(bah) humbug

Caveat Lector: I am highly disgruntled and mood rumpled. The following notes on the past 24 hours are not ones I’d prefer to be writing, but they’re a solid record of events. Hopefully by tomorrow I will have regained a cheery disposition and will be able to resume with observations of more satisfying substance.

Ahem.

I took off work today to journey to Immigration with Dr. “No-Nonsense” Oagile, to whom I am very grateful for her assistance as both interpreter and chauffer. I was also particularly tickled when, halfway to the office, she popped a Spice Girls disc into the cd player, and proceeded to sing along to “2 become 1.” At Immigration, the government officials – much like those everywhere – surveyed me with lazy eyes, handed over paperwork, and told me to come back next week.

There is nothing particularly unusual about most of the Student Visa requirements – admission letters, passport copies, etc. However, one document blew me away. The “Medical Report” that students must have a doctor complete was apparently written long before independence, and despite the efforts of Motswana doctors, the government still hasn’t gotten around to revising it. The paper reads as follows:

Republic of Botswana
IMMIGRATION ACT
(CAP. 25:02)

MEDICAL REPORT
(section 4(7) (e) and regulation (4))

I HEREBY CERTIFY THAT ON ___________________ at ______________ I examined ________________ and found him/her to be –
(1) not suffering from any of the disabilities referred to in Note 1: ____________
(2) not physically defective except (see Note 2): _______________
(3) not suffering from favus, framboesia, or yaws, leprosy, scabies, syphilis, trachoma, tuberculosis, or any other disease prescribed in terms of section 7 (c) of the Immigration Act.

Signature of Medical Practitioner __________________
Qualifications ________________
Address ______________________

Note 1: The disabilities referred to in paragraph (1) are:
(a) being an idiot;
(b) being an imbecile;
(c) being a feeble-minded person;
(d) begin an epileptic;
(e) having had a previous attack of insanity;
(f) suffering from constitutional psychopathic inferiority;
(g) suffering from chronic alcoholism.
Note 2: Any physical defects should be stated with an indication of their nature and extent.


“Physical defects?” “Being and idiot, an imbecile, feeble-minded?” “Being an epileptic?” The doctor at UB’s clinic was appalled that these forms were still being distributed, and my astonishment and concern is just as great. I have been told before that psychological services and treatment of mental disorders here are not quite up to “Western” standards (according to a UB student, there is one rehab clinic for the whole nation) but I simply can’t believe that this kind of language is still being used.

Of other concern are our latest problems with security, maintenance, and IT. Since I don’t know how to accurately assemble my frustrations on page, I will just throw it all out there:

Yesterday afternoon, Abby received a call from the UB Security office, asking her to return to the building to identify her stolen bag and camera. Off she went. These are the text messages I subsequently received from her –
Abby (16:15) – Got my bag and camera and the laptop is here too!
Abby (16:18) – Mildly awkward since I am sitting next to the guy [the robber] and he apologized. Ha
Abby (16:22) – said I don’t want to press charges but we have to see about Neo. Going to police soon
Abby (16:30) – The robber just asked me my room number to write in his statement. Ha! He is now helping the police give directions

These oddities were not the only ones of the ordeal’s conclusion. According to Abby, Neo’s laptop was returned, but all information had been erased. Additionally, within 24 hours of its disappearance, it had be resold TWICE. The thief is apparently a repeat offender and the police seemed to know him well. Yet, he was nevertheless allowed to spend the entire ride to the police station begging Neo not to press charges, and telling her about his family and financial problems.

Although one matter was put to rest yesterday, two more cropped up. I finally made a call to UB’s IT department, in a last ditch attempt to get skype working in my room. However, instead of helping me fix things, they informed me that Skype is “illegal” at UB and that all of our unknowingly unacceptable access would be immediately blocked. I pleaded with them to forget I said anything (really, I was on the verge of tears), but they said it was out of their control.

This morning, Dr. Oagile called the head of the department to argue our case, and what she was told is even more frustrating. It is neither a problem with bandwidth nor the facilities’ ability to access the program. Instead, it is that UB signed a contract with the local/national telephone service provider that stipulates that UB will ban all alternative avenues for similar communication. How are ANY international students supposed to contact family and friends without paying a fortune in phone bills? And yes, there are internet cafes in the area, but they close far too early (around 22:00) to make communication possible with anyone holding day jobs in the states (we’re six hours ahead).

The cherry on top has been our continuing sink issues (which should theoretically be gone since they just installed a new one). While Becca was filling a pot with water, the faucet shot off and scalding liquid exploded everywhere. The same thing happened two more times in the past few hours, and I have had to call maintenance, again, to get help. What is the official explanation for this absurd number of insanely simple problems? Nothing. Just that the people UB contracts apparently don’t know how to do their job.

Last evening, Abby and I attempted to drown this bitter taste in some fruity drink concoctions, but the attempt was only partially successful. We met two other American students at Linga Longa to watch the soccer game, and things were pretty pleasant. However, on the cab ride back, another cab attempted to pass ours and ran over a beautiful white dog in the process. We watched in horror as the dog attempted to get up, and was hit again by a car coming in the opposite direction. When our cab pulled up to the hit-and-run’s at a red light. the driver yelled and asked him why he didn’t stop. “Eh, I tried, “ he responsed, smiling broadly, “but it is dead.” His grin was brighter than his headlights and I thought I was going to be sick.

How to conclude such a sour soliloquy? I’m off to do laundry, so hopefully the suds and the impending weekend will wash away this mood.


Additional Edit: to snap things into perspective, I know life is good. really, I do. I am grateful for the luxuries I have known and the fact that I have people I love and want so desperately to contact (the root of my skype frustrations). There are much more terrible things going on (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/africa/7452326.stm). However, I must allow myself the liberty of giving into my more petty frustrations every now and then, no matter the trailing guilt.