I cant decide if I feel honoured, neutral, or demasculinated!?

Today, Oats and I attended the Mochudi Centre Chiefs vs __________ football match.  This was my first African football stadium experience.  Before I get the stadium, let me recount the day for you.

            Now, Oats is a drinker, a smoker and loves to appreciate the female form God has made.  So needless to say, when he asked me to go to the game with him, I was a little bit hesitant.  Not to mention I had only met him at the gym and have never hung out with him before.  In the back of my mind I could picture going to the game and then embarking on an all night pub crawl through Botswana’s capital, Gaborone.  But I thought it was worth the risk.
              Oats picked me up at about 11:30 am and we proceeded through town to a small little beer store on the outskirts.  He proceeded to buy me a huge bottle of St. Louis Lager (the bottle contains about a liter and costs roughly $2 Canadian).  A local brew but relatively weak at 3.9% alcohol.  I asked if you were allowed to drink and drive in this country and he said the only spots they can catch you are road blocks… then he proceeded to turn down a dirt side road.  Keep in mind Gaborone is a 45 minute drive on the highway.  On the dirt road we passed about 20 donkey’s out for a stroll, a small heard of cattle with a bull the could have passed for a Calgary Stampede Rodeo bull, a heard of goats, drove through a small water whole, passed his fathers small chicken farm and eventually wound up at his home village called Ody.  We stopped at the bar for him to catch up with some friends, show of his white friend, and have another beer (I passed this time). 
             Now it was time for Dan to take the wheel as D.D (Designated Driver).  Oats pointed me through the back roads and we came out to the highway and cruised into Gaborone.  He then proceeded to direct me into a poorer neighborhood where we met a few more of his friends.  Much profanity was interchanged and I was introduced to three or four new people.  One of which was a super nice guy who shook his head at all the younger guys and said, “these boys need to watch their mouths; they must fear God.  This swearing is no good!”  Quite a contrast.  Two of his friends joined us and off we went to the University of Gaborone to watch the game.
            We parked a few blocks away and walked in to the stadium already full, an hour before the game.  On one side were white and black shirts; on the other side was yellow and blue.  A lady yelled when she saw be and touched my face and felt my beard.  Slightly awkward but I was cool with it.  We found a seat on the solid concrete bleachers in the sun.  The concrete was so hot we could not sit on it but had to put towels under our butts.  Not a seat could be found.  In fact, every nook and cranny was so full of people that two rows of people sat in the walk way in front of the stands, as well as about 8 people on a roof about twenty feet high and about 50 people on a rood that was about 10 feet high.
            Before getting to the stadium, Oats directed me to the Liquorama.  He and Dennis bought a mickey of Gin and a two-liter of Coke for the game.  It was not long before Oats was in high spirits and the Chiefs scored.  Luckily he had just handed me the vuvuzela before the goal.  I was able to celebrate my first goal experience by rising to my feet and blasting the vivuzela along with the half of the stadium wearing white and black.  The crowd exploded, the concrete trembled and our eardrums ached.  The game was tied 1-1 at half time.  When the other team scored, the 50 people on the roof jumped to their feet dancing and stomping.  I watched, expecting the roof to collapse as they are not build for snow load here.
            Dennis and I went to buy some coke during half time but first had to stop by the pissing wall where all the dudes were lined up taking a leak while the crowd walked by them, females and all.  We could not find any vendors selling cold drinks but young guys were hanging over an 8 foot concrete wall passing drinks and money from one side to the other.  My coke was a little flat but what can you expect from wall pop that you have no idea who sold it to you.
            The chiefs brought the score to 3-2 to finish off the game with a win.  As soon as the winning goal was scored, the goalie of the Chiefs all of a sudden needed attention to his left leg while the clock continued to tick. Ha.  The Chief fans broke out in song when the whistle blew.  Canting and dancing broke out as well as these cowboy guys carrying chains and various metal objects such as metal bars, rakes, pipes and one guy was wearing a welding helmet.  Apparently there version of cowboys is very different from ours.
            I was one of only 3 white people in the 5000 Chief fans and one of them was albino.  The mob entered the street and rendered it undrivable.  We creeped our way out; taking Dennis and Martin home.  This time we took the highway home and Oats danced the entire 45 minute drive home while playing the tunes at around 40 on the volume dial.  He played the Mochudi Center Chiefs anthem song the entire way there, all around Gaborone and half way back. 
            On the highway I blew through a red light at about 110km/h but it seems normal here to do so when it just turns read.  Everyone knows your going hwy speed so the closer ones just keep going and those who can stop reasonably, do so.  Oats didn’t even blink when I did it.  Also, many traffic lights do not work here so you just take turns like a four way stop.  It actually works faster than if the traffic light works.
            I got back in time to help with Saturday night drop in.  Moses and I schooled all the boys in Foozball before the night was out, a nice end to the day.  All of this to say, I forgot my camera and have no pictures of the day.  But its just as well I did forget it.  Not only was I a spectacle as pretty much the only white person in the stands but I also would have been the only one with a camera.  It was a good day though.  I would do it again.  The people here drape towels over their heads to keep the sun off.  You should try watching a fully grown man with a tea towel draped over his head like a little school boy, trying to be tough and talking smack.  Its pretty humorous.  One of the best parts was that I don’t speak the language so I could not understand all the profanity being yelled or could not understand when people were talking about me, or know what they were saying when Oats was dancing down the street like a mostly drunk fan without a care in the world.  Oh ya, I forgot to mention he was holding my hand while doing this. 
            Don’t choke to quick though.  Besides your not the one who had to endure holding hands with another dude… in public.  This is kick in the nuts cultural lesson 101; do you carry your pride like a badge of honour or honourably humble yourself?  It is totally common in this culture and not seen as gay at all but a sign of good friendship.  Even though everyone else around me was cool with it, I had to keep convincing myself that its normal here.  Really, it would be a huge diss to him if I had resisted.  It would be like saying you’re not my friend.  Still, I would prefer if it never happened again but I have three months left so the chances are slim.