Exploring the Orange River Basin with a Kokerboom Finale

We left before dawn in an effort to beat the Gaborone traffic and in hopes of quickly getting through the Ramatlabama border crossing in the early hours.  Jon had planned this amazing trip to look at the Orange River basin from three wildly different perspectives.  The Orange River is the longest river in South Africa, originating in the Drakensburg mountains and forming the border between the eastern South Africa State of KwaZuluNatal and Lesotho, and traveling westward where it eventually forms the border between South Africa and Namibia before joining the Atlantic Ocean.  The river was named by a Colonel Gorden in honor of William of Orange but many prefer to believe, as do we, that it was named after the orange-brown color of the waters and the backdrop of rust-colored barren mountains.  


This day's plan was to drive just over 500 miles to the Augrabies National Park campground in the Northern Cape State of South Africa.  Heading south of Gaborone in the dark is a bit sketchy now as the A-1 is being widened, presumably in order to incorporate either emergency lanes or additional travel lanes (more likely perhaps) . There is a steep 10-12 inch drop-off at the edge of the currently narrowed lanes of travel and freshly-bladed earth on each side of the highway. Between that, impatient drivers with no passing lanes, and goats, cows and baboons crossing the road, it can be pretty nerve-wracking. But the late summer sun rose quickly and our border crossing was smooth, though it always does consist of some rather random assortments of approvals and inspections. 

Raisins drying in the sun.

After the border crossing, the drive was long but easy on good and little traveled roads, except for multiple stops where construction crews were working to add shoulders to the road (YES!).  We first met up with the Orange River in Uppington, a small city surrounded by vineyards and wineries, where approximately forty percent of South Africa's grape exports originate.  Just a little further down the road, we stopped at a visitor's information center in the town of Keimoes and learned about the severity of the recent floods, which we had heard about but did not completely understand.  The person at the information center in Keimos was extremely enthusiastic -- this is common in South Africa -- people are proud of the landscape and very enthusiastic about wanting us to see everything!  It seems that the Orange River often floods in tandem with late summer rains, but this year the rains came early before many of the grapes were ready to be harvested, and there were devastating losses for many of the region's farmers. More than four hundred people were evacuated from this area and two people went missing near the river in January.  As we got closer to our destination we passed through the town of Kakamas, a major producer of raisins and other dried fruits including dates, figs, peaches, apricots, and guavas.  Despite the recent floods, there were large platforms of raisins drying in the hot kalahari sun.

We made it to Augrabies National Park in time to quickly set up our tent and take a walk to the falls for the sunset. The name Augrabies was purportedly derived from the Khoison word Aukoerebies, which means "place of great noise." The gorge is 240 meters deep and 18 kilometers long and is classified as a segmented punchbowl. Due to both the January and more recent rains, the falls were at peak performance.  We had learned during check-in at reception that major portions of the Park were closed both due to road washouts and the fact that water still covered dips in the roads in many places, but staff were "not sure" whether the trails were open or not. As we set out on the boardwalk to view the main fall, the damage to the park quickly became evident. A few years before, the park had installed a massive system of boardwalks with numerous raised platforms from which the falls could safely be viewed. The boardwalk was fenced the entire way and much of it was constructed of concrete "planks" set on wooden posts.  Now major portions of the boardwalk had been completely washed away and three of six viewing platforms were crushed by floodwaters that topped the canyon walls, leaving pools and mounds of debris behind.  Though the waters were no longer topping the canyon, flows were still impressive and it was a mesmerizing experience to contemplate the vast quantities of water spilling over the granite walls in at least 12 places at once.  We viewed the destruction of the boardwalks with a fascination we often feel when witnessing the earth's strength, and crept beyond the demolished boardwalks to sit on the smooth granite surfaces near the edge of the gorge.

Normally, the park, which is 51,430 hectares and comprises much more than the canyon and the falls, is a good place for a self-driving safari with a lengthy system of roads leading to several other viewing points into the gorge and other geological features. Night drives are also offered.  But the roads to the rest of the park were closed so the two days we spent there were actually more relaxing for us than our usual frantic pace in which we try to see everything we can. We took a couple of day hikes, lounged about the park's swimming pools, watched sunrises and sunsets over the falls from multiple vantage points, looked at the stars, watched the vervet monkeys raid other campers and the dassies taking dustbaths, and every night we could hear the water roaring through the canyon, which was within sight of the campground.  


