Africa is not for sissies!

We are snuggled into our bed, cozy under our summer duvet with the air conditioner blasting cold air to counteract the hot Botswana night when, all of a sudden, the little red light switch on the wall indicating the hot water tank is on, goes out, the face of my cell phone lights up indicating the power charging it has fluctuated and the previously functioning air conditioner lets out a small puff of air like a dying dragon on its last leg. Crap! It’s going to be one hot night without the AC. As I lie there processing what has happened a mosquito (hopefully not carrying malaria) does a flyby near my ear. Africa is not for sissies!

The craziness of my return to Botswana begins last Wednesday when I call Paul to see how his fourteen hour drive from Maun to Johannesburg to pick me up on Friday is progressing. Over the BANG, BANG, BANG of what I learn is a malfunctioning CV joint (whatever the heck that is…in my world your CV, or your curriculum vitae, is the electronic or paper evidence of all you’ve accomplished in your academic career), he explains the situation. He is diverting to Gaborone, the capital city, to drop the vehicle off at the Subaru dealer and get a rental car to carry on with this journey that is…if he makes it…he’s still 80 km outside of the city.

I continue packing and grading and organizing things for what will be my three month absence (I’m on sabbatical in the spring) all the while trying to think of a plan on how to get from the airport to the hotel if he can’t make it to Johannesburg. Fortunately, with a little help from some friends in Gabs he manages to drop the vehicle off, pick up the rental car and carry on his way. By the time I arrive on Friday he’s managed to go to the dentist for a cleaning (that’s right, he drives 14 hours to get his teeth cleaned), pick up lots of supplies for his mapping business, and settle into the hotel we’ll be in for a couple of nights until we start heading back to Botswana.

Unfortunately, the part needed to fix the Subaru is unavailable in all of Botswana and it needs to be ordered. At first they explain that, “it will be available in mid-January” (no I am not kidding…they suggest it will take over a month to get the part we need!). With a little cajoling from Paul they make a plan to have it shipped up on Friday or Monday from Johannesburg. We call on Saturday and, since it did not arrive on Friday, they can’t even start making the repair until the beginning of the week. We stay another night in Johannesburg…do some shopping, eat at a couple of decent restaurants, try to sleep off my jet lag and begin our trek north on Sunday.

Sunday morning, before leaving, we need to get some cash (Rand) in order to pay tolls and buy fuel (they don’t take credit cards in South Africa at fuel stations only “fuel cards”??). We go to a largely closed mall to find an ATM (most of the stores are closed in honor of Nelson Mandela’s funeral – can you imagine this in the US? 10 days until Christmas and you close your business out of respect?). The ATMs are a little hard to find. We manage to locate one that has 2 kiosks. A man stands at one and we go to the other only to see some sort of computer language that looks like it is rebooting itself. We’re a little confused but the man, who has apparently just used the other ATM, says his was working. We move over and try to use that one. When we try to insert our card it seems to jam in the slot. Paul pulls it out and tries again. Something is not right. I don’t like this guy hanging around and I say to Paul, “Let’s try another ATM.”

The man who has just used the machine insists that it just worked and advises us to reposition the card a bit. The hair on the back of my neck is standing up and I say AGAIN, “Let’s try another machine.” “No, no,” the guy insists, “this one was just working. Let me help you.” I say, “Paul, let’s go to another machine.” At which point the guy moves in to help Paul insert his card, then steps away. As Paul is typing in his PIN the guy is looking over our shoulders. I try to move around to block his view but he is quite tall. When the machine doesn’t seem to process his request, he attempts to eject his card. Paul tries again to eject the card. I explain, “We’ve just been scammed. That guy palmed your card.” Did I mention that Africa is not for sissies?

By the time we process what has just happened, the guy is long gone. We immediately call Paul’s bank and shut the card down. We learn later that he’s managed to get the equivalent of $500 USD out of the account before we do so (we’re currently disputing the charges…maybe they’ll be reimbursed). I love Africa. I love Africa.

Seething, we begin the drive back to Botswana. It takes about 5 hours to drive to Gaborone where we settle into our next hotel until the car is fixed. We spend the next couple of days foraging for food (it’s hard to believe we can’t find a decent restaurant in the capital of the country), buying some clothes (I’m running out and had planned to be back in Maun by now where my African wardrobe exists), and watching news footage on Nelson Mandela’s funeral (we even went to the movies and saw “The Long Walk to Freedom”). We try to forgive the ATM thief but fail.

We also take the opportunity to visit a friend from Maun in the hospital. Sadly he is quite sick and while he is at the “best” private hospital available, the ICU is sparse. Additionally, they are threatening to “pull the plug”, so to speak, if he can’t pay in advance for his care - he has no medical insurance (and I thought the US was bad…but at least there they will treat you, then bill you into bankruptcy, but at least you’re alive).

By Tuesday late morning we get word the car is fixed. We pack up and hit the road for the nine hour drive back to Maun. While I would have preferred to drive halfway and stay somewhere OR leave early the next morning, Paul insists on driving the entire way. It is not that 9 hours is too long to drive in one stretch but rather, the minute the sun goes down the drive is deadly (and exceeds my tolerance level). For those of you living in the developed world, it is a bit hard to explain. First, there are no street lights outside of urban areas in all of Botswana (and those in the urban areas have been installed in the last 3 years of so). Second, roads are thoroughfares for all types of creatures – man and beast, alike. Potential road hazards include donkeys (often standing still smack in the middle of the road; Paul and I joke that they are “doing maths” as they seriously look like they’re stumped by something perplexing), goats (they are the smart ones and quickly move out of the way of a beeping car), cows (“dumber than a cow” might be a way to explain their behavior) and horses. Oh yeah, the people…did I mention the people? At times you’ll find them walking very close to the edge of the road typically wearing dark clothing. It is totally stressful and we spend the last hour and a half squinting through bug guts on the windscreen look for dark shadows on the very dark road. I hate it.

Since I’m here writing you know we’ve arrived safely (fortunately). We spent yesterday in the office trying to catch up on a week’s worth of emails and starting to plan for our camping trip over the Christmas holiday (we leave Saturday). This morning when we left the house we noticed that two of our spare tires (one on a safari vehicle and one on the trailer) are…gone! That’s right stolen out of our yard right off the vehicles (which would require tools and probably transport to get them off of the ostrich farm, the Land Cruiser ones are too heavy to carry). Ugh…did I mention that Africa is not for sissies??