headed to the sports field to fulfill some of our duties as DAC officers, representing the office to show support and take note of the success level of the event. This match wan’t created solely to play football, but because more and more HIV/AIDS based organizations are using tactics like football tournaments to reach out to young men.

Albert and Bob

Area W is a residential part of town with low to middle income housing. It’s just a few blocks from Francistown’s ritzy outdoor mall and big box store (think Wal-Mart but slightly more upscale), but our group conversations with community members reveal that the area, like many areas in Francistown, has a substantial problem with brothels, over drinking, out-of-school youth, and consequently, HIV. These problems can be well hidden from outsiders – one would probably not know it if he were to walk past a brothel as they look like any other home. Because the problem areas can be so hidden, penetration into the community and implementation of behavior change can be much more difficult.

The day’s organizer was Ultimate Youth of Destiny, an up and coming NGO in Francistown that caters to educating young people on the benefits of abstinence until marriage. It’s also one of many organizations that occasionally uses football as a bridge to bring a message of HIV/AIDS awareness to young men and women, but especially  men.  Men in Botswana statistically don’t test for HIV as often as women, and therefore have a greater chance of infecting several partners before becoming aware of a positive HIV status.  So, ideally, the men hear news of the game, come out to play, eat a meat pie provided and paid for with government District AIDS Office money, and leave with a message of healthier living. Positive reinforcement through food and sports.

I was amazed at how many people turned up. Six teams worth, or about 30 players, came out to play while onlookers sat on the roads nearby or walked through the field as the games commenced. The game field was just a large patch of ground enclosed by street and trees. Off to the right from where I sat was a huge pool of rainwater from the storm the night before that repeatedly floated the football during a play. The teams trickled in over the course of the morning, each with their own impressive uniform shirt, and jumped right into the game with intense energy under the hot and humid sun. They seemed totally unphased by the sweltering heat.

Spectators

The Saturday was turning out to be an excellent day for a football match, but a pretty unlucky day for the real purpose of the game – getting the message of abstinence and the dangers of multiple-concurrent partnerships (MCP) out to the players.  Though the organizer from Ultimate Youth gave a brief pre-game talk on the goals of the organization, only one team out of 6 had arrived by that time. Once the games started, Bob and Albert attempted to set up the sound system and some large speakers so Ultimate Youth could play music and occasionally talk about MCP, but this plan fell through when the cord was too short to reach the power source, the Area W clinic, down the street. Bob and Albert left during a match to get a longer cord, and meanwhile more teams arrived and played and left and some didn’t receive the message. So when they were finally able to set up the sound system there were only a few matches left, and Ultimate Youth was only able to squeeze in a few last minute reminders towards the end.

Bob setting up the Sound System

The other issue with events like this is that even if the sound system had worked from the beginning, it’s still very difficult to determine how effective these types of events are. There isn’t really a quantifiable way to measure the effects of a message-based football tournament because behavior change is such a gradual process and can come from a number of different factors. And in a country of only 2 million with one of the most highly concentrated HIV positive populations in the world, all efforts need to be worthwhile.  We are presented with a constant tug-of-war between reaching out to the community in an enriching way that produces a quick enough turnaround reduction of HIV infections, and fighting with the fact that poverty and lack of education lead so many so quickly down a destructive path. Regardless, we assume that a football tournament is a failsafe way to reinforce positive behavior by keeping people, at least temporarily, away from an abusive lifestyle and focused on healthy living and camaraderie.