The first hike we took was the Dassie trail, a five-kilometer loop that follows the gorge for some distance to Arrow Point, a needle-like extension into the gorge from which a set of twin falls is visible, and then heads across the veld by some potholes in exposed granite and around Moonrock before returning to the campsite.  We still weren't sure the trail was open, but it seemed fine except for a partially demolished section of boardwalk over a backwater stream near the beginning, so off we went!  It was a really fun trail with lots of variety involving plenty of boulder scrambling, beautiful flowers blooming from the recent rains, and gorgeous views in absolutely every direction.  Despite the heat, we enjoyed it very much and were able to find big boulders to shelter ourselves from the sun and rehydrate ourselves here and there.  Then, just before we closed the loop, we came to a quickly-flowing and seemingly deep stream-crossing in which the boardwalk had been demolished and was nowhere in sight.  

Jon cools off in the Dassie potholes

We went downstream a bit and found what looked to be an easier crossing due to numerous strategically located boulders, but just past the point-of-no-return we found we had to cross a sea of tall, thick reeds and before we knew what was happening, we were walking gingerly atop the reeds, which we could not see beyond, as if we were snowshoeing, with the water rushing below.  Somehow we made it, since we are telling the story, after all, but not without a few partial plunges into unknown depths! 


Our next day there was spent on a shorter saunter down the canyon, dips in the park swimming pool, and dinner at the lodge with a view of the falls.  On our last evening in the campground, we were invited to visit with a South African couple from Pretoria in their, as is the usual, very elaborate, comfortable, and complex camping compound.  They were very nice and we had rusks, coffee, and Amarula in the velvet air.  It is always interesting to hear about living in South Africa and we lingered longer than we intended, exchanging addresses before parting.  


On the morning we left, the park had just managed to clear debris from damaged portions of the road and open them, so we took a quick drive before heading out, and were able to  look at the canyon from a different overlook and saw two fish eagles perched far below that, without binoculars, looked like tiny white specks.  The vegetation had changed dramatically with new plants and much more to see, but it was time for the next leg of our journey into Namibia to experience the lower portion of the Orange River by canoe!

Campground before flood

On the way we passed through a part of the succulent karoo which is a type of vegetation dominated by succulents.  When we arrived at Amanzi Trails River Camp, just past the Namibian border crossing and the town of Noordoewer, we immediately realized that recent flooding had destroyed their large riverbank campsite.  Fortunately, they found a shaded grassy location for our tent on an elevated bank and a set of bathrooms, which were also in this location, were still functional.  In January, the Orange had overflowed it's banks near the town of Noordoewer in Namibia when water was released from the Vaal and Bloemhof dams in South Africa due to overburdening of the catchment areas, and Amanzi Trails was the hardest hit of businesses in this area.  While the owners were still scrambling to repair things before the onset of peak season in March, a second and more devastating flood hit causing further damage and depositing tons of sediment throughout the grounds, demolishing a riverside chalet and campground bathroom facility, filling most of the buildings with several feet of water, and additionally washing out numerous roads and causing the closure of one border crossing.  The staff had just recently finished shoveling and power-hosing the restaurant/bar/reception building. 

Campground after flood.

We launched early on the morning after our arrival. The canoes were fiberglass with two seats and our canoe was, of course, hot pink.  Possessions are placed into 5-gallon pickle buckets with secure lids and are fit into inserts for the buckets and lashed to the canoe. 
Our guides were two very nice and impressive young men:  Jacko Meckloen, originally from the Kavango region of northern Namibia and Shilongo Nehemia from a nearby village,  Jacko's father has also been a river guide for most of his life and is affectionately known as "Old Man River" so we quickly donned Jacko "Young Stud Man River" and he certainly was.  Each guide had their own canoe which were loaded down with coolers, dining tables and other things with which to make us comfortable.  Normally two people would not have a guide each, but with the river flowing beyond its banks and so swiftly, and with the unknown condition of the campsites and rest stops downstream, the owner's thought it would be safer to send two guides. This was the first trip Amanzi had made on the river since the floods, and they had witnessed no others on the river since the floods either.  

