The sun's been up for an hour and the cold is just starting to lift off the pavement. I'm standing at the edge of the Main Mall, coffee in hand, watching the city wake up. It's day four and I finally feel like I'm not just passing through.
I walked down from my flat in the Extension 11 area this morning. It's a modest one-bedroom, about 4,500 pula a month, which is roughly three hundred and thirty dollars. Warm enough at night, cool in the day, and the landlord's a retired teacher who lives next door and waves at me every morning like we're old friends.
The Main Mall is a pedestrian stretch between the Parliament building and the Pula Arch. It's not fancy, but it's the spine of the city, where you get everything from bank ATMs to people selling roasted mealies from braziers. I grabbed a cappuccino at a little place called Cafe Dijo, about 30 pula, and just watched the flow.
It's the dry season, winter, so the mornings are crisp and the afternoons warm up to maybe 23 degrees. The jacarandas aren't blooming yet, that's October, but there's something about the light. It's sharp and clear, and the dust hangs in the air when a combi goes by.
Speaking of combis, that's how I got around a bit yesterday. Nine pula a ride, and that's the official fare. They're these white minibuses, packed, and the routes are painted on the front in handwriting you have to squint to read. It's not for everyone, but it's how the city works, and you learn more in one ride than in any guidebook.
Today I wanted to look at the practical side of things. The bank took a couple of days to get sorted, mostly because I needed a proof of address, which meant getting my landlord to write a letter. Standard stuff, but it's done. FNB Botswana has a branch near the Main Mall, and they were patient with my paperwork.
After the bank, I walked over to the Gaborone Book Festival. It's returning after a three-year break, apparently, and it's scheduled for late August, around the 20th to the 22nd, with a children's writing festival and an environment theme. I'm told it's part of the 60th independence celebrations. The organisers were setting up, and I caught a glimpse of the programme. It looks promising if you're into African literature.
The whole month is packed, actually. There's the Maitisong Festival, a theatre and arts thing at the Maitisong Theatre, which is the last weekend of August, themed 'In Concert' ahead of the theatre's 40th anniversary. And there's a comedy festival at the GICC on the 5th, the Heavyweights International Comedy Festival. I might check that out, see if I can get a laugh in the middle of all this settling-in.
And then there's the big one I've been hearing about, the Old Naledi Fiesta. It's a music and arts festival that takes over the Old Naledi Soccer Field and the Bus Rank, and it's happening on the 5th and 6th of August, tomorrow and the day after. I went to a smaller version of this vibe on day three, and I'm definitely planning to catch at least one night of the Fiesta. You can't beat a street festival in winter.
But I didn't just walk around the mall today. I took a detour to the Government Enclave, the cluster of ministries and the National Assembly along Khama Crescent. There's a statue of Seretse Khama in the gardens, and it's a strange thing to see a statue of a president who isn't in the news anymore. It reminds you of the long story this country has, and the very recent one.
I'm thinking about the next leg of my journey, the plan to head north to the Makgadikgadi pans and then over to the Okavango Delta when the flood season peaks. That's a while off, but I want to time it right. The dry season is the best for wildlife, because everything concentrates around water, and the pans themselves are this surreal white expanse when the rain hasn't come.
To get up there, I'll probably take the train or the bus to Maun, then a mokoro, a dugout canoe, into the Delta. I've only seen pictures, but the idea of poling through those narrow channels with the reeds high above your head, that's the thing I'm most looking forward to. I just need to make sure I'm not trying to do it in a rush.
Back in the city, there's a new transport plan that's been on the news. The Ministry of Transport is holding public consultations on something called TANA, a plan for an integrated metro rail and bus network to reshape public transport across Gaborone. I went to one of the sessions, mostly out of curiosity, and the hall was full of people holding maps and asking sharp questions about fares and routes.
It's still early days, but if it happens, it could change how people move around. Right now, the GRT buses run along the main roads, and the combis fill the gaps, but there's no single ticketing system, and it can be chaotic. The plan is ambitious, and I'm told it's part of a broader push to modernise the city's transit, but I'll believe it when I see the first track laid.
After the consultation, I walked back through the bus rank. It's a hive of activity, people buying and selling, and the smells of grilled meat and diesel fuel mix in the air. I stopped for a plate of seswaa, the national dish, at a place near the rank. Honestly, it's just pounded beef and pap, but when it's done right, it's the most comforting meal you can have. That cost me about 90 pula with a drink, maybe seven dollars.
I'm still getting used to the rhythm of prices. A litre of milk is about 20 pula, a loaf of bread is around 12. A three-course meal at a mid-range restaurant could be 200 pula for one, but I'm mostly eating local, which is cheaper and better for my budget. The rent on my flat is the biggest expense, but for a capital city, it's manageable, especially compared to some other places in the region.
I also popped into the National Museum and Art Gallery on Independence Avenue. It's not a huge place, but the ethnographic collection, especially the San display, is fascinating. They have one of the finest basketry collections in Africa, and I spent an hour just looking at the patterns and the natural dyes. It's a good way to understand the cultures of this country before I go out and see them in person.
In the evening, I went to a new spot that just opened, apparently. It's called the Kgale Cableway, and there was an event there, something called 'RnB and the People' hosted by DJ Frostbite. The whole thing is brand new, and I'm told it was his first big event since splitting from the long-running 'RnB on the Lawn'. I didn't stay for the whole thing, but the crowd was buzzing, and the view from up there over the city lights is something else.
It's a different Gaborone than the one you read about in a certain detective series, but even in the city, there are reminders of that other side. The red dust on the pavements, the sound of a mokoro being poled across a lagoon, the way people say 'dumela' with a certain warmth when you pass them on the street. It's a place that's easy to get a feel for, even if it takes a while to understand.
I'm starting to understand that Gaborone is not a tourist city. It's a working capital, a place where people live, raise families, and go to work. But that's exactly the kind of place I need to be based in if I'm going to tell the stories of this country properly. The Okavango will be there in a few months, but the city is where the pulse is.
Tomorrow, I'm planning to hit the Old Naledi Fiesta. I'll probably get a taxi from the hotel, find a spot near the stage, and just listen to the music. It'll be a good way to mark the end of my first week. And after that, I'll start looking at the train timetables north. The Kalahari is waiting, and the Delta is full of water, even if I can't see it yet.
So that's the state of things. Day four in Gaborone, and I'm starting to feel a rhythm. The money is stretching, the city is beginning to make sense, and I've got a whole month of festivals and a new rail plan to keep me company. I'll be here for a bit, then I'll be on the road. But for now, it's the Main Mall, the bus rank, and the sound of a combi horn at dusk. That's Gaborone. That's where I am.
A final note, if you're thinking of coming here, just check the visa rules before you book. Most tourists get 90 days free, but if you're staying longer, you need to sort out a residence permit. It's not complicated, but it takes time, so don't leave it to the last minute. And when you're here, eat the seswaa, ride the combi, and don't be afraid to talk to strangers. The people will tell you more about this country than any guidebook.
I'm Kabelo, and this has been episode four. I'll be back soon, probably from the festival, maybe with a bit more dust on my boots. Until then, keep your eyes on the horizon and your feet on the ground. Dumela, and have a good evening.