Hanging out in the GC (Gaborone City)

Every culture has its meeting points, and hang out locales. The meeting point may, in fact, predate settled civilization, if we picture our hunter-gatherer ancestors defining the water hole, or a certain cluster of sheltering rocks as a definitive and necessary rendezvous location for survival. Today, meeting points may feature a component of quotidian necessity due to the government business or trade conducted at the location. However, they may also serve little purpose other than their aesthetic or symbolic cultural value (think the Eiffel Tower or Statue of Liberty), but can tell us much about the people’s history that they define.

In Botswana, the meeting point and definitive cultural icon has evolved from the San (Bushmen) survival-oriented locations to that most abhorrent American creation: the mall. As someone that tends to shudder at the word “mall” and spends as little time as possible in them in the U.S. (unless it’s the bookstore), I was relieved to find that “mall” can take on several definitions here in Gaborone, and not all malls scare me off. I explored the Main Mall in Gabs on my first day in town, accompanied by two German girls currently living in Namibia.

The Main Mall is really just a long pedestrian walkway in the center of the closest thing Gabs has to a downtown. Tables are set up along the length of the mall, with vendors selling everything from beans and dried grubs (that’s edible bugs for those of you who were unwilling to believe it the first time you read it) to traditional Botswana skirts, baskets, furry sandals, and pairs of earrings that cost 10 pula (about $1.50—buying these may suck up most of my extra summer stipend). Setswana music sounds from speakers at tables selling local tunes. And on either side of this semblance of a traditional marketplace are shops, restaurants (including KFC), and a grocery store. These places of business may at times be necessary and useful when you need to buy a cell phone or get lunch on your break from work, but are completely optional if you’re not in the mood for shopping.

The Mall also speaks to the short history of Botswana as a nation, and Gaborone as a capital city. Botswana was a British Protectorate from 1885 until its independence in 1966. "Gabs," also fondly known as the GC, became the capital, but at independence was only a small village that simply met the criteria of being within the new borders of Botswana (unlike the previous administrative capital, Mafikeng). It was also close to other centers of civilization (the railroad, Johannesburg) and therefore accessible, unlike the vast desert that covers most of the country. Full of relatively recent construction, and bustling with people, the Main Mall is indicative of Botswana’s rapidly urbanizing and (when compared to other African nations) relatively affluent standard of living.

Botswana’s diamond and mineral wealth has been used wisely by the country’s leaders over the past 40 years, and while economic disparities within the population exist, this place is doing pretty well for a developing country—for example, you can drink water straight from the tap almost anywhere in the country. The big exception to development "success" is, of course, AIDS, but I've commented on that elsewhere. While many malls in Gabs are slightly shabbier, less variegated versions of the Main Mall, a few exceptions speak to the prosperity that exists in Botswana: one is Riverwalk, a lovely two-story esplanade with cafes, a cinema, and fancy clothing and grocery stores (organic, anyone?). The other is the even more ostentatious Game City Mall, which resembles an American indoor mega-complex almost to a T—only the decoration, which features San Bushman cave drawings, hints at the true culture that exists outside the mall’s parking lot. This is obviously where white people go to gear up for safaris, eat ice cream, or go to the movies.

I went to see a film at Game City early in my time here, and almost forgot I was in Africa. The decided-upon flick (since most of the group, myself included, had seen Star Trek and Slumdog Millionare) was "17 Again". I left the theater somewhat eagerly after the final credits had rolled—perhaps it was Zac Efron’s mediocre acting, but, honestly, even that was somewhat reconciled by his decent dance moves and deep blue eyes. I think my desire to escape Game City actually sprung from the complete sense of bewilderment I felt being in such an absurdly prosperous location in a region most Americans would typically associate with disease, pain, hunger and suffering. Welcome to Botswana—land of contradiction and paradox.

But perhaps my favorite mall in Gabs is one that doesn't necessarily have a whole lot of history, nor does it try too hard. The Maru-a-Pula Shopping Center is about half-way along the hour and a half walk from my office to home. Lauren and I discovered it while looking for a place to eat before attending the weekly film showings at nearby Maru-a-Pula school (which features a great sign: "You are just passing one of the best schools in Africa...where 'just passing' isn't good enough.").

This mall features the usual gas station, clothing boutiques, and grocery store, but is also quite multi-cultural. We visited an Indian grocery, where I purchased some incense, red lentils, and chana masala mix. We also found the Chinese restaurant in the mall to have an extensive and affordable menu of decent Chinese food, complemented by Chinese CNN on the tube providing welcome ambiance. Maru-a-Pula also features an interesting selection of local dive bars: while unsuccessful in finding food, we watched a dance practice at "The Shebeen" (which is the rough Southern African translation for "dive bar"). Last Saturday night, we decided to go see what the Shebeen looked like when things were really happening. So we caught a cab over, but obviously Saturday is not the Shebeen's night--we hear Thursday is much better; the place was dead. However, two doors down, Discount Bar presented a superb alternative. The music was loud, the bar was crowded, we were the only non-locals in sight, and with a name like "discount," the beers had to be cheap!

Once inside, as the only foreigners in the place, we quickly became the focal point of the bar. The only guy in the group--Ian--oblivious to the fact he was leaving four girls in the lion's den, went outside to talk to his girlfriend on the phone. Soon every guy in the place wanted to talk to us, and since most of them were drunk, the conversation was neither coherent, nor particularly interesting. After about five minutes, we decided to finish our beers outside in the parking lot, where the harassment was somewhat reduced. Our guard was up though, which resulted in a few embarrassing encounters:

Random guy: Can I ask you a question?
Us (looking away): Uh...I don't think so.
Random guy: Sorry, do you know if this is where things are happening tonight? Is there anywhere better? I'm from South Africa.
Us: Oh, sorry. We don't know. We're not from here either.
Random guy: Yeah, I know.

Well, if you saw we were white, why did you ask us? We took our picture with our new friend anyway.

Another funny moment:
Soft-spoken guy, talking to Jeanette: Excuse me.
Jeanette looks weirded out, doesn't speak, and moves away from him.
Lauren (jumping in to stand up for Jeanette): Um, she's MARRIED.
Jeanette (giving the guy a closer look): Oh, wait, don't I know you? You're so-and-so's (a co-worker's) husband! Sorry!

We could only handle so much dive bar and so many awkward parking lot encounters. After the Castle lagers were done, we moved on to Bull & Bush to enjoy a few more drinks and a hot dance floor, courtesy of several DJs. The awkward encounters weren't over yet though! I started talking to a guy I recognized from my plane ride into Gabs a few months ago--I picked him out to be a Marine at the U.S. Embassy, and we chatted for awhile about the embassy experience, and how we liked Botswana. After we parted ways, Lauren and Ian were adamant there was either a slinky or a giant condom in the guy's back pocket (judging by the white ring showing on his jeans), and wanted me to go ask what it was. Not really caring either way, and putting my money on it being a tin of chew, I went to ask him:

Me: Excuse me, my friends were wondering what was in your back pocket? It's chew, isn't it?
Marine: Oh, I have these jeans on. Yeah, it's Copenhagen.
Me (I hate chew, but was trying to be polite): Wow, is that easy to find here?
Marine: I have it ordered in.
Me: Oh, embassy stores, right. Ok, well thanks for clearing that up...I don't know why my friends thought it was a slinky, or maybe a giant condom.
Marine: Um, no, I don't carry a condom every night.
Me (trying not to sound sarcastic): Right. Ok, have a good night!

That conversation needed to end.

There are pictures to accompany it all! Main Mall, Game City, Shebeen, Discount Bar, Bull&Bush: