The Good, the Absurd, and the Sketchy

I had a dilemma when starting this post because I just went on a 10 day vacation through southern africa and I didn't know where to start. As I hate telling stories in chronological order I decided to group random stories into three categories: good, absurd, and sketchy with the hope that these snapshots will give a general idea what the vacation was like.

The Good
The Beach: This was the most beautiful beach I have ever seen (continue reading this post and consider what the beach looked like after the bus ride from Maputo to Tofo). Incidentally, our motivation to leave it was completely shot after only one day (one meaning of the word "tofo'ed: complete lack of motivation) so we stayed for 5 days and drank cheap beer, sun bathed, and body surfed.



Maputo (the capitol city where we went after Joburg and before tofo) has a great vibe. There are still remnants of the colonial era but mostly it is just an explosion of color. A lot of the streets reminded me of New Orleans- there were even horrible road conditions. My only complaint was that there are no garbage cans in the city and consequently there are piles of trash everywhere in the street.
This picture is of the hostel (Fatima's) where we stayed in Maputo at the beginning and end of our trip. Awesome vibe, there are even hammocks on the roof.


8 years of spanish NOT wasted: turns out portuguese and spanish are "close enough" so I was able to talk to the locals and be a semi-translator. (just add a "shh" sound wherever you can in spanish) Unfortunately, when I returned to Botswana I had forgotten most of my setswana as a result.

Busting out peruvian vibe: Speaking of spanish, bargaining is a hard-core activity in Mozambique. (PS, don't let a cabby lock your bags in the trunk before you have agreed on a price or they will hold them hostage until you pay triple...oops). What was really neat about Maputo though, was that EVERYTHING you could possibly want was being sold on the street by some local. (actually, this was more a sign of the unemployment rates and extreme poverty in the city, I think, so it was actually a depressing sign of desperation) In any case, there was a HUGE tourist market by the seawall where we all got some fast lessons in deal-making. (PS, most of you are getting mozambiquean gifts...they are cheap)

The Absurd
In which Sarah is sat on by a large man (Between Tofo and Maputo, part I): The busride from Maputo to Tofo was about 6 hrs (it was so long partially because the roads were so bad- thankyou 30 years of civil war) The bus was a mix between a 15-seater van and a school bus (and tetanus. There were normal, semi-padded seats and an aisle but there were also tiny fold-down seats in the aisle-with 8" backrests- where I fortunately got to sit (It was like being stuck at the kid's table for 6 hrs. There was also a bag at my feet so my knees were almost at my chest) This would have been all well and good but then one of the bus employees who collects the fares saw the attractive girl next to me and proceeded to sit on me, with the assumption I would move, so that he could get to know her the rest of the way. It was a safe assumption, I was very alarmed and quickly moved as far over as I could (aka off the seat) and then he turned around to me and said "Esta bem?" with a grin and a thumbs up. (meaning "it's all good") At that point the bus ride was just so absurd that I started laughing and my friends and I talked about how ridiculous this guy was (he couldn't understand english) for the entire trip.
Climbing in the Window by a slaughtered cow (Between Tofo and Maputo, Part II:
On the way back from tofo we were the first people to get onto the bus so I quickly grabbed a window seat with a grown-up chair and settled in for a comfortable nap back to the capitol (we left at 4am) Unfortunately, I had nothing to eat for breakfast and I forgot to put on my motion-sickness magic sticker so I spent the first 3 hours aquainting my stomach contents with the mozambiquean countryside. We had no plastic bags or anything so I just had to stick my head out the window and throw up into the wind (that ended poorly for my hair, might I add). Several times during this process I would be tapped on the shoulder and a local would say "shut the window, that woman is trying to sleep!" I don't exactly remember what I said back to them but I suspect it was similar to Clancy's interactions with the printer. At one point the bus stopped because there was a cow being slaughtered on the side of the road and the driver wanted to buy some meat. I quickly took the opportunity to be sick in private behind some bushes but when I returned the bus had already been loaded and since I was sitting in the back row the driver looked at me, opened the back window and indicated that I should just climb in- which I did via a somersault over the 5' tall window ledge.....everybody laughed, fortunately I did too. Luckily, I started to feel better about 3 hours in and everybody agreed that I got first shower when we got to the hostel.

Maputo's street names: I have mentioned the 30 years of civil war in Mozambique (yes, they are over). In any case, Frelimo, the communist party, won and is currently in power. Part of their campaign was apparently to rename all of the street signs in the capitol, resulting in the cooolest intersections ever (see pic)

I especially appreciated the names because I could remember where we were staying (Mao Tse Tung avenue) where the busrank was (Intersection of Marx and Ahmed Souke Toure) and where the museum was (Vladimir Lenin and Ho Chi Minh) Awesome

The Sketchy:
The Chappas- a Chappa is a 15 passenger van, just like a combi in Botswana. They are dirt cheap in Mozambique (20 US cents) and we took one from Tofo to Inhambane, a cool city about an hour away. The thing about Chappas, however, is that the driver gets to pick up as many people as he wants along the way...... There were 31 people in our chappa at one point, including a few kids in the trunk and three adults hanging out the window. I dare you to fit 31 people in one of the roadtrip vans for the church and then drive it on roads that are the result of 30 years of neglect in the jungle.
The Mysterious Red Bumps/ Sarah tangos with falciparum: The second meaning of the word "tofo'ed," by the way, is the sudden appearance of hundreds of bug bites on your arms and legs. (we suspect bed bugs) I was fortunate enough to avoid that experience but I was the main course for every mosquito in town. I looked like I had smallpox by the time we left and all I could think about was the life cycle of P. falciparum, the form of malaria endemic to the area. (no worries, I am on the malaria meds.... I am just weirded out by the fact that trophozoites are probably dying by the thousands in my bloodstream right now)
Aubri and the AK47s: Turns out that in Maputo there are certain government buildings that one is not allowed to photograph (not that there are signs or anything). Our group got stopped by AK47-toting policemen and one girl (aubri) got singled out for taking a photo. She erased the picture but they wanted her to pay 1,000 Metcais to them on the spot or they said they would arrest her. (Read: bribe now please) I am not really sure how but she managed to convince them otherwise and we quickly escaped (no, I don't have a picture of the incident, we thought that might go over poorly)
"Traditional Mozambique Food"- While in Tofo, my friend Mark and I decided to go in search of traditional local food. We were told by a fellow traveller that it was being cooked somewhere in the market so we went exploring. We ended up finding several women cooking behind some stalls and before we knew what was happening, for 50 Metcais ($2) they brought us a plate of coconut rice and fish. Mark and I looked at each other, sighed, and tucked in.... sketchiest meal I have eaten since the guinea pig.

