Blog #38 – Singing, Dancing & Drunk Driving

Today was the last day off I would have before we got fully into the program. I was going to tag along with the film crew, who was attending a local song and dance competition. I woke up relatively early, but not too early, knowing that it wouldn’t likely get started on time. We started out for the competition and realized that it was nowhere that we expected it to be. There was no one and no sign of anyone coming to the place that we expected! It was a little bit odd and I was slightly pissed off because I had really been looking forward to seeing some of the local culture!

After making a few calls we found out where everything had been moved to and were back on track. We made it to Sedia Junior School just around ten o’clock. There were a few schools there already and some other spectators. Considering the start time had been nine o’clock it wasn’t looking too good.

By twelve thirty the show finally got on the road… yes, three and a half hours behind schedule. I was really excited however, and was looking forward to all of the dancing and singing (but mostly the dancing, haha!)

The first school to perform was Shorobe, a small village forty minutes out of Maun. The group of choir students filed into the room – all dressed up in white collared shirts and dress pants/skirts – it was all way more formal than I had thought it would be. The children sang a song that was in English (though had to discern) and about something religious – it was hard to understand, however, it was definitely very much like a “white Christian hymn”. I felt a little odd seeing all of these local Batswana children performing this piece. The second piece was a little more lively, but still hugely lacking in local culture, flavour and language. I should note though, that their singing talent, for junior school students, was really quiet good, especially considering their choir was over thirty people.

There was around a fifteen-minute break after Shorobe while the judges wrote notes and marked their performance. The next school after Shorobe was a little larger, probably forty or so kids, and they sang the same songs. Of course, they didn’t sound the same, and you can definitely see a difference in skill level, but already had a bad feeling of what the next few hours would be.

Originally I had though we would have a morning full of singing and dancing of the local culture. When I got a hold of the schedule, I saw that there were ten schools that would be singing – and it took over half an hour to get through just two of them – and after that the dancing would start. The saddest part of all, was that all of the songs were going to be the same – maybe four different songs all day – and NONE of them were in Setswana or that entertaining.

While I sat patiently and calmly for the next three hours, I did appreciate all of the preparation and work that had went into these performances. Some of the choirs got up to over a hundred students – and I can only imagine what that must be like to try and teach. Then add the challenge of learning songs that aren’t natural to the students’ culture and in English (a second langauge or maybe not even known) and there are some big hurdles to overcome.

Our driver had headed out after the first few schools to go and pick up some other students that were just arriving. Then he was going to bring those that were interested here to see the singing and dancing. We were lucky enough to get to stay for the whole thing. And let me tell you, after listening to songs for close to four hours, I was VERY ready for some dancing!

Once the singing was over the air in the room changed. The sun was beginning to get lower in the sky and air was beginning to cool. The crowd that had been dispersed and lightly focused before now quickly filled ever chair in the audience and everyone pushed forward to try and get the best seat in the house! I knew this was going to be good!

I could tell the first students to go were nervous. They shuffled into the room with their traditional dress – small outfits of animal leather, beads and feathers. It seemed like they were waiting for music to begin for them to start, but it would never come. They danced to their own rhythm and song. The group began slapping their feet and clapping their hands. With around twenty-five dancers, they got quite an amazing musical rhythm going. Then one tiny little girl – the smallest in the group – took a tiny step forward and began leading a call and answer song. The sound is impossible to describe and the experience is breath-taking.

After the rhythm has built up and the singing is getting going they break into dance. It began with four boys, each doing a set routine of stepping, spin and rhythm making step – all of them doing the same thing, but with such evident personality and uniqueness. After the boys came the girls. They stepped out and did their own part. After that it was like a regimented and very proper flirtatious dance with a lot of partner steps and group choreography. It was really, really cool to watch and I loved ever minute of it. The crowd did to – and many of the women would join in the rhythms or add in their own cat cries and verbal flourishes!

When the group ended everyone burst into a very healthy applause. You could tell that this was the moment that everyone had waited all day for and this was what people had really cared for. I definitely felt much more at ease seeing the support and evident love for the local cultural performance – and not so much for the hugely colonial and religiously impacted vocal performances.

After a few more dances it was time to call it a day. I was pleased and content and glad for the experience. We hadn’t eaten since breakfast and were starving, but there was also still quite the agenda for the evening. A service group from the University of Southern California had arrived in the afternoon and was settling into their accommodations. These nine students would be helping with the program next week and also doing some other conservation work after that.

Our driver was waiting in the car for us as we packed up and left the competition. As soon as I saw him I knew something was wrong. He was sitting in the driver’s seat and his eye’s were bloodshot and it smelled of alcohol. I had no idea how much he had been drinking, but it was clear that he had slipped away in the afternoon to have a few. The saddest part for me was not the fact that he had been drinking, it was that he had just gotten a pay advance and that was immediately what he went to spend his money on.

