I had a really African day on Saturday. For the first time in a long while I’vefelt as though I’m actually in Africa. In recent days we’ve been becoming busier and busier in and out of clinics and except for a visit to Hilary’s house we’ve just been working, doing admin to keep things running and going home.
However, things changed for me on Saturday when I had a bit of an odyssey. Saturday was the day Noah was meant to visit and check our poor weak backie out and see what was wrong with it and put it right. Anne elected to stay behind and wait for him as she was sick and tired of driving our sick and tired backie around. So I went in to town.
My first stop was at the barbers. I had intended tosee the guy again who Alex had reccomended at airport junction but he was not around so I walked up to Old Mall as there is a profusion of barbers shelters there.
The day was bright and the air was cool as I walked into town as it was not yet ten o’clock. It’s a nice feeling to walk along roads which you normally drive down in the heat of midday, full of traffic between one appointment or another and these roads are quiet and the traffic moves slowly.
As usual there were crowds of people and vehicles outside shoprite, combies still jostled for position at the rank and the soundsystem still played fluid rythmic tunes into the air but I had time to take it in. The bright light forces you to squint and this narrows your field of vision to a space immediately in front of you and the environment is felt rather than seen until you reach a patch of shade and can widen your vision and take things in.
You can see big built Batswana middle class families coming and going at shoprite in big 4X4’s, tiny barefoot children with tinier siblings stand in groups intent on childish things, there are young women getting their hair braided in the shade of trees and awnings, phone credit hawkers in yellow vests break away from the crowds at the bus station like free electrons from the nucleus of an atom, flash youths in baseball caps, polo shirts and ripped jeans prowl the mall, young guys stand in groups chatting, laughing, smoking shouting out to their friends passing in cars, great stately Hereo women in brightly colored cloth sailing through the dust and crowds, gents in dark two-piece suits, collar and tie wearing stinge brim trilby’s looking like CIA men.
Like the Indian barber who practices his art on the street in the shade of a tree the barbers of Maun work in shacks made from planks and shade netting which provide a cool cave like shelter from the bustle of the street. Inside written in felt tip on the wall is the tarrif and below it are glued fragments of a mirror in which you can see your portrait as Picasso might have painted it.
You can choose an office cut, an English cut, a brush cut, a brush cut punk, or just a shave-no-style. Not knowing what to choose I asked the barber to make my hair short and smart and waited for the sesult.
Anne and I are hoping to include some barbers signs in the Sign Safari. They all appear to be in the same hand and include 3 heads which look like they are Batswana celebrities copied from films or newspapers. And, they all appear to advertise 3 styles, short, very short and shiny. I was fortunate and came away with a sort of Matt Gloss, which suited me fine.
I then turned my footsteps down Tsheko Tsheko road, past Choppies another big supermarket on one side and the victorian looking general dealers, butchers shop and electrical dealers on the other, with it’s concrete arcade and cool, dim, cavernous shops entered by a single door and smelling of dust and dried goods. Down Tsheko Tsheko road (which means Court-Case Court-Case Road) to the 4 way junction and turned left at the Hereo settlement corner and headed down to the small bridge which would take me to the Francistown road.
On my way there I passed students in their blue uniforms, I was passed by a wedding party driving slowly and tooting, a group of singers in lime green shirtsand orange waistcoats belting out songs from the back of a backie and giving thumbs up to everyone they pass, donkeys drowsing by the side of the road, herds of apparently unacompanied goats coming upo the embankment beside the bridge, horses wading in the river nibbling reeds, young people looking as though they are waiting to meet other young people on the bridge and finally I turn right, onto the Francistown road.
The Francistown oad is long and straight and in the full heat of the day, I pass builders yards and garages and the take-away/liquor rests that we pass on our way back from the pool which look so lively and inviting in the light of a Saturday evening. Cars pull up and drive away, a few people hang around outside drinking soft drinks and talking into mobiles, huddles of people with there baggage stand in the dust in the shade waiting for the hourly Francistown combie.
I reach the Ubuntu Cellphone & Landline shop and remember that I’ve not year eaten breakfast. But first, a note on Ubuntu. What is Ubuntu, Mageu maize milk ‘Salutes the Spirit of Ubuntu’, a liqueur made from Morula trees is decorated with ‘Ubuntu Beads’. Mary tells me that Ubuntu, roughly translated means ‘ancestral spirit or the soirit of the ancestors or something very traditional.