Okay, this post just took me an hour to type and I actually have to go to class now. So in summary, mozambique is pretty much pure awesome and I have numerous stories and pictures to come....stay tuned!

Sarah speed-blogging; as she is a cheapskate

Quick updates as I have to pay for the internet by the minute:
Drove to Johannesburg in a combi (15 seater van with no cushions or seatbelts) for 6 hrs. with 16 people, although the border agents were convinced that there were in fact 17 and tried to make us pay accordingly. The chair I sat on was designed to be stowed so it flipped over every time we made a sharp turn and I would wake up from a dead sleep in my neighbor’s lap.
Saw the apartheid museum; it was excellent but at 5pm when it closes they just turn all of the lights off to make you leave, no warning, signs, or anything.
Took a taxi to tolkem tower (one of highest points in city) realized on the way that the guidebook said it was in an “extremely dangerous” neighbourhood, had an omg moment, and had to frantically tell the taxi to turn around.
tried to find a café for tea and coffee, started walking down the street and was frantically stopped by 8 combi drivers who all insisted that we were walking into our deaths that way and that we should really just stay inside the bus station, we gave up and just followed their advice.
Sat in the station for 4 hours waiting for bus to Mozambique. We sat down on the floor in a corner, had a security guard tell us to move, so we sat down in another empty corner, were told to move again, so we stood at a railing overlooking the bus station, were told we could not stand there, finally found an acceptable corner.
encountered four guys who desperately needed to change dollars for rand. I would have said no but when I asked where they were from they said Kinshasa, and as I just poured my life into a paper about the DRC I was inclined to help them. I traded them 740 rand for what may or may not be a real $100 bill. (I’ll find out when I try to spend it at the border).
In any case, Joburg was pretty while driving in a taxi but terrifying on foot. Mozambique is epic beyond all reason, but I think I will wait to share that until either we return to UB (which we may never do as we are currently living in a tropical paradise) or tomorrow when I feel like walking back to the internet café. For all those who were wondering tho, I am alive and well (someone please tell my mother) and I have some awesome stories to come. Inlcuding but not limited to: “In which sarah is sat on by a large man,” “the gang gets Tofo’ed,” “Aubri and the AK47s,” and “$1 for a 550mL beer, (doz M) proof there is a loving god”

Dancing in the Rain

Well, the impossible happened. For the first time since we have been in Gaborone it has rained. Rain storms here are kinda epic, involving lots of thunder, lightning, the wrath of God etc. Being a crazy Lekgoa, I naturally went outside to enjoy the rain with my friends as we have been a bit parched (Read: oh my god it is so hot and dry here, what did I get myself into?!) while out there, we were chatting with the poor security guards who were taking cover under a veranda and they agreed to teach us a rain dance. (Rain is quite critical in this desert culture, even the money is "Pula" which is Setswana for rain) At about the point that we were just jumping up and down, yelling "Pula" at the tops of our lungs, and waving our arms in circles I began to suspect that he was taking us for a ride (especially as he could not breathe because he was laughing too hard) and decided that perhaps I should not believe everything said by a University security guard.
Speaking of general dampness, some idiotic soul left the water running in a clogged sink on my friends' floor and they woke up when water began creeping into their rooms. They frantically turned off the water and called the RA (as we are not allowed to call maintainance directly). She, and this is a direct quote, said "I am pretty sure this sounds like a problem for the morning" She then asked if they turned off the water (duh) and suggested that they deal with it tomorrow. To put this into perspective, an entire floor, consisting of a 10ftX15 ft common room, 2 bathrooms, and 8 dorm rooms was completely flooded with about an inch of water covering the tile floor and the RA refused to call maintainance. In the end, my friends got buckets, bed sheets, brooms and (in a continuation of the cleaning service war in their block) the blanket on which the cleaning women sleep and they managed to push the water into the bathroom with all of the sodden tools. The cleaning lady actually threatened one girl with a broom in the morning but all's well that ends well I guess. Maki, the most awesome japanese girl ever, also got out her umbrella and kept it open while directing salvaging efforts during the operation.
In other news of biblical proportion, I had an interesting cultural epiphany today whilst on my way to aerobics class. I was walking with a girl who also seemed to be on her way to class and while exchanging questions about school, home, and dorms, she asked me if I was a Christian. I was totally taken aback as this is not normal first-ten-minutes conversation material (unless you are about to get a fire and brimstone lecture) but I told her I was a general Jesus fan and we continued in our conversation. Later I mentioned to her that in the states and the UK (where she was headed in the spring) one would never ask that of a stranger. She was surprised and simply explained that if one asks and the person is a christian then you two have just that much more to talk about. In her explanation, asking about one's religion was similar to discussing the city one grew up in- just a search for conversation and common ground. This view has made me thoughtful and I think that it could be awesome, as it encourages inter-religious dialogue, but as almost every Motswana is some flavor of christian (and if not they are dabbling in traditional african religions) I don't think it has the same ramifications it would have elsewhere.....hmmm..... And then I battled an anaconda with only my trusty pocket knife (I have no good transition here, so just pretend)
I finally (Read: easily) got my visa to Mozambique; I guess they weren't too clever at the embassy if they are letting in characters like me. By the way, the Mozambiquean embassy is a small house with only one unarmed guard who smiles and waves as you walk past on your way to the living room/ visa office; awesome, the US should take notes. I am stoked for our trip but I will unfortunately be out of touch for the duration. I will, however, try to save up lots of stories and pictures for when I return. I might post once more before then but if not, "keep it real yo, see you on the flip-side" (as we say in the US ALL the time. Again, if anyone asks).

An international incident no longer waiting to happen

So in case you were planning a trip to Botswana I am sorry but I am not sure that Americans are still welcome here thanks to a stunt pulled by my "friends." (Like I said after that birthday cake, I am getting new friends, even in Botswana). Four of my friends decided to go to a circus that was in town this afternoon but I, unfortunately, could not attend, for reasons that will be clear in the next paragraph. Apparently the jump-roping poodle stole the show and when it was finished my friends decided that they needed to take back a souvenir along with memories of a circus with (I suspect) unregulated animal rights. They all bought plastic clown masks, donned them, and decided to scare me in my room by all silently waiting at the door with them on. Naturally I was not in my room, but unfortunately my Motswana roommate was and reacted as would any human being greeted by 4 clownmask-clad, silent, foreigners- poorly.

