Kopo got an invitation from another PC volunteer to bring a group of students from her school, Kagiso to Leadership training in Molepolole. Thirteen of the 46 students who were forming the new Peer Education Group were selected. Seemed easy enough…the invite contained the time, date and program outlined. But nothing in Africa is easy. (Could be a new mantra!) After sharing the invitation with her Guidance and Counseling Head, it was pointed out that the invitation did not contain the stamp of approval (literally) of the Head man of the inviting School…..therefore an invalid invitation. Back to phoning the other PC volunteer to explain the problem….three days later, a letter with the government stamp was faxed. Now we can proceed. But, nooooooo, it then emerges that faxed copies are not acceptable invitations.
Question from Kopo: “Since the workshop is three days away, can’t we just plan on it, invite the kids, get parental permission letters, arrange for transport and get a mailed invitation later?” Unheard of, but under the radar in a veil of secrecy, plans were made anyway. Two days before departure. Kopo decided to be proactive and booked the transport herself in the Registry Office….wrong again Kopo. Only officers of the School can book transportation. Back to square one with a crucial element of transportation. Then, since there are no computers that work at School, a trip to Kgosi’s office was necessary to type and print the permission slips….back to School again. Since the list of students was buried under piles of papers, Kopo’s counterpart took half an hour to find list of eligible kids.
Finally, letters and permission slips were compiled and then….how to find the kids? Now, it is one day before meeting…and oh yeah, transport is not yet confirmed. Kopo scattered to five House meetings to read the names of the selected students to report to Guidance Office….10 show up….need to hunt down the other three--needles in a haystack of 1600+ students, since no one seems to have a list of which students are in which classroom.
With only half of permission slips received, Saturday morning arrives….7 AM at School. By some miracle, at 7:30, with all students present and accounted for, Counterpart, Kgosi, Kopo and Kombi driver headed to Molepolole. Kopo still believes in miracles!
To document the truth of the tale, below are several pictures from the event. Eighty students from 6 different schools and 8 PC volunteers. Training was received on HIV/AIDS, public speaking, peer mediation and peer counseling—all student lead with a liberal dose of input from the PC’s.
The group from Ramotswa
THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK
You can’t count on winning all the battles against demon protocol and African timetables though. This, as evidenced by a “mandatory” workshop for training on Research within BW which was scheduled mid-September for October 5-9. Six of us from Ramotswa, including two physicians, the Director of Public Health, and District AIDS Coordinator cleared our entire weekly schedule to attend. Hey, it was an opportunity to spend the week in a nice hotel on the town, and hopefully learn something.
On October 2, three days before we were supposed to leave, we got a call that the workshop was postponed to October 26-30. No reason, that’s just the way it is. Sooorrryyy! We again cleared our calendars to go on the new dates, including frantically trying to do any work that was needed for our big District Planning Retreat which would occur first thing Monday when we returned from the Research workshop.
By this Thursday though, we still had no idea where the Research workshop would be held. Someone came in to the office to report an overheard conversation that it was to be postponed indefinitely. We called the organizers to find out if this blasted thing was going to transpire and were told “Yes it is on and it will be held at the Big 5 Lodge……but we will tell you if anything changes.” That just didn’t inspire my confidence.
Friday at 4 PM we get another call that the conference is on, but they could not find enough hotel rooms for all the attendees, and we should plan on commuting every morning and evening from Ramotswa. Ugh! How to turn a fun week into a series of 12 hour days of commuter hassle. Well what could you expect if you are planning a week-long conference for 150 people two working days before it is to start?
As of now we are heading up to Gaborone at 7 AM tomorrow morning in hopes that there are accommodations. Stay tuned.
BURIED IS BEST
As many of you know, I am not the world’s best sleeper. I often arise and wander about the premises for an hour or two in the middle of the night before going back to sleep. About a week after we arrived in Ramotswa, I got up, went to the kitchen and turned on the light. There, three feet away, was the biggest roach I had ever seen. This somewhat surprised me since Kopo, dubbed the Queen of Clean by our children, sweeps the floor every evening for food crumbs until the bristles on the broom have been worn down to a nub. Truth be told, I am not real fond of roaches either, particularly ones the size of a horizontal oil derrick.
This roach was not big, it was HUGE. It was no little Swift Boat; it had USS and its country of registration painted on its stern. It wasn’t scooting and scattering like teeny-weeny roaches, this one LUMBERED. I wasn’t totally sure if it was moving until I saw the curtains fluttering in the wake. It was moving away from me so I figured I had a chance. I christened it the USS Dubya---------------------for Widebody.
Reaching for the only weapon I could find, a large skillet, I took a wild swing and scored a direct hit. Despite being on-target with the force of a “nucular” missile, the thing wasn’t even fazed. For the first time since our arrival, I rued the trans-Atlantic luggage weight restrictions which prevented me from packing the sledge hammer. Determined, I took another mighty whack. I was just about to give off a cry of “Mission Accomplished” when it turned around and looked in my direction. Uh-Oh. All I did was P---s it off. I was outted quicker than Valerie Plame. This thing looked mean. I didn’t want to be its enemy. If I knew if I wasn’t fer ‘em, I would be considered agin ‘em. I would be dropped like a liberal leaning US Attorney
Fortunately for my bodily integrity, it kept lumbering away. Looking at it from the rear, I kept being reminded of what one Alaskan sled dog said to the other Alaskan sled dog.
“You know there’s only one thing that I have learned in all my years of dog sledding.”
“What’s that?”
“If you are not the lead dog, the view is always the same.”
Rather than skittering into some space or looking for a coalition of other ships to accompany it into battle, its exit strategy from the house was to ram the kitchen wall head long, create a gaping hole and proceed out into the yard.
Shaken but intact, I thought I had heard the last of the USS Dubya. I knew if I revealed the existence of this creature to my wife that she would be on the next banana boat to the States and I would spending the next two years as a bachelor. It was best if this incident remained forever buried and never saw the light of day, somewhat like a secret CIA operation.
Months went by and I began thinking to myself …………………………
”You’re doin’ a hell of a job, Brownie.” That was all fine until this week when the Gaborone Daily News reporter cornered me and began asking rapid fire questions that felt like I was being water-boarded. He asked pointedly and repeatedly what I knew about the secret existence of the Dubya. I tried hemming, hawing and evading, but he told me that they already had confirmation from other sources of the Dubya’s sister roach, the USS Chainlink. The newspaper already knew that the Chainlink, another battle wagon, could rain laser-guided smart bombs around the world with deadly accuracy, but on occasion had been known to create wild “friendly fire” and once shot a member of its own armada.
I had to come clean and admit that yes, the Dubya, that lean mean fighting machine existed in my very own kitchen but now I didn’t know where it was at this time. When it left my house it seemed to be heading South, perhaps toward…I don’t know…..maybe Texas. The reporter tried to get me to confirm the idea that the Dubya and the Chainlink were holing up in a soon-to-be vacant US base in Cuba awaiting a military tribunal. I said I did not have that information, but if they were there, they were receiving good treatment--as good as or better than that required by the Geneva Convention.
Kgosi
