Cultural Banking

Tuesday we went to Gaborone and tried to do our banking and shopping for our new homes. I went to the ATM by the bank and of course it immediately ate my card. I went to the teller to get money out and of course did not have an acceptable form of ID. After I pleaded my case I was able to talk them into giving me some money, after talking to the smooth operator character that had been at the Peace Corps office, and proceeded to buy some rather impractical bedding (all I’ve got to say is that if I am going to be in Africa with rare hot baths and spotty electricity, I am going to be REAL comfortable when I sleep.)

So at this point the bank and the Peace Corps have assured me that all will be well, and although I have a hard time believing this, I also realize exactly how effective stressing about this is. I am a little ramped up as this is my last chance at a mall that easily has many things I need to attempt to outfit my house before going to Seronga and I only have 4 hours. I’ve got my list, I’ve got my plan, and right now this banking glich is not on either mental grouping. I have to put American Jen away for now, bring out world weary Lorato and just wait it out and hope for the best. I am continuously amazed by how, for the most part, I can do just this and zone out and accept the extreme slowness/ inefficiency with which everything operates here. I know this is a Peace Corps and I’m in a developing country, but I have to admit, Botswana does a hell of a job at fooling you sometimes, especially when you get near the mall that could really be anywhere in America (except for the loud chorus of crickets clearly audible near the Mr. Price.)

By this time the whole machine eating card thing had happened to a few other volunteers so I knew I wasn’t alone, and the Peace Corps themselves have been really pretty good about intervening in these situations. Between this, and continuing computer problems (I now have Norton and a new lease on life!!!) I have come to know most of the staff VERY well. They are great. So now I had the smooth operator’s business card and number, I had some cash, and I felt as at ease as I was going to about the situation. As the time was dwindling on shopping, I got my butt out there and proceeded to be confused by all the loud music and florescent lighting of the shops- I don’t know what will happen if I’m ever to go in a Costco after this. I may need a preemptive valium.

The next day was swearing in, after which the Peace Corps rounded us up and brought us to the Molepolole branch of the bank. We were told that the people with our (repaired) cards were over halfway there. We waited (outside the closed bank hanging out in the Peace Corps combi) about two hours longer than they said it would take to get from Gabs to Moleps with our cards. So we waited patiently for the most part, cooling our heels while most of our buddies were celebrating our official Peace Corps status and saying goodbye (for now, at least) at the Lodge. I had also stupidly planned to do some last minute shopping in Moleps with the homey third world feel of the China shops (which are called that for exactly the unfortunate politically incorrect reason you’d think) that I am more used to, or at least less overwhelmed by.

When the smooth operator pulls up, I’m beginning to lose this gracious demeanor. They let us in the bank, hand out our cards, a process which entails all 6 of us rewriting info and resigning forms, again producing our passports and ID’s which again I don’t have, and tell us to try the cards again. So we then go outside the bank and wait in line for the ATM. Which promptly eats my card. Again. The smooth operator is still all smiles, as I begin to get testier, three hours into the ordeal, with no end in sight. It’s a horrible process of elimination in which some people’s cards work and they get to leave, and I am the last person picked for the team. After somehow retrieving our cards (and then there were two- of us left) the two ladies behind the counter get on the phone and start working it from that angle. I’m getting a little desperate at this point and am asked to produce my passport again by the smooth operator. Which he knows damn well I don’t have, just like I didn’t have it an hour before when he asked. Now I am very close to losing it. And he proceeds to calmly look me over, smile creepily, and say, “You know Jennifer, (we have not been formally introduced – a big deal in Botswana culture- he is using my name from all the forms, a no no in his own culture) you are stressed. I think you are more beautiful when you are stressed.”

SERIOUSLY!!!??? This man is a representative of a bank whose machine has eaten my card three times in two days, made me stand around waiting while my friends say goodbye, I could be getting the last things I might need for my new home, which is in a village with no stores and no electricity (and incidentally in the end I had to sign up for a new account and come in the next day for a new card and paperwork-which I had to complete AGAIN) and his professional solution to this whole debacle and my rage is to HIT ON ME????

Were I in America I would have slugged him. And my newly shaved head was making my feel just bad ass enough to do exactly that. Luckily my friend was there to gently guide me away and remind me just how cute my new haircut was. (really how could he help himself???) I guess this is cultural immersion.

The next morning I was at the bank bright and early and sitting in the plastic chair outside the door smiling at the security guard waiting to retrieve my allegedly fixed card. the new story is that I don't need to close the account but i need to apply for a new card. which they will supposedly send to Seronga in 7 business days. Right. I love it. I smile again (Mr. Smooth Operator was now back in Gabs, and I have no beef with these people) and walk to the internet, the one solace I have left in this town!!!

I was able to withdraw some money and should be fine until the whole thing gets settled... unless you get an emergency western union request from Africa, assume i got it straightened out. And know that I am smiling, and shaking my bald head as I write this.