In other news, while I do love my parasitology class I have discovered a definite drawback to taking the subject whilst in Africa. My intestinal tract feels mildly like death right now and, thanks to my many and informative lectures, all I can think about is that tomato (that I probably should not have bought from the street-vendor at the bus station) while visions of giardia dance through my head. In my defence, my friends were all buying ice cream and that tomato looked really good. In any case, there is bad news brewing in sarah's stomach, I just hope it isn't a one-celled trophozoite. (never worry, my prose/complaining far exceeds my relatively minor discomfort. I will probably survive and until the colony in my stomachstarts developing a personality I am not too worried. Plus, I have a delightful concoction of antibiotics in a bottle in my closet with my name on it- literally)

So tomorrow we are going on an embassy tour in order to obtain the necessary visas for our vacation next week. I am curious to see if a) anyone's hostility matches the US embassy (doubtful) or b) the love of bureaucracy in other African nations is as strong as Botswana's (terrifying thought).....details to come, assuming I don't piss off an embassy guard and have to get acquainted with the bureaucracy of the Gaborone prison system- I'll try to avoid that. I'll keep y'all posted; until then, go with the great blowdryer in the sky (the new deity I am starting to believe in after 3 weeks of gaborone summer and winds straight from the Kalahari desert)

hard at work

I know that I already posted today but this was just too precious not to share:

These are the cleaning ladies for my dorm complex; this is where they hang out from about 10am to 4pm. I guess knitting was too strenuous for today.

The bureaucrat that roared

(If anyone can tell me what movie to which that is a reference I will be impressed)

I have recently concluded that the Batswana are really easy going and fluid on timing etc. unless there is an iota of bureauacracy involved, then it is like an evil twin takes over and I have as much chance bending the rules to my advantage as getting a copy of "The wealth of nations" into a gulag.

I have been attempting to finish my congo paper and have been missing the peculiar charm of hopkins house- especially that bit about free printing at any hour. To print at UB one must go to the finance office in the admin building, get a receipt for printing payment, go to the library and present the receipt, go to anothe desk in order to get it verified that you payed and to load the money on a card, and then wait in line for one of 2 printing computers where you enter in 3 passwords in order to print. Needless to say the process is lengthy and if one has a paper due at 8am and the library opens at 7:45am then one must get creative. Although the library doors were open, the guards and librarians were at their posts and the lights were on at 7am, I was still not allowed into the building in order to print something untill exactly 7 45. Long story short, I managed to get in but then I had 3 security guards and 6 librarians surround me and frantically tell me that the library wasn't open and I shouldn't be there. I apologized profusely but as they were not willing to bodily remove me, I managed to finish printing my paper and made it to class. (I should have spoken only spanish and looked confused) Unfortunately, they also saw the orange that I carried in with me and as there is a SERIOUS fruit phobia in that building (they check your bags and if they find an apple they accusingly say "what is this"... "it's a blender, don't worry about it") I may not be able to get back into the library, but I finished that paper . (this is the essay on the congo conflict that is equivalent to an assignment like "explain whose fault WWI is in 100 words or less....")


In similar tales of bureauacracy, I once again attempted to purchase breakfast at the cafeteria. I was informed, once and for all, that they are not selling breakfast and they are only making it for the one student who prepaid (my friend dan from pennsylvania). Not even kidding, an entire cafeteria that could seat 300-400 students is making a single-serving breakfast of eggs and tea every morning for the rest of the semester........ I hope that 80cents is not paying the salary of the cooks and cashier who have to be there just for Dan. Again, one student, the dorm I live in next to the cafeteria has close to 1,000 students and they are cooking for one. Wow.


In brighter news, I have another installment in the failed ad campaigns montage (was that an okay use of the word, krys?) As far as I can tell this is an anti-littering campaign (garbage on the sides of the road is a serious problem).

I know that AIDs is a good eye-catcher as far as public interest but I feel down this path lies new campaigns like "Fight AIDs! buy new code-red gatorade!" I think that this might be a tacky, slippery slope, call me crazy.
Well, I have to go massacre goldfish in my physiology class so sala sentle and I would love to hear news about the home-front from the lot of you reading this; feel free to email or facebook!

In which sarah meets Pako, is healed by the holy spirit, and attempts to make Jambalaya

Pako is pretty much the most awesome five-year-old ever. He is smart enough to how but too young to know better and his parents cannot decide whether to hug him forever or do him in for the good of society.
Exhibit 1: Pako likes climbing, (in this picture he is five feet off the ground) His specialties include neighbors' fences and cabinets with candy. Exhibit 2: Pako refuses to eat in general but every morning I was there he put on his sunglasses and army helemet and one would have to go catch him in order to spoon-feed him "movite" (The only thing he'd eat, which looked and smelled like crushed-up fruitloops)

Exhibit 3: Pako is addicted to candy and is rarely seen in the evenings without a lollypop. He also loved my computer. Pako supposedly only speaks setswana (which he loves to give me orders in) but at the end of the week when I clearly did not understand what he wanted he paused for a moment, then looked at me and said in english clearly, "I want to play with the computer" His mother and I were shocked, I think that kid pretends to not understand me when it suits him

