Lekoga

Lekoga

That is the word for white person here in Botswana. I have been told that it isn’t derogatory when someone calls you that. And I have also been told it isn’t polite. Sekoga is the word for English. Makoga is the word for more than one of us white folk. Usually its little kids who say it (repeatedly) and it is more a form of a greeting or calling out for my attention than anything I have felt is offensive. Then again, maybe these kids are trying to offend me.

So no one said it this morning, but I sure felt like one, when I walked up to the Kgotla this morning at 8 a.m. for a meeting. The kgotla is where the chief (kgosi) of the village runs customary meetings and presides over issues of customary (vs. civil) law that are brought to his attention in the village.  It serves as a meeting location for lots of reasons, but what I stumbled upon was the actual weekly meeting held by the chief to address whatever community issues needed to be addressed.  The Otse Kgotla includes the actual kgotla building which has a thatched roof held up by wooden beams, a cement floor, and low white walls, but is otherwise open to the elements.  A really cool stone wall about 5 feet high in some places surrounds the kgotlal building and an amphitheater type area, also covered but otherwise open to the elements, where villagers can sit. There is a huge old tree in the courtyard area between the amphitheater and the kgotla building and the setting provides a great view down the hillside toward the “hill/mountain” where the vulture sanctuary is. It is simply a pretty spot to sit.

 The chief, his assistant chief, the assistant and the police department have actual offices in a building a bit further away.  I have met the chief, and some of the police, and a number of the people standing around, but there were at least 100 people there, mostly adults, and no, they had not yet all seen me. Tada!  Here I am. And look, I am leaving.

I had actually been coming for a VMSAC (Village Multi-sectorial AIDS Committee) meeting, because I got a text that the meeting was today and since she never said what time, I took my chances and headed there first thing in the a.m.  Women have to wear conservative dresses inside the kgotla area and the chief’s office, so I was suitably garbed, with my long underwear and sensible black shoes completing the uh “look.” I actually fit right in in that regard, assuming I was old. Which I guess I am here and more and more, anywhere. My grey hair definitely makes me look older. That was the plan but now I’m not as down with it.

But this wasn’t my meeting.  I could have stayed, standing around another hour until it finally started and then not understanding anything anyway. I will save that for another Thursday morning because I had all that conference follow-up work to get started on, then had to come back later for the VMSAC meeting which I was finally informed started at 2 p.m.

Later, arriving promptly at 2, I asked where the meeting was to be held.  A nice fellow found out for me and told me where, but that it was at 2.  Then he looked at his phone and said, “oh, well, it is after 2. Hmm….” This was the first time I have seen a person here notice and comment that a meeting wasn’t starting on time.  Finally, there were six of us waiting for the meeting to start and it was 2:30. I asked one woman who was in charge of the meeting and she said she was. We waited some more. Finally, the guy from the DAC (District AIDS Committee) office arrived. I know him, since he is a fellow PCVer’s counterpart in Ramotswa, and we greeted all around and started the meeting. One of the women there, who works at Camphill and happens to have my same American name kept telling them to translate for me, and with that and the “code switching” (that’s when they speak in both Setswana and English, alternating words or sentences), I got the basic drift.  Apparently there is some kind of district wide competition that will take place on August 10^th and the vice chair is pleased I will be helping to organize it.  Maggie came over when it seemed like the meeting was done and people just kind of wandered off (it was tea time, after all), and told me about the theater group at Camphill that she is working on for a competition in Gaborone on August 10^th.  And of course I am going to help them with that as well. Whooa!  What just happened?

Last one in the room or whoever isn’t present gets volunteered for things at home.  But wait! I WAS in the kgotla for crying out loud and wasn’t even the last one there, and I don’t have a clue what you want me to do. Besides, I am at a Peace Corps training August 10^th.  Which really begs the much more important question: who is going to watch my cats for the two weeks I am supposed to be in training?

Eish. Only a dumb lekoga would have indoor cats who need watching anyway.