Pula and a Baby Shower

(Written Saturday night)
Have I mentioned yet that April is supposed to be the beginning of the dry season in Botswana? Well it is, but you would never have known it in the last few days. It's rained almost every day since we arrived in Moleps, but it's usually been an afternoon shower that passes quickly. Yesterday was something different all together.
The skies had been cloudy for most of the day, but as I sat in the internet cafe after training, the skies grew prematurely dark. My time was up quickly, and as I walked out the door and looked around, my stomach dropped. It was't raining yet, but I could dark clouds looming over the ridge and lightening in the distance. I raced home, and as the skies turned eery colors and the wind picked up, I felt like Dorothy trying to outrun the twister. My host mother met me at the gate, and we ran inside the house and shut the door. I had reached home just in time. The wind howled and raindrops hit our tin roof like bullets. In a moment of impulse and sheer curiousity, I stuck my head out the door- and was immediately rewarded with a face full of wet sand picked up by the wind. I retreated back into the house, where my host mom and I were reduced to screaming at each other over the wind and rain. To get a feel for the noise level, imagine banging an old-fashioned metal garbage can with a drum stick- then multiply it by the size of your ceiling. We managed to make dinner, and went to bed on the early side. I was surprised at how easily I slept through all the noise, and only woke once for a defeated, sopping march to the flooded outhouse.
To my dismay, the rain had not ended when I woke up in the morning, and it did not stop all day. The walk to training was quite moist (I didn't bring rain gear since this is supposed to be the dry season!), and we had to hold our condom games and demonstrations inside the church instead of outdoors (a very uncomfortable situation for a practicing Catholic, let me tell you). After training, we decided to brave the rain again and walked to the lodge, where we met some current volunteers for drinks and discussion. I was excited to finally meet someone working in my program, and was thrilled to hear that she has had a very positive experience. Talking to the current volunteers has made me very excited for shadowing in a week and a half, and even more excited for site placement. I'm still struggling with a bit of homesickness, but with good news from the US (go Dad and Matthew!) and gearing up for the real thing here at training, I'm feeling pretty good.
After the lodge, I did some food shopping and walked home. I changed into dry clothes, talked to my American mom and brother on the phone, and at around dinnertime, headed out to a neighbor's baby shower. Baby showers are not really part of traditional Setswana culture at all, but a lot of people borrow the western tradition. Everyone brings a small gift wrapped in a nappy (cloth diaper)- mine was a pair of baby booties. The first hour was very much like an American baby shower. People arrived, gifts were opened, baby names were discussed, and everyone was a little bored. I felt a bit uncomfortable and out of place, and wanted to get home quickly. Then things started to get interesting. First there was a very open discussion and advice-giving session regarding the mom-to-be's situation. This child will be her fourth, and her second out of wedlock. The other women were strongly advising her not to have any more before marriage, and I was surprised but glad to hear that they included a discussion about HIV in their advice. Then food was served and eaten (traditional Setswana food, of course), and the dancing and drinking began. And these women, young and old, can DANCE. The music ranged from Kanye West to Rihanna to very traditional Setswana and African drum music, and after much urging, even I got up and danced. It's amazing how fast you can make friends when you're dancing- by the end of the night I was exhausted, but hated to leave. It is now 3am, and I'm quite sure they are still dancing and drinking the traditional Setswana beer. I hope to meet these women again when my Setswana is better.
That said, it is officially bedtime. Good night, all!