Wednesday, 5 August 2015

Tiny Botswana Story #1

A friend came to me the other day because she had had something of a traumatic night. She stays with her cousin in a small one room cement house with a corrugated metal roof. Her cousin is often gone in the evenings, as she enjoys drinking at the local watering hole and fraternizing with a number of different men.  This leaves my friend home alone most evenings until her cousin returns, if she does.

On this particular night, my friend woke up to a drunken man pounding on the door. He was one of her cousin's boyfriends, and he showed up expecting to find her there. He accused my friend of lying to him, claiming that his girlfriend was inside even though she told him otherwise. He threatened my friend and continued pounding and beating at the door. Her cousin didn’t answer the phone despite my friend’s frantic calls to her. No one else on the compound came to help her.


In the morning light, my friend woke to find her door broken. She had to phone for help because the door wouldn’t open. It had been beaten in too hard. She told me she wants to move, but finding another place to live might be hard and expensive. 

To date, she hasn't been able to move to a home where she feels safe. 

Tiny Botswana Stories

As part of a new series of entries in this blog, I have decided to share with you small, anonymous stories of people I come across during my Peace Corps Service. To protect their privacy, I have of course changed the names if I used them and left out any identifying details, but they retain their integrity. Some are happy, some are short, all of them are true. Some are from my village, others are from other parts of Botswana that I have come across in workshops and traveling and talking to people. I hope you enjoy them and that they provide you with some insight into Botswana and realities of life here, as beautiful and raw as it stands.