One day last week, as I entered information into a PowerPoint for District workers and watched the rain furiously pelting outside my tiny caravan office. It has been raining almost continuously for the past 3 to 4 weeks. The country's rivers are running over their banks with dams strained to contain the waters. Several of the waterways have flooded into fields, houses, and roadways. Our National Day of Service is the next day. Ramotswa government workers are to be taken for our project to farm fields near the Ramotswa River which forms the boundary between Botswana and South Africa.
We spent the day pulling up drowned and rotted vegetables and fruits. It was hot and tiring but we all worked side-by-side. As I am up to my elbows in rotted watermelons, an old, brown toothed Botswana man came up and said, "Where you from?"
"America” I say.
"You own this farm?"
“No, I am just here to help. I am an American Peace Corps worker.”
"Oooooooh!” A big smile.
I think maybe I am finally getting this Peace Corps thing. It's showing the world America and Americans one PowerPoint, one person, and one rotten watermelon at a time.
[Reader, pause at this point for a minute. I think this story is what we are all about here….]
As is always the case in Africa though, there is more to the story. So as Paul Harvey used to say, “Now for page TWO!”
After we finished the morning's work, the District sent out its brand-new, 60 passenger Marco Polo bus to pick us up (nice touch as we are all hot and tired). Within five minutes the driver has managed to get the bus stuck in the mud. Despite the protests of those present, he continued to spin his wheels as the bus sunk further and further into the muck. It is now totally buried to the running board and hopelessly mired. The driver then decided it a good time to try to open the pneumatic passenger door. When he did so, he got the door open 3 inches, stuck in the mud and broke it. He then climbed out of one of the passenger windows at the top of the bus, jumped to the ground and looked helplessly at the situation. On his face is one of those smiles unique to the Batswana people when they have screwed up. I have never seen anyone elsewhere in the world have one like it. In my opinion, the smile looks is a cross between Alfred E. Neuman and the Mona Lisa.
After about 30 minutes of standing around, someone decided to retrieve shovels and several people began digging around the wheels. Needless to say, the driver didn't do anything but watch. He appeared mortified, but unable to be part of a solution. After a half hour of digging we were ready to try to push the bus out, although the driver then realized that the door is stuck and he cannot get back into the bus except through an upper window which he cannot reach. More digging to free the door and he was eventually able to get into the driver’s seat. After several tries with everyone pushing the front at full strength. It seems harder than it should be given the man (and woman)power, but we got the bus up to the edge of coming out of the rut. A great cheer erupts only to have the driver take his foot off the gas with the bus sinking back into the muck. What has now been exposed by this effort however is that the mud flap to the drive wheel has become fixed under the wheel so that as the driver tries to back out he is moving up and over his own mud flap (a situation which guaranteed that the bus would never move under its own power).
More digging to move the mud flap. Rocks and sticks are put under the wheels for traction. There is much more heaving and pushing with no success. Kgosi tries to tell the bus driver about the concept of "rocking" the stuck vehicle, but the driver looks blankly and cannot seem to understand. Somebody decided to use a cell phone and call for help. Approximately 20 minutes later a few people in uniform arrive, but have no immediate idea how to get the bus out. They make more calls, and it appears there will be an extended delay.
At this point Kgosi concluded that there is absolutely nothing further that he can do in this situation and decided to walk back to the office. Halfway through the 2 1/2 mile trek, he sees a puny tow truck heading toward the work site. The vehicle was so small there was absolutely no possibility of it liberating the bus.
Is this a great life or what?
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