Friday, 13 February 1987: My Cool Colleagues and White Racist Assholes

Sosele Hotel, Selebi-Phikwe, Botswana

My three colleagues on this trip are an interesting group.  There’s Robson Selitshena, a senior lecturer and the #2 man in our department.  He is originally from a village north of Bulawayo, Zimbabwe.  Robson has a Ph.D. from a university in England, and I’d guess he’s in his mid-40s.  Slightly stocky, gaps between his upper front teeth, and a relaxed but dignified manner, a hearty laugh which exposes very pink gums, short frizzy black hair, scruffy beard, roundish face, average height, glasses, casual clothes and often a floppy, funky cloth brimmed hat.  A very enjoyable guy!

There’s Mesego Mputakwane, age 30, who just received his M.A. from an international institute in the Netherlands last year.  He is currently the only Motswana lecturer in the Environmental Science Department and grew up in a village about 100 kms northwest of here.  A handsome guy with medium build and height, also bearded, very straight pearly-white teeth with a gap between the two front uppers.  As with Robson, I see Mesego’s teeth a lot since he’s frequently laughing.  As with Robson, I find Mesego very likeable.

Robson is married with children.  Mesego is single with a girlfriend in Serowe village about 150 kms southwest of here.  Robson walks slowly and never seems in much of a hurry – a good adaptation to the local heat.  Mesego tends to be a bit hyper and often seems to be overloaded with work.

My roommate for the trip (we were only able to find two empty rooms in the hotel) is Cornelis Vanderpost, a Dutch guy around 35, about my height and build with brown hair.  He arrived about three weeks ago to my great relief as he took over the third and fourth year quantitative methods courses I had been teaching at the beginning of the semester.  He’s a friendly, good-looking guy with a wife who is a dance teacher and a couple of kids.  Cornelis is no stranger to Africa.  He taught high school in rural Zambia for three years as a Dutch volunteer (an alternative to joining the Dutch armed forces).  Then he was a geography lecturer at the University of Swaziland for several years.  He’s done lots of travelling in Africa and Eastern Europe and is full of interesting stories.  We share an appreciation for Castle Lager and good conversation.  He’s currently finishing up his Ph.D.  

           

Environmental Science students on a tour of Selebi-Phikwe mine facilities.

This morning, we had a tour of one of the copper mines here in Selebi-Phikwe.  I got some photos of our students in hard hats looking at the open pits and facilities.  My student group finished collecting their data yesterday, and this afternoon they’re busy compiling it.  As for my colleagues, Mesego is sitting at the bar next to the hotel pool having a ginger (root) beer; Robson seems to be hanging out in his room watching the tube (they get a couple of South African stations here); and Cornelis has just finished a nap.  Like I said yesterday, it’s a tough life.

When we were taking our mine tour this morning, one of the white mine officials asked that I not take photos of the smelter’s smoke stack.  Apparently, they are repairing it and it was putting out more smoke than usual.  I didn’t tell him that I had already snapped a couple photos.  Several of us figured he was kind of stupid for being so sensitive.  Now I’m suspicious about the stack emissions.  Had he said nothing, I would have just figured that the discharge was normal. 

Cornelis was annoyed and disgusted last night.  He ran into a couple of Hollanders in the bar, and they turned out to be very racist.  One of them had worked here at the mines for some 13 years.  Cornelis wondered, as do I, why a racist would want to work that long in an African country when he has no respect for the local people.  I suppose some people are happy to have convenient scapegoats around them.  They’re at their best when they have someone to put down.  I wish the mine officials or the government could figure out a convenient way to throw fascist bastards like this out of the country.  Another jerk we encountered here is the obnoxious English club manager where we are eating our meals.  Yesterday, he walked into the restaurant while we were having breakfast and asked our students who had broken a window in the place the night before.  He talked to them like they were six years old.  Later, the night watchman admitted that he really wasn’t sure who had broken the window.