We could immediately feel the power of the river as we were pulled into the current.  Strange eddies and whirl pools would mysteriously appear and disappear.  The high water meant that many of the rapids were at least partially submerged and we moved along fast, with waves sometimes topping the front of the canoe, but with no real skill involved in navigating!  Just a short ways downriver, we stopped the canoes on a steep bank and took a short walk to look at some San rock engravings on shiny igneous black rocks.  These were near the site of a hotel that burned down a few years back and there was an eerie mixture of building ruins, goats and cows, and these unprotected San engravings on black rocks set against a backdrop of rugged desert mountains.  There were several different styles of engravings. It is speculated that the dotted technique used in some of the etchings was meant to represent a tingling sensation felt when a shaman in trance was transformed into the subject of the drawing.  

When we stopped for lunch we had no idea what to expect.  Well, Jacko and Shilongo started a fire and prepared a fine lunch-more elaborate than we expected.  It was hot -- probably 110 degrees.  Luckily the river cooled things down a bit.  All of the shady stops for lunch and camping that Amanzi usually uses for their trips had been totally washed out and the guides were nervous about what they would find downriver for camping.  We certainly did not have to paddle very hard as the current whipped us along.  So we contemplated the incredible geology of the mountains lining the river.  Our first night was at a site near an abandoned diamond mine.  In a strange reverse of what we are accustomed to, the riparian vegetation along the river was composed of species of  tamarix native to Namibia and exotic honey mesquite, which is native to Arizona.  Honey mesquite is becoming a big problem here and throughout much of Namibia.  Very hungry goats and cows were everywhere, with little forage in sight.  Jacko and Shilongo prepared a fantastic meal of chicken grilled over the fire, fresh veggies, potatoes, desert, and tea and coffee.  We took a stroll and chatted with them by the fire after dusk and learned some new constellations in the dark African sky.  The next morning some very nice doggies showed up that we wanted to take with us, but our guides were firm on this issue.    

Shilongo and Jacko and our lunch buffet on the Orange River

The next morning we left before the heat set in and soon stopped to scale a mountain canyon where Jacko could scout the rapids ahead.  At the top, high above the river, was a small abandoned calcium flouride mine: a pretty and translucent green mineral.  We collected a bag full for the campfire that night and then headed back downriver.  That night we camped on an island free of goats, cows and shelter from the sun, and it was HOT.  The bright sand radiated heat.  Long after dusk heat poured up from the sand through the bottom of the tent and into us.  After another luxurious dinner we enjoyed the campfire and then had some mini-fireworks by tossing the calcium fouride into the fire and watching the sparks explode from the heated mineral.



Our last day was a short leisurely day due to the swiftness of the current. We took a long nap at lunchtime, and afterward, just a few short bends in the river brought us to the end of our route.  Jacko and Shilongo were dismayed to see that the landing now consisted of a steep berm of sand that ponded water behind it and that the last 200 meters of road was washed out, which meant the canoes and all of the gear had to be dragged over the berm in the searing heat and across the baking mud to a point the transport could reach. We helped as best we could, stopping short of passing out and creating a new problem for the guides. Our transport arrived after a short wait with a cooler full of drinks for everyone and we headed back for showers and a nice dinner.

We left Amanzi Trails after a fine breakfast and drove though the jagged dry desert with the River appearing and disappearing from view to the south.  As we rounded a corner, suddenly hundreds of hectares of grape vineyards burst into view.  These are grown mostly for table grapes and form a vivid green patch against the stark rock of the desert.  Luckily, we are told that irrigation demands on the Orange River have yet to seriously impact water levels.  On the far side of the irrigated vineyards on dry hills lies a vast migrant workers town called Aussenkehr.  Most of the homes are constructed of reeds and tin and it is inhabited by the 14,000 people, most of which work seasonally for the vineyards.  In late February, work demands are low so the township was mostly uninhabited.  We turned off to visit the township’s Super Spar supermarket where everyone was as friendly as usual.  We were captivated by a young girl looking longingly at school supplies in the store.  Also, being morning, some people were already preparing for a day of drunkenness.  

