Meh Aye Twin Tees Evan, Tooth Out Sand Ate
(May 27, 2008)
Hello! It’s me. I’m in Namibia. Still.
And since its been over two months since I’ve written sooo much has happened. And yet, I’m still sitting in the same spot in my apartment. On the floor. Because I still don’t have that much furniture. And because the kids can’t see me as well down here. And because heat rises.
So, let’s start at the beginning… or rather, the end, of my last real blog post. When you left your heroine she was on holiday from school…
I was really nervous to leave my flat for three weeks away. I was pretty sure someone would break into it. And if not broken into, something inside would break and burn it down or fill it full of water. But I was lucky to come home and find my flat in complete working order and relatively intact (though my favorite unwelcome houseguest left it’s droppings everywhere for me to clean up. Boo).
When I left Khorixas I was lucky enough to catch a free peace corps ride part of the way to my friends’ house in Okakarara. It was a fun day but only because it was so Namibian. I was so happy to be getting out of Khorixas. Okakarara is about the same size as Khorixas but with a primarily Herero population. There are 6 volunteers there and around in small villages. They are all women and all amazing. I love spending time with that group. They affectionately call Okakarara “the Kak” – which I just learned today may be a swear word in Afrikaans… I don’t think they know that because they also refer to themselves as the “Kak girls”… Or maybe they did know… It’s hard to tell with them.
Anyway, when I got to kak we had a birthday party for me and a few other girls who had gained a year sometime in the previous two months. We had a chocolate cake with candles and got gifts. I got a top that lights up when you spin it. Everything I could ever ask for? Yup.
Well, I proceeded to spend the next week and four days there. And what did I do? Well, the approved answer for that question has become “what didn’t I do?” because it sounds a whole lot better than “nothing”. But nothing isn’t entirely true. Let me try to sum up those brilliant days here:
I learned how to play watermelon soccer, I became injured while learning how to play watermelon soccer, I bought new blue socks, I baked my face off, I watched two seasons of Weeds, I made a friendship bracelet for my mother, I got locked in the Okakarara paddy wagon while getting a free hike into town, I sat in a paddy wagon in the Police station parking lot when the officer forget to let his free hike passengers out of the locked paddy wagon, I witnessed the loss of a precious piece of cheesecake in the “Mr. Price” clothing store, we foiled the Mr. Price employee trying to steal the precious piece of cheesecake, I took 18 million hot showers, “It’s sunny outside, guys. Again”, I attempted to climb a water tower, I got eaten by killer ants while trying to climb a water tower, I sat on the floor a lot, I listened to a lot of good music, I danced to a lot of good music, and I witnessed a dining room table being made out of a kitchen door…
So you see, what didn’t I do?
It was a lot of fun. And I’m sure it was really healthy to spend that much time just being without being judged or stressed… just being. Plus, I had really great company for the whole thing. I think that we all went a little crazy… or were a little crazy to begin with. But either way, I know I’ve got some good friend when they can stand to be with me 24-7 for three weeks, without doing anything constructive, and not want to kill me.
I meant to only stay a week. Then I wanted to go to Windhoek to soak up the big city. There were no hostels available so I ended up joining the rest of the girls who were going to Skawopmund a little later in the week. And I would tell you about the great things I did in Swakop… but instead I’ll just say, what didn’t I do? Actually, I just did a lot of eating and window shopping. I also learned a lot about the medical care available at the coast. But I’m afraid you’ll have to blog search to see if you can get that story from the actual victim. Don’t worry – she’s still alive… and her pinkie toe is still (mostly) attached J
I was only in Swakop for three nights before it was time to meet in Windhoek for our Reconnect conference with Peace Corps. It seems like so long ago that we were sad to say goodbye in January. But we made it all the way to reconnect… and, honestly, no one wanted to go. You may be wondering why no one would want to reunite with their long lost Nam27 friends. It wasn’t the friends that were making us sad to go. It was the conference part. While being here, I’ve realized that I never want a job that requires me to go to conferences. If I never see another room full of white linen table clothes littered with free pens and pad of paper and pitchers of water it will be too soon. Oh, gosh and the projectors… no more projectors either…
Anyway, we managed to find a free ride out of Swakop that was great. I can’t tell you why it was so great. But it was. And I made a new friend. Who is 5. And totally cute. Our ride got us to the office in Windhoek just before three. There were soooo many people. Too many maybe. It was so good to see everyone. But I think it would have been more fun to see everyone one at a time. “Isolated” is a way they like to describe Peace Corps volunteers. I like to say “improving antisocial tendencies”. But tomato, to-mah-to, eh?
My favorite Nam27er Facebook status update (since we all carry Facebook in out pockets and its way cheaper than SMSing) from that hour was, “since Nam27 is all together again, I’m wondering who will be the first to read this”. Do you want to know who was the first to read it? Me. I believe I was also given the title “Facebook Queen” – which honestly, I doubt. But I couldn’t back up that doubt with any truth whatsoever.
Once 27 had arrived we were bused out of Windhoek to a beautiful retreat center just to the north. The center is on a hill with a beautiful view of the city and country around. I managed to get a room that only had two beds so I was able to exercise some reclusive ness during the week – not too much though. Buuuuut our wonderful room happened to also be adjacent to, what I like to refer to as, the party porch… so, you do the math. I will say, though, that 1) ipods are still a gift from above in my life and 2) when ipod batteries run out, party porch conversation is quite entertaining, even while trying to sleep.
When not making use of the fabulous porch and views, 27 spent most of the day indoors problem solving. With as much as I was dreading the conference it was actually really really helpful. I got so many ideas for classroom management and making sure no learners get left behind in huge classroom crowds. I spent most of the conference frantically writing all of the brilliant ideas down. In the end, I really felt like I could go back to site and do something useful.
I also got to spend an evening in Windhoek. I got bused to the city to get my flu shot. Then, I missed the ride back to the center. This gave me a good chance to run to a department store to replace some clothes. Little did I know that shock and awe and feelings of homesickness make shopping trips less fun. In addition, it was misty rain and dark outside. It made it so I couldn’t imagine anywhere in the world I would rather be than the Pacific Northwest of America… But, instead, I settled for the next Peace Corps ride heading my way and, as per personal tradition, sucked it up and got on with life.
During the conference I also got elected to represent all the the volunteers in my region… and when I say elected I mean I was the only one qualified… and when I say qualified I mean I was the only one who wanted to… And when I say wanted to I mean maybe I was a little ashamed that I wanted to… and when I say ashamed I mean… aw, heck, everyone loves me and I definitely won by popular vote. Landslide. Shut down the competition. The people love me, what can I say?
I left the conference on Friday morning. There were still a few sessions left but they were all optional. Three weeks is a long time to be gone from site so I had a goal to be sleeping in my own bed on Friday night. When it came time to leave, though, I had a little trouble tearing myself away again. I finally managed to force myself over to the hike point from hell and snag a taxi. I was lucky enough to stumble on a taxi that already had three and was ready to leave as soon as they got their fourth, me. I was reminded of my learners on the ride when I realized the little girl passenger that sat next to me didn’t belong to any of the adults in the car. She was probably 11 and had had to find her own ride home. I have to say that being a kid in the country is tough. But I think I’ve already ranted about that in this blog.
When I got to Otjiwarongo, I had a little trouble finding a ride. I swear the car I finally got a ride in was just some man trying to make a few extra bucks on his drive to Khorixas. There were 7 people in a regular four door car and not a single one of them was a really big fan of the English language… and, yet, I found myself relieved to be listening to Damara again. Affection? For a certain people? Maybe… only time will tell.
I spent the weekend readjusting and sleeping. I also spent some time cleaning and re-arranging my flat. Jill got kicked out of her place just before we left for break and moved her stuff into my flat. So I moved some things out of my extra room and cleaned a little. For the full flat exchange program you’ll have to check out Jill’s blog. It’s really her story… and my birthday present… and really overall Namibian.
Monday was the first day of the term. This means it was time for the tri-annual teachers’ meeting. All of the upper primary teachers in the Khorixas cluster met at the primary school in town to re-group and re-focus. The VSO in Khorixas gave speech about equal opportunities for children in education. I really appreciated that she had the guts to get up and say some of the things she did. I realized that some of the teachers really appreciated her candor also. But in the end some community dirt started to surface about discrimination and segregation. I find it really amazing how much you can miss when you aren’t a part of the culture. If I look at the things I’m still learning after 5 months at site, I can definitely see the advantage of two years in one place. Maybe by then, I will have scratched the surface of this community… but there’s also a chance that maybe I won’t have. And I will never know either way, I think.
Tuesday was the first day back to class for the learners. This means I taught! I think the kids were a little shocked because I was their first class. I made them sit down to review their exams from last term. You could still see the holiday and farm life in their eyes but I bet my math class had the least amount of trouble readjusting the rest of the day. That’s not to say they all readjusted… we reviewed exams and iffy information from last term for the rest of the week. I feel the luxury of time more at the beginning of the term so I might as week make sure they understand something - especially in math where skills are building on one another.
To be honest, I was a little bitter that first week about being back in the same situations. We just spent a week getting energized and encouraged. Then we were sent back to site to be reminded of the discrepancy between what we wish for and what actually is. If there were three of me… and if I was rich… and if I had four ounces more of patience… and I didn’t really require sleep… I might be able to do everything I want to with these kids... so if you’ve got any of those to spare ;)
Now to the fun part though! My friend from home flew in on Saturday morning. I made it to Outjo Friday night and then found my way to Windhoek Saturday morning to meet her. We basically just putted around town, caught up and found some fruit, ice cream and m&m’s calling our names. We also ran into the Khorixas score volunteer. I love how small this country is.
The next day we managed to travel all the way back to site. It wasn’t really a challenge… more of a trial… in patience. The taxi from Otjiwarongo to Khorixas was just another man trying to make a buck. But this time he had a combi and wanted it filled while towing something. As you can imagine, that sort of transport takes a long time to organize.
We did make it back to Khorixas by sunset, though. The learners had drawn a welcome sign for my friend in sidewalk chalk on my porch. It was really cute – a heart with a Namibian flag and “Welcome Heather”.
Monday was Heather’s first day at school. We have an assembly on Monday mornings. They pulled Heather up in front of the school and told the kids she was also a teacher and that they must show her respect. They told the kids they were so lucky to have two English speaking teachers for two weeks. I would like to agree. But they were also lucky because Heather is just cool.
Other than school, we didn’t really do anything memorable for the first few days of Heather’s visit. I think we went grocery shopping and for a few walks around town. The water was out for a little over a 24 hours in the middle of the week. I think that was a fun Namibian experience - but only when it’s preceded by the power being out for half a day… which it was. They really know how to welcome visitors.
Wednesday was a big day. We were busy coping and finding water and were also invited to a goat slaughtering for a braii (BBQ) the next day. The Score volunteer and some other Namibian volunteers are leaving soon so they decided to have a going away party together. In my time in Namibia, I’ve only seen a goat killed once. But I have to admit, this goat killing was a little more traumatizing than the last. I think the knife was dull. Maybe? There are some great pictures though. I’ll have to see if I can upload some for you all.
Wednesday was also a big day because one of the girls in my class had a birthday. She is constantly visiting me in the library and walking with me around Khorixas whenever she sees me. We had a sidewalk chalk drawing party for her and gave her homemade cards. This was all very political, of course, because what you do for one learner, you have to do for them all… and I didn’t… oops.
Before the braii on Thursday, we stopped into the girls’ hostel just for Heather to have a look around. It was good to get back in the hostel and re-experience it. The last time I visited I didn’t really know the kids that well. This time it was good to know the kids and see what girls were roommates. Where they sit in class makes a lot more sense now.
