Living in the Bots

Our water shut off on Saturday. On Monday, the Internet died. On Tuesday, we had a full-blown power outage—even our backup generator failed. As I was sitting alone in the dark, switching my non-smart Botswana phone on and off, I finally allowed myself to think it: What on Earth am I doing here? I could be anywhere in the world. I could be back at my picturesque, bucolic liberal arts college. I could be sipping French wine in Dijon or munching on bangers and mash in London. How did I end up here, nearly 8,000 miles from home, exploring a completely unknown culture? As you know, I’m not much for pictures, but I hope these pictures give a little insight into my daily life.

It’s more than the pretty scenery, though. I love the way the cowbells sound in the street. I love the way bougainvillea trees look when we fly past them on a charging combi. I love that the people are friendly, that nobody has ever refused my request for directions, and that my classes are fascinating.

To be unabashedly cliché, traveling can be hard. I’ve had to learn how to bathe from a bucket, and I’ve grown used to the idea of limited Internet. I’ve learned to accept that a conversation with a man will often end with him asking for my number, asking me out, or asking for marriage. I’m frequently asked to speak for my entire nation, or even my entire race. But I’ve also learned that the preschoolers I work with love to hold my light-skinned hands, that professors really enjoy hearing foreign perspectives, and that I may be able to make a difference to a small number of people during my short time here. (Please note: the last is a thinly veiled request for contributions to my campaign for the Botswana Retired Nurses Society at gofundme.com/bornus.)

The Internet came back on in my homestay today. But honestly, I think I could have lived a few more days without it. (Just a few. I’m not Superwoman here.)