It’s been almost six months since I moved to Botswana. That time has sped past although it feels like I’ve been here for a lot longer. Many friends and family, particularly back in Australia, have asked what life is like and how it differs from that in Australia. Sure, there’s the regular power outage, a broken water supply that failed 10 times in the 9 months to September leaving four-day blocks of zero water, differences in language, and a fascinating Tswana culture and society. But I shouldn’t dwell on such minor differences. More importantly: Bananas
Here in Botswana and around the region, bananas are in plentiful supply year-round. I’m not sure where they come from but I can tell you it’s not from Botswana. There is way too little rain for that (only 500 mm per year and I expect half that in this current year). They are slightly smaller than the Australian variety, yet sweet and always scrumptious. But what is most mind-blowing is that they are ready to eat whilst still green. Crazy! Many a banana in my pantry has been lost in my failure to eat whilst ripe.
Kudu
I figure that I can equate the kudu with the kangaroo. Like the kangaroo, a kudu can jump: as the tallest antelope in Africa, it can easily clear a Toyota Landcruiser or otherwise-game-proof fence. This means that like kangaroos, they could potentially be seen as a pest, entering farms or properties at their own discretion. In their favour though, they are definitely not found in the same numbers as kangaroos (or as some describe, in plague-like roo proportions…really?). They are also a fantastic game meat, particularly the biltong which is both lean and flavoursome. I won’t go any further into how cool the kudu is or we could be here a while, but will include a couple of photos in a future post so you can appreciate their beauty. (For the record, I still remain fond of kangaroos and wallabies, and especially the tree kangaroos. And for those who I haven’t share this fun fact with: kangaroos have three vaginas – how cool is that?)
Coffee
I was preparing the worst before my arrival: poor quality coffee. And my predictions were realised. As most Batswana cannot stand the delicious, black liquid gold, the market remains very small and limited to a couple of household brands and mediocre imports from South Africa. Unfortunately, there are no single origin imports direct from the Ethiopian or Kenyan highlands to sip on between an early morning cycle and breakfast. I’m still working on a scheme to bring in my own coffee although between other life priorities, it’s definitely sitting in the “CBF, I’ll deal with that next year” bin. Perhaps even more horrible is the name of my coffee of choice: like in most of the world, the long black is called an Americano. It pains me a little to call it that (sorry, Brady).
Acacias
In Botswana, like the rest of Africa, there are no acacias. Only vachellias and sengalias exist here. Nevertheless, whatever those thorntree buggers are, they are still doing significant damage whilst running (I really need to stop grabbing for leaves whilst jogging past), and cycling (I have stop riding into them) and safari drives (I can no longer count the scratches on my Prado).
The similarities?
Oh, there’s plenty of those. The heat, the meat (beef) and the great outdoors. Perhaps I’ll touch on those another time.