Then after the hostel visit, we went to the party. I have to say it was a lot of fun. That may even be an understatement. The goat was cooked on the ground. There was macaroni and cooldrink and, most importantly, dancing! I have a new favorite song… you can’t make fun of me for it, though… Just imagine a group of Namibians on the front porch of someone’s house, dancing and playing R. Kelly “The storm is over”, over and over again until everyone there can’t help but love the song forever.
“The storm is over. Over now… la la… do do…” Alright, I don’t really know the words, but I love the sentiment. In the middle of the party, we had to stop so everyone could make speeches. Saying goodbye is really sad. But I’m sure you all already knew that. I guess it just makes our world smaller in the end, right?
Friday I skipped school. They call it “dodging” here. But either way it makes me a terrible teacher for a day. I skipped school on Friday so we would have time to travel to Swakopmund. The ride there was great. It was with hamsters… I would try to explain but something tells me you have to be in Namibia to understand.
Once I found myself in Swakop again, I realized that maybe I had been there too many times. In fact, shortly after I got there, I ran into my host sister from CBT who actually noticed the same thing – “you must like it here”… which I do… but I think its turning into an obsession. Anyway, we were staying at the volunteer house in Swak. I love the volunteer house there – mostly, because I love the volunteers there and because it feels like home.
Saturday was another big day though. We went sand boarding! That’s right. You heard me. Board, in sand, big hill. The company that took us showed up at 9 something in the morning and took us out to the sand dunes just outside of Swakop. They give you a piece of board, a helmet and elbow pads. They claim this is so you won’t injure yourself but I know it’s really just to make sure I look as nerdy as possible – which I did. Or, so I thought. Actually, I looked nerdier after I ate sand. Literally.
When you get out to the dunes you have to climb up the dunes. This is a mild annoyance for some (me), a non-event for others (the professional sand boarders) and hell for others (not naming names, ahem, Leslie). But whatever mood you reach the top in, they start you on a tiny dune. I say tiny now, but then it felt huge. We chose to lie down on our boards but you can also borrow an actual snow board and stand up. Lying down is pretty simple. You just lie down on the board and hold up the front. If you want to go slower you put your feet in the sand. Faster, pick them up. If you want to eat sand, you put down the front of your board. And, if you’re really lucky they’ll also take a picture and laugh at you when you put the front of your board down and, subsequently, have to spit out a pile of sand. Then, of course, there are all the necessary jokes about sand-wich this, sand-wich that. And, being punny, I appreciated them greatly but, out of respect for puns, pretended not to.
By the end of our sand boarding we went down to hills that I would call big. But it didn’t matter how tall they looked at the top, they always looked taller at the bottom. This is because the chair lift doesn’t exist. I would have gone down a few more times but I am out of sand-climbing shape. And, I have asthma… or so I started to claim when I didn’t want to climb any more hills. Overall, it was a lot of fun. I would do it again. And in the end, they took us to the beach and gave us – you guessed it – sandwiches! Oooh, punny. The rest of the day we spent resting and doing my other favorite Swakop activity – eating. I managed to find the tallest hamburger on the planet. There were two patties, a pineapple, a whole head of lettuce, half a tomato, cheese and 6 different kinds of sauces. Heart-attack? Probably.
Sunday morning we got picked up in the freezing cold hour of 6am to go sea kayaking. The man who runs the kayak tours agreed to take Heather, me and another couple of people out that day. The spot to go kayaking is just outside of Walvis Bay – about 30K south of Swakopmund. I knew the whole trip was worth it in the morning when the drive to Walvis was as educational as a field trip. This man was able to point out different types of birds and plants and sand dunes all specific to Namibia or special in some way. It was really cool. Then outside of Walvis, we started driving out onto a sand peninsula. Close to the end, we parked to set up the kayaks and a “bush”… yup, it’s exactly what it sounds like.
After getting equipped with some awesome duds (an amazing yellow hat, bright blue jacket and red life vest) we got some impromptu kayak lessons and we were ready for the open ocean. Close to where we launched was a seal colony on the shore. We were able to kayak in the water just next to their beach. The warning was, “If they jump on your boat, they miscalculated. Don’t touch them, they’ll get off on their own”. Hmm, I’m thinking “no”. So, I was a little nervous about so many slippery, fuzzy faces popping up everywhere in the water. But eventually, they actually did start to become cute instead of a threat on my fingers. It was so great. They were everywhere in the water. If you teased them enough by shaking it back and forth, they would grab your paddle and try to run. They succeeded once with Heather’s paddle. It was a little traumatizing having a kayak paddle stolen by a wild sea animal but Heather won the battle and got it back. We also got to spend some time in more open waters. We didn’t see much out there – just one dolphin and a bunch of tourist boats. The tourist boats weren’t seeing much either because we were the subject of a lot of their photos. I think it’s because we were so cute… and because we were wearing the brightest hats known to man. After we were finished with our kayaking adventure and enough games of seal keep-away, we had an amazing meal of sandwiches (and I say amazing, because they were the most amazing sandwiches I’ve had in this country. I will write the advertisement for them – just as soon as I learn how to write).
Sunday afternoon and evening, we spent some more time relaxing and window shopping. We also go invited to a dinner with a lot of volunteers from different organizations and some other foreigners. It was interesting to have so many different cultures and opinions sitting in one room. The rest of Sunday was also freezing. I wouldn’t have been surprised it there had been ice on the ground. But that’s an opinion from someone whose internal thermometer has ceased to exist.
Monday night we made it back to Khorixas again. As always, transport was an adventure. This time, though, I wasn’t dodging school – while you were all celebrating Memorial Day, we were celebrating Africa Day! Woo! I love Mondays off. Though, I’m not entirely sure what Africa day is.
Today was Heather’s first day teaching. I was so appreciative. My mind was still on Africa day (AKA vacation). She taught grade 6 math about decimals. Also, she read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to the grade 7 science class. The VSO in Khorixas let Eddie Bowe borrow a class set of books. With all the kids sitting with their own books and Heather reading in the front, it actually felt like a real classroom! It was exciting.
Well, that about catches you up on Namibia as a whole. Or, you know, my life in Namibia. I hope all of you are starting your summers well. We’re getting “winter” now. That simply means hot in the day time and cold at night. I’m ok with that arrangement but only after I buy another blanket. I’ll be sure to write about my winter adventures soon. Sorry it took so long to write these adventures. I’ll be seeing you again soon, Blog, I promise.
As always, more later.
Today:
We made it to Windhoek and the Peace Corps office - my home away from my home away from home... Unless we include the hostle I'm staying at then its, my home away from my home away from my home away from home. That's right. Heather and I will soon be saying "see you later" again. Welcome her back to the states if you see her there.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Sunday, May 18, 2008
Penduka Namibia! Coffee!
I just wanted to let you know that on May 1st I had officially been in Namibia for 6 months. Woot.
I celebrated the 6 months. Then I celebrated Reconnect. Then back to school . And now I'm celebrating visitors.
I just wanted to let you know I was still alive in Namibia. I will post something real soon... Namibian soon.
I celebrated the 6 months. Then I celebrated Reconnect. Then back to school . And now I'm celebrating visitors.
I just wanted to let you know I was still alive in Namibia. I will post something real soon... Namibian soon.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Cutie Patootie
The Tourists
Rock art - the lion man
Robot Beetle
Almost the size of a hockey puck...
Windows of Hope after school program
March 27, 2008
It occurs to me that today may not the best day to write a blog post. I’m not sure if I can explain why the whole day went awry but I can say that the only one who can sympathize with me is Shania Twain - “There’s no way but up from here…”
You can judge but let me just say, Shania has her place. And it’s with the country folk. And some days you just need to hear about someone else’s dog that died, the guy that got away or the truck that just wouldn’t start. And now that your reading is tainted with the fact that I still listen to Shania Twain, let’s move on. Shall we?
I’m sure you’re all dying to know what happened on my Easter vacation. I only know you are because I’m dying to tell you. I left Khorixas on Thursday morning. I took my bag down to the hike point (where you catch a cab or otherwise obtain a ride) and had to wait about 10 minutes before someone told me a white man around the corner was taking a truck to Swakopmund. I was a little skeptical and it turns out the informant’s cover story of good will towards men was a ruse and he was looking for a free cooldrink. So after he showed me the man with the truck and said man with truck offered me a free ride to the coast, I paid for his cooldrink: N$7.00 worth of cooldrink! Fancy! The only catch was that the truck was a cattle truck filled with feed and the road from Khorixas to the coast is dirt. But that catch was quickly glazed over by the fact that I was getting a N$110 ride for free. I would deal with the fact that it was going to be a 9 hour-long free ride later. After a short scare that I would have to ride in the back with the feed (and about ten learners who were trying to get to their farms for the long weekend), I was offered a spot in the cab.
It was a great ride on a road I’ve never been on before. It was just the sort of thing I needed after so long in one place. The man who offered me the ride has lived in Khorixas since, I believe, 1980. He came to the city as an Agriculture officer in the government. While he’s lived here he built the Multisave, the petrol station, butchery and the rest camp in town (the one I’ve never been to). Along the ride he pointed out specific farms and dams that belong to important people or that had interesting stories. About an hour into the ride we stopped at a farm to pick up a man and his wife who were trying to sell firewood on the coast. Of course the stop took three times longer than expected. It was nice to be able to see the famous “farm” though. I can see why my learners love to get back to their farms. Most of the farms we passed had some fashion of standing water to swim in. There were a lot of windmills and cows and large green fields. It all looked ideal. I’m sure a lot of it seemed so pretty because we’re currently at the peak of greenery. But home is home and I’m sure they love it in the brown of the year too. While we were stopped, I was offered a cup of coffee and a little history lesson. I was told that Khorixas is called the heart of Damaraland because South Africa bought the city and the surrounding farms and gave them to the Damara. They did the same with Okakarara for the Hereros, Keetmanshoop for the Nama and different cities for all the other tribes. South Africa wanted to give each tribe a homeland. I didn’t quite catch the motivation behind giving land to certain tribes but, overall, the tone wasn’t cheery. I do recall that the South African presence in Namibia was likened to the United States’ current presence in the Middle East – a comparison made more than once with a similar un-cheery tone. Luckily, I could tell they didn’t hold US politics against me (and my unwillingness to discuss them) because I was given a second cup of coffee and a second lesson on Agriculture - Khorixas is named after the Khori bush… in case you were wondering.
It turns out that my free ride was only to Heinties Bay, which is about 50K north of Swakopmund. It’s a nice place from what I could tell but stopping there meant I had to find a taxi. I thanked my free ride and asked a petrol station attendant where the hike point was. He said to have a seat at the take-away and he would stay on the lookout for a taxi. After not eating since 6:30 and spending large amounts of time in a semi, the mushroom and chicken meat pie at the take-away was calling my name. I was one bite into it when a driver came over and said it was time to go now now. I realized that it was the first time I was in a taxi without another American. The language and culture barrier was almost too much to handle. But, we’ve decided that when you feel the most awkward is probably when you’re experiencing the culture the most and you’re one step closer to integrating. So I embraced four adults in the back seat while being the only one of them that spoke English. It cost N$40 for the taxi but, considering the circumstances, I think I got ripped off.
I made it to Swakopmund at 2 in the afternoon. We had started driving that morning at 9 (after all the expected errands around Khorixas that we’ve all come to know and love). Five hours seems like record time with all the stops and less than ideal means of transportation. When I arrived in Swakop I was in shock, awe and amazement. After touring the location to drop off the four other passengers in the taxi, I was taken to the town. When we rolled into town it was as though I was driving back to America. The streets were paved and busy. There were traffic lights, cafés, a lighthouse, and lots and lots of people.
