I wrote part of this Saturday night, the 28th after what was both a typically eventful and uneventful week, in that those things that were supposed to happen didn’t but things that weren’t necessarily going to happen, of course did. Then today the 31st. I added to it….what a difference a week makes.
We progress slowly on the closing out of the European Union Project and are still waiting for the mobile office to be delivered. They said the 27th but on closer interrogation I was able to wrestle the information that it would be DONE on the 26th and then they would have schedule delivery. I suggested that they schedule delivery assuming it would be done on the 26th so we might get it on the 30th or 31st. This was found to be a fine idea, but tonight, Saturday the 28th, I have no idea what will happen on Monday, or Tuesday or, god forbid, even further adrift from there.
Meanwhile the contractor is finishing the latrines and the storage building just fine, but has to move the two large piles of sand he had brought to the site because they sit where the caravan needs to go. I lied to him and said the sand had to be moved before the 27th because of delivery. Didn’t do a lick of good, but I don’t envy his workers having to move a pile of sand from here to there in this heat. He asked me if they could just spread it around. Sure, just NOT WHERE THE CARVAN IS SUPPOSED TO GO. Have to say these things. I found out that the contractor paid the support group to move the dirt and sand. A fine idea which amounted to slave labor prices but they were happy for the money and it all actually got moved.
Today, the 31st, I was there to witness the landing of the caravan. It was an all morning affair. We arrived by 10. The caravan, set smartly on a very large truck, drove by us happily around 11. Dudes, do you not know where you are going? Apparently not, as they called us and said, “heh, duh.” The chair of the committee commented that perhaps they wanted to parade it through the village first on our behalf. He cracks me up.
Previously, we had arranged with “Fred” from the company that they would come straight off the road where we would dismantle the government fence temporarily so they had a straight shot into our gate and the property. Easy peesy. Fred wasn’t there and didn’t pass this on, but I didn’t clue into this because I was trying to let things unfold, let the group manage their new asset, etc., etc. and I really thought one of the guys was Fred. So they drive back past us again, turn around somewhere where a big rig can turn, drive by us one more time, and turn off onto a very uneven dirt road to come to the property.
Thing is, it is not humanly or superhumanly possible to then turn this monster truck into the property without taking out a serious fence, which is ours. They tried twice, then decided if they couldn’t come in forwardly, they could back in, which as far as I am concerned is just plain stupid. Well, at this point, I watched for as long as it took for them to bring the back of the caravan very close to the fence pole and said, “ema fo” which as we know means “stop there,” but could also, with a slight change in pronunciation, sound like a shorter version of “eh motherf-ing fool.”
I explained to them the real solution and we took the fence apart, they drove out and then back in lickety split. Then it took awhile to remove the trailer from the rig, but I now know how three skinny guys can do that. Quite a low tech but worthy system. While they were at that, two members of the group, a staff member from my office who arrived with pliers, per my plea, and the director of the local conservation group, put the fence back together. Well, kind of. Don’t look too closely.
By this time, even with my sunscreen I had been in and out (but mostly in) the sun for about 4.5 hours and was thinking it was time for me to go. I did a quick happy dance for the benefit of the support groups members who all really wanted to do one themselves, but just didn’t dare, and headed back to the office.
The water and electricity hook ups for the other group still haven’t happened, but at least now supposedly the village development committee and the local political representative are hot on it. But if we don’t have something by my party maybe I will just tell my three bouncers to not let any of those guys in. Meanwhile, we doggedly dig holes to put in the gumpoles for the shade garden. We can’t really occupy that office until we get the big smelly things out of the first room, and we can’t do that until we can put them in the ground and secure the cross poles and shade netting with wiring good and tight so no one makes off with any of it. And we have a fellow who is going to stay at the office as kind of security, but he can’t move in until the gumpoles are out and wants to have power and electricity too. So there you go.
