iambeckyroar!
 
School let out at the end of November, and with it went a lot of my work.  December is summer in Botswana and, as Americans do in June, most people in Botswana take leave.  Entire offices shut down, and what work there is slows to a snail-like pace.  Everything I want to plan inevitably gets deferred to January because so-and-so is out of town or such-and-such office is closed.  The summer storms have come late, and so most afternoons dark clouds creep menacingly towards Hatsalatladi, rumbling as if they were going to eat us.

My life right now is quiet and simple.  I fill my time as I please and try to get out of my house as much as I can without being overwhelmed.  I love the evenings; it gets dark around 7:30pm and after dinner I lounge, read, write or watch It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on my computer.  Serene isn't quite the right word, but it's close.  The evenings are a time of day that belong completely to me.

However, evenings without electricity can also be terrifying.  Take, for example, the first night I returned from the youth forum.  I discovered a swarming horde of giant bugs in my bathroom and, after defeating them, I then came face-to-snout with a bat flying about my living room.  Jeepers!  Afraid, I retreated into my room and went to bed.

Then, after the bat-bug incident, another traumatic evening event occurred.  An awesome thunderstorm swept through my village, flooding my porch, kitchen and bathroom and terrifying the living daylights out of me.  For those who don't know, six years of rowing has instilled in me an intense fear of lightening.  As the rain came down so heavily I could not see out my window, my house shook. Lightening struck so close by that the resulting thunder sounded like a whip crack and made me jump.  Cell phone service cut out, and I found myself standing in the middle of my living room clueless about what to do.  My main plan -- call Mom -- was gone.

However, the rainstorm did have one redeeming quality: it reunited me with one of the most important items in my wardrobe, my rain boots.  After the storm, I spent the next 24 hours stomping around my soggy yard and attempting to mop up my porch in these boots, and I discovered that they were crucial to my survival.  Not only were they perfect for the squashing of any oversized bugs, but they also protected me from the biting ants that liked to climb over my feet and nibble at my ankles.  The nighttime critters that terrified me so were about to meet their rubber maker.

Now, every night as the sun sets, I pull on my rain boots and bask in this new sense of safety.  Brushing my teeth had been especially problematic beforehand, because to reach my bathroom I have to walk onto my porch (stupid, I know).  Now I confidently toddle out in boots, underwear and a tank top (it's hot in Africa), while wearing my headlamp so I can see where I am going.  Usually I also carry a flashlight, because I hate fluorescent light -- and, for good measure, a can of Doom (the African equivalent of Raid).  A cape is forthcoming.

Some heroes fight crime.  And some fight bugs.
 


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