First Encounters: From Botswana to the Arabian Coast
I still remember the moment my flight descended over the lush, green coastline of Karnataka, a ribbon of palm trees stretching endlessly toward the Arabian Sea. Mangalore. A name I had only read about in university brochures and travel forums. But as an international student from Botswana setting foot in this coastal Indian city, I had no idea that Mangalore would become more than just a place of study. It would become a mirror of contradiction, a city that is both chaotic and calm, ancient and modern, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting.
Navigating Chaos and Discovering Rhythm
Coming from Gaborone, a city that breathes in measured rhythms, Mangalore felt like stepping into a heartbeat that never slows down. The streets buzzed with honking rickshaws, hurried footsteps, and the chatter of roadside vendors calling out in Tulu, Kannada, and occasionally Hindi. At first, I was overwhelmed. The noise, the heat, the traffic ,it was all too much. But over time, the chaos turned into music. I began to understand the rhythm of this place. It’s not disorder, it’s movement. It’s life in its rawest, most unfiltered form.
Lessons Beyond Books and Classrooms
My first few weeks were a cultural crash course. From spicy dosas that left my tongue tingling to the festive spirit that takes over every corner of the city during celebrations like Dasara and Deepavali, I was constantly learning, observing, adapting. The way people here hold their traditions close, yet welcome strangers with a warm “Namaskara,” reminded me of home. It’s different, yes, but the sense of community feels familiar.
Academically, Mangalore is a hidden gem. My university offered more than just lectures and textbooks; it provided a space to explore diverse perspectives, challenge my ideas, and gain a deeper understanding of the world beyond my own. As a Mass Communication student, I found Mangalore to be an ideal setting where the old and new media co-exist, where local journalism thrives alongside global digital trends, and where every street corner has a story to tell.
Of course, there were challenges. The constant battle with humidity. The unpredictable electricity cuts. The bureaucracy woven into every official process. And, admittedly, days when I longed for home, the smell of mogodu simmering on a Sunday, the wide, open skies of the Kalahari, the gentle way time passes in Botswana.
Friendships, Identity, and Belonging
Yet, Mangalore has a way of keeping you anchored. Maybe it’s the sea, which I often walk to when I’m overwhelmed. Or the tea stalls, where a hot cup of masala chai somehow melts the hardest of days. Or the auto drivers who, after realizing I’m not a tourist, now greet me with a smile and ask how my classes are going.
One of the most profound aspects of my stay here has been the friendships. Indian students, though sometimes shy at first, are incredibly inclusive once the ice is broken. I’ve shared meals with local families, danced at weddings I wasn’t even invited to directly, and had countless conversations about politics, religion, and love that went late into the night. These interactions have shaped me in ways a classroom never could.
As an African student in India, I am often seen as different ,my accent, skin, hair, even food habits set me apart. But difference is not a barrier here; it’s a conversation starter. Sure, there are moments of awkwardness and curiosity, and even the occasional stereotype. But those moments are teaching moments for me and for those around me.
Mangalore isn’t perfect. It’s not the most glamorous or internationally renowned Indian city. But it is real. And real is what I needed.
A Journey That Redefines Home
If someone back home asked me what Mangalore is like, I’d say it’s a city that surprises you ,not with grandeur, but with sincerity. It’s a city that teaches you patience, tests your adaptability, and rewards you with connection. It may not have the skyline of Mumbai or the global spotlight of Bengaluru, but it has depth, character, and soul.
For every international student out there wondering if they should leap, whether to Mangalore or any other city, I say do it. Not because it’s easy, but because it challenges you in all the right ways. It pushes you beyond books and comfort zones. It makes you question, grow, and eventually, belong.
Mangalore, with all its spice and spirit, has left fingerprints on my identity. When I return to Botswana, I won’t just carry a degree. I’ll carry stories , stories of a city that welcomed a young African student and transformed her perspective of the world.
And that, for me, is the true education.