Thanks, Man

“Thank you so much.  I really appreciate it.”

I adopted my standard, slightly-verbose way of sayin’ thanks after a rare argument with my father.  Apparently, being treated as a chauffeur by your 14-year-old daughter can make you feel unappreciated.  That day, I realized how important appreciation is – not just getting it, but giving it.  Since then, I have taken every opportunity to let people know that I appreciate what they are doing, and in my mind, the simplest way to do that is to be straightforward and tell them.

Fast forward to Botswana.  At my group’s IST, some volunteers echoed what my father had said so many years ago: they didn’t feel appreciated.  No one at the office said thank you after a favor; no one commended them on hard work; no one even complimented them if they took the time to throw on some mascara and a pair of earrings. 

The counterparts (colleagues that volunteers are “assigned” to at their workplace, in order to help get projects off the ground) at the workshop seemed almost amused by this.  Validation isn’t thrown around here as easily as it is in the States.  Not because Batswana are ungrateful – quite the opposite.  They simply aren’t vocal about it.

That explanation didn’t quite clear things up.  I could just imagine some of the snarky thoughts floating through people’s heads: what, now we have to be mind-readers too?

One volunteer offered an example.  Teachers at her school will just demand a pen (no “please” or “may I”) and then return it without a word.  This is something I relate to.  It happens all the time.  “Tess, mpha* pen.”  “Ke kopa* chalk.”  “Don’t you have a tissue?” 

As Americans, this comes across as very rude and demanding.  Seriously, “give me a pen”?  Why don’t you have your own pen? – you are a teacher after all.  After awhile, it can start to get on one’s nerves.

Enter the cultural exchange aspect of Peace Corps service.  How Batswana “say” thank you is one of my favorite things about the culture.  Thank you doesn’t come straight from their mouth – it comes from their body.

It’s true that there isn’t really a good translation for the word “please” into Setswana, so what seems like a glaring omission to westerners is simply a cultural difference.  In Botswana, when you give something to someone – let’s just say, oh, how about a pen – you extend your right hand with the pen and touch your left hand to your right wrist or arm.  The gesture of touching your proffering arm shows extreme respect. 

When you are accepting something, you extend both of your hands cupped together.  As you receive the item, you give a slight bend of your knees.  This is more respectful to a Motswana than any “Tanki, Mma” or “Ke a leboga, Rra” could ever be.  Since I have consistently employed these actions, my colleagues and neighbors have warmed up to be considerably.  Perhaps they were feeling just as frustrated with me as some volunteers had felt back in August. 

I find myself using hand gestures to show respect even when I am speaking to other volunteers or ex-pats (of course, I continue saying my please and thank yous).  Still, I love that in Botswana, the simplest way to let someone know you appreciate them is to be straightforward and show them, and it’s a habit I'll probably still have when I go home.

This past weekend I said to someone, “Thank you so much.  I really appreciate it.”  The sentence felt lengthy, my tongue tripped over the words, and somehow it all fell a little flat this time.  Proof that I’m beginning to re-learn a lesson from a new perspective:

Actions speak louder than words.

*mpha (mm-pah): Give me

*ke kopa (kay koh-pah): I am asking for…