I head for the second Take-Away/Liquor-Rest outside of Maun, the Boseja Take-Away. These places, like the general dealer and butchers I mentioned earlier have a victorian appearance, being a single storey L shaped block of a building with the roof coming down low over the walk in front of the stores and making an arcade. These are the parts of Maun that really give it it’s frontiers-town atmosphere. Again the stores inside are dim and quaint knocked together looking. The Boseja Take-Away consisted of a counter behind which stood three big coke and beer fridges, full of beer, coke, softdrinks and things to be kept cool. On the counter in a glass prism were bags of fresh doughnuts and sliced grubby looking bread (aside from Hilary’s home-made bread available in loaves from the coffee shop bread is in a pretty low stageof evolutin here) and plates of Chicken & Macaroni, Chicken & Rice, Chicken & Papa.
There was a hand drawn and decorated ‘halal’ sign over the kitchen door and the place was run by a smiling, friendly Indian man with big Indian hair and a moustache. He was very helpful in explaining the intricacies of his menu and so I chose the chicken and macaroni which was spiced up by a big blob of ketchup. As I dined I was able to appreciate the idiosyncracies of decoration within the Take-Away. The walls were a smoky orange and were overpainted with abstract unmistakeable tiger stripe patterns. What lent the place a disturbing quality was the addition of about 4 pairs of Tigers’ eyes peering through the jungle and looking hungrily at the customers as they ate their chicken.
MMMM! That filled a yawning chasm at my core and I set off bouyed by a healthy balance of spices, e-numbers, protein and carbohydrate for my weekend swim.
I had still further to walk before the giant watertower on stilts which marks Matshwane school appeared. I let myself in as there was no old deuteronomy guarding the gate and went to the pool. Walking round to the deep end the air felt warmer than usual. I steeled myself to dive into the icy night cooled waters and dived in. Yet, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water wasn’t quite so cold and when I reached the other end of the pool I was even happier to find that I was withouth the urge to leap out of the pool, dry off and bake for the rest of the day. I lounged for a bit with my elbows on the side and enjoyed the contrast of the hot sun, warm breeze and now invitingly cold water.
I did 18 lengths in two sessions with a baking out period in between. I was once again pleasantly surprised at my stamina which I now, on reflection ascribe to the running I now do every other day. As I knew I had a long walk back into town and dinner at Marty’s at 6 I left at about 3.30 while the sun was still hot.
The problem now was how to get home with the greatest expedience without having to walk home the way we drive as it is a very very dusty road. The easiest way would be a combie to the big bridge and then walk down along the river. This is what happened and so I was able to enjoy a walk home along the river in the beautiful African afternoon light.
However, things changed for me on Saturday when I had a bit of an odyssey. Saturday was the day Noah was meant to visit and check our poor weak backie out and see what was wrong with it and put it right. Anne elected to stay behind and wait for him as she was sick and tired of driving our sick and tired backie around. So I went in to town.
My first stop was at the barbers. I had intended tosee the guy again who Alex had reccomended at airport junction but he was not around so I walked up to Old Mall as there is a profusion of barbers shelters there.
The day was bright and the air was cool as I walked into town as it was not yet ten o’clock. It’s a nice feeling to walk along roads which you normally drive down in the heat of midday, full of traffic between one appointment or another and these roads are quiet and the traffic moves slowly.
As usual there were crowds of people and vehicles outside shoprite, combies still jostled for position at the rank and the soundsystem still played fluid rythmic tunes into the air but I had time to take it in. The bright light forces you to squint and this narrows your field of vision to a space immediately in front of you and the environment is felt rather than seen until you reach a patch of shade and can widen your vision and take things in.
You can see big built Batswana middle class families coming and going at shoprite in big 4X4’s, tiny barefoot children with tinier siblings stand in groups intent on childish things, there are young women getting their hair braided in the shade of trees and awnings, phone credit hawkers in yellow vests break away from the crowds at the bus station like free electrons from the nucleus of an atom, flash youths in baseball caps, polo shirts and ripped jeans prowl the mall, young guys stand in groups chatting, laughing, smoking shouting out to their friends passing in cars, great stately Hereo women in brightly colored cloth sailing through the dust and crowds, gents in dark two-piece suits, collar and tie wearing stinge brim trilby’s looking like CIA men.
Like the Indian barber who practices his art on the street in the shade of a tree the barbers of Maun work in shacks made from planks and shade netting which provide a cool cave like shelter from the bustle of the street. Inside written in felt tip on the wall is the tarrif and below it are glued fragments of a mirror in which you can see your portrait as Picasso might have painted it.
You can choose an office cut, an English cut, a brush cut, a brush cut punk, or just a shave-no-style. Not knowing what to choose I asked the barber to make my hair short and smart and waited for the sesult.
