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 At Sehithwa
junction there was a mini-mart and restaurant. Down the road was a Shell
gas station that advertised that it had Internet. Having learned that there
must be more to town, we again took a detour and explored off the highway.
Again the institutions (schools, clinic, police, etc.) and action of the
town was nowhere near the highway. We found a high school sports day in
full swing. The boys teams were playing soccer and the girls teams
were playing net ball. There were also signs advertising a concert of
traditional music in the evening at the Sehithwa Community Hall. We
were disappointed that it wasn't practical to stay and attend.
  We
passed these two Heroro women, dressed to the nines, calmly, patiently, waiting for a lift alongside a very rural section of highway. They said they were trying to
get to a party in Gaborone. Let's calculate: Gaborone is close to 800
kilometers. How long is it going to take them to find a ride and then
how long is the travel time? When exactly is the party? Are they
already dressed to celebrate? Another mystery. [Incidentally to tell a Herero woman that she is looking fat is a compliment -- which is also the
case in a number other African cultures.]
  Approaching Toteng
we came to one of the southern fingers of the Okavango Delta. It was crowded
with fisherman and they were pulling out fish with regularity. One
lively group had parked their cars along the shore, the doors were open and
the air was filled with the latest tunes. Between fishing and enjoying each
others company, a couple of them took time out to test ride the bicycles.
I don't think anyone was persuaded to trade their car for a bicycle.
Finding a place to stay in Toteng was a cultural experience in itself.
Here is a simplified version: My first effort was to find the number
one chief. Sadly, he had left the community to attend a funeral.
From a shop near his house, after a conversation on assorted topics, I got
directions to the number two chief's house. On arrival there, the girls
thought the chief was around but didn't know where and they didn't have any
time on their cell phone. I gave them 10 pula (~$1.40) to buy some
airtime. They sent a kid to the store for the pre-paid airtime card.
When he returned, the phone was loaded and the call was made, they still
couldn't make contact with the chief -- but they had airtime! The
helpful young boy said he would take me to the number three chief.
By his own admission, the number three chief prefers to live far away
from his boss, but I didn't know that when I started out. The route to
the number three chief cut across town on sandy roads so we were pushing our
bikes. After a slightly circuitous route we met the number three
chief. He, in fact, was not at his house, and I don't know how the boy
knew to find him where he was, but this is Africa and things like that don't
matter. More specifically, the number three chief is Charles
 Motshozo, Chief
for Arbitration. Charles felt that it would be appropriate for the
group to stay in his yard, but I had to get there. The route by paved
road was even more circuitous than the route by sand road.
 As it was, I
again re-passed the number one chief's house and the number two chief's house.
By the time I got to the number two chief's house I had lost track of how I
was suppose to continue to get to Charles' house. Fortunately, in the
time it had taken me to take the long way around the young boy had taken a
short cut and was back to his house -- there was almost no one else out on
the roads. I persuaded him to hop on the back of the bike and show me
the rest of the way to Charles' house. As it was we got to Charles'
house at about the same time as he did. Charles arranged to have his
sister cook for us. It was set-up similar to how it had been for the past
few nights and once again we were not disappointed. The dinner menu
was tasty dishes of sorghum, pumpkin, greens and goat meat.
 It is hard to
know whether our hosts' houses are the natural gathering points in the
community or whether our visits make it the de-facto gathering points in
the community, but in the evening and again in the morning there always was a jovial crowd gathered near the fire. In the morning we
managed to get those who were around organized enough for a group picture.
Charles was the photographer.
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