The first day in Swakop was really chill. Seven out of the nine in Otjimbingwe for CBT decided to come to our little reunion. When most of them had arrived, we went out for a late lunch – we all got salad! Some of the salads even had olives! I missed vegetables. Leslie, the PCV in Swakop, forgot to warn the town that PCVs who had been trapped in small villages for two months were coming and that they would marvel at small things like salad dressing, waiters and two story buildings. After lunch was an obligatory stop at the beach and then Super spar, “just to breathe the air”. I believe I even heard “Super spar is my idol” and “My Mecca is Super spar”… Me thinks the PCVs like Super spar. I’m not one to object especially because I found tiny bags of peanut M&M’s tucked into the far corner of the candy isle. Yippee. Then we headed to Leslie’s to catch up, complain about site, do impressions of learners and, generally, remember that we’re not alone in the world. The day ended with a movie on Leslie’s computer (Dream Girls), a shower (with hot water) and blow-drying my hair (am I in heaven?).
Friday morning I woke up at 6 am. Waking up at 6 am is great if I have to go to work, if I’m in my own house or if I’m even in a house where everyone isn’t sleeping on every available floor space until 9 in the morning. But after some finagling I managed to get on some warm clothes (Swakop is cold… well, cold for someone who currently lives on the face of the sun) and walking shoes and go for a walk. It was nice to walk around and be ignored. After my walk and the dead bodies on Leslie’s floor woke up and got ready we all went shopping. Since it was Independence Day, though, all the stores were closed. So, we went to Wimpies for burgers instead. I really wanted to have a hamburger because I don’t eat a lot of meat (mostly lentils and sometimes tuna or chicken, when the price is good). But it turns out that Wimpies’ hamburgers aren’t that good. The meal was saved, though, because their milkshakes are awesome… And I never thought I would write anything like those two sentences in my blog about Africa…
The afternoon was spent lounging on the beach and meeting other NAM27ers who decided to come to Swakop for the long weekend. There were two other groups. One stayed at a backpackers’ hostel just down the street from Leslie’s and the other stayed at a rest camp on the edge of town. The group in the backpackers’ hostel had an extreme weekend planned – they went skydiving on Saturday and sea kayaking on Sunday. As far as I can tell, the group in the rest camp just did a lot of drinking… guess they’re integrating. But, Friday on the beach was a great day with too many Americans to count. Some of us got soft serve ice cream and other took a swim in the ocean. I spent most of Friday in shock and awe also. The beach we were on most closely resembled the Santa Monica Pier and Waikiki. Wow, life’s tough on PC vacation. Thanks Uncle Sam.
Friday night we made a salad at the volunteer house and tried out a pub Leslie had been waiting for friends to check out. Saturday morning was another early morning for me. I spent about an hour wandering around the city on my own and came back to a completely silent house. Luckily, Leslie was awake too so we went out for omelets and hit up some clothes stores on the way back. I got some new shirts with long sleeves - I’ve got high hopes for winter weather. That afternoon, we all went to the beach again and then to a movie theater. The movie theater reminded me of one you could find on an Air Force base, except smaller. The movie showing was 27 Dresses. I’m not sure when it really came out but I don’t remember hearing anything about it before I left the states so I’m going to pretend it’s really recent. It was cute and definitely worth my time while in Namibia, but that’s a skewed opinion. That night we went out for seafood. I had fish and chips and was almost completely convinced we were no longer in Namibia. Luckily, our food took about an hour and a half, so I could continue to believe I was on the continent of Africa.
Sunday was more of the same but with pizza. We got a tub of ice cream at Super spar and celebrated the sunset on the beach with a game of “never have I ever [insert someone’s pastime here]”. If you have ever [insert someone’s pastime here] you eat a bite of ice cream. It was fun but I definitely learned that Peace Corps volunteers are crazy.
Monday I caught a ride with part of the group from the backpackers’ hostel (some of the group included Jill, Amanda and the VSO from Outjo, and one health volunteer from the north). The VSO of the group had a car and was willing to drive us all the Outjo if we just split the petrol. It was so nice to be in car that went directly where we needed exactly when we needed it to. She didn’t even run any errands around the location before we left. I was just glad they didn’t shun me for having a seemingly mundane weekend while they conquered their fear of jumping out of airplanes… though I have yet to see any proof that Jill actually jumped. I think she’s hiding her video from me. It seems you look like you’re about to die right before you jump out of an airplane and who want to publicize that face.
I got home that evening just before dark. We had a long stop in Outjo that involved accidentally falling asleep on Amanda’s floor and then scrambling for a taxi back to Khorixas. The bakkie Jill and I ended up in only went 80K/hour the whole way. And, while thankful for the safety that speed includes, it’s hard to sit in a bakkie for that long.
The whole weekend was really exciting and really relaxing. And, yet, after I write it all out for you, it seems really lame. I guess you’ll just have to believe me that it was great… but that’s a skewed opinion.
April 3, 2008
When you are teaching Namibian children, at times, you are choosing to talk differently than you would in America. You are choosing the words you use carefully. Many times it is taking very much energy to use words and tenses they will know. The clever learners become tired of slow like-singing speaking. But for the good of the whole class, we are speaking badly in English sometimes. The learners are just now studying and writing exams for the end of term. Today they were having English. Tomorrow they will be writing English again. The Natural Science exam will be written on Tuesday. It was very much fun to spend study time with the learners today. They have chosen to spend their study time in the library learning science. They have stood in front of the room and said as much information from memory as they could. Some of them have said the small intestine is coming just after the mouth in the Digestive system. This has made me laugh. We have learned differently since then – we have learned that the Pharynx and esophagus are coming just after the mouth. These learners are special. They are special because some days they are making me angry. Other days they are making me smile and laugh. Sometimes they are making me laugh and making me angry at the same time. It is nice to teach them science and it is nice to talk with them.
Wow, that took a lot more energy to write than to actually speak. When I read back over the paragraph, it sounds ridiculous. If another American is around to witness this sort of English, I usually get laughed at. I can see why now. The other teachers told me that my English is getting easier to understand – they are “coping” with me, was the exact wording, I believe. The learners are quicker to understand me because they’re forced to listen to me daily. Captive audience. I knew there was a reason I liked teaching.
The translation of the poorly written paragraph above:
The learners are now writing (taking) their exams for the end of the first term (there are three in a school year). They have two weeks of exams with only one exam per day. Some subjects have two exams. That is why English takes up two days. Natural science is next Tuesday for grade seven. The exam is ridiculous for many reasons. None of which I believe I could communicate effectively on a blog without offending someone. But I can say, when I first read over the exam, I was infuriated. I think I may have even turned red. The exam is…bogus. But, once I knew the challenge, I made a plan of attack and have been reviewing the “pertinent” information with the kids. This afternoon, I had an optional science review during study. I presented the information and review questions on each topic. The learners would “secretly” look things up in their notes, hidden under their chair or on their friend’s back, to answer the questions first. I don’t think they caught that I actually wanted them to look in their notes and remember. It was cute either way. Then I would have them close their eyes and try to recite things and they would secretly peak when they couldn’t (like when they told me the digestive system progressed: mouth, small intestine, stomach, anus. Eww). Honestly, it was all a lot of fun. When we were training, someone from Nam26 advised us to try to make the learners laugh everyday. He said it would make your whole experience better. Usually, it’s the other way around though. These kids crack me up. Sometimes its because they’re oblivious – but that’s beside the point.
Speaking of cracking up. I heard my first pun from a Namibian today. It went like this:
“Miss, this one is eating all the time in the hostel. She is eating so much. And she is not bathing. Everyday, she is waking up first and she is not bathing…” – Grade 7 girl, joking about her friend
“Miss, this one is lying! She is lying!” – accused friend
“Miss, you can see. I am not lying. I am standing. I am standing here. Not lying” – First girl
Oh, kids.
April 6, 2008
I just succeeded in setting my own watch. This proves two things. First, it proves that I am, in fact, a rocket scientist. I know this because my watch has 18 functions and three buttons. Programming some of these functions require holding down all three buttons at the same time, then repeatedly pushing one until the correct time and date appear. And, even when I have finagled my fingers to perform such a task, I still have to use my rocket science powers to actually figure out what time and day it really is. You see, leap day confused the date on my watch and my poor learners have been living one day in the future in all of my classes. But we were coping. Then, today, it was too much to handle when, at 2:00 this afternoon, the whole country decided to fall back without telling me. So, I took matters into my own hand, subsequently proving that, secondly, I am the most low maintenance person on the planet. Tiny instructions? In Russian? For a different watch model? Did I complain? No. Did I give up? No. Self-sufficient? Me? Yes.
…Unless, of course, I’m the worst kind – I think I’m low maintenance, but really am high maintenance… Oh, Harry.
Erin. That’s for you.
April 11, 2008
I have decided that one of my favorite things in this world are children who have no idea they’re being watched. I caught a little girl having a lengthy conversation with her good friend Thin Air today. It took a good 45 seconds before she realized I was standing there. It was cute. Also, I just ran into this little boy who was convinced he was spider man. I’m pretty sure he was in the middle of working on his theme-song movie intro. There were some great Kung fu kicks in there. I would say 5 if I had to guess his time on earth thus far.
I have also decided that one of my least favorite things in this world are children who want to see: what happens when I push this button eighteen times? Oh, miss Jessica turns red. And that, my friends, is a quality in children that transcends time and culture. And I am also sure my parents and their friends are thinking, k k k karma!
Well, yesterday, I experienced Namibian culture. Done and done. I found it all on my own. It was very conveniently located at my local Parent-Teacher meeting. Oh gosh.
Last night was the first term parents meeting. It “started” at 5pm. I realized that having a supervisor that focuses on punctuality has spoiled me. Occasionally, our 6:50 morning meetings will start at 6:55 or 7:00. But just as often, they start at 6:48 and I walk in on the tail-end of the prayer (unless of course it’s my morning to pray. In which case, it doesn’t start as long as I can keep praying. And I pray in American English, so I could talk for a while and say a lot. Though, sometimes they miss the “Amen” and I have to say it a few times to get everyone to open their eyes). Overall though, our punctual morning meetings have made me forget that 5:00 usually means 5:30 or 6:00 and “now” means later. So, the meeting actually started around 5:45. It was held in the hostel-dining hall. Our school (I hear) is rather large. So the dining hall is a fair size also. All 20 of the teachers and I were placed at a row of tables on a stage in the front of the dining hall. I’m not exactly sure why this set up was chosen but I did find the stare-down aspect of it rather humorous.
At the beginning of the meeting I was introduced to the parents. It was nice to be associated with a group. The teachers were cute as they gave me social cues. Whispering, “stand up now”, “sit down” and pre-warning the crowd that I say my “r”s like my mouth is full of marbles. There was a lot of Damara and then “Jessica Royer” said like a mix between Humphrey Bogart and Scooby Doo. That’s when you know you’re up – the Humphrey-Scooby accent. The other new teacher was introduced also. He’s rather popular in Khorixas though so his introduction was short.
After the introductions, the group spent a few minutes deciding which of Namibia’s plethora of languages the meeting should be translated to. This part was interesting to me because I was unaware of some of the cultural backgrounds at our school. Not everyone in Damaraland is Damara. But most of them do learn the language… unlike their lazy volunteer. I suppose, “but its so hard” just wouldn’t impress you and it would certainly negate the whole watch setting victory from last weekend. How about, “I’ll try harder”. In the end, it seemed that all who could not understand Damara were good in Afrikaans. It was decided the meeting would be conducted in Damara, translated into Afrikaans, with token poppy seeds of English thrown in here and there. I most definitely understand this set up but, honestly, it made me bow my head and laugh throughout the meeting. When someone would get done ranting about covering books or tardiness of learners another would inevitably shout, “Afrikaans!” and the ten-minute spiel would have to be repeated in a second language. Luckily, one of our teachers works at a church (I believe he’s a pastor) and is very good at translating. So when a parent or teacher would speak who was not fluent in one of the other languages, this teacher would jump up and fly through the other required languages. Every so often, he’s a goofball about it. Someone would be speaking in English, get passionate about something and slip back into mother tongue. This teacher just jumps from translating into mother tongue and start translating into English. I really think that translating is a gift. Languages are beyond me. I would like to be able to do what this man does but the gift just eludes me.