My party is threatening to become absolutely crazy. I am now planning for maybe 100 kids and some of them will be bringing parents because everyone sees it as a chance to get free food at my expense. We will be counting people at the gate and when I hit 100 kids I am locking everyone else out because the looks I will get when I don’t give everyone exactly the same amount of everything are going to kill me. The kids are already following me around, asking me questions I cannot understand, all I am pretty sure having to do with the party.
I have explained that it is a kids only party from 10 to 2 and no meal will be served. They think this is crazy. I need to remind them it is called a cross cultural experience. I am showing them how I would do a kid’s party at home. Lots of games, jumping castle, prizes and sugar. No meat and cabbage salad, ok already?
Then the party for my 15 year old friend follows. I have told her only 30 kids. She is inviting more and they think they will get to stay for the “adult” party. Sorry kids, I am counting up to 30 and then I am closing the gate and when it is time to leave, I am kicking you all out. They too think they should get a meal. I think they should eat what I give them and be happy about it.
I heard tonight from a local source for three cakes and hope her prices are reasonable or I go to Lobatse and have a Rotarian bring them to Otse Saturday morning. The DJ fellow still hadn’t contacted me, but then, it is only less than a week away, so he must have plenty of time. Last night, my landllord’s son said he could do it with a cousin’s machine so that got solved. Up until this morning I still wasn’t sure how I would get the 100 chairs from the Village Development committee’s office up to my house. One of my nice Rotarian buddies first offered to hitch me to a trailer he had but then made a more serious offer not involving me or any livestock. Still, I approached the director of the home based care program who really isn’t too busy right now and he said he could do it. I had seen more beat up pick-up trucks owned by people in the village I don’t know than I thought was possible, when I didn’t have any options. Now that I have, it I don’t recall seeing any.
The jumping castle will arrive the morning of the party and only then will we decide how many of the tree branches we need to trim away. Silly me, I was thinking to just trim up a bit this weekend….
Thursday I go shopping to buy the food for the “adult” party and will buy for close to 150 people, in case everyone I invited and some I did not, show up. I have three bouncers to keep the riff raff and uninvited out, but if that turns out to be the village chief or some of my neighbors, they will have to let them in, right? People I have not invited know about the party, so it is anyone’s guess what will happen. If it decides to rain, I really don’t know who will come. I have hired one of the disability groups to do the cooking for me, so at least I don’t have to mess with it. I am hoping they serve the meal at a reasonable hour. As it turns out, this afternoon, the 31st, one of my friends who is well connected in the community asked me if she could bring a couple friends. Well, sure why not? Who? The chief and his wife. So I definitely need to make sure the bouncers don’t bounce him, which of course they never would do.
I have somewhere between 6 and 10 Peace Corps volunteers coming for anywhere from just the party to two nights stay. My Motswana family is coming also – all 8 to 10 of them, and 4 or so Rotarians. These groups of people at least know they are going to be helping with the party. I will be holed up in my bedroom with my cats, sitting the whole thing out, if it gets too beyond belief.
Early last week I thought of just officially canceling the adult party and unofficially having just my PC and Rotary friends and family over, but the problem is that someone would get wind of this and would come anyway and then what? Last week I was seriously thinking about cancelling everything, but that is a totally different story. Besides, it is going to be so much fun.
I succumbed and bought the bolts for the toilet seat, though most of the guests will be using the pit latrine. I also succumbed and bought hair color so all the grey will be gone for at least a few weeks of my 50th year.
I am going to have the girls help me write a little speech, welcoming everyone and explaining that this is an Americanized version of a party they would do, and that I am not related to Bill Gates even those we are both white, tall and goofy looking, and I can only do what I can do. It’s not a wedding after all: I am not killing a cow or goat for them. They dropped by tonight to pick some music, get an update, and help me pick what to wear for the party. We were in agreement: the short sexy dress was hands down the best. Thank god.
Really, it will be fun. Oh, that just made me think of one of my Dad’s quotable quotes from our childhood during one of what we would call “ill-fated expeditions.” You are going to have fun dammit, whether you like it or not.” Ema fo.
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