Arrivals

Day 1
We arrived at Gaborone airport at about 9am. Inevitably, the people who were collecting us were late. Having experience of this, we weren’t however worried, and eventually (an hour late) they came. Luckily Gaborone airport is so small that you can scan the entire departures and arrivals area in about two minutes, so we didn’t have to spend a long time searching for each other. (I also liked the way that, after realising I’d left my hoodie on the plane, I could simply stroll back onto the runway and onto the plane again).
So, Auntie June and Auntie Martha. June is who we’re staying with, and Martha runs the AIDS orphan charity that we’re working with (Adopt-A-Person), which she set up herself. We drove to June’s house to find a fried breakfast, prepared by the helper, Portia, on the table. Portia is from Zimbabwe but, like so many others, has moved away. She lives in a room by the side of the house, and wants to eventually set up her own restaurant.
After breakfast and chats (including a conversation about how being vegetarian benefitted the environment, which raised a few eyebrows), we went out with June, who had to drive to a village to collect some garden furniture. Because it is winter Botswana is very dry, with daytime temperatures of around 20 degrees. In Gaborone there are tarmac roads, and there are big motorways connecting these huge spaces, but as you go into the villages it becomes dust roads. The traditional huts with thatched roofs are still around but making way for modern houses with corrugated iron roofs. These are not as cool in the summer nor as warm in the winter, but as June said, they do not have to be replaced every ten years for a lot of labour. June showed us a piece of land she is slowly developing, and while we were stopped a mini-tornado (say about two metres wide) suddenly came and whipped up a load of dust and leaves, before quickly moving on.
We then went to see some ladies who have a weaving co-operative, where they hand-weave beautiful tapestries, bags, etc, made from handspun, hand-dyed wool. At first they had some help from the government and from a Swedish charity, but now they are on their own and not doing so well. I admired the work greatly, painstaking tapestries that took a month to make, showing scenes of village life, however it was far too expensive for us to buy (around £150 for one a metre squared). If you think of this in terms of a month’s wages, and in terms of a piece of art, then it is obviously worth it. However it is out of the budget of most people, and I think that’s why they’re not doing so well.
The place where June had to pick up furniture was a hotel she built from scratch and is now renting out. We sat down and had a couple of ciders, enjoying the music. A young woman came up to us with a broad smile, saying ‘White people! I love you!’ and trying to get us to dance. I don’t really know what to say to that.