The church of spiritual healing: The picture below is my friend and I after church. Our respective host mothers dressed us. I was wearing cap sleeves and a knee-length skirt (assuming if it was good enough for the mormons I would be okay in africa) but my mother stopped me at the door and said I needed to cover all of my hair and wear a shawl.....in a building with 100 people and no AC. The service lasted for 3 hrs (all in Setswana) because every single person knelt at the altar, was anointed with holy water and was healed by the pastor. This process took 1.5 hours and for the entire time we all stood, sang, and clapped rapidly. I could not feel my hands by the end of the service! The holy water was stored in a 2L coca cola bottle, which alarmed me as I am pretty sure cocacola is about 20 shares away from owning the third world. Instead of vestments (which I suspect were too expensive) the pastor and his helpers wore white lab coats......awesome trend which everyone should adopt. finally, the women, men, unmarried women, the boys, and the girls all had their own seating section with separate doors. It was a trip, at one point all of the lekgoas (white people) had to stand up and the congregation prayed for us (I got the sense it was positive...not "god please smite these invaders") Ultimately a good experience but not one I think I could repeat.....Jambalaya: One night I decided to cook for my host family and in order to share a little bit of southern culture I decided to make Jambalaya-oops. Ingredients used in LA are not necessarily available in Mochudi so I ended up sans garlic, celery and bellpepper (which I am pretty sure includes at least 2 of the trinity of cajun cooking). Furthermore, the sausage I bought did not actually brown, it rather dissolved into a pink paste which the mother insisted was normal and meant it was cooked (what did they DO to it!?) Finally, the rice has a different texture in Botswana and does not absord water quite the same way. In addition, the stove was gas (which I have never used) without a pilot light and it would randomly go out with only the eventual smell of gas to give it away five minutes later. Altho tears were shed, it turned out reasonably edible, altho not very jambalayaish; but everything tastes okay with enough tabasco, I think (which I DID find, thankyou god). I am pretty sure that my host mother put the fear of God into the family; if she is anything like my mother she said something along the lines of "You will eat anything she puts in front of you and you will like it! I don't care if it is a plate of boiled dirt!" After dinner the mother put on a bright smile and said "see! everybody finished, they liked it!" FML. I did also make an apple pie, however, and that went over very well. (so did pancakes a few days later) in any case, this is what the kitchen looked like about 20 minutes into cooking.

The mother walked in to the kitchen at about this point and I think she was concerned......

Ultimately, Mochudi was pretty spiffy and I will probably go back next weekend so I can see the cattle post which every family purportedly has..... until then, Peace out yo!

Mochudi Homestay II, part 1 subsection a)

It is incredibly difficult to know where to start describing my homestay in Mochudi so I decided to approach it using a system I will surely abandon after this post. First, here is an overview of the week for those who were curious:
Every morning I woke up at 5:30 and had breakfast with Mom and Dad. We got to Gaborone by seven and I would go to school while the parents were at work. In the evenings, I typically took the bus back to Mochudi with friends and would walk to the house which was about 5 minutes away from the bus stop. We would have traditional setswana food (which involved at least half a cow per person per week I think) while watching Botswana and South African soap operas on TV meanwhile I tried to convince the family that, in fact, a jilted lover could not force a 7 month pregnant Motswana woman to have an abortion in the US- an American doctor would probably be uneasy with the affair (especially as the baby was fathered by the mother's step-son; this story twist popped up in at least three different shows and American abortion clinics were mentioned every time). During the commercials I would ask the parents about health and education services in the village (better than you are thinking, by the way). Around 10pm everybody would take a bath: dad first, then the mom and Pako, then me and I haven't a clue for the teenager. I would pretend to try to attempt to do homework and instead crash untill 5:30 the next morning. Thus my life proceeded for 9 days and I reveled in the precious normalcy.

This is the front of the Ndebele house in Mochudi where I stayed, it was quite lovely (probably one of the nicer ones in the village) and absurdly clean; the mother sweeps, dusts, mops, and scrubs the bathroom every morning during the weekend and she expects the housekeeper to do the same on workdays.This is the kitchen where the infamous jambalaya incident occurred... details to come in a later post. The kitchen was really nice and there was an infinite sugary tea supply. This is Ms. Ndebele making motogo, my absolute new favorite dish (soft, sugary porridge)

This is the view from my room, the house was against the base of a hill and near all of the surrounding houses (and indeed most of Mochudi) there are huge flowering trees with bright pinks and reds. I have decided I will transplant such a tree to the US and make it grow in spokane...somehow...

This is Mrs. Ndebele wearing traditional setswana dress that one would wear to a wedding or a funeral. She is with her husband who smiles a lot in person but I think has a strict frowning policy in pictures.

This is the entire family, with sarah...that awkward Lekgoa. Pako is the one with the crossed arms looking sullen (he tripped while running to be in the picture). His older brother T- is to the left.... I don't know who the kid in the blue is, I think a cousin who wanted to be in the photo too. (It is hard to determine the relationships of the children because if asked, any child playing at her house is the mother's son or daughter.)

The family was ridiculously nice. They gave me a basket to hold jewelry, a pair of earrings and a traditionally-decorated hairpiece (porcupine quill and all) to say goodbye. I plan to return to Mochudi to stay with them for the occasional weekend, if for nothing else than to see Pako and eat motogo. (Pako details to come in later post).

Okay, never fear, I will soon update you on the good, the bad, and the quirky events in Mochudi in upcoming posts. Just a few teasers: I attended the "Church of Spiritual Healing" where I discovered that the Coca Cola company is branching out, I nearly poisoned my family (exageration), destroyed a kitchen (barely exagerating), and started crying (not exagerating at all) in the process of trying to share southern culture, and I was almost felt up by a teenage boy wearing a single glove, micheal jackson style, while attempting to get a scenic picture with a wedding party, lol. As always....details to come!

Sing to me, oh muse, sing to me of Mochudi

Hello all, I was dropped off at the university at 7am by my host parents on their way to work (mind you we had to leave at 6am in order to get to Gaborone in time for work) and as my first class does not start untill 10am I decided to take this opportunity to update everyone on my homestay in Mochudi.
Naturally the family is very nice, the coolest member by far is the five year old named Pako who does not speak English but does give me very direct orders in Setswana. He also tries to do traditional Setswana dancing whenever he hears music- that kid has a definite entertainment career in his future.
In any case, here is a collection of random thoughts that have occured to me whilst in Mochudi:
Bathing- Everybody in the family bathes at least twice a day, sometimes more. I only have bathed once a day, and I think my "mother" is concerned about my lack of hygeine; She asked me one night if she could draw me a bath in the morning, as my hair was still wet from the bath I had just completed less than twenty minutes previous I declined. I think they must think I’m a very dirty American, Lol. I hope all of those people who are convinced that Africans must not bathe very often are choking right now

Rooster- Apparently roosters are as confused in Botswana as they are in Mississippi. I was not so nostalgically reminded of our rooster neighbor in lakeshore when the one next door started crowing at 12am; shame no hurricane will drag this one away.

Noise: The family watches a lot of American TV including what is potentially the world's worst movie: "Demolition Man" with Sylvester Stallone, Sandra Bullock and a plethora of other famous actors who made a really poor career decision involving futuristic cop movie made in the 80s. I recommend that everybody watches it. Due to the upcoming national elections there are also stupid political slogans being blasted from a loud speaker in setswana somewhere in the village. It is enough that I may go through the trouble of marrying a motswana and living here long enough to get my citizenship just so I can specifically NOT vote for the dumbass who thought this was a good advertising technique.