Ais-Ai Spa

The road then hugged the river for a ways and we got to view some of the amazing stratigraphy from a different perspective.  We then headed north towards Fish Canyon.  The dirt road was good and went through a variety of landscapes transitioning from intensely dry desert, where years pass between rains, to unbelievably lush desert grasslands.  The silvery grass inflorescences glinted in the breeze and flowers and birds were everywhere.    After a while, we took the road that descended down to the bottom of the southern end of Fish Canyon at Ai-Ais hot springs. Ai-Ais means "burning water" in the local Nama language.  This place was nearly empty with a huge outdoor thatched bar restaurant setup, tourist shop, and all kinds of spas and what not.  In high season, hundreds of South Africans visit here.   After a brief look at the canyon and facilities, and having a second cup of coffee, we headed out towards Hobas Campground at the top of Fish Canyon.  But we could not resist stopping at all kinds of stunning desert spots along the way.  The cloudy sky muted colors nicely.  We didn’t pass another car for hours.  All of a sudden we were at Hobas Campground.  

We paid our fees to the as usual very mellow Namibian Park officials and set up our tent in the nearly empty campground.  Then we headed across a flat desert towards the canyon edge about 7 miles away.  A very bizarre overlook (who designs these things?) loomed in the distance as we approached.  This is the precipitous canyon edge dropping vertically thousands of feet to the Fish River below.  We sat on the edge and absorbed the vastness below us.  Amazingly, we had the whole place to ourselves!  Depending on how you measure canyons this is the 2^nd, 3^rd, 4^th or 5^th largest canyon in the world.   Euphorbs and aloes grow on the cliff faces.  The river bent, looped and twisted far below us, much like Gooseneck Canyon of the American West.  Each spot on the canyon wall had a different vista.  As the sun sank, a thick cloud-bank overhead created isolated thunderstorms and virgas in the distance.  The cloudbank also caused an amazing sunset complete with a double sunset rainbow that stretched across the entire eastern sky.  And another odd thing we had never seen before: the sun's round orange reflection on a cloud long after it had set. After ooh-ing and aah-ing and taking way too many photos, we went back to cook dinner at Hobas. 

sociable weaver nest in a kokerboom

Early the next day we headed back out to the edge passing small herds of mountain zebra and springbok, and headed south on a very rocky deteriorating road that followed the edge.  There was an endless succession of stunning vistas. There was also a lone klipspringer.   Towards the end of the road, a distant desert kokerboom with a huge sociable weaver nest drew us out on desert walk.  We walked across the stony landscape to the kokerboom and then down a small canyon that gradually increased in width and depth and scattered clumps of  lilies and dry falls and rock formations.  It was very hot.  By early afternoon we headed back to Hobas to take a break from the heat.  At the campground, the maintenance staff were “at it” right by our campsite.  Every day the entire campground is raked – as a matter of fact the campground looks like it has been vacuumed.  The four guys, who rake and pile up vegetation matter and dump it into the wash, shout and laugh and relax a lot.  Taking a nap for us, however, was well nigh impossible.  Outside the campground, park facilities are scanty and in poor condition with little environmental education, a road that needs work, and completely lacking toilet facilities.  But that campground is meticulously raked everyday!  Late that afternoon we headed back out to the edge for another glorious sunset but this time there were actually other people in the vicinity (a guy who wandered around and took a lot of pictures of himself with his phone and a bunch of hipper-than-thou kids) – we had gotten so used to being the only humans at Fish Canyon!  That night we wandered the campground investigating inchworms of every shape and size and color which packed the place.  The dead trees were riddled with burrows that contained 4 inch long beetles and were surveyed by several very fat geckos.

 

Kiln at Holoog

The next morning, we headed north for the final leg of our trip.   After a few hours we came to a very cute railroad bridge over a dry wash, which we stopped to check out.  It turned out that this was German settlement ghost town, Holoog, now in the Park.  There were a few gravestones of German pioneers of 110 years ago whom did not live long.  There were foundations scattered around and old glass and iron riff-raff (we love the riff-raff).  This settlement had a large mud brick kiln (probably for making bricks) that is gradually eroding but still standing, and is oddly beautiful in its current state.  What we thought was a train station was a South African fort of more recent origin most likely from the 50s.  It had no entryway – you can get in only by somehow climbing to the top. 