Regardless, back to the issue at hand, was that we had to get home and we had no idea if our driver was in the right mindset or not. I decided to test him and see what sort of state he was in. I went to pass him the keys for the car and dropped them into his hands, he didn’t even come close to catching them and the drop was only a few inches. He also then broke down into a fit of laughter. I was sold - there was no way that he was driving. The problem was that none of us had a license and none of us knew how to drive standard.

Of all of the visions that I had of me learning to drive a manual transmission vehicle, this most certainly was not it. The sun was setting and it was getting dark. We had a beat-up old landrover that was coming close to being on its last legs. There was no one else who could possibly drive except for me. Today was the day I begin learning how to drive standard…with only myself as the teacher…at least it wasn’t my car, haha! Only to complicate the matter further, the hundred of children were milling about and totally cool with walking right in front of or behind the vehicle.

My task seemed challenging, but not insurmountable. I had to reverse the car through a parking lot full of people for nearly fifty meters, then I would have the space to turn it around and take it out of the school grounds. After that all I would need to manage is driving home with everyone…

I stalled the car five times before I finally figured out how to get it properly into reverse. The issue was letting go of the clutch too early. I didn’t even need the gas (but little did I realize that at the start). The result was some mad jerking of the wheels and some very frightened passengers, not to mention bystanders. The looks I got definitely had people pegging me as the drunk driver, how shameful. This was also the moment that my other passengers decided that it would be best to just scream at the children to get the hell out of the way or else they are going to die – quite encouraging and also really helping me stay calm about this all. Finally, I managed to get the car rolling backwards and it was just a matter of steering, controlling speed and braking until we got to the open end of the parking lot.

Turning around was an adventure as well. There were a few other cars that we also trying to get out – and a few arriving. Adding other cars to the list of things to hit wasn’t any more encouraging. Luckily I got this part on the second try – total stall count 6. We rolled out of the school and it was so good to get onto open road! I feel as this may have been one of my best accomplishments to date :)

However, that whole time I had managed to drive under five kilometers and hour and now I would be getting onto the road that expected eighty. It was going to be some quick learning. I told everyone to buckle up, which was irrelevant as they had already done so the moment I said I would drive. We started off and I decided that I could just stay in first gear all the way to the paved road. What I should have realized was that I was missing prime learning time on a dirt road with no other traffic.

As I got to the junction of the dirt road and the tar road I took a deep breath. So did everyone else. I started off and began picking up speed on the gravel side of the road. I wait until it was clear on both sides of the road until I merged in. I got up to forty km/h and made the gear change into second…I took about ten seconds to get it into the second. The gearshift was brutal and it was one of those “you have to have the special touch” kind of things. I got a few horn honks, but it was all okay. Then I was building up some speed again and made it into third – this time a piece of cake!

I had decided to head away from town and take the country roads all the way home – that way avoiding the bulk of traffic, but also a few stop signs. I would inevitably have to use a traffic circle and make a few stops. The first stop was to get our driver home and this was entertaining because gearing down was about ten times harder than gearing up. The first attempt was shitty because I couldn’t get it back into second – so the engine just revved like a banshee and the car jerked and slowed right down (this was the moment I braced to be rear-ended). Luckily the person just passed us and no doubt cursed at us. I pulled the car off the road onto the gravel and got it back into first.

After letting our driver out, I needed a few breaths to steady myself and make thanks for us not being killed already. The rest of the drive was quite eventful –the traffic was thinning, which made it better and I practiced gearing up and down – I am great with gearing up, but still need some work on gearing down. Learning on a landrover was probably the worst vehicle choice – as the gear shifting is ridiculously challenging and hard to do, but its not like we had much choice. I got the car all the way down the road, around the traffic circle, past the stop sign (with a classic rolling stop), into Maun lodge parking lot and out front of the documentarian’s chalet. I was amazed with myself. I pried my hands off the wheel turned the car off and caught my breath. What an experience!

I was spent, but the evening wasn’t over yet. We were meeting up with the USC volunteers at Bon Arrive for dinner at eight. The girls cleaned up and got ready in their chalet while I just waited and chatted. I was racing inside and just needed some chill time. We headed over to the Boma (the Maun Lodge firepit) to hang out for a bit before we had to leave. We sat around the fire for a little bit had to leave for dinner. We convinced Robery, a guy at the Boma to give us a ride as he was also a taxi driver. The most ironic part of this was that he brought his beer with him and drank it during the entire drive to dinner.

We had a really nice dinner and I got to meet and chat with some of the students. There are nine in total all from USC but from different years and backgrounds. They are on a service trip as part of the ALIVE group – Always Living in View of the Environment – and they were going to be the conservation coaches this coming week. They wanted to hear all about Maun and Botswana and my experiences so far. I wanted to hear all about their school and their ideas and impressions. It made for some great conversation. After some long chats over good food and drink, we found a sober friendly cab driver to drive us all home. I hit the bed, exhausted from a long day.