If a Body Catch a Body

A few days ago, I found myself in the disturbing position of relating to Holden Caulfield.

Oh hey there.
Been a while, non?
I apologize for my sudden demise from the blogosphere.
Sorry y'all.

However, for the past few days I've caught myself thinking somewhat deep thoughts instead of paying attention in biology, and it seemed a shame not to share them somehow. After all, if it's not on the Internet, how do we know that it happened? (Incidentally, did anyone hear that tree that just fell in a forest? No one was there to hear it, but I'd bet it made a noise.)

Incidentally, this post is almost entirely self-serving. However, for anyone who may be curious as to the "inside scoop" of my life as a pre-med soon-to-be econ major, read on!

This past semester has been a whirlwind of new ideas, like Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle; new experiences, like lighting a Bunsen burner for the first (and second, and third, but not last) time; and generally learning to think with areas of my brain that I'd long given up on, like the entire left hemisphere. (Read: I'm trying to do math.) This may sound exhilarating, and in some ways it has been. There's something exciting about learning things I never imagined I'd learn, and doing it to pursue a dream that I truly do want to achieve.

More often though, it's been surreal and vaguely terrifying. The truth is, I've made a pretty large bet on myself this year: I'm betting that I can hold my own in an infamously competitive track, learning on the fly skills that some of my fellows have known for years, to ultimately succeed in an infamously exclusive application process, so that I can then hold my own in an infamously grueling course of study...so that I can spend the rest of my life devoting myself to improving the quality of others' lives.

In other words, I'm betting that I am pretty much the most bull-headed college sophomore ever to grace the planet.

And how is that working out so far?
Like I said, exhilarating and vaguely terrifying. Which brings me to the real theme of this post:

A few days ago, I found myself in the disturbing position of relating to Holden Caulfield.
This was disturbing for a few reasons, namely:
-I hated The Catcher in the Rye
-I hated it mostly because Holden is such an irritating, self-centered, entitled, and generally loathsome character.
I don't usually think of myself as particularly loathsome, or lazy. But a few days ago, as I struggled to understand the "review" statistics material that my econometrics teacher was whizzing through, I was distracted by irritation at my own inability to comprehend the math. Why, after completing the mind-numbing calculus and statistics pre-requisites, could I still not understand this material? The other students seemed to be getting it. I'd reviewed the material before class. Why was I still a step behind?

In the past, I'd always felt better after reminding myself that math has never been my strong point, but that rationale only made me feel more frustrated. Natural ability is a great thing to have, but I've always liked to believe that you can overcome most things by working through them.

What happens when everything you can be is nothing more than what you are?

And suddenly, I found myself (now on my way to economics, econometrics having ended) thinking of our dear friend Holden.
My parents' generation saw Holden as an empowering rebel; mine tends to see him as a spoiled bum. I have always been inclined to the latter, and by extension dismissed the book as an ode to an over-privileged and confused generation that begot an even more confused generation. But now, I found myself feeling for the guy.

What if Holden knows he's loathsome? Holden has been given every advantage in life, and thrown it all away. He allows his emotions to keep him from achieving anything. He can't make friends. He can't grow up.
And he knows it.

Let's back up.
I do not feel for one second that going pre-med is "throwing away" the advantages I've been given. I would not have been able to do so if I didn't believe (perhaps foolishly) that I do have the ability to succeed at it. And I even have a few friends.
But once in a while (or rather, once every two days or so), something akin to my daunting statistics class happens and forces me to ask if I really know what on earth I'm doing.

And I hate to admit that the answer might be no.
And I hate to contemplate that, if indeed I fail, I will have wasted an awful lot of my college education taking math/science classes when I might have been happier taking politics.
And I find myself sympathizing with someone who's woken up to find themselves less than they thought they were.
And I can relate to wanting to "catch" children, and allow them to spend a little longer in that place where everything is still possible.


Luckily, unlike Holden Caulfield, I am the most bull-headed college college sophomore ever to grace the planet, and I know that I'm doing the right thing.

Or so I hope.

Greetings, humans!

This will probably be my last post until I get home, since things are pretty much wrapping up here in Gabs. Since I have the weekend free and some spare time, I thought I'd spend today making some final observations and going back to a few things that I didn't have time to get to before.

So, let the games begin!

First off, we're having a long weekend to celebrate Sir Seretse Khama, Botswana's first president, so I've had the last four days off and won't have class until Thursday. Since I've chosen not to travel to Victoria Falls with the majority of my group (reasons best explained in person) I've devised an extremely ambitious schedule of planting myself in various cafes, drinking massive quantities of rooibos tea, and sleeping for ten hours each night. I know that sounds awfully rigorous but I can handle it. I may finish a book or two.

