Ghanzi

Kourtney, Jaclynn, Sarahi and myself, four brave souls off to explore western Botswana...

We weren't the only ones with travel plans for the Easter weekend. The streets of Gaborone were surprisingly busy at 5:00am on Friday morning, and the bus rank was absolutely teeming with people. And ruthless vendors. A last minute, unexplained cancellation meant that only one bus was destined for Ghanzi that day. It was already packed to capacity when we arrived and only aisle space remained. I ended up getting very cosy with someone's arm pitt and almost fell asleep on the lady next to me. Her hair style was decidedly pillow like. By mid afternoon we pulled into Ghanzi. The town was small, quiet, and delightfully suited to a weary traveler. The bus station, ATM , grocery store, craft/souvenir shop, and hotel were all within a stone throw of one another. We pitched our tents on the grassy lawn of the Kalahari Arms Hotel for a very reasonable 35 Pula. The other foreign tourists rolling through the streets in fancy safari vehicles opted for upscale, air conditioned huts. Their loss. After gobbling down waffles and milkshakes we called it a night. Saturday found us climbing into the back of a pick-up truck for a ride out to D'kar, a small cultural village. Definitely small and definitely cultural. We walked down a dirt road and came upon an old church, giant cooking pots, and bushpeople. Not to mention a lovely little one room hostel. With four beds! How convenient. A local soccer match kept us entertained for several hours. Or perhaps it was the horde of children racing around, posing for pictures and pulling off wonderful feet-stomping moves. I swear Africans must learn to dance before they walk. In the afternoon we took a stroll down the main road (and only road). A devoted train of little boys followed and seemed to find us endlessly entertaining. Soft hair! Haha short shorts. Ooh watchy-watch! A CAMERA!! "Photo me" was one of the few English expressions we heard. The bushmen language was enchanting though- plenty of clicks and tongue noises spattered throughout the speech. We returned to the hostel with our devoted followers hanging off arms and legs. I really wanted to take one home in my suitcase. Later, we were drawn to the church by the sound of singing. Much of the village had gathered inside to applaud the performance of various choir groups. We attempted a stealth entrance but had every head turning in a matter of seconds. A heart warming time nonetheless. I stood out under the stars afterwards and marveled at the vast expanse of sky. We revisited the church in the morning for the Easter service. An Afrikaan reverend preached in Setswana and a tribal leader followed in the bushmen tongue. Luckily we had our very own Babelfish in the form of a Dutch couple. They had been living in the village for twenty years working on a project to translate the Bible into the local language. It made me happy to see them conversing naturally with the locals, all cultural barriers seemingly torn down. It was with rueful smiles that we said goodbye to D'kar and climbed into the back of another truck. The Kalahari Arms awaited, wide and welcoming. A dip in the pool, afternoon sunshine, a delightful dinner and our adventures had reached their end. Even though the Easter bunny didn't make it out to Botswana I'd trade Cadbury eggs for this trip any day.