Seehiem Hotel Bartender

Seeheim Hotel

As we headed north, the dirt road deteriorated and was washed out from the flood in a few places and we crossed some small, shallow rivers.  After a few hours we were near the highway at Seeheim and passed a “road closed” sign for people going the other way.  Being low on fuel we drove around Seeheim (which is almost a ghost town) and pulled into the most unlikely building -- the Seeheim Hotel.  It looks like some kind of quaint stone desert castle with thatched roofs.  It was built in 1896 to house German troops.  We got some cold juice at the antique bar (complete with working 75 year old cash register) from a nice bartender.  Luckily the can of gas in the back of the Pajero leaves us worry free!  After marveling at this unique architecture and the strange old stuff lying around we headed towards Keetmanshoop and the Kokerboom forest. 

Giant's Playground

After wandering around the pleasant town of Keetmanshoop for a while we found the road to Quivertree Camp.  The campsite had been scoured by floodwaters but we found a high ground location under a spreading Acacia.  This Camp has cheetah bomas, weird "igloos" that one can stay in, the worlds largest quivertree (=kokerboom = tree Aloe) forest and is 5km from Giant's Playground, which they also own.  There was a scheduled cheetah feeding at 5PM, which we thought we might as well see since we were staying there, so we dashed off to Giant's Playground in order to get back in time. Giant's playground is a striking assortment of rocks piled up naturally in massive precarious jumbles scattered with kokerbooms, which creates vistas bordering on unreality.  Really.  The grass was high between the boulders and lizards and dassies flaunted their rule of the territory.  We wandered.  At 4:50 we headed back to the camp for the cheetah feeding.  

Cheetah feeding at the boma

As you may know cheetahs are not doing well in the wild so natural populations are being augmented by breeding populations in captivity. Strict regulations govern these facilities and ensure that there are some tens of hectares per cheetah.  At the Camp lots of other people had arrived since we left-- several bus loads of "camping safaris".  These are excellent options for the solo traveler and are cheaper (but not that cheap) because the tourists set up their own tents and help with the cooking but the driver and guide get them everywhere and supply all equipment and logistical support.  We all were able to enter the boma and watch the cheetah daintily gnaw on big hunks of impala from just a few meters away -- very close!  In the second boma there was a mom who did snarl and spit and two adorable baby cheetahs that gnawed on their hunks of flesh; once again everybody got very close but toddler humans are not allowed in the boma!  The educational component was very good during the feeding and we learned some things.  Cheetahs cannot defend their kill from lions and hyenas and cannot drag them up trees like leopards do.  They are also much more refined eaters liking their meat fresh and eaten slowly.  It is common for a cheetah to be able to eat only a small portion of a kill in part because they have a lightweight skull and small teeth and have trouble tearing the skin and pulling off pieces of the meat. You can see in our photos how they chew with their heads turned to the sides.  Because they often leave something behind, this makes them very important to scavengers.  After the viewing, we spent the late afternoon and sunset in the kokerboom forest (located right next to the campground) -- earlier I talked about an unworldly landscape, well the kokerboom forest takes this to new heights.  These oddest of trees were thick and thin, branched and unbranched in all shapes and sizes.  The sunset left dramatic kokerboom silhouttes.  The next day we spent the sunrise in the kokerboom forest also.

We left Keetmanshoop the next day through that never-ending magnificent Namibian landscape.  As we transitioned into the Kalahari desert a unique and favorite sight of ours increased and then was lining the highway by the hundreds: at first just a few powerpoles were covered by massive sociable weaver nests then more and soon almost all of the powerpoles were topped by these massive constructions.  The nests do occasionally snap powerpoles or cause power outages. 


We split the long trip home by spending a night in Uppington. Although we arrived in early afternoon, it was a Saturday and we could already tell it would be a big night for drinking. The campground we had in mind was damaged extensively by flooding and was closed until an undetermined point in the future. So we found a room at a small very pretty guest house overlooking the river, and went out for a not so quiet dinner at one of few nearby restaurants where "Shaun's bachelor Party" was already in full swing. It turned out to be a good night to forgo camping because a huge storm swept through during the wee hours.  The rest of the trip home was full of admiration for the green, green, and gold grasses of the Kalahari and we arrived safely in Gaborone before dusk.

