"Tea Girl"

I asked her who does she live with and she replied, "I live with Jesus". 

Mme Ophadile Maboa was my host mother for the weekend. Aside from living with Jesus, she lived alone. Her parents were late and so was her brother. The only sibling still alive was her sister who lived in Gaborone. Mme Ophadile was a small woman with smooth skin and a medium brown complexion. She had brownish eyes with a ring of blue around them. Her hands were little but firm when she grabbed your hand or your chin or your shoulders. She was such a grandma lol. She actually reminded me so much of my own grandmothers. Some time ago, someone shared with me that at one point it was actually the grandmothers who named all of the children. My host mother named me Tebogo which means "Thanks". She said Jehovah has given her so much that when she met me, the name seemed appropriate. She was giving thanks for me.

Living with Mme 

 Before we went home, Mme Ophadile said we would be visiting some relatives who lived in Kanye. Although was tired from visiting the Kgotla, I was still excited about meeting new people. While walking, it was clear that Mme Ophadile knew everyone in the village and everyone knew her. And she definitely knew how to hold a conversation. Naturally, she would speak in Setswana, leaving me to observe and listen. This became a routine. I would greet in Setswana and then go mute as she spoke. When someone asked me a question I understood, I would answer. When they asked me a question I did not understand, I would just smile and nod.  There was one man who stopped and spoke to us along the road. We greeted each other and nothing was suspected until she dropped the beans that I was a "Black American". This man would not be fooled. To him, I was a "pure African, a pure African". I said to him with my usual sense of humor (always to lighten the mood), "my ancestors were pure Africans". He looked at me like I was tricking him all over again. He put one hand on his hip and one on his head and said "esh!!". 

After breaking the news that I was American, we continued on our journey.  Finally, we reached he homes of her relatives. I met cousins, nieces, friends from church, everyone! In one evening, we visited maybe 8 families in 8 different houses in about 5 different sections of the village. We went so far out that we had to catch a taxi back home. Once we arrived, I was amazed at what I saw. Our house was huge. We had so much land. We had a dog named Obama and 9-10 chickens. Waking up to roosters crowing was different because they would crow 4 o'clock in the morning hours before the sun rose.  So I would rise around 5am and start my day. Then I would hear my host mother singing and dancing in the hallway. She was a soprano and member of the church choir. She would sing and communicate in Setswana from sun-up to sunset. 

My host mother only spoke in English when absolutely necessary. Since she was a retired school  teacher and her teaching methods were pretty helpful. She taught me the alphabet, numbers and nouns. She was patient with me but also firm.  Anytime, I addressed or responded to a woman without saying Mme or Mma she was quick to correct me. And I welcomed this because learning/speaking another language requires discipline. Mme Ophadile even restrained her friends and their children from speaking to me in English. And they obeyed her until they needed to ask crucile questions...."You don't speak Setswana? You are a black American? You are not Motswana?" Honestly, I believe Kanye and other rural villages are the only places where the language learning experience can be maximized. In this villages, speaking Setswana is more of a necessity rather than an option. Yes, people speak English but many do not understand English as well as those living in the cities. Also, the people in the villages are more traditional, their behaviourism is different. They speak slower, they greet more often and there is more  of a community vibe. So, when it comes to speaking Setswana,  my confidence and comfort level increased as a result of being in that environment. 

This is my front yard dude

Obama

Including these chickens, we have 9 or 10

On Sunday, February 15th I planned to catch a bus back to Gaborone. My host mother walked me to the bus top which was located at the mall. The morning of my departure, we made a stop at a relative's house. It was nearing 10am and some family members were still asleep. But, the lady of the house was awake, straightening up the living room and listening to the radio. Her name was Nomsa (Gloria) Kgangtsile. Her surname means "the last" which suggested that she was the last born child. I greeted her as I was taught and added Mme/Mma to all  of my responses. She was impressed. Gloria said, "You are a clever girl. You were clever yesterday, you are clever today and must be more and more clever tomorrow:" Then she switched to Setswana and I failed to understand her. I tried repeatedly to pick up familiar words, but I couldn't. I turned to my host mom hoping for an explanation. "Mma?" Without delaying any further, Mma Ophadile said  very gingerly, "She is blessing you". 

Blog Title

This blog is entitled 'Tea Girl' because that is what my host mother called me. We were making tea one night and she called out to me in her high pitch voice "Tea Girl! Tea Girl!" "Ee Mma?" "Come into the sitting area so that you may drink your tea. Come on Tea Girl, I have set a table for you. Bring your bread and come to drink your tea". I couldn't stop myself from laughing. So, I just went into the living room with my tea and there was my mother sitting on the couch chilling lol. She had her hands interlocked behind her head, the television turned to local music videos and her hairnet tossed on the floor revealing her self done plaits. I took my seat and proceeded to ask as much as I could. Then I got a little sad because I was digging for information as I use to do with my own grandmothers. I was hoping to learn as much as I could before our time was up. So I asked and asked and asked. And again and again and again, she called me "Tea Girl". 

Before, we went to sleep, she was admiring my hair and asked me "who plaited your hair". I told her these were not plaits and that I had done them myself. She looked shocked and amazed. " You want to plait me?" she asks. By this time it was nearing 10:30 pm and I suggested we do it tomorrow. We both realized that there wouldn't be enough time to do them tomorrow. So there I sat, doing my mother's hair being reminded of my birth mother and her mother. I remember greasing my own mother scalp and getting the night cap for my grandmother's hair. I took out Mme Ophadile's plaits and parted her hair. She told me that her hair use to be to her shoulders, which it still was. Some sections were just shorter than the others. Anyway, I plaited her hair and she got up to look in the mirror saying "so I just wear it like this?" lol  Initially, she wasn't satisfied. I said, "you don't like it do you" and she frowned her face and said, "It's alright. Come on style it for me my daughter. My daughter, make it look nice".  I  didn't know what to do. I played around for a few minutes and told her "Mma, I don't know what to do to it" and she says, "try something my daughter, anything". She was holding onto high hopes man. lol. But I listened to my moms and I tried something...and it turned out nice. Initially, she wasn't satisfied and now she loved it and I was proud. 

Now that it was time for bed, we said our goodnights in Setswana. 

"Robala sentle Mma" (sleep well)

"Robabla Sentle Tea Girl" 

So the name "Tea Girl" stuck more than Tebogo. I now have a nickname and traditional name from my host mom in Kanye. Hopefully, I can visit her one day and bring her the pictures I am sharing with you all.  Had I been her real daughter or granddaughter, my host mother would have taught me well, making me into a respectful Motswana, proud of her native tongue and culture. But since our lives are not as such, she will be my adopted grandmother who spoke in a native tongue that I longed to understand. Mma Ophadile Maboa will be one of my connections to Setswana tradition and heritage. If you want tradition, the elders are always a good place to start.  Ke a leboga Mme. Sala Sentle Mme.