decadence and disease

Last week we had a nice trip up to Moremi, Savute and Chobe Game Reserves that is until the wicked intestinal malaise hit. Unfortunately, there’s something going around Maun. Paul got it first, then he shared it with me (what a nice anniversary gift!). All I ate in three days was a piece of bread and some chicken broth. So I won’t focus on the last few days of the trip but to say that I have a heck of a story for my friend Kirby (who collects stories like this). Not pretty. Enough said.

The first part of the trip, however, was quite fun and Paul and I enjoyed a couple of nights of decadence including free accommodation and dinner in exchange for a his star shows. We rather enjoy the barter system. Thursday night we stayed at Mogothlo tented camp (http://www.mankwe.com/mogothlo.htm). This modest tented camp situated on the way to Savute has comfortable tents, newly renovated bathrooms and nice big decks for sundowners. We had several visitors during the night – all creatures great and small! The “great” creatures were the elephants that munched on camel thorn seed pods right near our tent all night long (mogothlo means camel thorn, hence the name of the camp). One of the things I enjoy most about Botswana is the experience of not quite knowing what I’m hearing. I woke to sounds that reminded me of someone vigorously shaking a newspaper over and over again. What it turned out to be was elephants right by our tent going through the brush. They had quite a feast and made quite a racket. We also heard hippo, hyena, and a lion pride fairly close to where we slept. Exciting stuff!

The “small” creature I didn’t learn about until the next day when I unpacked my bag and noticed that the jacket cover on the book I had been reading for my Sociology of Gender class had been chewed to smithereens. Fortunately, he wasn’t still in the bag. Do you think I can tell my students that a mouse ate my homework?

View from our tent at the Savute Elephant Camp

Friday during the day we drove around scouting out new campsite for the mobile safari sector (the government allots certain sites for the industry and we were trying to find new ones). That night we stayed at Savute Elephant Camp where Paul did another star show (http://www.savuteelephantcamp.com/web/osec/savute_elephant_camp.jsp). This was the real decadence where room prices run $1065/person/night this time of year! Yikes! I’d say that was a well compensated star show!

This amazingly beautiful lodge is situated on the Savute channel (as I mentioned before, the channel has water in it for the first time since the early 1980s). This place is really top notch – food was excellent, service was first rate (we were greeted by several staff on our arrival and escorted to our tent), accommodations stunning! Our “tent” overlooked the channel (and I put that word in quotes because it had heat/AC, an amazing outdoor shower with a view… in fact, our “tent” was much nicer than the “house” we live in!). The bar/lounge/eating area is right next to the in-the-ground swimming pool.

Dining/Lounge area at Savute Elephant Camp

Double outdoor shower, Savute Elephant Camp

Fortunately, we both were feeling pretty good that night and very much enjoyed the three course meal – tomato herb soup, bream with steamed vegetables and mash potatoes, and a dessert of baked apple in a puffed pastry shell with caramel sauce – yum! Paul gave a stunning star show with breath taking views of the crescent moon, the rings of Saturn and a whole array of other celestial objects from the birth place of stars to the grave yard of stars. The guests seemed to really enjoy it (except for the group from the States who had recently arrived in country on their “private jet” and were too tired to stay up for the show! Talk about decadence!).

Saturday night we stayed just around the corner (on the wrong side of the tracks??) in the “public” campsite (now actually privately owned). It was funny to think about the electric fenced fortress surrounding Savute Elephant Camp in contrast to the open public campsite. Are their lives really more valuable than ours? Maybe wildlife prefer the taste of money?

Saturday we made our way up to the Chobe National Park through the forest reserve (rescuing a group of people stuck in the deep sand along the way who announced they were “sitting fast” in broken English indicating they were stuck). As always, we were not disappointed with the abundance of animals on the Chobe riverfront (I think this is one of the best places for game viewing in Botswana if not THE best). We saw kudu, zebras, giraffe, and a few large herds of elephants.

From there our health went downhill. Paul acquired a nasty head cold in addition to the gastrointestinal malaise. We stayed at a small lodge outside of Kasane (really needed indoor plumbing!) and Paul marketed his many business ventures (maps, print house – for copying, binding, laminating, and the safari company). I tried to remain awake and vertical and completed a nice tour of the toilets of Kasane. Maybe I should write a review of those…

Fortunately, we’re (mostly) back to feeling better. I’m back eating solid food (Paul never stopped) but he still has a head cold I’ve somehow managed not to get. The other day I received the official notification of the schedule for a start of the school year. A little less than a month from now I’ll be sitting in a two-day faculty retreat. Such is my life on two continents!

rising floods, energetic 80 year old, a parrot eating soup

Things are just plotting along here as usual in Maun. Our typical day includes a dust filled, donkey dodging ride into work where Paul makes maps, coordinates safari itineraries, and does a variety of things during his crazy day. It is a bit chaotic as he jumps from one thing to the next. I try to keep my nose in a book and focus on my own work but I also keep a running list of all the things he’s committed to in an attempt to keep track of what’s on his ever growing “to do” list. It’s a bit like herding cats.