Since we returned, our time has been occupied by unloading and cleaning all of our camping gear, washing way funky laundry, and attempting to get residency permits (Jon-1; Priscilla-0).  Our friend Karin has returned to the states to spend time with her ailing mother and family so our thoughts are with her and we wish her and her family peace and comfort. Although it may seem as though all we do is romp across the continent, thoughts of our families and friends are always with us, and your comments and messages are much appreciated!


Just two days after returning, we picked up a package from the Post Office downtown that our kind cousin Justine had mailed five months before! It was filled with things we have coveted all this time: walnuts, vitamins, books (they are extremely expensive here), drawings from Asher, bowl covers (!), movies, an electronic word game, Crocs, and Emergen-C!  And then, just two days later, we received a replacement package she sent thinking the first package had been lost!  So it is Christmastime in July for us here in Gaborone!!!  THANK YOU JUSTINE, DAN, AND ASHER!!!
Sadly, an email has informed Jon that the Ministry of Education has decided that he cannot take his 48 students on the field trip to Khama Rhino Sanctuary next weekend as he had hoped, and the letter indicated that it could be rescheduled in April, but unfortunately, the Sanctuary cannot house the students at that time so there is not much that can be done about this.  Such a sad loss for the students to say the least.  Many Africans never get to visit their Parks and these enthusiastic students will be even more disappointed than we are.
With an unexpected void created in our schedule, we are contemplating a trip to the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg. If you haven't heard about it, take a look at our friend Phoebe's blog at:
http://botswanafacultyvisitor.blogspot.com/2011/02/episode-11-glimpse-of-johannesburg-and.html


Until our next installment, take care everyone. We'll be seeing you soon!

Semester #2 at the University of Botswana

Plant Systematics Lab

This is my second semester at the University of Botswana and it is certainly smoother than the first because I have a better understanding of how to do things here.  I am teaching Plant Systematics this semester, which I also teach at SUNY-Fredonia but there the course is called Plant Taxonomy.  Amazingly enough, Plant Systematics is a required class for the future biology high school teachers in Botswana.  Considering that there is only one University in Botswana, this class comprises ALL of the future Biology teachers who are presently University juniors, and approximately 90% of the 48 students are future teachers.  In previous semesters, this class has been taught with a theoretical bent, but I would rather acquaint the students with, and hopefully get them excited about, the plant kingdom so that they can transfer this to their future students rather than emphasize the ins and outs of cladogram construction.  Although there are momentary frustrations, which are not unique to this University, I am happy that I was given the opportunity to teach this large group of rambunctious and enthusiastic students.  I will say that young people are NOT the same the world over. 

Termite mound across the street from UB

The Dept. chair also wanted me to teach a Basic Bio2 tutorial (just like last semester where I had ~30 of the 700 students in Basic Bio for reviews and essays and other exercises), but because of the complete and total lack of communication about anything that should happen in the tutorial last semester and the ethical implications of this, I reluctantly but adamantly said “no” to this request. 

Students stop for candies on the way
 to collect their plant

When Plant Systematics class first met, it turned out that the class had been scheduled at the same time as another required class for junior future teachers.  This is quite common.  The negotiations then began, which took about 2 weeks to sort out.  Of course, no time would work for everyone but we came up with the best time for the majority and a few students will miss a class that they claim is “stupid” each week in order to attend my class.  It turned out that only one student, who was absent for the discussion, had serious scheduling issues with the new class time.

Despite these complications, I began the first class with a lecture and the students were a little taken aback that their education would start “right away”.  According to the students, classes don’t generally “get going” until 3 or 4 weeks have passed.  Nonetheless, we launched into the subject of how people in antiquity classified plants.  On that first day of class I was also scheduled to hold the first lab, which, despite student protests, I did not cancel.  About half of the students showed up and we took a walk over to the nice but somewhat tattered Botswana National Botanical Garden to see some very pretty indigenous plants.