On a side note, I saw Toy Story 3 and think it deserves about twenty Oscars.

The following conversation has occured almost daily, or whenever I meet someone new, since I arrived here:

Person From Botswana: What is your name?
Me: Hillary.
PFB: sdfiodje?
Me: Hee-lah-ree.
PFB: dfijdijd?
Me: Like Hillary Clinton.
PFB: Oooh, Hillary.

Apparently, they like her almost as much as Barack.

I have been pleased to note that the food has been suprisingly vegetarian-friendly, given the livestock-based culture. I think I have the British influence to thank for that, since most of the chain resturaunts are UK-based. Not to mention, the best Botswana delicacies are actually totally vegetarian. For example, the fatcake: A ball of dough fried in oil. It's like an unsweetened donut. Similarly, the dumpling: A ball of dough cooked in boiling water. It's like a crustless bagel. Thankfully, my host families have not tried quite as hard to fatten me up as some have in the past (my biggest point of contention with my host family in Thailand was my inability to eat nearly enough for them), because clearly it would be all too easy.

Each night, a show called Generations comes on at 8:00. This show is a soap opera with a capital S, but it's extremely addicting and I'm pretty sure that the entire country watches it. There are about tweleve different storylines- Paul and Karabo were engaged, but then she had an affair with Lungile and he had an affair with Dineo, who's living with her former husband Ken and trying to pretend to be interested in getting back together so that he'll let her stay, and...etc. I may have to see if it's on youtube when I get back, because I just don't know how I'll get around without knowing what happens to Kaphela and Sara!

So, it's been a good ride. I've met some cool people, drank a lot of tea, changed the course of my life, and all the things that you're supposed to do after a trip to Africa. This production of Hillary's Blog has been brought to you by Cadbury's Dairy Milk chocolate, FreshPak rooibos tea, and vaseline gel! In a few weeks, this space will be converted back to its usual forum for my political rants, so stay tuned if that sounds amusing to you.

Mochudi and Other Assorted Sidenotes

Hello from yet another internet cafe!
As suggested by the title, I spent last week in the village of Mochudi, about 40 minutes' drive from Gaborone. The purpose of this was to see how rural medicine works in Botswana, and also for the students who are staying the the dorms at the University of Botswana to get a chance to do homestays as well. (We were given a choice of where to stay in Gaborone, but everyone did homestays in Mochudi, so I've had two separate host families this trip!)

I'll address the rural medicine first. Essentially, clinics in Mochudi are exactly the same as in Gaborone. This makes sense, since the public clinics are all run by the Ministry of Health. Mochudi just wasn't as crowded; in Gaborone, when I arrive at the clinic at 6:45 each morning (my host mother drops me on her way to work), there are always people already lined up wating for the clinic to open at 7:30. In Mochudi, no one really got there until 9:00. So, what did I do all day? Not much. I literally read The Last of the Mohicans during my week in the clinic. Oh well.

My host family was great, however. When I arrived on Saturday, my mother took me to the funeral of one of her relatives, where I ended up making bread and was finally given a Setswana name (Banyana!). She wanted to know what all my pills were for and why my hair changed color after I washed it. (Answer: Because it was wet.) We had a good time.

On a side note, I have temporarily developed a phobia of dogs here. The dogs here aren't really pets; they're kept for security. Unfortunately, they do their jobs very well and I have been chased by dogs no less than four times in the past week. (Why me? It can't be the meat they smell in my blood.) I'm told they rarely actually bite, and they just bark to scare people. Well, it's working. Plus, I didn't get the rabies shot, so I really don't feel like taking chances. If anyone has a nice, chubby American dog that I can pet for a while when I get home, I'm sure I'll get over my fear in no time.

The program is starting to wind down now, as we have only twelve days left before departure. I'll have my last clinics and classwork next week, and then there's a long weekend during which I'll explore Gaborone, station myself in various cafes, and write my paper on my clinical experience. Then final exam, and then...airport! I'm looking forward to hanging out in Gaborone but also, of course, to coming home.

The Race Card

Hello All,
Today's post is going to touch on a sensitive issue: race. I'm not planning on saying anything offensive, but if you are upset/confused/amused by anything that I say, please feel free to comment/email me about it. I'm open to discussion. Otherwise, I wouldn't write a blog!

Before I start: Hi Reenuka! Hi Ravi! (And Demi, Emily, Eileen...sorry if I missed anyone MISS YOU ALL)

So, race. Coming as a white person from America, being a minority here has turned the tables in a few ways that made me think a bit. First off, the obvious: When my fellow students and I walk together, people hard-core stare at us. When I walk by myself home from the clinic, people stare but not quite as openly. Still, I stick out quite a bit. And the truth is, I've found myself doing the same thing when I see another white person in the mall or on the road. It's an adjustment, but so far one that I sort of anticipated.