As for me, I’m reading and preparing for my fall classes and also trying to cultivate research relationships with some well known sociologists currently working in Malawi (on HIV/AIDS, gender, marriage issues) hoping to branch out to Botswana (I’m trying to convince them that I’m the Sociologist they need to assist ;o)

When we’re not in the office, we fill our time with a variety of activities. In addition to our morning weight lifting we’ve been trying to add some aerobic activity by walking before the sun goes down after work. The deep sand walking does a number on my ankle (it’s been years since my ankle surgery but the twisting and turning in the sand still gets to it).

The rising flood water are another diversion. As I mentioned in an earlier post, the combination of a wet rainy season and high flood waters have caused water to be rising in places it hasn’t been in years. The prediction is that the ostrich farm we live on will be an island when all the water actually comes down (from Angola). Yesterday we had a new pond to contend with on the ride home.  Completely dry the day before, now a fairly good size pond in the middle of our path, interesting. We can still drive around it but the same can’t be said for some other locations. On the main road to Ghanzi, the Toteng bridge is now under water (see photo of the swirling waters). Drivers currently have the option of taking the “old bridge” which is still above water (if they are traveling in a light enough vehicle) or completely rerouting their trip in the opposite direction.

The biggest news in Maun regarding flood waters was the recent activities at Island Safari Lodge. A couple weeks back we dashed out of the office to see the big event as a “bund” (barrier of sand) was pulled down to release some of the flood waters under a newly constructed bridge thus making “Island Safari” back into an island. It was an interesting series of events.

Day 1 – we heard about the “new bridge” and went over to have a look. At the time there was simply a trickle of water coming through a small break in the bund. The owners explained that they would not purposefully break the bund for fear of being sued by people downstream (who would likely get flooded).

Day 2 – we get an urgent call to come see as the bund is pulled down with a big earth mover (guess he changed his mind from the day before). We dash out of work and gather with a large group of onlookers to watch the big event (this is exciting stuff for Maun)!

Day 3 – we stop back on the way to work because we’ve gotten word that the new bridge has actually collapsed under the pressure of the water and they are rebuilding the bund to deter the water (“collapse” was a slight exaggeration – the culverts under the dirt bridge have filled with sand so they were not really doing much good at getting the water from one side to another). We also stop at a bed and breakfast downstream to find the empty sand pits we visited on day 1 have now turned into lake front property!  Fun stuff, I’m telling you – mud, water, collapsing bridges…it’s all the talk of the town.

We also had the opportunity to celebrate Georgette’s 80th birthday (Paul’s business partner Eddy’s mother  from Belgium). It was quite a fun event. Eddy’s wife Mano cooked up a feast. Mazoe especially enjoyed the soup (you may remember Mazoe was the parrot that Paul and I bird sat for a while but Eddy and Mano have now taken in permanently – you’ll see from the photos, I think she’s found a good home). Georgette enjoyed her two birthday cakes – how else do you fit on 80 candles? And the best part of the night was Georgette’s tribal dance in full out Bushman gear. You can't really see too well from the picture but she is dressed in skins with a bow and arrow and feathers and quills in her hair dancing and singing "Pula, pula!" Which means rain (and money) signifying good luck. I only hope I have that much spunk and energy when I’m 80!

We also had a chance to visit the crocodile farm the other day. I was checking it out to see if it would be worth visiting when my students are in town. The crocodiles are arranged in pens according to their age. The one year olds. The two year olds. Up to the five year olds which are horribly crowded in the final pen which serves as their final destination before they are killed, skinned and made into belts and shoes. I’m not sure I need to go there again although it was impressive to see the size of the big ones (they are HUGE, up over 12 feet long!) and to hear the other ones actively making their way around the pens (crawling over each other). It sounds as if someone is dragging a leather purse across cement…over and over again…

We’ve also been cooking quite a bit. I know, I know who knew it would take me moving to Botswana to start cooking?! Banana pancakes, broccoli salad with homemade dressing, Portuguese chicken, blue cheese polenta cakes, and this fabulous dessert with crushed ginger cookies, caramel pudding, and apple sauce. It didn’t look great but it was delicious! Our friend Mike seemed to enjoy the "pudding" (that is dessert).

Off to the bush for a few days on Thursday! Hoping to celebrate our second anniversary (on Sunday) somewhere fun!

Happy 4th of July from an aspiring “global citizen”

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the social construction of citizenship/national identity. I’m not sure if it is all this World Cup buzz (speaking of buzz, do those horrible vuvuzela horns sound like a giant swarm of bees to anyone else but me?) -- where people rally around “their” national teams that may be manned by other country’s citizens (e.g. the Portugal team had Spanish players) or coached by expatriates (e.g. wasn’t England’s team coached by an Italian?).