To assist me with the lab, I have the pleasant and botanically-astute technician Mr. Sethebe, and way-over qualified Ms. Shoniwa as a demonstrator.  Mr. Sethebe knows the answer to questions like “where is there a Podocarp (a plant family) on campus?”.  Ms Shoniwa was reassigned after 2 weeks.  I had to search for available classrooms for the new schedule, but this actually worked out and after 3 weeks or so, and this semester (unlike last semester) I even have Powerpoint in these classrooms – photos and illustrations are extremely helpful for a botany class as you might imagine.  So I was very pleased to have these issues settled so quickly-wow!   An hour before each class I go to an IT office and make sure someone will be coming to the classroom to unlock the Powerpoint and get it going.  The guy is often poking wires into sockets and other ghastly things to get the program going.  The students are very cheerful, clever and quite talkative with each other (except about asking questions in class – no way!).  Their interest in botany is lukewarm, but that is not uncommon for non-botany majors.  They also have a variety of essays throughout the semester one of which I am grading now.  Unfortunately, due to the UB policy that finals must be 60% of the class grade nothing that happens during the semester is worth much point-wise and the students know this.

Three of these students are teachers in in-service training

If you know about the bureaucratic nightmare of photocopying here at University of Botswana you might be wondering what I do these days for photocopying.  Although the photocopying situation has improved the solution is easy – I do not use any photocopies at all!  The class and lab has been going along okay.  In lab, the students will not stop chatting among themselves so having a quiz was not successful (no more quizzes).  Previous to my class, they have been taught that the most important thing to do in lab is to hand in very neat lab reports, so immense amounts of time are spent making perfect drawings with little effort toward the learning, so it is a struggle to get across the goal of the lab exercises.  Last week we went out and collected our first plant specimens in a weedy alley across from the University using the ragged presses and straps and amidst plenty of mayhem (including a driving school taking place in the alley) surprisingly we were successful and every student collected a specimen!  

Many Africans have never been to a park in their own country and Batswanas are no different in this regard. This is a critical problem to the future of conservation. Since January, I have been irrationally but optimistically jumping bureaucratic hoops to try to get approvals to take all 48 students on a field trip to the Khama Rhino Sanctuary for two nights in March. Luckily Mr. Sethebe and another technician have been helping me negotiate the bureaucratic pathways to gain this ability. Everyone along the way has been quite friendly.  It is late February and I am still working on this – it appears that the funds are available for this field trip but the steps have been slow. Time is running out so we shall see who will “win?  If the trip happens I’ll summarize it in a future blog so stay tuned!

Botswana plugs

Life has been very busy!  Here is a short piece outlining just one of the interesting aspects of life in Botswana.

A consideration of some importance to life at home and work is the diversity and constraints involving power plugs.  Botswana uses three rectangular prong plugs.  South Africa uses plugs with three circular prongs. This is important because most of the appliances available here were manufactured in South Africa: something you may not think about before coming here.  Cell phone chargers have two thin round parallel prongs and then, of course, there are our western style plugs (some of which have 2 flat prongs and some of which have 3 prongs in which 2 are flat and one is semi-rounded).


Upon arrival, one must track down and purchase various adapters and power strips of all sorts and keep them around at all times and this involves plenty of seemingly universal problems. Some of the adapters are hard to obtain and others are everywhere, and the quality really varies so some of them seem to short out with black marks around the holes after just a few uses.   At work, technical gadgets will rarely have Botswana plugs and the adapter is always missing. So South Africa-to-Botswana adapters must be located in order to plug the appliance into the wall outlet.  At home, we just set up all the plugs with the appropriate adapters in power strips on multiple adapted extension cords (most rooms have very few outlets) so that just about anything can be plugged in somewhere.  Extension cords and power strips have Batswana, South African or US plugs and sockets -- take this into consideration!  I always carry around a few adapters so that the laptop can be plugged into either Batswana or South African sockets.

To make matters more interesting, the South African to Botswana adapters are very large and the wall outlets have little switches right beside the holes to turn them on or off. 

So one must gingerly balance the adapter in the holes so that the switch is not inadvertently pushed to off!  These adapters are very low quality (our few high quality ones we purchased before coming here only adapt US to South Africa) and so sparks will jump around as we adjust and prop and push the various plugs and adapters to try to get a functioning connection.  Some of the adapters have very floppy holes for the cell phone chargers which need to be propped and weighted somehow into place so charging will take place and continue.  We also brought a transformer with us that works very well converting 220 volts to 110 volts for the small appliances, but it is a big, heavy and hard to move around.

So…why does Botswana, a country of 2 million people with almost no industrial production, have its own plug design?  Hmmm…who can say?!  Just one tiny and fascinating aspect of life in Gaborone!