Throughout the meeting we covered a variety of topics… or at least it seems we did – mine was the poppy seed language. Two hours into the meeting, it was my turn to inform the parents about a girls’ club I’m trying to get off the ground for second and third term (as per usual, Jill and I are in cahoots about it). I asked one of the female teachers who works closely with the girls in the hostel to help me with my presentation. I was worried that the parents would not understand. It may have been better to ask an upper primary teacher (who teaches in English) to translate but they’re all male. I wanted someone who knows the girls and works with the girls to help me. We just stuck to the script during our two minute presentation and this teacher did great. I really like her. She is always willing to help me. I feel like clueless would get annoying but she never seems to get fed up with me. I thought the parents would appreciate that I was short and sweet and to the point. However, it seems a girls’ club is actually a topic for hot debate. Why not boys? I had quite a few answers welling up, some of them were not so polite: “Well, if you think a boys club is so important, why don’t you just…” Luckily, before I got a single word in, my hero teacher jumped up and answered for me. She said, “When you educate a girl you educate a community…” Beautifully put. Thank you. But, seriously, if this dad wants a boys club why doesn’t he just… I mean, why would the female American teacher spearhead a club to… I mean, come on.
The meeting lasted two and half-hours in total. I was so impressed with a few small kids in the crowd. They entertained themselves by pulling their shirt over their head to see how dark they could get it or by sliding down in their chair and then shooting up as tall as they could sit. I remember those days and its got to be worse when you only understand a third of what’s going on. They didn’t make a peep though. The teachers at the head table started pulling out newspapers and cell phones (myself included). At one point, they even started passing around a bottle of new perfume someone bought. The sitting was intense, but we all managed to pull through. After the meeting, I thought about sticking around and meeting some parents but it seems they were even more interested in dinner. Understandable. Instead, I just walked out the door, took a few steps, walked into my flat, turned on some Beatles and hid - You say you want a revolution? Well, you know, we all want to change the world.
Today was our third to last day of exams. My grade six math class will write two math exams next week. The first one will be easy for about half of them (the ones who listen in class). The second test is going to kick all of their butts. I taught the material. They weren’t getting it though. In the end, we just ran out of time in the term. Recently, I’ve realized that it’s not always the kids’ fault when they don’t get something. I can think back on a few times in my life where it was really obviously the teacher’s fault and I blamed it on myself. When more than three quarters of the class is drawing a blank, something has gone awry. It doesn’t help that the second test will be their last test. By then, all they’re thinking about is jumping into the dam at the farm. Who wants to be changing a mixed number to an improper fraction at that time in the term? Seriously.
Tuesday was grade seven’s day. Since then, I’ve sat in that library staring at far too many Natural science exams written by far too many learners who have never taken a spelling test (you have to remember it’s a verbal culture – speaking 4 languages is no big deal. Writing in them all? Almost unheard of). If you’ll allow me a few examples:
Q: What are four things boys can expect during puberty?
A: He get hers on faes. He get hers unda hams.
Q: What system is the brain, spinal cord and nerves a part of?
A: the System system
Q: What is a sphincter?
A: Killing a person
Q: Describe two adaptations of fish to their environment.
A: the fish is aw food and fish is good for pebpls.
Q: Mention three things that are important for a good relationship.
A: You must no peat each other.
Or
A: Kiss the Laydy. Be vei full.
Q: Mention some ways to maintain sexual health.
A: Sai a wei frum boys.
Love it.
But, I did go cross-eyed trying to finagle points for these kids. Now that I’m done grading their papers I have to hand them in to be moderated. It just means the subject head at our school has to check and make sure my grading is ok. I’m a little worried about this because a lot of my good learners got around 50%. I’m worried that the subject head is going to make me grade them all again because too many my learners scored too high (that’s right, 50 is high). Does this happen other places? Is it weird for a whole class to pass (in my case its really only about 25 kids but that’s beside the point)? I don’t remember it being weird but I’m forgetting.
Luckily, in grade six, I don’t have to worry about re-grading. The kids will take care of that for me… oh, gosh. These kids. I can’t even imagine. They’re set up to fail - literally expected to. Hey mom, dad, thanks for telling me I could be a ballerina or oceanographer or artist. Good childhood. You did good.
Speaking of good parents, I got three packages when I went to the post office today. “Nampost” only gets packages on Thursday from Otjiwarongo. Then is takes them a week or four to let us know they have one for us. Honestly, I only go to the post office with really low expectations these days. I went today with the same expectations but felt a little of my 1st grade self come out when the PO box was empty. I didn’t think it was important but it turns out spending my birthday without even a card was actually going to get to me. Lucky for me, Jill is more proactive about such things and generally asks inside the post office. Usually, this doesn’t actually do anything though - They don’t know our boxes are back there. But today, they magically produced three boxes for me. Yippee! There’s definitely happy birthday paper in one of them. I’m admiring the wrapping job just now. Thanks family.
In the other two boxes? Girl scout cookies. I’m feeling sick.
15 April 2008
Today was the last day of school for the learners. At our 10:00 break we all met in the middle of the school to officially close the term. In the morning, I spent most of my time in the library trying to mark and organize papers. I say trying because the grade sevens have taken to sitting on the desk staring at me for the past week. I tell them to leave and go study for their next exam but, like “good” kids, they leave for a few minutes and come right back. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t sooo much more interesting than their exams - By the end of most days I find that I’ve talked more about hair and boys and America and mothers than grading science and math exams. Anyway, I was actually getting some work done today when my learners came in and said, “Miiiiiiissssss! (said like “mass” with a Georgia accent at the top of your lungs) it’s finished! It’s time to go!” I said, “I’m coming just now.” (which means I’ll be right there). I walked out to the official closing and found all the learners and one teacher. The learners are really good about using these lull times to practice their singing. Whenever my learners practice their impromptu singing is when I most feel like I’m in Africa. I’m not sure why this is, but if you visit and listen, I’m sure you’ll feel that way too. We have assemblies a lot, so I occupied my normal spot along, what I like to call, the firing squad wall (the teachers all stand in front to stare down the learners). Every so often, one of my learners would run up and tell me to have a wonderful holiday and that they were going to miss me. Now, they could have just been trying to score cute points but I think it was genuine… but even if it wasn’t, it was cute.
After the assembly, all the learners left to go home. The rest of today has been really quiet and a little eerie. Every hour or so someone will knock on my door to tell me they are leaving. I tell them to be safe and have fun and then they’re gone in whatever bakkie or cart that has come to collect them. By the time all of them make it back from the farm it will be a month before I see them again. I’m ready for the break but we have just spent a lot of quality time (three and a half months) with each other. I think I’m going to miss them too.
In our work time for the rest of the week, my supervisor is requesting that all upper primary teachers prepare lesson plans for the beginning of second term. Personally, I think this is really wise plan because I’m not expecting to go anywhere near my preparation binder in my three weeks off. Currently, I am working on my natural science lesson plans. This term, we started with health educations, moved on to systems of the body and finished with ecosystems. Next term we are starting with the scientific method and then moving quickly to matter. I’m not sure what comes after matter because I haven’t gotten that far. We have two government issued papers that dictate what to teach and when to teach it: the Scheme of Work and the Syllabus. The Scheme of work tells us when to teach each topic. The syllabus tells you what the kids actually need to know and be able to do for the exams. Then, you have to fill out your plan to execute these requirements and file them in your preparation binder. Personally, I like this system because I’m the kind of person who goes to the office supply section of a store “just to look”. Dividers make my day… Anyway, in all my planning, I found some interesting requirements that I thought I would share with you.
In the Scheme of Work for the beginning of term two:
Themes: Scientific Process
Topics:
1) Estimating and Measuring
2) Observing
3) Classifying
Allotted time: 1 week
Ok. Fair enough. Now, let’s breeze over to the syllabus to investigate what each of these topics actually require the learners to know.
Topic 1: Estimating and Measuring
Learning objective: Learners will know how to estimate and measure length, mass, time, temperature and the area of regularly shaped (right-angled) objects.
Basic competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Estimate and measure: length, mass, time and temperature; temperature of melting ice; the height of a fellow learner and the mass of school bags using appropriate methods. 2) Calculate the area of regularly shaped (right angled) objects. 3) Convert minutes and hours to seconds. 4) Convert units of length, mass, time and area. 5) Follow sequence of instructions. Use appropriate techniques. Handle apparatus/material competently and have due regard for safety. 6) make and record estimates and measurements accurately. 7) Handle and process experimental observations and data.
Topic 2: Observing
Learning objective: Learners will know how to observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Make and record observations. 2) Observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances. 3) Observe properties of a variety of common substances such as sugar, salt, tea, coffee, sand, pepper and flour. 4) Process experimental observations and data.
Topic 3: Classifying
Learning Objective: Learners will know how to group common objects in a number of different ways.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Compare and distinguish properties of common objects. 2) Group (classify) objects in a variety of ways
Allotted time: 1 week
…
…
I allowed two “…” just so I would be sure to breathe in and out a few times before commenting on any of this. In fact,
…
Ok. First. 1 week? 1 week = five 40 minute periods = 200 minutes = 3 hours and 20 minutes. Maybe 1 week per topic. Even that would be in a good, smooth-running world. But here? We’re working on English and getting to class on time here. I’m sure some of you still think the above is plausible… And I say, buy a ticket to Namibia and I will show you what a real class period is: first five minute, stand in door and wait for learners. Next ten minutes, let learners move desks/go look for boards to make desks out of. Next ten minutes, convince learners to get out their exercise book and allow them to run around borrowing pens and pencils. Last fifteen minutes, write and explain a few notes on the board. In the last fifteen minutes the learners also attempt to copy said notes but, living in a verbal culture, only actually achieve writing the date and underlining it (with a ruler they waited ten minutes for and got in a fist fight over). These ideas and skills are not beyond the scope and intelligence of my kids but they’re certainly not grasp-able in 1 week.
Second, allow me the indulgence of nit-picking, please? Ready?
I’m the only one with a watch. No one has a thermometer. And even with a thermometer, where am I expecting to find enough ice for 70+ 7th graders? There are two bathroom scales for sale in Khorixas – I am not planning on buying either one for this lesson plan. How does a sequence of instructions and due regard for safety have anything to do with measurements? And how exactly would they like the learners to handle experimental observations? And with what experiment are we having enough time to even collect data? Color, size, feel and sound are all easy – when you know the words for them! Sugar, salt, tea, coffee? I can’t even keep enough food in my house for me; where is all this experimentation food coming from? And I swear on my life, these learners would eat it before observing it. Above that, none of this is even mentioned in the textbook. And, to top it all off, one week?
…
Ok. I’m done. Thanks.
To be fair, maybe I’m being too judgmental. Maybe I’m not allowing enough grace for a school system that is in the middle of a rocky start. Maybe I’m not working hard enough to make these lessons work. Maybe. But for now, thanks for letting me explain things with my culture sunglasses on… Have I explained the culture sunglasses, yet? Eh, just imagine them – I’m sure you’ll come close.
