when it's ok to swear

January 13, 2008
Wow. So much has happened in such a short amount of time. This past week was really busy… and, yet, still very African.
Sunday and Monday were our LPIs. LPI stands for Language Proficiency Interview. We had a mid-LPI in the middle of CBT – on which I scored a NL. NL stands for Novice Low, and it is as bad as it sounds. Novice Low is the lowest you can score. It’s just above not knowing any of the language. The next scores are Novice Mid, Novice High, Intermediate Low, Intermediate Mid, Intermediate High and Advanced. For Peace Corps service you need to score an Intermediate Low. However, in Namibia, language is not critical to your assignment (though it is still a touchy topic among natives. There is a lot of pride in a tribe’s language. Also, most Namibians (sans Afrikaners) know at least three languages – Mother Tongue (Khoekhoe, Otjiherero, Oshiwambo, Thimbukishu, etc.), Afrikaans and English (for school). So knowing only one of the three, four, six, ten… that others know, you feel a little out of the loop. Not to mention a little stupid). In Namibia, if a trainee doesn’t score an IL they can retake the LPI at reconnect (a meeting three to four months down the road)(Actually, they just changed the policy and you have to retake the LPI at reconnect, mid–service meeting and at close of service no matter what you score the first time. I think they are trying to see if the language training is paying off in the long run). This is generally good news for people learning Khoekhoe. Most of us scored a NH. There were a few IL and one IH... but we just pretend she’s a genius. In our whole group only one person received an advanced score. She is learning Afrikaans. I’m a little bitter about this seeing how you can generally just talk funny and sound like you’re speaking Afrikaans. Example: “Wat es jou naam?” “ My naam is Jessica.” “Ek kom van Amerika af.” Should I translate, or have you figured it out? I don’t mean to discredit the people learning Afrikaans. It’s still a challenge. It’s just tough that we’re compared. Also, in Namibia, scores are not private. Grade 10 and grade 12 national exam scores are printed in the newspapers. Everyone knows if you’ve failed or passed. So, they stuck with this tradition and printed all of our LPI scored on one paper and passed it out to everyone. Cultural integration at its best!
I had my LPI on Sunday. In memory of GFU, I got up early sat down at the dinning room tables in my PJs and studied until my test. About mid-morning I found a sympathetic local who was willing to practice with me. Also, I was expecting the same break-neck paced mumbling I got during my mid-LPI so I memorized a few key phrases, such as: “speak slower” “Wait, I know” “I know but I forgot” “I don’t understand” “wait, I do understand” and “speak louder”. My interview was after lunch. I was so shocked when I got in there that it was actually fun to muddle through a conversation! Some things I had to literally translate into KK, which was no fun and terrible grammar, but other times I felt like I had a good grasp on the conversation. At one point in time I even used past, present and future in the same thought. I believe I said, “I like science. I wanted to be a doctor but I am going to teach science.” There were other times though, that I lied because I didn’t have enough grammar to tell the truth. I told her that my dad was a doctor, my mother was a banker and my brother was currently studying computers. Not far from the truth… it was the best I could do in KK.
It was nice to get the LPI out of the way so I could regroup on Monday. Since we got to Namibia, we’ve literally been ferried, taxied, bused and sent ten different places. It gets little tiring and disorganized. I have been living out of a suitcase since I packed it in October. Granted, it looks like my suitcases and their contents were put in a huge dryer, tumbled and dumped back into my retreat center room. Luckily, my seven roommates seem to be having the same trouble. I believe we won the messiest room award… if it actually existed. Anyway, Monday was spent packing and running around Okahandja looking for replacement clothes and toiletries.
I also got a chance to visit the craft market at the end of town. The craft market is a mini settlement of tents and tables filled with all things African looking. It was a lot of fun to visit because I wasn’t looking for anything. However, some of my friends who were haggling for real got a little frustrated. I was just haggling to see if I could get a good deal. In the end, I guess I got dooped though because I bought a bracelet I got a good price on. One particular conversation was pretty memorable. One of the merchants came up to my friend and said, “come to my tent, I have something to show you.” Well, I don’t know if I need to tell you, but we get a little protective of each other, and my ears pricked up when I heard him talking to her. A third friend came over also and said, “So you think you know what American women want?” The man said, “why yes, I think I do.” So we decided to see what was up. First, we were offered candlesticks. Um, no. Then, we were offered beaded dolls. Not quite. Then, getting desperate, we were offered a traditional mug (used to scoop the beverage out of it’s fermenting spot in the ground). Eww, no. And, one last final pitch – “How about a traditional bow and arrow?” Oh, and a line-up full of losers. But I was laughing so hard by the time I left the tent it was worth the spiel.