On the other hand, one element has suprised me: The media. I remember reading and hearing complaints that ads in the US disproportionately feature white people, and that white people play most of the important characters on shows, etc. I sort of nodded along to these, since it seemed logical. It's a lot more striking, however, when pretty much every single ad and commercial features Black actors. I don't mean to imply that this is a problem, but it did make me realize that I'm used to seeing myself (or at least, my race) reflected back to me in ways that I may not be conscious of most of the time.

The same has happened with, of all things, fashion. I bought a copy of New African Woman magazine as part of an assignment to read local literature (and it turned out to be quite interesting, actually). After flipping through it a bit, I realized that I could completely skip all of the sections on hair and make-up suggestions...because they were all geared for hair and skin-type completely different from mine. It makes sense, of course. There's no reason to cater magazine articles to the tiny white minority in Botswana- but it definitely made me aware of how my life in America is affected by my being white.

Speaking of race, people LOVE Obama here. They tend not to know much about him or his politics, but he's definitely seen as an African, or at least closer to Africa than other presidents. After the US-Ghana game, some people were chanting something along the lines of, "Go home, USA! Come home, Obama!" Don't tell the birthers, they'll use it as evidence.

(In case you were wondering, I'm probably not going to get dreadlocks, speaking of hair. It would be possible, but a pain to take out.)

USA! USA! OBAMA! YES WE CAN! Oh wait...

Hello all,
So I'm sitting here in an internet cafe, sipping an espresso con panna (they don't have Starbucks here, but they do alright), and blogging when I should be frantically working on two assignments due tomorrow. But this is so much more important, because...
Last night, I went to Rustenburg and watched Ghana kill the USA in an epic game of football.

This game was pretty awesome. A few figures:
USA goals: 1
Ghana goals: 2
Souveniers bought: 0. This was not me being cheap...shockingly, they weren't selling any souveniers (except those cursed horns, which I'll get to in a minute) at the arena. I'll be sure to get some gear before I leave, since they're selling it (oddly enough) everywhere else.
Times I lost circulation to my extremities: 3.
Times I cared: 0. There was a game to watch. USA! USA!
Seats empty in the arena: 27 (out of 40,000)- this is an official figure

We somehow managed to hire a bus large enough to take all 18 of us, and the drive was about 3.5 hours from Gabs to Rustenburg. A sidenote about South Africa: Does anyone else think it's a tad obnoxious that they just named themselves for the entire region? Every time I try to tell someone that Botswana is in southern Africa, they immediately assume that it's part of South Africa and I have to explain that it's actually a country of its own. Granted, part of the problem here is that no one knows anything (myself included) about African geography.

To be honest, I'm happy that Ghana won. Firstly because my friends and I were surrounded by Ghana supporters, and I might have feared for my life if they'd lost. (Not really, they were all very friendly.) Secondly, soccer just really means a lot more to Ghana and the rest of Africa that it does to us. If the US went to the finals, most of us would be kind of excited, but it's nowhere near the same passion.

So, life has been pretty good. I should probably do some homework. Probably.

Health and Such

Hello All,
This week I finished my first three days observing in a clinic. The experience has been extremely interesting, and I'm seriously considering becoming pre-med now. (Then again, I'm also seriously considering getting dreadlocks, so goodness knows where my head's at. Any advice on either would be greatly appreciated!)

You may find it amusing to hear that we've been told to wear white lab coats to the clinics to identify us as "student-doctors" or something like that. It's amazing and a little disconcerting to see that, in spite of the fact that I have zero medical training, people are willing to undress and discuss their health problems while I'm in the room...as long as I have that coat on. Stanley Milgrim, you have been proved correct yet again.

In brief, everything in this clinic is on paper- people carry their health records with them in folders to the doctor, and the doctors mark everyone who comes in a huge registry book. If someone forgets to bring a prescription, or any previous file, the doctor/nurse seeing them is at a huge loss to figure out what their story is. (This was particularly an issue in the AIDS section of the clinic, where previous medications are especially important.) They take blood pressure and temperatures the old-fashioned way, and the ante-natal check-ups are limited to listening for fetal heartbeat with a plastic tube. There's always a doctor in the AIDS section, but only twice a week for the general clinic; the nurses hold down the rest. They begin each day with a long prayer session. (Sidenote: These people can SING. Not only has every single person I met had an amazing singing voice, but they seem to be able to effortlessly fall into five-part harmony. I have no explanation, but I'm jealous.)

