Botswana trip, part II: Hot in the city

Botswana, ,
Botswana trip, part II: Hot in the city
My lasting impression of Botswana will be one of heat. Not that heat is always a bad thing. I like heat. But even I, with the memory of a snowy New Year’s still far too close for comfort, found it a little oppressive to begin with. Once the first few days had passed, it was glorious. It is worth noting, though, that sunscreen and plenty of water are not optional on a December/January trip to Gaborone.
The beautiful heat also makes for beautiful rain. The thunderstorms can be spectacular. The first few days there was no rain. Clouds built up but nothing happened. The middle of the afternoon was the hottest, most uncomfortable time of day. Hot and oppressive, waiting, waiting, waiting for the storm to break. And then, finally, a few days in, we were all sitting in a hot, stuffy room when suddenly there was the sound of rain on the roof. The skies opened and it rained. People rushed outside and danced in the brief shower.
After that, it rained almost every day. Perhaps the most spectacular was New Year’s Day, mid-afternoon when the heavens opened in a great cloudburst and water poured down for ages. It was so beautiful and so welcome that the South African guys rushed into the rain – a picture-perfect moment of rain in Africa.
The event I was in town for was hosted almost exclusively at the University of Botswana, so I didn’t see much of the country. The UB campus is nice, with several new buildings and several more in progress. I couldn’t help noticing that an awful lot of the construction is being done by Chinese companies. I suppose South Africa’s economy is sufficiently complex that it is less obvious here, so I notice far more when I’m in other countries the extent of Chinese influence in Southern Africa.
Which is not to say that South Africa is not playing its own fairly significant economic colonialist role. The Mall we visited a couple of times was filled with South African chain stores. The supermarkets, the restaurants, the movie theatres all brands from home, their ownership pretty much all South African. We had lunch one day, a fellow South African and I, with a couple of Scottish visitors who were a little taken aback that the steak house in Botswana’s capital advertised as the ‘Favourite restaurant of the South African family’. As convenient as this kind of travel can be – there are ATMs in Botswana of my own bank, for example – it always leaves me a little uncomfortable.
One thing we seem to have definitely exported successfully is our liquor laws, particularly the ones about not selling alcohol on a Sunday or public holiday. In fact they seem to be more serious about it – some regions of South Africa have passed by-laws relaxing these laws a little in recent years. The only reason I know about Botswana’s draconian approach to alcohol is because we found ourselves trying to make a traditional punch over the New Year’s weekend. Twice. The first time was on New Year’s Day (a Saturday), which is a public holiday in South Africa, too, so not that surprising. The second was on the following Monday, when, much to our surprise, it turned out STILL to be a public holiday. Liquor prices have also increased 40% in recent months. Apparently the president is a teetotaller.
The time was too short, the schedule too hectic to form much more of a lasting impression, except to know that this is another Southern African country to which I have no doubt I will return. I sat in the departures area of Gabs airport, waiting for my flight, with several new friends, from the US, from Ireland, from Russia, from Cuba. Many of them would never be back. I would. I will. For me, Botswana is part of my world, part of my reality, perhaps even a part of my identity I hadn’t found until now. So I leave knowing I’ll be back, a smile at the heat and the tiny airport and pocket full of pula to bring back the next time around.

My lasting impression of Botswana will be one of heat. Not that heat is always a bad thing. I like heat. But even I, with the memory of a snowy New Year’s still far too close for comfort, found it a little oppressive to begin with. Once the first few days had passed, it was glorious. It is worth noting, though, that sunscreen and plenty of water are not optional on a December/January trip to Gaborone.

The beautiful heat also makes for beautiful rain. The thunderstorms can be spectacular. The first few days there was no rain. Clouds built up but nothing happened. The middle of the afternoon was the hottest, most uncomfortable time of day. Hot and oppressive, waiting, waiting, waiting for the storm to break. And then, finally, a few days in, we were all sitting in a hot, stuffy room when suddenly there was the sound of rain on the roof. The skies opened and it rained. People rushed outside and danced in the brief shower.

After that, it rained almost every day. Perhaps the most spectacular was New Year’s Day, mid-afternoon when the heavens opened in a great cloudburst and water poured down for ages. It was so beautiful and so welcome that the South African guys rushed into the rain – a picture-perfect moment of rain in Africa.

The event I was in town for was hosted almost exclusively at the University of Botswana, so I didn’t see much of the country. The UB campus is nice, with several new buildings and several more in progress. I couldn’t help noticing that an awful lot of the construction is being done by Chinese companies. I suppose South Africa’s economy is sufficiently complex that it is less obvious here, so I notice far more when I’m in other countries the extent of Chinese influence in Southern Africa.

Which is not to say that South Africa is not playing its own fairly significant economic colonialist role. The Mall we visited a couple of times was filled with South African chain stores. The supermarkets, the restaurants, the movie theatres all brands from home, their ownership pretty much all South African. We had lunch one day, a fellow South African and I, with a couple of Scottish visitors who were a little taken aback that the steak house in Botswana’s capital advertised as the ‘Favourite restaurant of the South African family’. As convenient as this kind of travel can be – there are ATMs in Botswana of my own bank, for example – it always leaves me a little uncomfortable.

One thing we seem to have definitely exported successfully is our liquor laws, particularly the ones about not selling alcohol on a Sunday or public holiday. In fact they seem to be more serious about it – some regions of South Africa have passed by-laws relaxing these laws a little in recent years. The only reason I know about Botswana’s draconian approach to alcohol is because we found ourselves trying to make a traditional punch over the New Year’s weekend. Twice. The first time was on New Year’s Day (a Saturday), which is a public holiday in South Africa, too, so not that surprising. The second was on the following Monday, when, much to our surprise, it turned out STILL to be a public holiday. Liquor prices have also increased 40% in recent months. Apparently the president is a teetotaller.

The time was too short, the schedule too hectic to form much more of a lasting impression, except to know that this is another Southern African country to which I have no doubt I will return. I sat in the departures area of Gabs airport, waiting for my flight, with several new friends, from the US, from Ireland, from Russia, from Cuba. Many of them would never be back. I would. I will. For me, Botswana is part of my world, part of my reality, perhaps even a part of my identity I hadn’t found until now. So I leave knowing I’ll be back, a smile at the heat and the tiny airport and pocket full of pula to bring back the next time around.