Day 3-047
Day Totals: 16 hrs, 34 .3 kms

With it's pricey hotels and vast empty stretches, an overnight train is the perfect solution for getting to my next city: Francistown. I board a very old but very well maintained railroad car that feels like a relic from another era... and off we go.

"Don't judge a country by its capital" is one of my mottos. So next morning I'm eager to experience a run of the mill Botswanan city. We arrive and I wander past the still closed downtown shops and strip malls, to where the "city" abruptly turns into a semi-rural village that sprawls intermittently between areas of lush green scrub and grass. Looks like this area isn't suffering from drought as the south is.

Houses are usually quite simple usually surrounded by a large yard/patio. No shanties though. And I notice that many houses that look pretty basic also have a nice, fairly new car parked outside. So it could be just a question of priorities, not poverty .

It's a peaceful walk, though a bit frustrating. I find myself walking in circles, losing my sense of direction and retracing my steps a lot as I wander through the neighborhoods.

At the edge of town I buy a corn on the cob from a roadside vendor, who tells me of the time he spent working in South Africa

"Money was good... but I never felt safe there. Now I'm just staying busy until another job shows up."

It's a Sunday, and I'm starting to hear church music coming from every direction. I regret not stopping in for some lively church music on my last trip to Africa, so today I have another chance. I pick a church that's a very basic building building that looks pretty full, will the congregation belting out a lively tune.

I'm warmly welcomed (and given a free water bottle) and I go in. Someone comes forward to lead a song ... at first the keyboard guy struggles a bit, but once he finds the key, it's pure magic. The whole congregation turns into a big gospel choir, sometime going to the front and walking in a circle blending in some swaying African dance moves. My favorite is the "push down, push down, sway, sway"...

As I gaze around the room, I see folks fully entranced, living the moment... finding happiness in this crescendo of musical passion. You can't help but feel the energy.

However, once it comes time for collecting the offering, this church meeting suddenly takes a dark turn. A fellow start to exhort the faithful to pay up. "You are giving to god!" he shouts repeatedly. Aware that many people here don't carry a lot of cash around, he pushes further "If you don't have money, you can bring your furniture... you can donate your car... you can give the title of your land... AND GOD WILL MAKE YOU PROSPER! If you don't give, you will not prosper!"

The more he speaks the angrier I get . Clearly it's all just a manipulation so that someone can get rich at the expense of these people of limited means, using a mix of guilt and false promises. He goes on to tell a story of how he was at a refugee camp, and the poor people who had no money, donated their rations. "And you know what happened? They got visas to go to the United States!"

Please... somebody tell this guy he's full of shit...

This is the "Prosperity Gospel" which gained momentum in the USA in the 80s, making televangelists ridiculously wealthy. I've heard that it's spread throughout Africa, making some pastors very wealthy here, at the expense of people desperate for a "magic solution" to all their financial problems.

The sad thing is that there are so many important things people here need to learn about money, especially as this country develops and people start getting more disposable income... they need to learn how to invest ... how to start small businesses and manage a budget... how to invest in property that will gain equity over time, how to avoid debt and prioritize purchases.

All these things could be taught right here in the church. But instead they are told "give everything to us... and you will be rich!"

And sadly, like the addicted gambler, those who give and don't get wealthy won't just see through the ruse and walk away... they'll just keep giving an giving, hoping maybe this time it'll be the "winning ticket"...

I really just want to walk out. But I don't. I'm going to try to sit through the entire service. I know all eyes are on me, and it would feel kind of rude to leave now. So I sit through the entire sermon, which is translated from English to Setswana. All the locals speak Setswana, but there are immigrants from Zambia and Zimbabwe that don't understand it.

Finally it's over, and me and a couple of "first time" visitors are grouped together for a little welcome session . I'm the only non-believer in the group. It feels a little ironic that Africans are now pressuring me, a white man, to convert to a religion brought to them by the white man...

I said, thanks but no thanks... but offered to play a song for them... which they accept... With one last round of shaking everyone's hands, I'm on my way... Continuing to wander around the hinterlands of Francistown for the rest of the day.

Finally I head back to the town center once again, when I entertain the security guards at the train station with a song...

An older lady waiting for the train next to me starts a conversation. "The government is offering us small loans to start businesses. I'm planning to open up a shop selling herbal remedies..."

Nice thing to hear...