This past month I spent almost all of my time out of the office. The first week a group of six of us went into the dunes to three different sites setting up pit traps to do tenebrionid beetle monitoring and vegetation transects. We spent a day back at the office before returning to three new sites. I always really enjoy the dune transects as a nice break from the normal routine. Though there is a lot of work involved (burying 70 buckets in scalding sand in the middle of the day is not easy), there is also a good amount of down-time in between checks. During these hours off I get to read, listen to music, take walks, and just generally appreciate how lucky I am to be sitting in the middle of the Namib dunes contemplating life.
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| Morning view from my second beetle monitoring site |
The next week Tayler, Titus, and I drove to Windhoek to conduct interviews and ultimately select our five GTRIP students. I was extremely impressed with the students we picked, and it was really exciting to meet the five people I will be spending several months with come February.
The rest of the month was holiday! After spending weeks planning this trip, I was just as nervous as excited to begin out trip through Botswana and up to Victoria Falls. On the very first day of our long journey, my worries came to fruition when our bus didn't show up. After several phone calls, and getting quite angry with the bus company (Monnakgotla, never ever ever ever use them, find any alternative possible) we finally found an private shuttle with decent price and began our journey again. After being driven from Windhoek to Maun, we arrived at Old Bridge Backpacker and the trip began to feel real.
We spent the first day of holiday sitting in hammocks by the river and walking around a craft market. The real adventure began the next day with a two day kayak trip into the Okavango Delta. We saw so many elephants, many of them less than 20 meters away from us along the river. I'm so glad we decided to splurge a bit on this part of our trip, because it really was a unique experience that I will never forget.
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| Elephants in the Okavango Delta |
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| Kayaking along |
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| Campsite on in the Delta |
We followed this amazing adventure with a game drive into Moremi Game Reserve. We say many more elephants (including one that fake charged the car), hippos, giraffes, impala, kudu, warthogs, lechwe, crocodiles, zebra, and a multitude of beautiful birds. We felt quite spoiled on this trip as our guide served us breakfast and dinner on a tablecloth in the middle of the park.
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| Zebras on our game drive |
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| Fancy lunch in Moremi Game Reserve |
We spent a last night at the backpacker playing pool with some tour guides before heading North to Kasane. There, we enjoyed a day in Chobe National Park with a game drive and a river cruise. We were lucky to see rare wild dogs eating an impala by the side of the road and a leopard, as well as buffalo, even more elephants, impala, and more. The river cruise was relaxing, and gave us the chance to see hippos and crocodiles up close.
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| Wild dogs enjoying breakfast in Chobe National Park |
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| Enjoying our sunset cruise |
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| Hippos from the river cruise |
We crossed the border into Zambia for the final leg of our journey in Livingstone and Victoria Falls National Park. We spent a day walking around the Zambian side of the falls only to be somewhat disappointed with the customs officer who made it ridiculously difficult to visit the Zimbabwe side of the falls (which has much better view points). After deciding it wasn't worth it to spend an additional US$80 to cross the border, we instead spent some money buying souvenirs outside the park. We met a handful of people at the backpacker and decided to put our lives in their hands to experience Zambian independence outside of the safety of our backpacker. After watching a faulty firework explode WAY too close and being thrown around a club for about half an hour, we returned to the backpacker happy and exhausted.
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| Victoria Falls from the Zam side |
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| Cooling down in the boiling pot at the bottom of Vic Falls |
Our last day of holiday was perhaps the most exciting. We rafted down the Zambezi River, starting right under the falls and going through 25 of the largest rapids in the commercial rafting business for the rest of the day. Our boat only flipped once, which is apparently impressive compared to the 5 times our friends on another boat capsized. Let me tell you, I have been rafting four times before and thought I knew what I was getting into. One of those times our guide called out "lean in," and I remember almost flying out of the raft. I thought those rapids were big, but no. These rapids were GINORMOUS. I knew I was in trouble when our guide was going over the regular commands like "forward" and "back," and he went on to describe a new command: "get down," which meant get to the bottom of the boat and hold on to the ropes for dear life. On our second rapid our guide screamed "GET DOWN" and I jumped to the bottom of the boat and grabbed at the ropes. A half second later I was slammed with water and lost the rope completely as my body was thrown backwards. I miraculously stayed in the boat on that occasion, but I took the command very seriously and used a death grasp on the rope from then on. Needless to say, the trip was a huge adrenaline rush and a total blast. When we came up on rapid 8 or so, our guide informed us it was called Midnight Dinner because you get three choices on the menu: easy to the right, down the middle with a 50/50 chance of flipping, and to the left... no explanation needed. Our Australian friend instantly chose the left with an evil smirk on his face, at which time Tayler and I looked at each other and nervously nodded our assent. I'm pretty sure our three Russian friends on the boat had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when one of them asked "big?" Obviously, we flipped on that rapid.