Well, the crickets are sounding in the hostel yard now. That’s how quiet it is. And before I go I have one more discovery for your precious ears. I found a poster today in the library that had the names of important insect life in Namibia. One of them quite nicely fit the description of the giant robot beetles I tried to explain earlier. The official name is “Armoured Ground Cricket” and in Latin “Acanthoplus discoidalis”. I’m not sure if those are the appropriate names for the most heinously ugly bug I have ever encountered, but google it. If it looks like a robot tank approximately the same size as the palm of your hand, then you’ve got the right bug… and it’s not leaving. Day and night, “chirping” on my door, on my windows, on the grass, everywhere. Ugh. (I will testify that hitting them like a hockey puck with an old broom is quite stress relieving though)(But, heathen American, my learners think its cruel)(even though those same learners hid around a corner until a girl walks by and then throw it in her hair. Terrible, but one of the lesser forms of trouble they could be getting into)(and the bugs have destroyed hundreds of crops this year)(Either way, I can’t tell you. You decide)
As always, more later. I’ve got more breathing to do
…
16 April 2008
I know I just wrote yesterday, but I forgot to tell you something. Once I tell you what it is you’re going to wonder how you survived this long without knowing. Are you ready?
You see, this past Sunday morning I decided it was a chore day. Lately, I have discovered that I need a housewife. I just can’t seem to do all my dishes, cooking, laundry and shopping. It’s a recent development that I would like to blame on the continent I live on. However, I have few continents to compare it with so I will restrain myself. All that is to say, if you want the job, I’m now accepting applicants – there is no pay, but you get your own hostel cot, my love and a great tan.
Anyway, chore day started out with taking my empty backpack to Multisave to fill with delicious food. It was nice morning so I took the long way around and ended at the petrol station right next to Multisave. As I walked around the corner I hear someone yell, “hey, I know that person!” I stood there and stared and tried to figure out why this person was yelling at me. It finally registered that it was another PCV from Waterburg near Okakarara. I know her well but honestly seeing another American in Khorixas is the same as if they had actually flown over that day to see me. I think I would have given my own mother that look. It turns out her, her dad (who had flown in the week before) and two other PCVs were driving through Khorixas to visit Twyfelfontein (twelf –on –tayn sometimes –teen). They said hop in, let’s go. Adventure? Random? I miss it. Chore day was out the window. I was in.
It took about and hour and forty five minutes to get to Twyfelfontein. I enjoyed every minute of it. Sabrina had fruit roll ups. Emily had biltong (beef jerky-ish). The rental car had air conditioning. Melissa had new tunes. Even with back-middle, the trip could have just been sitting in the car all day and I would have been a happy camper.
For those of you who don’t know Twyfelfontein is the site of “one of the most extensive galleries of rock art in Africa,” containing “6000-year-old petroglyphs” – as read from the Namibia section of the Southern Africa guide book. Just before this entry it talks about Khorixas. The lovely description says, “Although it’s the administrative capital of Damaraland, Khorixas serves mainly as a refueling spot and a supply stop.” Sound like a place to spend two years? I think they just say that because they haven’t heard my learners sing yet. When you arrive at Twyfelfontein, the office is made out of old oil drum lids welded together. It is really quite creative but, recently, I have had a bit of trouble distinguishing between art and poverty-driven necessity (tin can wall? creative or required?). To see the rocks it cost N$30 for foreigners and N$20 for residents, including Peace Corps volunteers (yes!), with ID (which I always forget, so blaming the randomness just wouldn’t do. They let me in on resident price anyway).
Our guide showed us The Lion Man path. It seems all of the drawings were once inside a cave. At some time though the cave collapsed. Now the cave walls are only piles of huge rocks. It is interesting to see how different rocks fell. Some of the walls fell perfectly for us to see the drawings on them. I can only imagine what drawings are hidden under and between rocks. The path we took was called The Lion Man path because it has the famous drawing of Twyfelfontien – a lion with a really long tail depicting a myth about a man periodically transforming into a lion. There are also picture of giraffes, rhinos, maps of the land and penguins and seals (from South African visitors). It was all very interesting and a bit whimsical. Speculating about the past, in my head, is a cross between Far Side cave men grunting and a couple of kids burying a time capsule with their favorite toys. I mean, what if they were just playing Tic-Tac-Toe? If you save anything long enough, it becomes valuable.
By the time I made it back to Khorixas it was far too late in the day to do any chores. Plus, I had a headache from wandering around in the almost desert with little water in the heat of the day to look at rocks (I guess random isn’t always the smartest way to go). However, all things considered, eating rice for an extra day and having my co-workers judge my wrinkled dirty clothes was a small price to pay for an overall great day. At the very least it was nice to be one of the smiling tourists stopping at the petrol station outside of Multisave (they all read the guide book. They know: refuel and get supplies. That’s all). Usually, I’m the volunteer sitting on the stoop of Multisave staring at the smiling tourist and wishing I were that happy to be “in Africa”. But, at the end of the day, I get to hear my learners sing and they just get petrol and a coke ;)
April 23
It occurs to me that today may not the best day to write a blog post. I’m not sure if I can explain why the whole day went awry but I can say that the only one who can sympathize with me is Shania Twain - “There’s no way but up from here…”
You can judge but let me just say, Shania has her place. And it’s with the country folk. And some days you just need to hear about someone else’s dog that died, the guy that got away or the truck that just wouldn’t start. And now that your reading is tainted with the fact that I still listen to Shania Twain, let’s move on. Shall we?
I’m sure you’re all dying to know what happened on my Easter vacation. I only know you are because I’m dying to tell you. I left Khorixas on Thursday morning. I took my bag down to the hike point (where you catch a cab or otherwise obtain a ride) and had to wait about 10 minutes before someone told me a white man around the corner was taking a truck to Swakopmund. I was a little skeptical and it turns out the informant’s cover story of good will towards men was a ruse and he was looking for a free cooldrink. So after he showed me the man with the truck and said man with truck offered me a free ride to the coast, I paid for his cooldrink: N$7.00 worth of cooldrink! Fancy! The only catch was that the truck was a cattle truck filled with feed and the road from Khorixas to the coast is dirt. But that catch was quickly glazed over by the fact that I was getting a N$110 ride for free. I would deal with the fact that it was going to be a 9 hour-long free ride later. After a short scare that I would have to ride in the back with the feed (and about ten learners who were trying to get to their farms for the long weekend), I was offered a spot in the cab.
It was a great ride on a road I’ve never been on before. It was just the sort of thing I needed after so long in one place. The man who offered me the ride has lived in Khorixas since, I believe, 1980. He came to the city as an Agriculture officer in the government. While he’s lived here he built the Multisave, the petrol station, butchery and the rest camp in town (the one I’ve never been to). Along the ride he pointed out specific farms and dams that belong to important people or that had interesting stories. About an hour into the ride we stopped at a farm to pick up a man and his wife who were trying to sell firewood on the coast. Of course the stop took three times longer than expected. It was nice to be able to see the famous “farm” though. I can see why my learners love to get back to their farms. Most of the farms we passed had some fashion of standing water to swim in. There were a lot of windmills and cows and large green fields. It all looked ideal. I’m sure a lot of it seemed so pretty because we’re currently at the peak of greenery. But home is home and I’m sure they love it in the brown of the year too. While we were stopped, I was offered a cup of coffee and a little history lesson. I was told that Khorixas is called the heart of Damaraland because South Africa bought the city and the surrounding farms and gave them to the Damara. They did the same with Okakarara for the Hereros, Keetmanshoop for the Nama and different cities for all the other tribes. South Africa wanted to give each tribe a homeland. I didn’t quite catch the motivation behind giving land to certain tribes but, overall, the tone wasn’t cheery. I do recall that the South African presence in Namibia was likened to the United States’ current presence in the Middle East – a comparison made more than once with a similar un-cheery tone. Luckily, I could tell they didn’t hold US politics against me (and my unwillingness to discuss them) because I was given a second cup of coffee and a second lesson on Agriculture - Khorixas is named after the Khori bush… in case you were wondering.
It turns out that my free ride was only to Heinties Bay, which is about 50K north of Swakopmund. It’s a nice place from what I could tell but stopping there meant I had to find a taxi. I thanked my free ride and asked a petrol station attendant where the hike point was. He said to have a seat at the take-away and he would stay on the lookout for a taxi. After not eating since 6:30 and spending large amounts of time in a semi, the mushroom and chicken meat pie at the take-away was calling my name. I was one bite into it when a driver came over and said it was time to go now now. I realized that it was the first time I was in a taxi without another American. The language and culture barrier was almost too much to handle. But, we’ve decided that when you feel the most awkward is probably when you’re experiencing the culture the most and you’re one step closer to integrating. So I embraced four adults in the back seat while being the only one of them that spoke English. It cost N$40 for the taxi but, considering the circumstances, I think I got ripped off.
I made it to Swakopmund at 2 in the afternoon. We had started driving that morning at 9 (after all the expected errands around Khorixas that we’ve all come to know and love). Five hours seems like record time with all the stops and less than ideal means of transportation. When I arrived in Swakop I was in shock, awe and amazement. After touring the location to drop off the four other passengers in the taxi, I was taken to the town. When we rolled into town it was as though I was driving back to America. The streets were paved and busy. There were traffic lights, cafés, a lighthouse, and lots and lots of people.
The first day in Swakop was really chill. Seven out of the nine in Otjimbingwe for CBT decided to come to our little reunion. When most of them had arrived, we went out for a late lunch – we all got salad! Some of the salads even had olives! I missed vegetables. Leslie, the PCV in Swakop, forgot to warn the town that PCVs who had been trapped in small villages for two months were coming and that they would marvel at small things like salad dressing, waiters and two story buildings. After lunch was an obligatory stop at the beach and then Super spar, “just to breathe the air”. I believe I even heard “Super spar is my idol” and “My Mecca is Super spar”… Me thinks the PCVs like Super spar. I’m not one to object especially because I found tiny bags of peanut M&M’s tucked into the far corner of the candy isle. Yippee. Then we headed to Leslie’s to catch up, complain about site, do impressions of learners and, generally, remember that we’re not alone in the world. The day ended with a movie on Leslie’s computer (Dream Girls), a shower (with hot water) and blow-drying my hair (am I in heaven?).
Friday morning I woke up at 6 am. Waking up at 6 am is great if I have to go to work, if I’m in my own house or if I’m even in a house where everyone isn’t sleeping on every available floor space until 9 in the morning. But after some finagling I managed to get on some warm clothes (Swakop is cold… well, cold for someone who currently lives on the face of the sun) and walking shoes and go for a walk. It was nice to walk around and be ignored. After my walk and the dead bodies on Leslie’s floor woke up and got ready we all went shopping. Since it was Independence Day, though, all the stores were closed. So, we went to Wimpies for burgers instead. I really wanted to have a hamburger because I don’t eat a lot of meat (mostly lentils and sometimes tuna or chicken, when the price is good). But it turns out that Wimpies’ hamburgers aren’t that good. The meal was saved, though, because their milkshakes are awesome… And I never thought I would write anything like those two sentences in my blog about Africa…
The afternoon was spent lounging on the beach and meeting other NAM27ers who decided to come to Swakop for the long weekend. There were two other groups. One stayed at a backpackers’ hostel just down the street from Leslie’s and the other stayed at a rest camp on the edge of town. The group in the backpackers’ hostel had an extreme weekend planned – they went skydiving on Saturday and sea kayaking on Sunday. As far as I can tell, the group in the rest camp just did a lot of drinking… guess they’re integrating. But, Friday on the beach was a great day with too many Americans to count. Some of us got soft serve ice cream and other took a swim in the ocean. I spent most of Friday in shock and awe also. The beach we were on most closely resembled the Santa Monica Pier and Waikiki. Wow, life’s tough on PC vacation. Thanks Uncle Sam.
