We Are Carnes: Pun'kin Patch (There were no pumpkins and Owen does not approve this title)

Its harvest time in Botswana after a particularly heavy rainy season, which means the ground is completely littered in the husks and rinds of the deliciousness that abounds right now.

Most Batswana have “lands” or “mase mmu.” These are separate from the cattle post (although in some cases, not by much distance) and allocated by the government land board (which is, incidentally, the agency that invites us to screen “STEPS” films and talk about issues relating to HIV at their weekly staff meetings), not by private ownership. It’s a lot more complicated than we totally understand, but as far as we know, most families hold a 100-year lease on their lands. This land is used to grow crops and also usually has a crude residence within a compound.

By contrast, the cattle post is the site of the family’s wealth. I say “wealth” and not “income” because many Batswana families also earn an income. Income earning (whether in an office or through farming) is usually the women’s domain. Because of wealth being held in cattle, and because of a lack of financial management, sometimes huge debt, substantial wealth, and practical poverty exist in the same household. Back to the cattle post- this is the domain of men. And, like a bank account, it is rude to inquire into the size of someone’s herd. Outside of the actual corral or “kraal” (Afrikaans), the cattle roam over the land that is basically everybody’s. We are told that everyone knows their cattle on site, so there is no need for branding, ear-tags, or fences. The cattle are collected on foot and herded into the kraal. The goats or “dipudi”, on the other hand, know exactly where their kraal is located and will return home at night of their own fruition. When driving through Botswana, I have often assumed that open land on the right and left was just a vast expanse without many inhabitants. However, if you know what to look for, and you venture off the road, you will find all the men that seem conspicuously missing from the villages. They hang out in huge social groups, tending the cattle posts, drinking “bujalwa”, and playing in highly organized football tournaments. Although their huts are often thatched, and rarely electrified, some sport solar panels, connecting to all the necessities for relaxing in high style (extremely large speakers). Interestingly, some people balk at the use of solar power, except at the lands and cattle posts, because of a social stigma related to poverty and being unable to afford being connected to the grid and buying units from foreign-provided electricity. Too bad- if there is one thing that Botswana has a lot of, its sunshine!

Ok, back to the lands. Matlhogonolo grew beans and healing weeds for teas on her lands in the winter. Her lands were located about 1 hour drive from her home compound in Serowe, so she hired a Zimbabwean boy (paid P500/60USD per month, the minimum wage) to tend the crops. Her cattle post was a short walk down the dirt road from her lands. She made a very clear distinction between the lands- a type of free-form farming, and her meticulous “go lema merogo”- or gardening of spinach, rape, tomatoes, and beets, in her compound in the village. You can find some fun pictures of her at her lands and cattle post in “the cattle post” blog post.

The lands surrounding us here in Ramotswa grow a mixture of maize (which I am told is most similar to American feed corn, but here it is grilled or steamed in the husk and sold as “mmidi” on the streets- delicious), sorghum, “lerotse” (a sour melon), watermelon (sort of), squash, gourds (used for making traditional beer mugs – the “calabash”), and sweet reed, in the summertime. Much to our relief, the summer is over and winter is well on its way- brr, it’s starting to dip below 80F! The harvest is so plentiful, and the street food it provides is so wildly popular, that it is not uncommon to see businessmen unable to shut their modern office door because they need the space for the 10-foot stalk of sweet reed the end of which they are happily munching. Add cleaning the midi out of the computer’s keyboard to my morning tasks.

Our friend from working at the library, Mma Ramautu, noticed us walking in the evenings near her lands and invited us out to load up on all that we could carry. Wielding a kitchen knife, and wading through a jungle of weeds and crops intermixed amongst a cornfield, she showed us how to pick the best lerotse, how to chew reeds and twist them into a rope for bundling, and explained to us the etiquette of eating mmidi and sweet reed. In case you were wondering, you rip the corn off the cob with your fingers then pop it into your mouth. With sweet reed, you peel away the woody part with your teeth. That’s the opposite of what I would do- I would prefer the splinters in my fingers than in my lips…but that’s just me.

All protocol aside, we were overwhelmed by her and others’ generosity, and have been well stocked for nightly “braiis” (barbecues) ever since.