Really Sweet: My family gave me a setswana name, Naledi (star), because my smile is like a star that lights up the Ndebele house. (If I were able to cry tears of joy in such a dry environment, I would have). I was really touched and surprised that I have been able to spend this long with a family without weirding them out, apparently.

Bus: I take public transport home o Mochudi and it is awesome. There are guys selling popsicles, water, and (of course) cell-phone airtime. I suspect that there are more entrepreneurs per square mile in Botswana than at a business convention in las vegas.

Hover cars and shake shake: One of the guys in the group was asked by his new "brother" whether or not we have hover cars and robots who make our bed in the US; awesome. We think that one of the previous exchange students might have been messing with him..... In other news, my friend mark met the kgosi of another village, and was subsequently asked to buy him alcohol. Since he was the cheif, mark could not actually say no and so bought him "shake shake" the local beer that comes in a carton and must be shaken before consumed... questionable.

Cooking: It officially took me forty-five minutes after meeting the family to break something in the house. Fun fact, pottery dishes shatter into billions of tiny shards when dropped on a tile floor. I also cooked a small apple gallete (like a pie but not) for my family. Turns out they had never used their oven, except for storage, and the little boy Pako was shocked. I have also had a request to teach the mother to make pancakes, I am thrilled to do so and I feel like I am spreading both traditions of the south and Hopkins.

Lab stuff: I have had several science labs within the past few weeks and I thought I would share one particular treasure:
In parasitology when we were supposed to start dissecting there was a Cockroach shortage for the class. We only had 5 roaches for 50 students. I have had to kill at least three cockroaches in my room and I nearly died from the irony- the science department should hire out some entrepreneurs from the bus for lab prep.

Okay, that is all of the spewing of random stories I am able to do for the moment so until I am dropped off at an ungodly hour again (oh right, tomorrow) and I feel like blogging (probably not tomorrow, altho only the muses know) peace out home slice! (PS, pics of the family and mochudi to come)

The not so lonely roll of toilet paper

So the end of August has come and gone and I have eagerly been awaiting the arrivel of my toilet paper quota (which is supposedly 4 rolls on the first of the month). I have been a bit desperate lately and have been restricting my "calls of nature" to when I am near the library building (the only place on campus stocked with toilet paper and soap; this is unfortunately inconvenient in the dead of night) Before you say anything, yes, I could buy my own toilet paper but I have not for two reasons: 1)I am mad that the previous 4 rolls I bought were all absconded with and 2) I am lazy and forgetful and the store is a twenty minute walk away. I was pleasantly surprised today when, returning to my dorm, I found 2 rolls of TP sitting on my desk. They still technically owe me 6 more rolls (2 more for the quota + my 4 they took) but I wasn't going to complain. I will complain, however, that when I looked over at my roommate's desk she had a pile of ten rolls. I figure that the cleaning ladies are either being very passive aggressive or, more likely, our room was the last stop, the woman still had 8 rolls left, and she did not want to carry them down the stairs. I spent a while asking myself "what would Kant do?" and eventually decided to go the hobbsian route and I straight up took an extra roll from the pile for myself. (life is nasty, brutish, and short on toilet paper....)

In a similar vein, the cafeteria seems to be taking a page from the cleaning service. I went there this morning, as I have done everyday, and asked to pay for breakfast. They then informed me that they have decided to stop serving breakfast. (note that this announcement came with no sign, no early warning, and no apparent logic) Upon further inquiry it turned out that they are apparently losing money and have therefore decided to only serve breakfast to those who bought a mealplan in advance. If any of you have spoken to me in the mornings then you know how I feel about breakfast so it is not too surprising that I managed to obtain food from the cafeteria this morning where 4 other international students failed. I have also offered to buy the meal plan for breakfast but the manager of the cafeteria did not seem to think that would work (what the heck?) but I pretty much turned on the "poor little me" act and asked her, "b-but, how am I going to eat? My only kitchen is in another country..." She said to come back this afternoon and she will know what to do. I will be getting breakfast, there is no question. I will eat peanut butter sandwiches and granola in my room for lunch and dinner (supplemented with setswana food from the street vendors) but I REFUSE to go without hot tea every morning and breakfast is the only place on campus to get it. So in any case, details to come (hopefully they will not involve a minor catering-service-coupe)

Of flukes and men: part II

So I recently had a crisis of authorship when I began listing those reading my blog. I realized that my mother, my grandmother, my great-grandmother, a priest, a J.U.N.T.A. member, a motswana, and dread-locked geology major are all reading my blog (just to mention a few) and I do not know to which audience I ought to cater my writing. I have pondered this dilemma and ultimately decided that since Stephanie has by far left the best commentary responding to the blog, I will cater it towards her.

With that out of the way, I have a minimal update on that boy who I wish had a liver fluke, who forthwith shall be referred to as TBIWHLF. Apparently, he has been approaching my friends about setting me up with him, naturally assuming that since I am white I must therefore be desperate for a motswana boy to "get to know biblically" whilst in Botswana. Unfortunately, TBIWHLF has not approached me directly so I have not yet gotten to a)give him a piece of my mind b)casually mention/ demonstrate my ninja skill set or c)find him an actual liver-fluke muffin (by the way, could such a dish still be technically vegan?) When the moment comes, however, this blog will be the first artificial/ cyberspace reality to know the details.

In other news, today was the first day of the month and therefore the first allowance day of the semester. There were 25+ people long ATM lines around campus; right next to the ATMs were giant posters with a peeing man on them that reminded the populace: "Avoid indiscriminate Urinating; protect the environment!" courtesy of botswana's equivalent to the EPA. I appreciated the passive-aggressive timing of the signs as the first of the month is apparently a huge drinking day on campus but, firstly, I don't think "indiscriminate urinating" is the biggest threat to the environment in Sub-Saharan Africa and, secondly, I don't know that a 3ft-tall poster with a urinating man is necessarily the best way to get one's message across (wonder if he's buddies with the bunny creator?) Naturally we are sending a contingent of international students to steal the poster as soon as the ATM line dies down (some time next week). I will keep you posted as to the success of the operation/ if I need bail money wired to Africa in Pula.