Friday night we made a salad at the volunteer house and tried out a pub Leslie had been waiting for friends to check out. Saturday morning was another early morning for me. I spent about an hour wandering around the city on my own and came back to a completely silent house. Luckily, Leslie was awake too so we went out for omelets and hit up some clothes stores on the way back. I got some new shirts with long sleeves - I’ve got high hopes for winter weather. That afternoon, we all went to the beach again and then to a movie theater. The movie theater reminded me of one you could find on an Air Force base, except smaller. The movie showing was 27 Dresses. I’m not sure when it really came out but I don’t remember hearing anything about it before I left the states so I’m going to pretend it’s really recent. It was cute and definitely worth my time while in Namibia, but that’s a skewed opinion. That night we went out for seafood. I had fish and chips and was almost completely convinced we were no longer in Namibia. Luckily, our food took about an hour and a half, so I could continue to believe I was on the continent of Africa.
Sunday was more of the same but with pizza. We got a tub of ice cream at Super spar and celebrated the sunset on the beach with a game of “never have I ever [insert someone’s pastime here]”. If you have ever [insert someone’s pastime here] you eat a bite of ice cream. It was fun but I definitely learned that Peace Corps volunteers are crazy.
Monday I caught a ride with part of the group from the backpackers’ hostel (some of the group included Jill, Amanda and the VSO from Outjo, and one health volunteer from the north). The VSO of the group had a car and was willing to drive us all the Outjo if we just split the petrol. It was so nice to be in car that went directly where we needed exactly when we needed it to. She didn’t even run any errands around the location before we left. I was just glad they didn’t shun me for having a seemingly mundane weekend while they conquered their fear of jumping out of airplanes… though I have yet to see any proof that Jill actually jumped. I think she’s hiding her video from me. It seems you look like you’re about to die right before you jump out of an airplane and who want to publicize that face.
I got home that evening just before dark. We had a long stop in Outjo that involved accidentally falling asleep on Amanda’s floor and then scrambling for a taxi back to Khorixas. The bakkie Jill and I ended up in only went 80K/hour the whole way. And, while thankful for the safety that speed includes, it’s hard to sit in a bakkie for that long.
The whole weekend was really exciting and really relaxing. And, yet, after I write it all out for you, it seems really lame. I guess you’ll just have to believe me that it was great… but that’s a skewed opinion.
April 3, 2008
When you are teaching Namibian children, at times, you are choosing to talk differently than you would in America. You are choosing the words you use carefully. Many times it is taking very much energy to use words and tenses they will know. The clever learners become tired of slow like-singing speaking. But for the good of the whole class, we are speaking badly in English sometimes. The learners are just now studying and writing exams for the end of term. Today they were having English. Tomorrow they will be writing English again. The Natural Science exam will be written on Tuesday. It was very much fun to spend study time with the learners today. They have chosen to spend their study time in the library learning science. They have stood in front of the room and said as much information from memory as they could. Some of them have said the small intestine is coming just after the mouth in the Digestive system. This has made me laugh. We have learned differently since then – we have learned that the Pharynx and esophagus are coming just after the mouth. These learners are special. They are special because some days they are making me angry. Other days they are making me smile and laugh. Sometimes they are making me laugh and making me angry at the same time. It is nice to teach them science and it is nice to talk with them.
Wow, that took a lot more energy to write than to actually speak. When I read back over the paragraph, it sounds ridiculous. If another American is around to witness this sort of English, I usually get laughed at. I can see why now. The other teachers told me that my English is getting easier to understand – they are “coping” with me, was the exact wording, I believe. The learners are quicker to understand me because they’re forced to listen to me daily. Captive audience. I knew there was a reason I liked teaching.
The translation of the poorly written paragraph above:
The learners are now writing (taking) their exams for the end of the first term (there are three in a school year). They have two weeks of exams with only one exam per day. Some subjects have two exams. That is why English takes up two days. Natural science is next Tuesday for grade seven. The exam is ridiculous for many reasons. None of which I believe I could communicate effectively on a blog without offending someone. But I can say, when I first read over the exam, I was infuriated. I think I may have even turned red. The exam is…bogus. But, once I knew the challenge, I made a plan of attack and have been reviewing the “pertinent” information with the kids. This afternoon, I had an optional science review during study. I presented the information and review questions on each topic. The learners would “secretly” look things up in their notes, hidden under their chair or on their friend’s back, to answer the questions first. I don’t think they caught that I actually wanted them to look in their notes and remember. It was cute either way. Then I would have them close their eyes and try to recite things and they would secretly peak when they couldn’t (like when they told me the digestive system progressed: mouth, small intestine, stomach, anus. Eww). Honestly, it was all a lot of fun. When we were training, someone from Nam26 advised us to try to make the learners laugh everyday. He said it would make your whole experience better. Usually, it’s the other way around though. These kids crack me up. Sometimes its because they’re oblivious – but that’s beside the point.
Speaking of cracking up. I heard my first pun from a Namibian today. It went like this:
“Miss, this one is eating all the time in the hostel. She is eating so much. And she is not bathing. Everyday, she is waking up first and she is not bathing…” – Grade 7 girl, joking about her friend
“Miss, this one is lying! She is lying!” – accused friend
“Miss, you can see. I am not lying. I am standing. I am standing here. Not lying” – First girl
Oh, kids.
April 6, 2008
I just succeeded in setting my own watch. This proves two things. First, it proves that I am, in fact, a rocket scientist. I know this because my watch has 18 functions and three buttons. Programming some of these functions require holding down all three buttons at the same time, then repeatedly pushing one until the correct time and date appear. And, even when I have finagled my fingers to perform such a task, I still have to use my rocket science powers to actually figure out what time and day it really is. You see, leap day confused the date on my watch and my poor learners have been living one day in the future in all of my classes. But we were coping. Then, today, it was too much to handle when, at 2:00 this afternoon, the whole country decided to fall back without telling me. So, I took matters into my own hand, subsequently proving that, secondly, I am the most low maintenance person on the planet. Tiny instructions? In Russian? For a different watch model? Did I complain? No. Did I give up? No. Self-sufficient? Me? Yes.
…Unless, of course, I’m the worst kind – I think I’m low maintenance, but really am high maintenance… Oh, Harry.
Erin. That’s for you.
April 11, 2008
I have decided that one of my favorite things in this world are children who have no idea they’re being watched. I caught a little girl having a lengthy conversation with her good friend Thin Air today. It took a good 45 seconds before she realized I was standing there. It was cute. Also, I just ran into this little boy who was convinced he was spider man. I’m pretty sure he was in the middle of working on his theme-song movie intro. There were some great Kung fu kicks in there. I would say 5 if I had to guess his time on earth thus far.
I have also decided that one of my least favorite things in this world are children who want to see: what happens when I push this button eighteen times? Oh, miss Jessica turns red. And that, my friends, is a quality in children that transcends time and culture. And I am also sure my parents and their friends are thinking, k k k karma!
Well, yesterday, I experienced Namibian culture. Done and done. I found it all on my own. It was very conveniently located at my local Parent-Teacher meeting. Oh gosh.
Last night was the first term parents meeting. It “started” at 5pm. I realized that having a supervisor that focuses on punctuality has spoiled me. Occasionally, our 6:50 morning meetings will start at 6:55 or 7:00. But just as often, they start at 6:48 and I walk in on the tail-end of the prayer (unless of course it’s my morning to pray. In which case, it doesn’t start as long as I can keep praying. And I pray in American English, so I could talk for a while and say a lot. Though, sometimes they miss the “Amen” and I have to say it a few times to get everyone to open their eyes). Overall though, our punctual morning meetings have made me forget that 5:00 usually means 5:30 or 6:00 and “now” means later. So, the meeting actually started around 5:45. It was held in the hostel-dining hall. Our school (I hear) is rather large. So the dining hall is a fair size also. All 20 of the teachers and I were placed at a row of tables on a stage in the front of the dining hall. I’m not exactly sure why this set up was chosen but I did find the stare-down aspect of it rather humorous.
At the beginning of the meeting I was introduced to the parents. It was nice to be associated with a group. The teachers were cute as they gave me social cues. Whispering, “stand up now”, “sit down” and pre-warning the crowd that I say my “r”s like my mouth is full of marbles. There was a lot of Damara and then “Jessica Royer” said like a mix between Humphrey Bogart and Scooby Doo. That’s when you know you’re up – the Humphrey-Scooby accent. The other new teacher was introduced also. He’s rather popular in Khorixas though so his introduction was short.
After the introductions, the group spent a few minutes deciding which of Namibia’s plethora of languages the meeting should be translated to. This part was interesting to me because I was unaware of some of the cultural backgrounds at our school. Not everyone in Damaraland is Damara. But most of them do learn the language… unlike their lazy volunteer. I suppose, “but its so hard” just wouldn’t impress you and it would certainly negate the whole watch setting victory from last weekend. How about, “I’ll try harder”. In the end, it seemed that all who could not understand Damara were good in Afrikaans. It was decided the meeting would be conducted in Damara, translated into Afrikaans, with token poppy seeds of English thrown in here and there. I most definitely understand this set up but, honestly, it made me bow my head and laugh throughout the meeting. When someone would get done ranting about covering books or tardiness of learners another would inevitably shout, “Afrikaans!” and the ten-minute spiel would have to be repeated in a second language. Luckily, one of our teachers works at a church (I believe he’s a pastor) and is very good at translating. So when a parent or teacher would speak who was not fluent in one of the other languages, this teacher would jump up and fly through the other required languages. Every so often, he’s a goofball about it. Someone would be speaking in English, get passionate about something and slip back into mother tongue. This teacher just jumps from translating into mother tongue and start translating into English. I really think that translating is a gift. Languages are beyond me. I would like to be able to do what this man does but the gift just eludes me.
Throughout the meeting we covered a variety of topics… or at least it seems we did – mine was the poppy seed language. Two hours into the meeting, it was my turn to inform the parents about a girls’ club I’m trying to get off the ground for second and third term (as per usual, Jill and I are in cahoots about it). I asked one of the female teachers who works closely with the girls in the hostel to help me with my presentation. I was worried that the parents would not understand. It may have been better to ask an upper primary teacher (who teaches in English) to translate but they’re all male. I wanted someone who knows the girls and works with the girls to help me. We just stuck to the script during our two minute presentation and this teacher did great. I really like her. She is always willing to help me. I feel like clueless would get annoying but she never seems to get fed up with me. I thought the parents would appreciate that I was short and sweet and to the point. However, it seems a girls’ club is actually a topic for hot debate. Why not boys? I had quite a few answers welling up, some of them were not so polite: “Well, if you think a boys club is so important, why don’t you just…” Luckily, before I got a single word in, my hero teacher jumped up and answered for me. She said, “When you educate a girl you educate a community…” Beautifully put. Thank you. But, seriously, if this dad wants a boys club why doesn’t he just… I mean, why would the female American teacher spearhead a club to… I mean, come on.
The meeting lasted two and half-hours in total. I was so impressed with a few small kids in the crowd. They entertained themselves by pulling their shirt over their head to see how dark they could get it or by sliding down in their chair and then shooting up as tall as they could sit. I remember those days and its got to be worse when you only understand a third of what’s going on. They didn’t make a peep though. The teachers at the head table started pulling out newspapers and cell phones (myself included). At one point, they even started passing around a bottle of new perfume someone bought. The sitting was intense, but we all managed to pull through. After the meeting, I thought about sticking around and meeting some parents but it seems they were even more interested in dinner. Understandable. Instead, I just walked out the door, took a few steps, walked into my flat, turned on some Beatles and hid - You say you want a revolution? Well, you know, we all want to change the world.
Today was our third to last day of exams. My grade six math class will write two math exams next week. The first one will be easy for about half of them (the ones who listen in class). The second test is going to kick all of their butts. I taught the material. They weren’t getting it though. In the end, we just ran out of time in the term. Recently, I’ve realized that it’s not always the kids’ fault when they don’t get something. I can think back on a few times in my life where it was really obviously the teacher’s fault and I blamed it on myself. When more than three quarters of the class is drawing a blank, something has gone awry. It doesn’t help that the second test will be their last test. By then, all they’re thinking about is jumping into the dam at the farm. Who wants to be changing a mixed number to an improper fraction at that time in the term? Seriously.
