First Day In Maun / फर्स्ट दय इन मौन

I've just arrived in Maun. I spent my first night in Botswana at the splendid Boiketlo Lodge in Gaborone. It's really well placed opposite the Bank and Telecom ofices. There's a driving school 'office' under a tree outside the back gate which faces the Telecom & Bank. The driving school itself consists of an obstacle course of orange cones on a patch ofground beside the road a little further along. A man was entertaining the instructiors singing to a guitar. This was another good introduction to Botswana.

Mr. Moipolai says that Lonely Planet has got it wrong about his guest house. They describe it as 'noisy' apparently. He wasn't happy about that. The edition I read quite rated the place, which is why I chose it. It's certainly not noisy. So any of you with an old edition of Lonely Planet which describes Boiketlo Lodge as noisy, you'd better update it and say that it is clean, well appointed and quiet with a delicate perfume of woodsmoke on the evening air.

Mr Moipolai says that LP perhaps mistook the natural exuberance of Motswana for irritating noise. We are jolly people, we always greet, domella ma! Domella rra! You will see it when you get the bus, we are always greeting.

I was looking forward to a bit of this as things had been pretty quiet I thought. Everyone on the Mainliner kept themselves to themselves and everyone I'd seen in Gabborone deported themselves with the utmost decorum.

This changed I am happy to say, when I reached the bus station. It was as bright, noisy, ramshackle and full of human life as I had expected.Busses heave in and out, their touts roam the area shouting their destinations. People laden with great tarten laundry bags of luggage surge back and forth, with politeness and decorum. Vendors hawk fruit, mouth watering packets of chicken and chips made by Hungry Lion & Cicken Licken, chicken pies by Pie Perfect, Cold water, frozen into ice, Iron Brew, sweeties in buckets, wallets, passport covers & pocket-books, The Voice, The Botswana Guardian, pencils, plastic doccument wallets, air time for mobile phones.

The bus slowly fills up with passengers and vendors pass on and off like salts through a cell.There's always space to squeeze by and everything passes off with the utmost tact and decorum. There's some banter between passengers and vendors but everyone kepps themselves to themselves and are decorous.

Dr. Scientist

As we pull out of the bus station we pass more vendors stalls and food spots. Then, at one corner I see a crowd of people cathered round a larger shack. Inside is a sound system beside which sits a man with a really curious peice of woodwork in his hands.

It looks as though he is holding an instrument madefrom planks and 2 by four, held together with bolts. He's advertised as Dr. Scientist. There's a pile of compact discs on the sound system and a hand printed T shirt swings above them. He's tuning up to play that gorgeous rippling African guitar music. Notes and phases sparkle out and hit you in the heart. I'm straining my ears backwards as we pass away listening to the stretche d notes through the doppler effect. Resolved: I will track down and buy a copy of Dr. Scientist's CD when i return to Gaborone.