In the category of the very exciting, I was given the name and basic info of the host family with which I will live for ten days starting saturday. I will be living with a mother, father, and their two sons (ages 5 and 13) in Mochudi, about an hour outside of Gaborone. I am really stoked but also nervous- I guess I have to pretend to be normal for a while, shoot. They are supposed to treat me as their daughter, chores and all, and I am going to get a real taste of Setswana rural life. Altho I won't be able to blog during the week (I have a hunch) I will collect stories and pictures in the interim.
As always.....Details to come!

They found me

No, I have not yet been arrested by the soviets for stealing the socialist club poster (altho that would be ironic. "I thought communism was about sharing, comrade") I have, however, been discovered by the expat community through the local anglican church (trust the anglicans). I was invited to coffee at the home of a south african couple, which was beautiful and shockingly normal. They were very nice and filled me in on the doings of the other expats at the church, including the director of the city hospital (who, coincidentally, is also a character in McCall Smith's no. 1 ladies detective agency and who also doubles as a priest at the church). I may just talk to him next sunday about volunteering since the normal channels do not appear to be working. He is also, apparently, a direct descendent of David Lingston's inlaws' (small country). When I returned from church and told my roommate where I had been, she was surprised that I attended church and apparently took it as a green light because we have been listening to christian rock ever since. While I am not really opposed to the genre, it is getting a little repetitive. Speaking of my roommate, I walked into the room yesterday and she had no clothes on. Apparently that is totally culturally acceptable here and I was warned, but having a casual chat with a roommate sans clothing is still odd for me (maybe it is just a Utah thing).

In other news, someone has been putting up new posters in the campaign against HIV on campus. While I support the cause, I feel that this campaign might be misguided and the publicist should be fired. I have included a shot of one of the posters below, Whoever decided that a giant bunny mascot should be the vanguard of abstinence should probably not be allowed to make any more decisions.

In still other news, we went to the national trade fair yesterday and got to explore genuine motswana-made crafts. There were also local businesses, governement agencies, and embassies represented (of course not ours, we are not hospitable. The japanese came out looking really great because they taught you origami and how to use chopsticks at their booth. Even Iran had an embassy booth; fail USA). One booth was selling, ....? Giant sombreros? wall hangings? I don't know, but perhaps it is big and inconvenient enough, katherine? Lol. I have to write a paper on conflict in the DRC (yes, that is the exact assignment. Something that people write books on is supposed to be a thesis-driven 8 pg paper, wtf) so see you on the flip side, homeslice!

Things that define sarah... and how those things change in Botswana

Don't be alarmed, I did not hook up with a stranger, do drugs, or climb a lemon tree and steal university property (okay I might have participated in that last one). I do, however, have a few thoughts.

Some people may have suspected that I have a fondness for artificial sweeteners. Well, it turns out, a set of twenty single-serving splenda packets costs the equivalent of 8 US dollars. For those of you who know how much splenda I consume on a daily basis in my 3 mugs each day, I invite you to do the math. I have, therefore, switched to standard sugar in my tea so if I return to the states with diabetes then I encourage you to entirely blame the artificial sweetener companies and their decision to jack prices in third-world countries.

I have also been known to accidentally embrace too many leadership opportunities. NO MORE! I went to an RA meeting last night in which the RA invited different organizations on campus to speak to her 120 residents (of whom 30 came). At this meeting, they were looking for floor representatives to liason with each of these organizations and the RA. Now, as much as I like liasons, I kept quiet as I have only been on this continent for a month. Unfortunately, I was the only one from my hall there and we had signed in with our names and room numbers when we arrived at the meeting. The RA then informed me that i was the default representative; and you know what I did? for the first time in my life, I looked that opportunity for leadership in the eye and I flatly said "No!" (applause is appropriate now) In other highlights of the meeting, a born-again christian speaking on character building flat out told us that if we watch pornography our hair will fall out and we will go blind. Honest to God! I nearly died not responding or rolling on the floor laughing.

In a similarish vein, I have been propositioned by a lab-coat clad student in parasitology. This is the same guy who told me his name was honey and is now asking my friends to put in a good word for him. Since we were looking at parasites all afternoon (awesome) I expressed my feelings through the following art piece:

I have to run now, I will update the blog with more stories soon!

Dr. Strangeworm; or, how I learned to stop worrying and love giardia

(Alex, I blatantly ripped off your email title :)
You may recall me mentioning that one person lost their passport during a night of carousing. Today, that girl went to the american embassy in order to get a replacement and we were all reminded of why americans are so popular abroad (If you hear a dripping sound, that is sarcasm). First, she showed up a the embassy with Batsi, our program director, who they would not let within the gate because he was not an american citizen. They then looked at hayley, who told them she lost her passport, and they then asked her if she was, in fact, an american. (Hayley is a very tan, blonde, blue-eyed girl from oklahoma with a distinctly southern twang) she regretted not saying, "no, but the libyan embassy turned me away." They eventually escorted her through three security checkpoints which all involved bag searches at which point she ran into the marine who had been buying her drinks the night she lost her passport; he nearly bust a gut laughing when he heard what had happened. (in the end she got a new passport).
In other news, I decided to risk giardia and I ventured outside of the school today to buy lunch from the women on the street. They have vegetables, tastier food, and a lot more to choose from for the exact same price as lunch at the cafeteria. Unfortunately I forgot that I had bought cellphone airtime earlier to when I arrived I had 12 pula and was 3 pula short after I had already filled my plate. I had to run back to my dorm, get my wallet, and run back (which took 45 minutes because the campus is so huge) all for the equivalent of 38 cents. FML I am currently eating, however, paleche (porridge), morogo (stewed greens), beet root, and some unidentifiable orange veggie with chili powder. I'll keep you posted if I pick up any interesting new life forms in my gut.