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| Capsized on Midnight Dinner |
We almost flipped again on rapid 18 called Oblivion, but I hung on for dear life and provided the weight to flip us back at the last minute.
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| Almost tipping on Oblivion |
After our exciting last day, we traveled back to Windhoek in luxury, in the air-conditioned, roomy, and clean Intercape bus to end our journey.
Overall, we had a blast on our trip. Every part of the journey was exceptional and there is very little I would have changed in hindsight; even the missed bus on the first day was a blessing in disguise). I could go on and on about the experiences we had and all the amazing things we saw, but I think you can get a gist of that through the photos on my Facebook album (really go check them out). Instead, I think I'll get to the title of this blog.
While travelling through Botswana, I found myself perpetually conscious of the fact that I am a white woman. Up until this year, I have lived my life in a largely white society. I have always been proud of the diversity in my high school, and the fact that many of my friends were not white. In college I unabashedly showed off my dance moves, happy to have been on a basketball team that taught the white girl how to dance. All joking aside, I always thought that I had a more diverse upbringing than most, and therefore felt pretty comfortable around very different people. Despite my experiences in high school, I have only really felt conscious of my whiteness when watching the news, while discussing race issues, or during the occasional break-dancing battle in the locker room.
On the other hand, I have always been aware of the fact that I am a woman (in addition to living in a white dominated society, I have also always lived in a male dominated society). Whenever I walk outside (God forbid alone and/or at night), choose an outfit for a party, spend time alone with a man, decide to have a drink, or even put my hand up in class to share an opinion, my femaleness has always sat at the front of my mind. Even within the relative safety of Grinnell, I have felt uncomfortable, and even in danger, a number of times due to the fact that I am a woman. Statistics on sexual assault are fairly well known, but I will mention a few here just to reiterate the facts. Approximately 1 in 5 women report experiencing rape during their lives. Further, 1 in 4 women will experience sexual assault before the age of 18. However, I feel comfortable in saying that unless a woman lives within a bubble, sexual assault and/or harassment is completely unavoidable, even for the lucky three in that statistic. This statistic weighs heavily over my head, and women everywhere, every day.
During my holiday in Botswana, I have never felt more aware of my whiteness and my womanness (I know I made up that word). For the first time in my life, being white makes me part of the minority in most situations in Namibia. Let me clarify, being white alone does not put me at-risk in Southern Africa like being black, or just not being white, does in the United States. The Ferguson case and subsequent violence and unrest in the States has made me more aware than ever of how much privilege my whiteness provides me. Here in Southern Africa (or anywhere for that matter) I DO NOT feel stigmatized because of my whiteness. In fact, while touring Botswana, I felt more like a privileged white tourist than I have ever wanted to feel. Nearly every person on each of our tours was white, loud, rich, and generally seemed unaware of their privilege. Everywhere we went we found white men who were "travelling around the world for a year." I mean come on, do you really think this makes you open-minded or culturally aware?! Your ability to drop everything, skip out on work for a long period of time, not to mention spend an enormous amount of money on airplane tickets, safaris, accommodation, and food only separates you from the people to whom you claim to be so connected. After writing my final history seminar paper on the colonial history behind conservation in Africa, I already find myself cringing when entering national parks and game reserves. The fancy catered meals, expensive camera equipment, and over the top souvenirs only exacerbate my awareness of being a privileged white tourist in Africa.
However, despite my wish that safaris in Africa feel less like a throwback to colonialism, my whiteness alone never made me feel unsafe. When I sat at a local bus-stop at five in the morning in Maun, I did not feel nervous due to the fact that I was the only white person, but rather the only white woman. I have learned to wear a ring on my left ring finger when travelling not because I am white, and not even because I am a woman, but because I am a white woman. This is not to say that black women are not a subjugated group in Southern Africa. Reading newspaper stories on be-headings has left me only too aware of the strong patriarchy alive in Namibia. However, as a white woman in Southern Africa, men seem to see me as a ticket to the West. During my trip in Botswana, men bought me drinks, asked me to "party", and even proposed marriage. One man on my bus to Kasane leaned close to whisper in my ear, "Tell you father if he wants a son I will come to America," before describing his prestigious job and his sizable herd of livestock. I strongly wanted to respond that I would rather a daughter, that he should probably ask my mother, and that I am going to law school. However, I smiled politely and said "Okay." I know that most of these men are simply looking for a way to raise their social standing in their communities, but I always have to wonder if one of them might decide I don't have the right to deny them. Occasionally I told men like this I was married to a man back home. This worked a couple times until one man simply slung his arm around my shoulder and declared himself my "Zambian husband." Regardless of any good intentions this man might have had, his gesture made me feel vulnerable and unsafe.