All of these things would seem to be huge, red-flag indicators of an efficient, broken system- yet it works, so far as I've seen, amazingly well. "Doctor's handwriting" wouldn't really fly here, and each of the nurses are skilled enough at what they do that nothing takes too long. If anything, the real issue (both in what I've observed and what we've been learning in class) seems to be the patients themselves.

In spite of the government's anti-HIV efforts, there's still a huge stigma in even discussing the disease. No one wants to admit having had sex, including pregnant women. The only place where people speak about HIV openly is on that side of the clinic (which is a separate building from the general clinic). When giving babies a check-up, (don't worry, I was only recording the information and not handling anything too complex) I was told not to ask whether the babies were HIV-positive or not...even though there was a section on every sheet to mark their status. Unless the results of the test were in the baby's file (which nine times out of ten they were not), I just wrote "unknown." In spite of the fact that about one-third of adults 18-59 in the country have AIDS or another STI, it's completely taboo to mention the disease even in a clinic.

I don't mean to be a downer; the experience has been quite positive so far. After spending the first day with the babies, I observed the AIDS clinic on Tuesday, and hung out with pregant women on Wednesday. Bewarel I'm starting to think in kilograms and meters.

A Few Fun Facts

Yay, I have computer access two days in a row! My host mother has very kindly allowed me to use her laptop for internet while we watch Generations, the most addiction soap opera on any continent. So, I'll use the opportunity to give a few fun facts/hopefully interesting observations for all y'all.

On a side note, feel free to email me to say hi or respond to something you see here- I didn't want to send mass emails just because they turned out to be not so successful, but private emails are no problem. I miss you all ;-)



Normally I don't think I'll talk much about our classes, since while I find public health interesting I don't necessarily expect all of you to, here's an interesting fun fact that explains some otherwise contradictory aspects of life in Botswana.



As you may or may not know, Botswana is one of the most politically and economically stable countries in Sub-Saharan Africa, yet one-third of the adult population has HIV/AIDS. This seemed contradictory to my dad and I when we were googling a few months ago. Today, my professor noted that when observing the health of a population, it's important to look not only at total prevalance of an illness but also of new cases specifically. The fact that so many people are alive with HIV in Botswana is more due to the government's successful efforts to treat HIV patients efficiently and affordably, as opposed to other countries where thousands of people are dying of the disease. The statistic then makes Botswana appear to have a relatively large problem (which, granted, they do), but hides the reality of their successful programs.

On a side note, this is the evil, evil result of a very socialized medical system. The system isn't perfect by any means, and the AIDS campaigns have been so successful mainly because most of the resources have been devoted to it- but still. Just a heads up.

If you're following the world cup, you've surely heard those horns that they blow constantly throughout the game. I can tell you, the noise from the TV doesn't come near to doing them justice. The Booboozhellas (surely spelled wrong, but that's how it sounds) are loud and unbelievably annoying. When some of my host mother's friends came over to watch Mexico vs. France last night (domage, mes amis) there were about four of them in the room, and it literally sounded like four shofars being blown simultaneously in a fairly small room. (For non-Jews: it was really loud.) So I'm sorry to tell my brothers back home in advance that I will not be buying them one, because I would have to kill them if they ever blew it.

Not-as-fun fact: Last night, there was a blackout in my family's home for about two hours. This has been happening on schedule on Mondays and Thursdays, from somewhere between 4 and 10 pm, for the last few months, due to...the World Cup! Yes, as it turns out, Gaborone gets part of its electricity from South Africa. Unfortunately, they're in need of a bit more power these days, so the solution is scheduled blackouts in different parts of the city for several hours each night. Well, that's one way to deal with the energy crisis.

Speaking of energy, BP is advertising like mad here in Bots. My guess is that they're hoping the news of their "almost-junk" status hasn't reached this corner of the world- I'm doing my best to make sure it does. I'm sure my host brother is sick of hearing me talking about the spill by now.

With that, I present to you a list:
Western Luxeries that You Didn't Know Were Luxeries
-Soap in public bathrooms. (The details of this one cannot be given in this blog, email me if you want to hear more.)
-Purell availible to buy. (See above.)
-Hot water
-Central heating/cooling (Actually, you probably knew this one)
-Schedules
-"Alone time"
-Set prices (as opposed to, "You're white so for you it's 10 pula more)

I'll probably add more as I go. I'm actually using this list not to vent my frustration at these things, which I pretty much expected, but rather at some of my groupmates who seemed not to understand that "developing countries" are "developing" for a reason. In all seriousness, the quality of life in Bots seems superior on almost all counts to that on the Navajo Reservation where I spent some time. (I may have said this before. Sorry. It's been a long week.)

Sorry for the incoherence of these posts. They're not so well-planned. You can make fun of me for them when I see you (whoever "you," my friendly follower, happen to be) in a few weeks.