Speaking of Kleptomania

*News update: before I say anything else, I am over my cold and I GOT A HOT SHOWER!!!!!!!! I have been floating on a metaphorical cloud produced by the tangible steam of my shower all day and everything is right with the world*
So I am pretty sure that I previously mentioned the feud with the cleaning ladies in which my friend is currently engaged. If not, quick recap: she wouldn't leave her room so they could wax the floor at 8am, we think that they turned off her electricity somehow, she had to relocate our fridge and left a scratch on the waxed floor. I have episode 2: we have strong reason to expect that the cleaning staff is stealing her food. Her peanut butter has been scraped clean and all of her cookies were eaten. I tend to agree they are responsible because her roommate is another exchange student who has shown no klepto tendencies and I am almost positive that these are the women who took my toilet paper as they are the only ones with a key. My friend is currently planning to hide a mouse trap in her next box of cookies. This is escalating a little fast. In other cleaning-lady escapades, every morning when my other friend is charging her computer and emailing family, the cleaning lady lets herself into this girl's room, unplugs the girl's charger and promptly plugs in her own phone to charge with little or no explanation. luckily, we are not too afraid of making them mad because, other than waxing the floor, they do not seem to be performing any perceivable function in the dorm. They are characters, but very willing to practice setswana with exchange students while on their tea break.
In other klepto news, last night a group of international students went out to an expat bar and returned at 5am sans 4 phones, a camera, and a US passport. Bummer in the extreme, but probably due to "poor (or inebriated) decisions." I, fortunately, declined taking part in the carousing and instead hung out in the hopkins' style (shooting the breeze with friends for 4 hours after stopping by for some tea). Tomorrow I am getting up at an (ironically) ungodly hour to go to a local anglican church...details to come.

Sarah's continued tales of kleptomania

You may recall that I mentioned attempting to steal a socialist club poster a few days ago. Well the whole story is that I really creeped out a local girl while doing so. She saw me undoing the tape, looked at me for a second, then quickly started walking away. I had dropped the tape the second she saw me and continued on my way to class, coincidentally walking right next to her for some time. She kept darting glances at me so I finally turned to her and said "yes, I was trying to steal the poster" I then tried to really quickly explain why I was doing so, and she quickly said "it's okay with me if you take it, I don't care" and walked faster. I am quite sure she thinks I am crazy and was trying to escape my ranting.
In keeping with the grand colonial tradition of my european cousins, I also went on a kleptomania spree with other exchange students around campus. First, in the dead of night, three of us went to the lemon tree grove on campus (someone please inform alex that while lemons grow in Gaborone, they still do not grow in Denver). We proceeded to steal two of the most delicious lemons I have ever smelled or eaten (I actually straight ate it, it was that good) By "we stole" I mean my friend aubri climbed the tree while I ran around the base of it with my arms up, pretending I could have caught her if she had fallen. I also absconded with some silverware from the refectory since the last set of spoons that I bought had razor-sharp edges that cut open my mouth when I tried to eat oatmeal (what where the manufacturers on?). Unfortunately, the refectory has servers who come and clear your plates and when my friend hayley handed one man her plate, knife, and fork he said, "could I have my other knife too please?" Awkward.....
So yeah, there could be warrants out for us in gaborone, luckily the witnesses think all white people look alike. (and apparently read the bible at breakfast as one waiter told me after assuming that my evolution text book was about jesus).

The shocking, predictable, and shockingly predictable

Shocking: Things that should be in Utah and Spokane but definitely aren't.
1. Dog or goat? you decide....
2. Apparently don't do love either! (this is on the outside of every dorm building)
3. Stanley, an international student from Malawi, strutting his stuff

4. Definitely an awesome addition to every floor of every building on campus (I wonder what spitzer would say?)

5. Hard to see but yes, there is a framed picture of Obama inside of Mafia Soul Clothing

The predictable (and not so predictable):
1. There is a socialist club on campus (go figure) which they advertise for with a very catchy poster that says "Do you like Che Guevara T-shirts? Do you like Soviet jeans? To you hate capitalism and want the working class to rise up? come to the socialist club meeting!" I at first thought it was a social club, hence I read the poster, but it was in fact advertising the revolution. I tried to steal a poster but someone caught me in the act and it was really awkward. I was going to attend a meeting but they forgot to include a location on the poster....communism fails again.

2. The angry african politics professor gave a monologue about /ode to AK47s and their role in "liberating the continent" my eyes got so big they nearly fell out of my head. Wonder if he knows the socialist club?

The shockingly predictable: A mormon missionary from utah has been going around my dorm, handing out pamphlets and inviting people to church; I politely declined but said hello.

Trifles

Since the last three posts were very classic and touristy, I feel the need to update the blog with a few "sarah stories."
First, in Setswana yesterday our teacher was trying to define a word as an example of a certain noun class and described, "A woman who sleeps with a lot of men, what do you call her in English?" I naturally yelled "a strumpet!" and everybody stared at me. The professor, who takes pride in her english, looked at me and then asked me to spell it so she would remember it in the future. I obliged her and then added tart, lightskirt, harlot, and woman of negotiable affections to the list too.
Second, I have a roommate who is a fourth-year student name mickey (really). I guess I have a second roommate too because there was a third person sleeping in our room last night....I have yet to acertain their identity...details to come. I was slightly terrified to be getting an assigned roommate (since that went so well last time) but she seemed nice (until she turned on her stereo at 6:15am, we will have to talk). I am positive about it, however.
Lastly, I am ill and may need to visit the student clinic (do not worry, it is not at all serious). I figure a third-world government-run free student clinic has to be better than Gonzaga's, but I am wary. I am hoping for a simple strept test but I was advised that it could take a few weeks. By then I will be either dead or cured so it may be faster to grow my own penicillin in the closet. I'll keep you updated if a limb falls off. :)

"Cultural Excursion" Part III

On sunday we went on a game drive and saw all of the local animals- including tamed elephants imported from south africa and tamed cheetahs from zambia. Still awesome and lots of fun. I have never heard so many cameras simultaneously click in my life!

So there is apparently a place in south africa where one can ride ostriches! new life mission, details to come.
Termite mound; fun factoid: they always tilt towards the west since they are built at night and as the sun rises, the east side is heated and expands slightly.

Every single international student saw the warthog and yelled "pumba!"

Best business model ever: they gave us all unlimited free mimosas before the game drive (I guess so if we didn't see any animals then we wouldn't be that upset)

"Cultural; Excursion" Part II

I have class in twenty minutes so I will mostly just post pics now and write about it later!
First: the cheif, a good-natured old man who instantly picked five girls from our group and declared them his wives (playing off the stereotype of course) Here is one of the Germans he grabbed, Lol. The "village" he oversaw and had the final word in had 40,000 people living in it. I think "village" is just used for historical reasonsThis building is 200+ yrs old and was the cheif's house, they are in the process of remodeling

"Cultural Excursion" part I

Hey y'all, so I got back from our "cultural excursion weekend" and it was awesome! We saw 2000+ yr old rock paintings, the livingston tree (under which David Livingston taught, ran a clinic, and parlayed with chiefs), a kgotla (traditional court), traditional dancing, and a game drive! The food was fantastic, the lodging was way better than the dorms and the entire weekend cost me approximately $30 (I love the exchange rate). I cannot put all of the pics in one post so I shall share in three parts.