On our walk back from the craft market, a PC vehicle drove by. We literally jumped on it and asked for a ride. This was just a sign to me that we’ve changed in the past two months. At the beginning, it was good to walk. Good exercise. Also, why would I ride in an iffy combi with a grumpy driver when I could just walk for a few extra minutes? Well, since then, I’ve realized that PC has got some of the best rides in the country… not to mention seatbelts. That, coupled with the fact that days average 110F, makes you jump on PC vehicles (literally) when you see them in action.
Tuesday, we were bused to Windhoek to spend our settling-in allowance (money that should be used to buy household items to use during service)… but (welcome to the Peace Corps) that money wasn’t put in our accounts. The day was spent doing one of two things. One, people spent savings from their American accounts to buy toasters, tea kettles, blankets, sheets, pots, pans, pillows and fans. Or, option number two, spend N$350 dollars (somewhere around $60 American) from of our walk-around allowance and then wait for the buses to pick us up at the mall. I opted for the second and spent my $60 on a fan, speakers, a pillow, the tiniest plate I’ve ever seen and a spoon. These were all chosen in the midst of mid-isle breakdowns induced by 1) being overwhelmed by the sheer size of a superstore in the middle of Africa and 2) being completely exhausted. This ended up working out in my favor, though, when I got to site.
Wednesday was our swearing in ceremony. We got all gussied up for the event. It was nice to wear clothes that hadn’t been exposed to dust, sun and sweat and still smelled vaguely of my parent’s washing machine. The program was supposed to start at 10am (African time). The audience was made up of some of our supervisors, some host families, the local news and our trainers. First, there were some speakers. Then, we said our pledge of service where we promised to serve the people of Namibia to the best of our ability for the next two years. Then we said the same pledge of service in Afrikaans, KKG, Oshiwambo, Otjiherero, Rukwangali, Silozi and Thimbukushu – whichever we had been learning over the past couple of months. True to my form, I was laughing by the time we reached the end of the pledge. It wasn’t how we sounded that got me laughing; it was the response to our pledge that I was giggling at. The end of each sentence was followed by the audience gasping, ooos, awes and clapping. You would’ve thought we were juggling fire while standing on a bed of nails. It was cute. I think they were proud. Yay! We made it to PCV! There were 69 PCVs sworn in. We started with 70 PCTs. That’s got to be one for the record books, I think. I’ve got a lot of NAM 27 pride.
After our pledge a volunteer from each language group gave a thank you speech in the language they had been working on. These were equally as impressive to the audience. For KK, my good friend Nick gave the speech (with permission to use his name online!). He did a good job… as far as I could tell… Hey, I don’t speak the language. It’s hard to tell if you speak KK well because locals tend to laugh. Sometimes they laugh because you just said a lot of gibberish and sometimes they laugh because they’re overwhelmed with joy that an American would care to learn their language. I’m sure it was the second but our pledge and speech were reciprocated with snickers.
I was forewarned about what would happen next, but that didn’t make it any easier. People were literally whisked away by their supervisors and transports to site. Some of them didn’t even change out of their dress clothes before they were driven away. I didn’t think it would be hard. After all, I came here to work with Namibians not to make friends with Americans… or so I thought. In the past months, I’ve made some good friends. There were only two who knew each other when we arrived in DC, and they’re married. In DC, they gave us all pink yarn for our bags, told us to look out for each other and put us on a plane for Africa. Ten weeks later, that’s what we’ve done. I don’t think I’ve had a single problem that at least three people didn’t try to help me solve. Obviously, there are politics and, obviously, we’re not all best buds for life… but they’re my Namibian support system. Luckily, they’re all still in country and saving the world at their respective sites. And, as a bonus, we all get back together at reconnect with awesome/absurd stories to share!
Again, true to my form, I was one of the last to leave. I got to stay another night at the retreat center and then left for site on Thursday morning. All of the volunteer teachers in the Kunene regions rode together. Everything went really smoothly until we had driven an hour or so north. We stopped in Otjiwarongo, one of the last big towns, for shopping at Super Spar (I love that place!). When we were about to leave our driver noticed that something had gone wrong with the tire. This was no big deal, since we weren’t actually moving when he discovered that something was wrong. But it did lend itself to us sitting in a broken down car with all of our groceries waiting a couple of hours for the Ministry of Education vehicle secretary to get back from lunch and give us the keys to another (older) combi. By the time we got a new car and drove the next hour and a half (two hours or more by slow old combi) to Khorixas, it was 5pm. It had taken seven and a half hours to drive what would normally take four hours. This is when I realized I actually love and hate life in Namibia, at the same time. On one side, I got to hang out with all the Kunene volunteers for a few extra hours and the roadblock guard said he wouldn’t let anyone into Khorixas who looked like they would give me trouble (How many of you have your own personal Namibian road block, huh?). But, on the other hand, it took all day to get a simple trip done. The five other PCVs who were supposed to make it to site couldn’t keep traveling because it is not safe to drive at night – elephants, warthogs, kudu, dikdiks… you name it, it’ll prance in front of your car. So, they all stayed over in K town. The sleepover was fun.