Tuesday was grade seven’s day. Since then, I’ve sat in that library staring at far too many Natural science exams written by far too many learners who have never taken a spelling test (you have to remember it’s a verbal culture – speaking 4 languages is no big deal. Writing in them all? Almost unheard of). If you’ll allow me a few examples:
Q: What are four things boys can expect during puberty?
A: He get hers on faes. He get hers unda hams.
Q: What system is the brain, spinal cord and nerves a part of?
A: the System system
Q: What is a sphincter?
A: Killing a person
Q: Describe two adaptations of fish to their environment.
A: the fish is aw food and fish is good for pebpls.
Q: Mention three things that are important for a good relationship.
A: You must no peat each other.
Or
A: Kiss the Laydy. Be vei full.
Q: Mention some ways to maintain sexual health.
A: Sai a wei frum boys.
Love it.
But, I did go cross-eyed trying to finagle points for these kids. Now that I’m done grading their papers I have to hand them in to be moderated. It just means the subject head at our school has to check and make sure my grading is ok. I’m a little worried about this because a lot of my good learners got around 50%. I’m worried that the subject head is going to make me grade them all again because too many my learners scored too high (that’s right, 50 is high). Does this happen other places? Is it weird for a whole class to pass (in my case its really only about 25 kids but that’s beside the point)? I don’t remember it being weird but I’m forgetting.
Luckily, in grade six, I don’t have to worry about re-grading. The kids will take care of that for me… oh, gosh. These kids. I can’t even imagine. They’re set up to fail - literally expected to. Hey mom, dad, thanks for telling me I could be a ballerina or oceanographer or artist. Good childhood. You did good.
Speaking of good parents, I got three packages when I went to the post office today. “Nampost” only gets packages on Thursday from Otjiwarongo. Then is takes them a week or four to let us know they have one for us. Honestly, I only go to the post office with really low expectations these days. I went today with the same expectations but felt a little of my 1st grade self come out when the PO box was empty. I didn’t think it was important but it turns out spending my birthday without even a card was actually going to get to me. Lucky for me, Jill is more proactive about such things and generally asks inside the post office. Usually, this doesn’t actually do anything though - They don’t know our boxes are back there. But today, they magically produced three boxes for me. Yippee! There’s definitely happy birthday paper in one of them. I’m admiring the wrapping job just now. Thanks family.
In the other two boxes? Girl scout cookies. I’m feeling sick.
15 April 2008
Today was the last day of school for the learners. At our 10:00 break we all met in the middle of the school to officially close the term. In the morning, I spent most of my time in the library trying to mark and organize papers. I say trying because the grade sevens have taken to sitting on the desk staring at me for the past week. I tell them to leave and go study for their next exam but, like “good” kids, they leave for a few minutes and come right back. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t sooo much more interesting than their exams - By the end of most days I find that I’ve talked more about hair and boys and America and mothers than grading science and math exams. Anyway, I was actually getting some work done today when my learners came in and said, “Miiiiiiissssss! (said like “mass” with a Georgia accent at the top of your lungs) it’s finished! It’s time to go!” I said, “I’m coming just now.” (which means I’ll be right there). I walked out to the official closing and found all the learners and one teacher. The learners are really good about using these lull times to practice their singing. Whenever my learners practice their impromptu singing is when I most feel like I’m in Africa. I’m not sure why this is, but if you visit and listen, I’m sure you’ll feel that way too. We have assemblies a lot, so I occupied my normal spot along, what I like to call, the firing squad wall (the teachers all stand in front to stare down the learners). Every so often, one of my learners would run up and tell me to have a wonderful holiday and that they were going to miss me. Now, they could have just been trying to score cute points but I think it was genuine… but even if it wasn’t, it was cute.
After the assembly, all the learners left to go home. The rest of today has been really quiet and a little eerie. Every hour or so someone will knock on my door to tell me they are leaving. I tell them to be safe and have fun and then they’re gone in whatever bakkie or cart that has come to collect them. By the time all of them make it back from the farm it will be a month before I see them again. I’m ready for the break but we have just spent a lot of quality time (three and a half months) with each other. I think I’m going to miss them too.
In our work time for the rest of the week, my supervisor is requesting that all upper primary teachers prepare lesson plans for the beginning of second term. Personally, I think this is really wise plan because I’m not expecting to go anywhere near my preparation binder in my three weeks off. Currently, I am working on my natural science lesson plans. This term, we started with health educations, moved on to systems of the body and finished with ecosystems. Next term we are starting with the scientific method and then moving quickly to matter. I’m not sure what comes after matter because I haven’t gotten that far. We have two government issued papers that dictate what to teach and when to teach it: the Scheme of Work and the Syllabus. The Scheme of work tells us when to teach each topic. The syllabus tells you what the kids actually need to know and be able to do for the exams. Then, you have to fill out your plan to execute these requirements and file them in your preparation binder. Personally, I like this system because I’m the kind of person who goes to the office supply section of a store “just to look”. Dividers make my day… Anyway, in all my planning, I found some interesting requirements that I thought I would share with you.
In the Scheme of Work for the beginning of term two:
Themes: Scientific Process
Topics:
1) Estimating and Measuring
2) Observing
3) Classifying
Allotted time: 1 week
Ok. Fair enough. Now, let’s breeze over to the syllabus to investigate what each of these topics actually require the learners to know.
Topic 1: Estimating and Measuring
Learning objective: Learners will know how to estimate and measure length, mass, time, temperature and the area of regularly shaped (right-angled) objects.
Basic competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Estimate and measure: length, mass, time and temperature; temperature of melting ice; the height of a fellow learner and the mass of school bags using appropriate methods. 2) Calculate the area of regularly shaped (right angled) objects. 3) Convert minutes and hours to seconds. 4) Convert units of length, mass, time and area. 5) Follow sequence of instructions. Use appropriate techniques. Handle apparatus/material competently and have due regard for safety. 6) make and record estimates and measurements accurately. 7) Handle and process experimental observations and data.
Topic 2: Observing
Learning objective: Learners will know how to observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Make and record observations. 2) Observe properties such as colour, size, feel, sound, shape and smell of a variety of substances. 3) Observe properties of a variety of common substances such as sugar, salt, tea, coffee, sand, pepper and flour. 4) Process experimental observations and data.
Topic 3: Classifying
Learning Objective: Learners will know how to group common objects in a number of different ways.
Basic Competencies: Learners should be able to 1) Compare and distinguish properties of common objects. 2) Group (classify) objects in a variety of ways
Allotted time: 1 week
…
…
I allowed two “…” just so I would be sure to breathe in and out a few times before commenting on any of this. In fact,
…
Ok. First. 1 week? 1 week = five 40 minute periods = 200 minutes = 3 hours and 20 minutes. Maybe 1 week per topic. Even that would be in a good, smooth-running world. But here? We’re working on English and getting to class on time here. I’m sure some of you still think the above is plausible… And I say, buy a ticket to Namibia and I will show you what a real class period is: first five minute, stand in door and wait for learners. Next ten minutes, let learners move desks/go look for boards to make desks out of. Next ten minutes, convince learners to get out their exercise book and allow them to run around borrowing pens and pencils. Last fifteen minutes, write and explain a few notes on the board. In the last fifteen minutes the learners also attempt to copy said notes but, living in a verbal culture, only actually achieve writing the date and underlining it (with a ruler they waited ten minutes for and got in a fist fight over). These ideas and skills are not beyond the scope and intelligence of my kids but they’re certainly not grasp-able in 1 week.
Second, allow me the indulgence of nit-picking, please? Ready?
I’m the only one with a watch. No one has a thermometer. And even with a thermometer, where am I expecting to find enough ice for 70+ 7th graders? There are two bathroom scales for sale in Khorixas – I am not planning on buying either one for this lesson plan. How does a sequence of instructions and due regard for safety have anything to do with measurements? And how exactly would they like the learners to handle experimental observations? And with what experiment are we having enough time to even collect data? Color, size, feel and sound are all easy – when you know the words for them! Sugar, salt, tea, coffee? I can’t even keep enough food in my house for me; where is all this experimentation food coming from? And I swear on my life, these learners would eat it before observing it. Above that, none of this is even mentioned in the textbook. And, to top it all off, one week?
…
Ok. I’m done. Thanks.
To be fair, maybe I’m being too judgmental. Maybe I’m not allowing enough grace for a school system that is in the middle of a rocky start. Maybe I’m not working hard enough to make these lessons work. Maybe. But for now, thanks for letting me explain things with my culture sunglasses on… Have I explained the culture sunglasses, yet? Eh, just imagine them – I’m sure you’ll come close.
Well, the crickets are sounding in the hostel yard now. That’s how quiet it is. And before I go I have one more discovery for your precious ears. I found a poster today in the library that had the names of important insect life in Namibia. One of them quite nicely fit the description of the giant robot beetles I tried to explain earlier. The official name is “Armoured Ground Cricket” and in Latin “Acanthoplus discoidalis”. I’m not sure if those are the appropriate names for the most heinously ugly bug I have ever encountered, but google it. If it looks like a robot tank approximately the same size as the palm of your hand, then you’ve got the right bug… and it’s not leaving. Day and night, “chirping” on my door, on my windows, on the grass, everywhere. Ugh. (I will testify that hitting them like a hockey puck with an old broom is quite stress relieving though)(But, heathen American, my learners think its cruel)(even though those same learners hid around a corner until a girl walks by and then throw it in her hair. Terrible, but one of the lesser forms of trouble they could be getting into)(and the bugs have destroyed hundreds of crops this year)(Either way, I can’t tell you. You decide)
As always, more later. I’ve got more breathing to do
…
16 April 2008
I know I just wrote yesterday, but I forgot to tell you something. Once I tell you what it is you’re going to wonder how you survived this long without knowing. Are you ready?
You see, this past Sunday morning I decided it was a chore day. Lately, I have discovered that I need a housewife. I just can’t seem to do all my dishes, cooking, laundry and shopping. It’s a recent development that I would like to blame on the continent I live on. However, I have few continents to compare it with so I will restrain myself. All that is to say, if you want the job, I’m now accepting applicants – there is no pay, but you get your own hostel cot, my love and a great tan.
Anyway, chore day started out with taking my empty backpack to Multisave to fill with delicious food. It was nice morning so I took the long way around and ended at the petrol station right next to Multisave. As I walked around the corner I hear someone yell, “hey, I know that person!” I stood there and stared and tried to figure out why this person was yelling at me. It finally registered that it was another PCV from Waterburg near Okakarara. I know her well but honestly seeing another American in Khorixas is the same as if they had actually flown over that day to see me. I think I would have given my own mother that look. It turns out her, her dad (who had flown in the week before) and two other PCVs were driving through Khorixas to visit Twyfelfontein (twelf –on –tayn sometimes –teen). They said hop in, let’s go. Adventure? Random? I miss it. Chore day was out the window. I was in.
It took about and hour and forty five minutes to get to Twyfelfontein. I enjoyed every minute of it. Sabrina had fruit roll ups. Emily had biltong (beef jerky-ish). The rental car had air conditioning. Melissa had new tunes. Even with back-middle, the trip could have just been sitting in the car all day and I would have been a happy camper.
