The Art of Queuing

One of the things people who have been to Africa warned me about were the long lines. There are lines, queues for everything. I did not stand in long lines for a few weeks into my assignment, but now it is inevitable.
The longest lines seem to be for the ATM. It seems to be a habit that the locals will stand queue for a very long time for a very small amount of money. It could be their personal economics or just culture.
The queue I usually end up in at the ATM can take from very little time to an hour or more. My first time waiting was horrendous. I was fighting my inner anxiety at waiting so long and biting my lip about why it takes so long. After all, I am a guest currently here. I started to watch people very closely after a while. No one butts in line, at least not any of the locals. Everyone here seems to know each other and often for my bank I am the only white. The sense of personal space here is different; I often feel like people are right on top of me, and yes they are! The old women tell stories to each other, the young women primp and preen, the young men watch themselves in the glass doors, and the old men laugh with each other. I fall in love with this social event-and consequently I become part of the event. People will shyly smile at me, and of course I smile back. The favorite question is" How do I find Botswana?" I do not know what they are expecting-but I tell them how much I love this country and then everyone starts to ask mre questions. The younger folks are proud of their English and what they know about the States and sometimes they are shocked that we are not "the perfect place to be". I tell them how much I have been enjoying Botswana and they start to be really excited to tell me what I should be doing and where I should go.
If the conversation is going to be lengthy, I will tell them I am learning Setswana. Then I am swamped with people testing me and laughing. Here the locals laugh whether you are wrong or right. They are so excited that I actually want to learn their beautiful tongue. The younger folks will tell me greetings are all I need, but the older folks are very happy that I am learning conversational Tswana.
After a while, I become disappointed foolishly if there is no queue. Francistown is a good little town, full of surprises and everyday gifts! God is gracious in showing His Face in everyone we meet. Ke a legbogo!