Francistown

It was finally a chance to leave Gabs, I mean really leave the city, not just to Kgale Hill, or the Dam but to someone far, far, away, in fact approximately 5.5hrs by bus or 8.5hrs by train.  Last weekend a group of us traveled north to Francistown.  Francistown is one of the older cities in Botswana and the second largest city in the country yet remarkably there is very little there.  To get there five of us awoke at 6am and traveled to the bus rank to catch the 7am bus north.  The bus was crowded, really crowded.  For the first half of the ride I had a window seat which is ideal compared to an aisle seat because on buses in Botswana, people really know how to pack it in tight.  First every seat is occupied, then people shuffle into the aisle until no more fit. Often times you would end up with a butt cheek or other various body parts shoved against your face for 5min or an hour.  Whenever we stopped a few people would get off as most were heading all the way to the city, and then the vendors would get on.  People would crowd the bus holding up items, food and water mostly, for you to buy from your window.  Or a few lucky vendors would make their way down the aisle pushing past everyone and trying to convince you that you wanted what they had to sell.  I figured the best way to not get harassed is to ignore the people, because a lack of eye contact makes you far less susceptible to the vendors who won’t take no for an answer.  Once we arrived in Francistown we were all tired, hot, hungry and thirsty, but rather than trying to remedy any of those we ventured to the train station so buy tickets home.   We arrived to a sign on the door saying, “First and Second class are sold out for today.”  Somewhat frantically we glanced around only realize that the station had yet to open and the sign was from yesterday.  The first thing we did was eat.  We went to this restaurant mentioned in the guide book called Pizza Place.  It was okay, nothing special, just a lot of drunks for 1pm.  Some guys wanted to buy us drinks but we knew better.  Like with the vendors, ignorance is bliss.    After a lunch of traditional Tswana food (dijo tsa Setswana) we walked under the blazing African sun to a free museum on the outskirts of town.  The museum was rather sparse, but it was free and I got a few postcards and gifts.  The rest of the day was rather mellow, a walk around town, and a stop at the liquor store to make the long over night train ride a little more enjoyable.  We were lucky and able to get a second class car, which consisted of six beds, a table and our own room all packed into a 6’x6’x8’ box.  The ride was long and none of us really slept (it was hot, stuffy, and we were not all that sure when our stop was), but we did it and made it back to Gabs Sunday morning, just in time for a nap before climbing.  Francistown like Gaborone will never be a destination but it was different.  One thing about Francistown, it is one of the few large cities close to the Zimbabwe border so people come over to buy food other supplies since from what I hear the shelves of every store in Zim are barren.  There were many trucks and vans packed with clothing, food, and people.  As we were walking back to the train station at dusk we heard a woman in the back of a pickup say, “Let’s go back to Zim and we can be hungry again.”  Being in Gabs gives me no right to complain about my hardships, because compared to Zim, I am living the life, free from political turmoil, stomach full, and no family to feed and worry about.