Or maybe it’s the ever growing amount of time living in a country that is not my own. In 2010, for example, I’ll actually be off of American soil more than I’m on it (in fact I’ll be in the States for about 5 ½ months this year). I’ve been here so regularly that few of the un-American uses of English make me stop and pause as they did when I first started coming. I even found myself translating for our guests, Rick and Roberta, as Paul spoke. When he says something is “wonky” he means it’s “out of whack.” When he refers to watching for “bonking donkeys” on the roads, it is clear to me what they are up to as they sprint across the road hyped up on hormones.

At dinner the other night we had a fascinating conversation about citizenship and how it is decided upon. At the table were two women born in Kenya while it was still under colonial rule, resulting in their original designation as “English” citizens. One has since revoked her English citizenship to become a Botswana citizen. The other is still an English citizen living in South African applying for American citizenship (since her adult daughter currently lives in LA having been granted American citizenship at birth by virtue of her American father even though she was born in Botswana). Confusing I know! Also at the table was a South African citizen who has residency in Botswana and, of course, Paul and I both US citizens with Botswana residency.

So how does one decide citizenship/national identity? Is it where one is born? The USA, South Africa and many others do this – if you are born there you are a citizen. Paul’s son had South African citizenship, for example, because his mother was airlifted from Botswana to a South African hospital while she was pregnant with appendicitis and he was born, prematurely, there. Is citizenship based on your parents’ country of origin? Many countries do this as well. His son is an American citizen because Paul is American. He is also Danish because his mother is from Denmark (where he currently lives).

Botswana is a bit different. In fact, in another conversation with friends who have lived in Botswana for years, I learned that, despite the fact that their teenage sons were born here and have spent all of their lives in Botswana, when they turn 18, they have no rights to citizenship or residency as adults. As children they are here on their parents’ residency permits, but as adults, they would need to apply for their own residency (which is no easy feat – for me to get residency in Botswana I had to apply as Paul’s wife and dependent and he had to claim financial responsibility for me). As such, in Botswana at least, simply being born and living in a country your whole life doesn’t guarantee you citizenship.

To complicate the matter further, consider Paul’s situation. Technically he is American. He was born on American soil (left the States when he was 4 years old). His parents were Americans. He carries an American passport. But he is in so many ways NOT American. He’s lacking much of the cultural knowledge that goes with being American (e.g. knowledge of TV shows, movie stars, colloquial language usage). He spent much of his formative years out of the country raised primarily in Europe. His use of English is much more “English” than “American.” The other night at dinner I was caught off guard when the lemon cheese cake we bought for dessert was referred to as “pudding.” I corrected our host clarifying, “It is cheese cake.” When I was thanked at the end of the night for bringing the “pudding,” after we had already eaten the cheese cake, I realized it wasn’t an oversight but a non-American way of referring to dessert. For those of you American English speakers out there in the song lyric that states, “If you don’t eat your meat, you can’t have any pudding…” pudding is not pudding! Damn, you learn something new every day.

The question of “national identity” complicates things even further than that of citizenship. Paul has spent the last 35 years in Botswana making him much more nationally identified with Botswana than the USA. Yet he is clearly an expatriate here, not quite embracing a Batswana national identity either. Of course, the practical reality of this is that countries have to decide who they are responsible for and who they aren’t. Who is entitled to health benefits, education, old age pensions? The free flow of human populations could make this quite expensive for counties with generous benefits (if I was looking for the best benefits package and could freely move, I’d move to Denmark or one of the other Scandinavian countries!). Yet even those benefits are not solely linked to citizenship (e.g. Despite his citizenship, Paul will not be eligible for Medicare OR Social Security because he hasn’t worked enough quarters in the US; he may be entitled to some of mine (by virtue of marriage) but not until I reach retirement age – at least that's what we think, we still haven’t fully figured that out).

So as we approach the 4th of July holidays I ponder - what is citizenship? National identity? For most of you out there reading this, these might be questions you’ve never considered. Perhaps you were born in the country you live in. Perhaps your parents were born there too. So for you, it’s simple. For me, it’s getting more complicated. And yet I am so thoroughly American (looking, sounding) there is little doubt from anyone I meet while traveling where I am from. Elizabeth Gilbert in her book, Eat, Pray, Love, talks about feeling like a flamingo when she travels. I often feel that way too, pink and out of place (the only time that hasn’t happened is in Denmark and Ireland). It’s as if I have “Born in the USA” stamped on my forehead. So as the 4th of July approaches, I do feel a bit nostalgic – longing for red, white and blue, a parade with a marching band, watermelon, family and friends at a cook out, a Red Sox baseball game. But another part of me aspires for more. Fully aware of the dark side of nationalism (war, conflict, drunken brawls in bars over lost soccer games), there’s a way in which I wish we could all be “global citizens.” Aren’t we all members of the same human race? Don’t we all live in the small global space? So with that I’ll wish you a Happy 4th of July… from an aspiring global citizen! Eat a (vegetarian) hot dog with Ketchup for me ;o)