My discomfort is often exacerbated by the aggressive method many men adopt to earn money. For example, as soon I exited a taxi at the border to Zambia a man grabbed my arm offering to help me across the ferry. After pulling my arm back and asking a few questions, the man clarified that he had a cab on the other side of the border and simply wanted business. I accepted his offer to accompany us across the border out of relief that we would not have to stand around trying to find a cab in Zamiba. However, I soon questioned my decision as more men began joining our so-called cab driver as we walked across the border. Soon enough, we found ourselves surrounded by seven Zambian men as we exited the customs office. With dread, I realized that this man might not actually be a cab driver and quickly found an alternative cab in case we found ourselves in a bad situation with our initial friend. My worries were unfounded, as we crossed the border and found a legitimate cab with a fair price on the other side.
A few nights later, we sat in our backpacker in Livingstone listening to the festivities around the city as Zambians celebrated their 50th independence day. I found myself at a table with an Australian name Ollie, two Kiwis named Ash and Joe, one Brit whose name I can't remember, and one Israeli whose name I also can't remember (none of whom asked about my marital status, all of whom are rich enough to travel to Zambia). When Ollie insisted we all go out to celebrate, I hesitated. However, as our group stood up to go, I looked around at the group of five men, including one extremely tall New Zealander (a doctor with a very nice beard), I realized this was our best opportunity to really experience Zambian independence. We went to a club down the street with a live band playing on the first floor. As our group walked in, everyone turned to stare. Needless to say, such a large group of white people walking into room of only black people would draw some attention. However, with our two tall Kiwis wearing bright handmade shirts proudly displaying Zamiban colors and Ollie (who was legitimately insane) jumping in to start the dancing, the stares quickly turned into smiles. We were soon adopted by a group of Zambian men who pulled us up to the third floor with the real dancing. The guys in our group enjoyed the company and accepted invitations to dance and drink. Instead, I stuck as close as possible to our tall Kiwi and moved my hips back and forth enough to be considered dancing but not enough to draw any attention. After about half an hour of sticking to my male friends, I had only been grabbed at a few times on the rare occasion I got more than a few inches away from our tall Kiwi. Our group (mostly me) felt our experience of Zamiban independence was complete and headed back to the backpacker.
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| Celebrating Zambian 50th independence at a club in Livingstone |
Overall, I found it extremely difficult to experience Botswanan and Zambian culture beyond our safaris. I loved my trip, but it was limited to animal viewings and wildlife experiences. Whenever a local man sat down at the bar stool next to me I did my best to display my disinterest as soon as possible. As a white female I found myself walking around with a hard expression on my face to deter people from approaching me, and when men did approach I spoke in short direct sentences to deter any unwanted attention. Needless to say, it is impossible to interact with a culture with this attitude. Tayler was much more open than me on these occasions; her Midwestern niceness is ever-present. On one instance a man asked us to party with him. I did my usual routine by putting on a serious but polite face and saying we were not interested in partying, and he would be better off finding someone else. He turned to Tayler hoping for a more positive response as he put his hand on my thigh. She proceeded to happily chat with him about her research and love for Southern Africa. Though I understand the want to meet local people, I felt extremely uncomfortable. I tried to explain to Tayler that men like this are not interested in talking about environmental research, and that being direct with him deters him from getting too aggressive and allows him to spend his time finding someone who actually does want to 'party'. Maybe I am right to play it safe and send men like this on their way as soon as possible, but I can't help but wonder if I am not trusting enough as I see Tayler interact with people happily, though perhaps naively. I wonder how I could get around my distrust for men who are so forward, but unfortunately the most obvious solution is to be accompanied by a man.
During our last days on holiday, I met a Swiss girl who, like many of the men I met on the trip, was travelling the world for the year. I asked her if she had ever felt unsafe as a woman travelling alone. She looked at me as if I was crazy and said no. I was shocked an asked her more about where she traveled and what she did. It quickly became apparent that she was sticking to guided tours with larger groups, at least for her time in Africa. I was disappointed, though perhaps not surprised, that she didn't have the answers to comfortably and safely traveling alone as a woman. I hope I am not stuck to my little bubble here at Gobabeb where everyone is kind simply because we have to live together. Instead, I would like to get a taste of true South African culture without feeling vulnerable because of my white womaness.
To wrap up this post, I would like to direct you the one I go to in a time of such crisis: NPR of course. It seemed to good to be true that as I was about to press publish, this article popped up on my news-feed:
http://www.npr.org/blogs/
It nicely describes another race issue brought up in discussions about sexual assault/harassment. Race and sexual harassment is such a complicated topic, and my experiences in Botswana and Zambia are encouraging me to delve deeper into the subject. Despite the occasions of discomfort, my experiences while on holiday were fantastic, and I will never forget many of the spectacular things I saw.