Part I: Livingston tree and rock paintings
Here is a quick shot of the tree (hard to capture with only photos)
Livingston tree, HUGEFrom left: me, mark, aubri, angene, jenny (all americans in my program, all awesome)

This cave is where a pregnant wife of a very important cheif hid for 4 weeks during the boer war.

The giraffes, my favorite

The lonely roll of toilet paper

It occured to me today that the serious drawback to a blog versus telling stories when I get home is that stories that will be really funny later down the line are not at all funny to me right now. Nevertheless, I suspect that others may enjoy my scrapes.
I took my third cold shower in a row tonight...in the dark. The light in our bathroom is still very much broken, as is apparently the hot water heater. I could kill for a hot shower right now, literally kill somebody. I mean seriously, if you want somebody dead right now then find a way to get me hot water. Fortunately, I suppose, homicide would still not get me a hot shower so I won't need a lawyer yet.
In a similar theme, I have a curious case of a lonely roll of toilet paper. As I have previously mentioned, one must bring one's own toilet paper to a public bathroom on campus. Dorm residents, however, are given 4 rolls a month. I also bought four rolls, not knowing this fact. So I started with eight rolls and I looked at my shelf today and realized that, two weeks into the month, I am left with one very lonely roll. Now, I have not finished any single roll of toilet paper, and while I might be forgetful, I do not think I have lost (read: left in the bathroom and never found again) more than three or four rolls in the last two weeks. This leaves me with a missing 4-5 rolls of toilet paper. I have literally no idea where they could have gone. Who the hell would steal it? Maybe I should leave more lucrative objects next to the toilet paper in order to deter would-be paper thieves? I am puzzled and would appreciate suggestions.
In a not similar vein, I have begun daily tae-kwon-do lessons for a few other exchange students in the courtyard by our dorm. I enjoy the exercise and it is a good way to meet locals (mainly because they want to know what the hell we are doing) What is odd is that when a friend mentions to a curious UB student that I have a blackbelt, hence the lessons, they always step away and say, "Oh! so you could kill me right now?" (not unless it'd get me a hot shower, buddy). I don't know why people think a blackbelt would make me more volatile and prone to hurt bystanders, but I have gotten this reaction 7 times and counting. It is nice to know, however, that I am building an international reputation for unpredictable violence.
Alright, that is the end of my ranting about the creature comforts. Tomorrow we visit immigration (woohoo! wild times!) and I have my first physiology lab.... until then, sala sentle!

Dumelang!

Hey y'all, just a quick update- as I write this my wwindow is being attacked by a feral pigeon and I think I might need to show it the "business side" of my hand soon (as tyler would put it). I have discovered something amazing here, they are called fatcakes, and they are basically giant beignets for only 16 US cents. I am going to argue possible highest number of calories for dollar spent in the entire world. Luckily they are a twenty-minute walk away so I won't have to buy a second plane ticket back to the US come december. In other news, we are going on a game drive this weekend as well as seeing tens of thousands of years old rock paintings in a village outside of Gaborone. I am stoked! I hope to tame a giraffe, name it gerald, and possibly ride it back to gaborone. Hopefully I will not have to fight off too many koala bears with my pocket knife on the way. I will, however, have lots of pictures from the trip! Untill then, keep it real home-skillets (again, if anyone asks, we really say that in the states)

Sarah Dupont and the search for the secret breakfast

First a miscellaneous anecdote: I went to breakfast this morning somewhat late and the cashier looked at me, looked in the kitchen, and said "sorry, but we only have egg, toast, marmalade, and tea today." I was somewhat confused because this is the exact same thing they have had every single morning in the cafeteria (which I am fine with and only costs 80 cents or so). It did start a nagging doubt however: is there some secret breakfast which I do not know about? Do I need to say the password? I will keep you updated.
I think that classes are finally starting (most of the teachers are showing up). We had our first real lecture in the class "Africa in world politics" and I have concluded that the teacher is a very angry man. Granted, he was lecturing on slavery and colonialism, which really f****d this continent for 600 years, but by the end of the class I felt like I should be flagellating myself for the sins of my forefathers. I think if I turned in my first paper written with my "of European descent" blood straight from an opened vein I might get an A. Interesting man, unfortunately does not understand what saying "quote un-quote" (yes I got the irony of that last punctuation) before a sentence actually means; he keeps using it inappropriately....altho he could just be really sarcastic?
My Botswana politics class is pretty awesome. Since I did not want to take the class I am really glad about this, blessing in disguise I guess. I am also in Setswana, which I am loving beyond reason (altho I keep accidentally breaking into spanish). The two bio classes- comparative physiology and parasitology- should be good. (I have a major advantage currently in comparative physiology as she is discussing marine life-forms and I am probably the only one in the class who has seen the ocean and knows what a stingray is).
The real surprise is the CIEE botswana class. I thought this was going to be like an honors colloquium- you know, share your feelings about gender roles in the country- but it is actually an intense course. We have written assignments (like 8 pg papers), we are going to visit a diamond mine, we have to do a scavenger hunt around the city, we have to volunteer in the city, we are visiting traditional courts and writing about it, and we have to interview people and give a presentation on modern botswana- mostly in Setswana! I found this all out today and I am a little overwhelmed. I am really hoping that I can get credit for this stuff at GU.... Clancy?
Overall things are going well. I am still stared-at constantly and guys keep trying to get invitations back to a "hot white girl's" room but I am trucking along... altho it has been ten days and I have still not found vegetables on campus, lindsey would not fare well.

UB in still-frame continued

The library, very nice. Lots of comfy couches.

The science block is a red brick series of courtyards and it is gorgeous.



This is what the ENTIRE CAMPUS looked like after friday night parties. The cleaning crew had it all picked up by 10am, however.

(By the way, the last picture is of a meal from the cafeteria. I'd say it's a "typical meal" except it is the exact same thing they serve for lunch every single day. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner do not appear to change day to day. Every meal includes large amounts of beef and a serving of "juice" that tastes like a melted popsicle. The suspicious gray goo in the middle is pap, and it is the best part of the meal. It is basically grits mixed with whatever and I love it)