Welcome to the World...

Masimo in his tsega
- November 20 at six months old -

Babies in Botswana stay indoors the first few months of their life. Their mothers, grandmothers, and other relatives keep the baby safe indoors away from disease and the elements until he/she is ready to be introduced to the world. The day a baby leaves the confinement of home and is introduced to the community provides a momentous occasion for celebration - the festivities are called a mantsho.

Serwalo, Masimo's nkuku (Motswana grandmother), was excited to coordinate the preparations for Masimo's mantsho. But, sadly, as he approached a reasonable age, her health continued to decline. We pushed the date off several times in hopes of a brighter future but, it wasn't to be. After her passing, the idea of having a mantsho seemed hollow without her involvement. But a few weeks later, her 19 year old daughter, Samantha, volunteered to help plan and coordinate a mantsho.

We made a naive team as neither of us had been to a mantsho nor ever been part of the planning for a community event. Samantha helped to choose a couple of my friends who would be able to make the party work. The four of us met three times leading up to the event to make a plan and to keep everything moving. I have never seen anything like it. We planned an event that took place in two locations and would also be making and serving lunch to over 150 people - we never had an agenda, a list of things to-do, a shopping list, nor meeting notes ... it was all planned without writing a single thing down. I felt so out of control. The planning was all done in Setswana with the occasional question or instruction thrown at me in English. I tried to make sure we were covering all the details by asking questions but the answers were characteristically vague. For example, I had helped at enough events to know that there are never enough cooking pots so I tried to go through our menu with them to count how many pots of varying sizes we would need so we could make sure to have enough. While I was trying to count pots, they would start talking about something else - clearly my linear thinking didn't seem useful. I tried asking who would be bringing pots - they replied that the pots would be delivered in a truck. Trying again I asked how many would be brought - they answered there would be enough to cook the food. After trying for several minutes I gave up on pots and asked similar questions about chairs... it all led nowhere. I finally gave up my need to ensure things were under control and just decided to trust my friends.

The week leading up to the mantsho was busy with preparation. The nursery (where we live) was groomed, cleaned, and vast patches of sand were swept. Firewood, pots, chairs, tables, and 55 gallon drums were delivered. Ingredients were purchased. Drinks were started: ginger beer and a traditional drink made from sorghum. The day before the mantsho, four of us sat around a fire making diphaphata (like English muffins) to be served with tea the following day. It was exciting.

Popi and Dimakgatso cutting up the pineapple for our vat of ginger beer

Forming the balls of diphaphata

Baking the diphaphata on the upturned lid of a cooking pot over coals

The morning of the mantsho dawned bright and sunny. By the time Jon and I went to join the preparations around 6:30am the fires were already going and many people were already busy working. We cut up the vegetables and meat, fried the chicken, started cooking and pounding the meat, ... it was a busy morning. After living here three years, I am still amazed that everyone who helps at these things just knows what needs to be done. No one is really in charge - people just start working and most everything seems to happen at the right time, in the right order. It is incredible.

Cutting the chicken in smaller pieces for frying
(Samantha is on the right)

A happy Masimo

Jon pounding the seswaa
(like pulled beef but with a bit more grit as it is cooked with bones and gristle - I have heard some say that the bone chips added calcium to a diet that traditionally didn't include a lot of dairy)

Banyana in the cooking area scooping the bogobe (sorghum porridge)

Around noon Prescott and I left the cooking fires and went to prepare ourselves for the afternoon. I got dressed in a new traditional skirt that was made especially for the occasion and Prescott got about 30 minutes of down time to prep for a busy nap-less afternoon. After some time a procession of women came to the rondavel (our house) singing and ulating, coming to receive Masimo from his home for 'the first time'. Masimo and I came out to a chorus of ulating (which sent Masimo to wailing - he hates loud noises) and joined the procession of women dancing and singing. We eventually climbed into vehicles along with our entourage to drive the short distance to Bobby and Serwalo's house (called dipileng) - Masimo's 'first' voyage into the world.

At dipileng we were greeted by another group of women with songs and ulations. We sat down to have tea together in the garden. I imagine the baby is usually passed around and fussed over quite a bit, but Masimo was so upset by all the new faces and loud noises that he spent a lot of time with me. One old woman, Mmascabo, was the head receiver and she held Masimo for a while and spoke to him in Setswana. After tea, two women took Masimo into the house to dress him in his new tsega (a traditional thong that was made to match my dress). Masimo was then also given a new name, many new clothes, and a gift of money from the receivers. I wish I had been able to pay more attention to all that was happening, but Prescott was pretty distraught and I was distracted trying to calm him down again. Masimo's new name was Oarabile which literally means 'he has answered' but implies 'God has answered our prayers'. This name isn't formally used anywhere as far as I know, it is just part of the ceremony. The new name and clothes are symbolic of his becoming a new person in his own right, rather than as an extension of the mother.

Having tea in the garden at dipileng

Trying to get Masimo happy with Mmascabo

Mmascabo and Masimo
- she is the one who announced Masimo's new name-

Coming out of the house in his new tsega with Masera and Leja

After the more intimate ceremony at dipileng we returned to the nursery (where our house is) to have a party with all our friends. As we arrived in our truck, a surge of people came to meet us. They took Masimo and held him in the lead as they slowly danced, sang, and ulated their way from the sidelines to the center of the gathering. A brief ceremony was held in which Masimo's new name and clothes were shown off and our priest prayed a prayer of blessing for Masimo. It was then time to eat a feast of fried chicken, seswaa (the pulled beef), stampa le dinawa (cracked corn and beans), bogobe (sorghum porridge), stew (a beef gravy with potatoes and carrots), and morogo (cooked spinach).

Masimo leading the procession in new clothes as they sang, danced and ulated
- held by a woman from our church-

Mmadiani sharing Masimo's new name and clothes

Chad offering a prayer

Masimo's mantsho left Jon and I feeling very loved. So many people gave of their time, efforts, and money to make the day happen. My good friends, Banyana, Carla, and Naledi, helped with all the planning and then spent all day cooking and cleaning up (they came at 6am and left after 10pm) and didn't even get to participate in much of the fun. One family with five kids who very rarely get new clothes gave Prescott three new outfits and some Tupperware storage containers as a present. It was humbling.

Masimo and me

Masimo and Banyana
(she was the head planner)

Masimo and Jon

Thanks especially to:

• Samantha for making all this happen in such a companionable way, I enjoy you so much
• Banyana, Naledi, and Carla for tirelessly planning and executing everything, this never could have happened without you
• Greg for taking pictures for us - without you we wouldn't have had any
  
• Bobby for letting us use your home, your workers, and everything else, you have been our family away from family.