It started raining when I crossed the Tlokweng Border Gate into Botswana for the first time. I have since been told that this is auspicious.
Botswana, you see, is quite dry. It is no surprise that the currency is called the Pula, meaning “rain”. The Setswana word for rain can also be found within the names of the several of the tribes previous royal families: Pule, Moirapula, Mmapula, Rapula, Mpule, etc.
Rainmaking (morok’a-pula) and cloud seeding (go rokotsapula) are longstanding historical institutions in Botswana. According to the book “Setswana Culture and Tradition” (2006, Pentagon Publishers), rainmaking activities have historically included ancestor worship, the sacrifice of an unspotted black ox, wearing necklaces made of hydrophilic plants, and concocting “rain medicine” from a slaughtered antelope’s hair. The book also reports that it was considered prudent to leave big, water-habitat snakes undisturbed, else they might themselves ward off desired precipitation (or, I would add, bite you). Finally, it is reported that it was the duty of “scheduled teams of virgin young girls” to scatter traditional, rain-friendly charms on the ploughing fields and footpaths. If still no rain, the next step was often the consultation of divine bones, with each bone having its own name and significance (not unlike osseous tarot cards).
Having never been to Botswana prior to my arrival in early April, I know little about local rainmaking. I know about central Texas rainmaking. It involves turning on a sprinkler system.
Of course, I did not come to Botswana to interfere with the weather, or for that matter to report on anthropological curiosities.
As you all know, thousands of HIV positive children here need medicine to keep them alive, and part of my job is to help see that as many as possible get that medicine.
I have been told by observers near and far that HIV seems too big. I moved from the country with the highest rate worldwide (Swaziland) to that with the second highest (Botswana), and I will say this:
Yes, indeed. HIV is big. Very big.
However, I once heard a small but famous nun say, "If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one."
Maybe, if we are diligent, some day, few will become many. If the conditions are just right, perhaps our relatively small efforts will become big.
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