Before I got to Khorixas, my supervisor called to let me know my flat wasn’t ready. My flat is attached to school hostel in the location. However, the ministry of education has a house in town that education volunteers live in. When I got to town, they gave me a set of keys to this house. The house has a living room with three extra mattresses, two unoccupied bedrooms, a fully equipped kitchen, toilet room, bathroom and washroom. I’ll be staying in this house for… well that seems to be the question of the day. Some say I’ll be here until Monday, others say a week, others two and some even say a month. The volunteer house is a bit of a luxury because it is fully stocked with furniture, dishes, bedding, hangers, fans… all of the things I should have been buying with my settling in allowance. The downside, according to Namibians, is that I have to walk half an hour to school. Despite all the perks, I look forward to living in my flat because it will be easier to work with the hostel kids (I’m interested in starting a reading club, girls club and, if its not too nerdy, some sort of science club). Also, I can unpack into my own space and be my own American self – loud emo music, funny food and isolative ways. I think it also helps me relate more to the kids I’m teaching if I live in the location with them. The kids, the roosters, the drunkards and me…
Khorixas is very different than I remember it. It feels HUGE! I think this is because I’ve just spent so long in Otjimbingwe. The first place we stopped when we got to the city was the ministry building. It is in the center on a big hill. From there, you can see the entire location in one direction and the town in the other. I was shocked by how huge it looked. The site description says “semi-urban” but I was beginning to doubt that in my time away. When I first arrived in Khorixas, during site visit, I had only been to Okahandja. Okahandja, at least the part we’re allowed to stay in, is western and paved. Khorixas was dusty and small in comparison. After visiting Khorixas the first time, during shadowing, I was put at a farm school and then, Otjimbingwe; both tiny places. Now, anything bigger than 500 people feels like New York. Last I heard there are between 5,000 and 10,000 people here (It’s hard to get a good measure because some don’t really work or have homes… they just drink). All I can say is that 40,000 people in my “small” hometown is going to be quite a shocker two years from now.
I start work tomorrow. I’m a little nervous for the chaos that will consume my life after that. I’ll let you know how it goes. Until then, though, I’m just kickin it in my new digs in K town. I live with a British VSO who works in the Ministry of Education office. The past couple of days have been great! I sleep! Ten hours last night! Until 8 in the morning – what?! I cook! Sometimes pancakes, sometimes tortillas, sometimes no-bake cookies… hey, I’m scared to light the gas oven on my own. Friday was free SMS Friday – always a pleasure. I know I’ve SMSed too much when I am typing on a computer, get to the bottom of the page, press down and expect it to take me to the top again. Ai. Saturday, the other PCV in Khorixas cooked dinner for the SCORE volunteer and me. And, today… Today, I don’t think I’ve done a single thing. Thank Goodness!


January 15, 2008
I’m gliding. Really, that’s just the only way to get through the chaos of Namibian meetings… Just glide over it all with a little caffeine, a lot of patience and a good phone equipped with internet and wikipedia. Yesterday was the cluster wide meeting. We went over a lot of technical things like exams, pass/no pass requirement (to pass you need 3Ds and 2Cs. I kid you not), sports and transportation. Today we registered learners. This means I got a table and chair and sat outside from 8 am to 1pm and waited for anyone who wanted to register for grade 7. Not that this means I got to register them – oh, no. I said, “Wait here” and then went to go get someone else to register them. Make sense? If so, please explain it to me, because I don’t get it.
Life outside of school has been good also. I spend some time cooking. Last night was potato night. Today, we’re trying fat cakes. You use the sun to help the rise. Sounds fun. Also, the reception around town has been interesting. It’s been mostly good, which, I suspect, is a result of the large number of volunteers who have preceded me. I think I have the best of both worlds because there have been many volunteers in the city but there has only been one at my school. This minimizes the comparison boat and I greatly appreciate that.
Well, more later – as always. I’ve got to scoot because sunlight is fading and I still need it for my fat cakes.