This was the one of the first and most important pieces of advice I received upon arriving in Gaborone two months ago. The director of my study abroad program advised us to let Botswana teach us the meaning of patience so that we could avoid losing our minds.
It’s true that hurrying is simply not a thing here. The natural walking pace is at least three clicks slower than in the United States—sometimes I wonder if Batswana visiting New York City or Washington, D.C. ever get told off for walking too slowly and holding up the harried pedestrians behind them. Unlike at Georgetown, where a 15-minute break between time slots ensures that you can make it to your next class in time, classes here end at 9:00 a.m., only for the next class to start promptly at 9:00 a.m.. I still haven’t figured out how my classmates get from one side of the sprawling campus to the other without hurrying or being late to class, but I’ve never seen anyone walk faster than a leisurely stroll!
Last weekend I was getting ready to go out with some friends. After arriving at campus together, we agreed to meet back at my friend’s room in 30 minutes. I thought I finally had the hang of it—I waited a careful 50 minutes before leaving, figuring that must be long enough to qualify as “not hurrying.” Opening his door in surprise at my knock, he exclaimed, “You’re early!”
In the United States, customer service is paramount. I’ve worked my fair share of service jobs over the years, and I know the importance of respecting the customer, maintaining a friendly demeanor, and generally being as chipper and helpful as possible. That culture does not exist here. The Batswana people are incredibly welcoming, warm, and helpful to everyone, especially foreigners—indeed, it’s considered the pinnacle of rudeness to fail to greet someone on a combi (mini-bus), on the street, or when you walk into a classroom. The notable exception to this rule is the people whose job it is to actually help you. They tend to be terse, rude, and uninterested in your questions or problems.
This is particularly frustrating when attempting any kind of vaguely bureaucratic task, which tends to take three to 10 times longer than my initial expectations. Finding and picking up the university-issued bedding set upon arrival on campus in July was a three-day task. Figuring out how to pay for and pick up my student ID card involved trips to four different offices spread across campus, three pieces of paper, all of which received a stamp from a different office, and a large collection of glares from the administrative assistants in every location. Often, they would send me away with a few words, directing me to a different office, where I would be sent again to a new office, where I would be sent right back to where I started—at which point the woman behind the desk might decide to help me after all.
However, the frustration melts away when I remind myself that there is no hurry in Botswana. Perhaps this lack of hurry is an adaptation to the series of bureaucratic hold-ups, technological failures, and frustrating inefficiencies that unfortunately plagues many facets of life in Gabs. After all, I can imagine that for this year’s freshman class, which started school over a month late due to government hold-ups in financial aid distribution, it is far less frustrating to wait when you weren’t in a rush to get started anyway. There is no hurry, after all, and we’re all in it together.
At least the bureaucratic snafus keep me from getting too comfortable. One day classes might be cancelled because of student protests over delays in receiving their financial allowances. The next, the university might announce that they’ve decided to move spring break a week later than it was scheduled—three days before it’s slated to start. The University of Botswana is always a new adventure, but at least it’s not one I have to hurry through.
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