This is how all meals in Tsabong were prepared.Like the Episcopal Church Women of the Diocese of North Carolina, the Mother’s Union of Botswana rotates the place of its conference. In August 2010, Tsabong, on the southwestern edge of the country in the Kalahari Desert, was the home for the annual event. It was dark and cold when our white van and overloaded trailer rolled through the gate and across the sandy ground of the secondary school where we’d be spending the next six days. The buildings stood silent; students were on a session break. We were hours late. Weariness had stilled conversation and ultimately even the singing of my companions. Suddenly, up ahead, there was a sound and a speck of light. The sound and the light grew larger. Our hostesses, at least a dozen of them, had waited for us. When they saw the van they rose from where they’d been sitting around a fire pit and stepped out to greet their guests in the traditional way, with clapping and ululation. We were escorted to a circle of folding chairs. Mugs of hot tea quickly appeared. These were followed by large plates piled high with goat meat, cabbage and a corn-based porridge the consistency of thick grits. Laughter filled the air, which smelled of wood smoke. It was 10 p.m. and supper had never tasted so good.