Anne and I are hoping to include some barbers signs in the Sign Safari. They all appear to be in the same hand and include 3 heads which look like they are Batswana celebrities copied from films or newspapers. And, they all appear to advertise 3 styles, short, very short and shiny. I was fortunate and came away with a sort of Matt Gloss, which suited me fine.
I then turned my footsteps down Tsheko Tsheko road, past Choppies another big supermarket on one side and the victorian looking general dealers, butchers shop and electrical dealers on the other, with it’s concrete arcade and cool, dim, cavernous shops entered by a single door and smelling of dust and dried goods. Down Tsheko Tsheko road (which means Court-Case Court-Case Road) to the 4 way junction and turned left at the Hereo settlement corner and headed down to the small bridge which would take me to the Francistown road.
On my way there I passed students in their blue uniforms, I was passed by a wedding party driving slowly and tooting, a group of singers in lime green shirtsand orange waistcoats belting out songs from the back of a backie and giving thumbs up to everyone they pass, donkeys drowsing by the side of the road, herds of apparently unacompanied goats coming upo the embankment beside the bridge, horses wading in the river nibbling reeds, young people looking as though they are waiting to meet other young people on the bridge and finally I turn right, onto the Francistown road.
The Francistown oad is long and straight and in the full heat of the day, I pass builders yards and garages and the take-away/liquor rests that we pass on our way back from the pool which look so lively and inviting in the light of a Saturday evening. Cars pull up and drive away, a few people hang around outside drinking soft drinks and talking into mobiles, huddles of people with there baggage stand in the dust in the shade waiting for the hourly Francistown combie.
I reach the Ubuntu Cellphone & Landline shop and remember that I’ve not year eaten breakfast. But first, a note on Ubuntu. What is Ubuntu, Mageu maize milk ‘Salutes the Spirit of Ubuntu’, a liqueur made from Morula trees is decorated with ‘Ubuntu Beads’. Mary tells me that Ubuntu, roughly translated means ‘ancestral spirit or the soirit of the ancestors or something very traditional.
I head for the second Take-Away/Liquor-Rest outside of Maun, the Boseja Take-Away. These places, like the general dealer and butchers I mentioned earlier have a victorian appearance, being a single storey L shaped block of a building with the roof coming down low over the walk in front of the stores and making an arcade. These are the parts of Maun that really give it it’s frontiers-town atmosphere. Again the stores inside are dim and quaint knocked together looking. The Boseja Take-Away consisted of a counter behind which stood three big coke and beer fridges, full of beer, coke, softdrinks and things to be kept cool. On the counter in a glass prism were bags of fresh doughnuts and sliced grubby looking bread (aside from Hilary’s home-made bread available in loaves from the coffee shop bread is in a pretty low stageof evolutin here) and plates of Chicken & Macaroni, Chicken & Rice, Chicken & Papa.
There was a hand drawn and decorated ‘halal’ sign over the kitchen door and the place was run by a smiling, friendly Indian man with big Indian hair and a moustache. He was very helpful in explaining the intricacies of his menu and so I chose the chicken and macaroni which was spiced up by a big blob of ketchup. As I dined I was able to appreciate the idiosyncracies of decoration within the Take-Away. The walls were a smoky orange and were overpainted with abstract unmistakeable tiger stripe patterns. What lent the place a disturbing quality was the addition of about 4 pairs of Tigers’ eyes peering through the jungle and looking hungrily at the customers as they ate their chicken.
MMMM! That filled a yawning chasm at my core and I set off bouyed by a healthy balance of spices, e-numbers, protein and carbohydrate for my weekend swim.
I had still further to walk before the giant watertower on stilts which marks Matshwane school appeared. I let myself in as there was no old deuteronomy guarding the gate and went to the pool. Walking round to the deep end the air felt warmer than usual. I steeled myself to dive into the icy night cooled waters and dived in. Yet, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the water wasn’t quite so cold and when I reached the other end of the pool I was even happier to find that I was withouth the urge to leap out of the pool, dry off and bake for the rest of the day. I lounged for a bit with my elbows on the side and enjoyed the contrast of the hot sun, warm breeze and now invitingly cold water.
I did 18 lengths in two sessions with a baking out period in between. I was once again pleasantly surprised at my stamina which I now, on reflection ascribe to the running I now do every other day. As I knew I had a long walk back into town and dinner at Marty’s at 6 I left at about 3.30 while the sun was still hot.
The problem now was how to get home with the greatest expedience without having to walk home the way we drive as it is a very very dusty road. The easiest way would be a combie to the big bridge and then walk down along the river. This is what happened and so I was able to enjoy a walk home along the river in the beautiful African afternoon light.
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