For those of you who don’t know Twyfelfontein is the site of “one of the most extensive galleries of rock art in Africa,” containing “6000-year-old petroglyphs” – as read from the Namibia section of the Southern Africa guide book. Just before this entry it talks about Khorixas. The lovely description says, “Although it’s the administrative capital of Damaraland, Khorixas serves mainly as a refueling spot and a supply stop.” Sound like a place to spend two years? I think they just say that because they haven’t heard my learners sing yet. When you arrive at Twyfelfontein, the office is made out of old oil drum lids welded together. It is really quite creative but, recently, I have had a bit of trouble distinguishing between art and poverty-driven necessity (tin can wall? creative or required?). To see the rocks it cost N$30 for foreigners and N$20 for residents, including Peace Corps volunteers (yes!), with ID (which I always forget, so blaming the randomness just wouldn’t do. They let me in on resident price anyway).
Our guide showed us The Lion Man path. It seems all of the drawings were once inside a cave. At some time though the cave collapsed. Now the cave walls are only piles of huge rocks. It is interesting to see how different rocks fell. Some of the walls fell perfectly for us to see the drawings on them. I can only imagine what drawings are hidden under and between rocks. The path we took was called The Lion Man path because it has the famous drawing of Twyfelfontien – a lion with a really long tail depicting a myth about a man periodically transforming into a lion. There are also picture of giraffes, rhinos, maps of the land and penguins and seals (from South African visitors). It was all very interesting and a bit whimsical. Speculating about the past, in my head, is a cross between Far Side cave men grunting and a couple of kids burying a time capsule with their favorite toys. I mean, what if they were just playing Tic-Tac-Toe? If you save anything long enough, it becomes valuable.
By the time I made it back to Khorixas it was far too late in the day to do any chores. Plus, I had a headache from wandering around in the almost desert with little water in the heat of the day to look at rocks (I guess random isn’t always the smartest way to go). However, all things considered, eating rice for an extra day and having my co-workers judge my wrinkled dirty clothes was a small price to pay for an overall great day. At the very least it was nice to be one of the smiling tourists stopping at the petrol station outside of Multisave (they all read the guide book. They know: refuel and get supplies. That’s all). Usually, I’m the volunteer sitting on the stoop of Multisave staring at the smiling tourist and wishing I were that happy to be “in Africa”. But, at the end of the day, I get to hear my learners sing and they just get petrol and a coke ;)
April 23
It's vacation! Woo hoo! I'll spare you the details of PC vacation on a budget though. Let's just say, if you need me to read something or do something for you, these two weeks are the time to ask... Time - I've got plenty of it. Overall, I'm enjoying my vacation though. Then at the end of two weeks we have reconnect in Windhoek with all of group 27. I'm really excited about it.
Here's a shout out to all the graduates out there. Congratulations! And, trust me, you will be fine! Life goes on. Even if you don't know what you're doing with your life, you will be fine. It will all turn out exactly like its supposed to ;)
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Our squatter's camp. There are hundreds more like these. 
Me. Awkwardly standing in front of Khorixas. It's my K town...
The view from our cellphone tower hill. Purdy!March 8, 2008
I don’t know I why I never gave much thought to hard-boiled eggs before in my life. They are the perfect food. They are full of protein that didn’t come from a goat or a 40-dollar bag of chicken. They cook in their shell – which is clean, even if a cockroach was crawling in the pan. And they travel… just like me. The only problem is I can’t eat them in front of people or I feel like Anne from Arrested Development (“I’m sure egg is a very lovely girl”).
So much has happened in the last week, I’m not sure if I can sum it all up. Last Friday was Leap day! Yay! In order to celebrate leap day and our continuing sanity, a group of 10-15 PCVs were going to come to Khorixas for Mexican food (not surprisingly, a rare commodity in Namibia). It was going to be Taco Fest ’08. I was so excited to hang out with a lot of Americans, eat tacos and generally relax without having to travel long distances. Sadly though, a few days before Taco Fest ’08 the PC Namibia decided to crack down on travel. This meant that only three were close enough to get permission to make the trip. Apparently, Nam27 is just too young in their Namibian lives to successfully travel around the country. Which is odd, because we weren’t too young during training (“just hike (hitch hike) back from shadowing. It’s in your budget to take a taxi too”) and at the beginning of service in January (my supervisor had to explain how to get a taxi in Khorixas. She’s helpful… really helpful. I hear this makes me a lucky PCV duck). But, overall, I can understand the PC not wanting the responsibility to inform families back home about a car accident or similarly devastating incident. (And don’t tell them I said, but rumor has it, we’re standing on the shoulders of a few previous Nam volunteers with less than excellent travel judgment… but you didn’t hear it from me).
I was disappointed at first but it turned out that the partial cancellation of Taco Fest ’08 would work in my favor. For the past couple of weeks, my co-workers have been telling me to pack my bags. And no, they didn’t want to get rid of me. My flat near the hostel was almost ready and they were excited that I was about to move closer to school. I was excited too (the daily tour of K town was getting old) and so I spent the 25th packing the things I didn’t use on a daily basis. Luckily, that was also the day my house-mate was cleaning the volunteer house so I was given some Tupperware without lids, ancient pans, plastic wine glasses, a couple of sink stoppers, an old collection of glass peanut butter jars and a mediocre toasted sandwich maker (it takes about 20 minutes to toast bread). I was told in my replacement letter (where a previous PCV at your site will write you a letter giving you the ins and outs. I think I mentioned this letter when I wrote about getting my site assignment), things in the volunteer house left by previous volunteers became a part of the house and, therefore, needed to remain there. So, I felt a little guilty taking them. But in the end, I overcame my guilt by looking at the kitchenware as loaners. I’ll return anything worthy of return after two years (read: the glass jars are not being toted back across town).
I spent the whole week waiting for someone to say “Surprise! It’s time to move.” Then, on Leap Day, I was teaching my last science class when one of the teachers at my school came in to tell me my furniture was being delivered. The PC Namibia requires that we get a means to cook (stove), a bed, a table and chairs. I also got two extra mattresses and a refrigerator (I think the fridge might be required also, but I’m not sure). I asked for five extra minutes to finish up my lesson (I was having all my learners hold bread in their mouths for 20 minutes to experience the effects of saliva. True, I could just tell them what saliva does, but would it really be science if I just told them?) and then I headed over the hostel yard to see my furniture and new flat. When I got to my flat it was a bustle of activity. The hostel matron was putting the finishing touches on cleaning. The math teacher was moving my table in. The two HODs (Head of Department) were removing the wrapping and Styrofoam from my new refrigerator. All the work was being done for me. I was a little in the way – which a feeling I’ve never appreciated. Luckily, the work was done so quickly (odd for this country but, land of contrast, can be expected from time to time) they finished within 20 minutes and gathered me, another teacher and four Ministry of Works men to drive to town and collect my things. With all those men, you would have thought moving my stuff would have been a breeze. And I’m sure I made it look effortless as they watched me carry five loads out to the truck from the comfort of the shade and the consolation of a cold beer. The work went quick enough though. I was out of the house before my housemate even started making her lunch. I made a promise to come back later in the day and clean my room, hopped in the truck and, as per tradition, ran a few other people’s errands on the way back to my flat (cars are the valuable commodity. Everybody wants a ride).
That afternoon I had left class at about 1:00 and was in my new flat with furniture and all my things by 1:45. It was a big change for 45 minutes. But, just as quickly as everyone had shown up to help, they all disappeared with the reassurance that they would be back with light bulbs and gas for the stove before 5:00. “Just wait here,” I was told. Great… But, wait… Friday afternoon was beginning to look miserable with no food and a leash to my new apartment. I decided to bolt to a take-away (a hole-in-the-wall type grocery store) in the location for shortbread cookies and Simba chips (made by Lays, I think). Of course I chose the wrong time because as I came running back around the corner some blue jumpsuits (Ministry of Works) were waiting on my stoop to make my new toilet flush (a problem I wasn’t even aware I had). While those two were hard at work on the plumbing, two more blue guys showed up to work on the light bulbs. But, they forgot a ladder, so one ran back to the ministry to snag one. He came back with a ladder and another blue guy (who was out to prove that it’s always 5:00 somewhere). About that time, two Eddie Bowe teachers meandered in “just to take a look.” While I was showing the teachers around and carefully avoiding the plastered blue guy, we heard this terrible thudding noise and ran outside to take a look. The truck carrying my gas had arrived and (driven by blue guy) was stuck in a ditch. The truck went forward, then backward, then forward, backward, forward, backward… My gas tank rolling to the front of the truck bed, then to the back, then to the front, back, front, back… Now, I’m no expert, but I don’t want anything ruining the structural integrity of a 5-foot tank of anything explosive that’s going to park itself in my house. Luckily, the beer drunken earlier or our raised eyebrows convinced this blue guy to stop and let the gas go.
My house was humming. It was full of men in blue jump suits and people debating the best way to set up an American house. As the work dwindled down, I watched five men in blue jumpsuits and two Eddie Bowe teachers debating how to screw in a light bulb and my imagination wandered: “How many Namibians does it take to screw in a light bulb? I would have put my money on two or three… but five to seven, hmmm…” and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I’m sure there’s a lame joke in there somewhere. If you find it, let me know. And, Mom, Dad, let the little blue guy jokes run rampant.
Everyone was gone by 4:45. I shut the door and locked it. It was time to breathe. I was so lucky to get such specialized attention on a Friday. Even though it was stressful, I’m going to try to treasure the memory because it’ll probably be a year before another blue suit walks into my flat – Welcome to the do-it-yourself chapter of my life. I didn’t rest too long because I still had to walk back to town to clean my old room.
On my way back to my new flat from town, I stopped by Jill’s to see what had become of Taco Fest ’08. With the action of the day, I was a little out of the loop. I found Jill just chilling in her apartment alone. I was equally exhausted. So I found a cozy spot on her tiled floors to call mine while she broke the news about Taco Fest ’08. It turned out that two from Katmanjab were coming much later that night and one from Outjo didn’t know when she was coming. While she was telling me the unfoldings of the travelers and the Fest the sun went down and I found myself laying on a tile floor in the dark, exhausted and disgusting, reveling in the hilarity of the fest we had planned for that night. Earlier, we had even considered making a piñata for the occasion. The irony of this place is too much to handle at times. All I can say is, go ahead and make plans – just don’t plan on using them.
That night, I spent the first night in my flat. If any of you are considering the Peace Corps, or moving to another country in general, you should know that things you think make a home are not always what you would expect. In America, I would have said company, comfort and convenience make a house a home. But here I’ve discovered all I need is my fan, my mosquito net and some fashion of privacy. I like the poetry in my previous line of thinking but it’s much easier to get a fan and mosquito net here. So, after setting up my fan, hanging my mosquito net (more to keep out the cockroaches, beetles and other various forms of evil than actual mosquitoes) and pinning some sheets in the window, it was time for bed in the comfort of my new home.
The next morning, I stopped by Taco Fest ’08 to find three PCVs and one unexpected VSO had made it to Khorixas. Things were looking up for the Fest. We all walked to town to hit up Multisave, PEP and the hardware store. Then we spent the day relaxing in the company of other Americans (and one Canadian). At the end of the day, I took everyone on a nature hike (and by “I took everyone” I mean I got schooled by one who practically ran up the cell phone tower hill, two had been before and two stayed behind to actually make the tacos… but who’s counting). We watched the sun set from the hill. When we got back to Jill’s, it was time for tacos. Taco Fest ’08 rating: Tacos? Great. Fest? I’ve had better. ’08? There had better be a ’08.5 or that was a bit of a bust. Truthfully, though, it was good to hang out and eat Mexican food. I felt… what’s that word… oh, yeah, normal.
Sunday and the rest of the week, I spent trying to set up my flat. Monday after school, the teachers all met at my flat to throw me a surprise party. It was so sweet. They decorated the outside of my flat with paper roses and signs that said, “Welcome home J. Roger”… I know… just look the other way and smile… They also brought sodas and a tray full of goat meat. We were all sitting on the floor (because I only have two chairs) eating our goat. I American-finished my meat (which means I didn’t pick the bone clean) and was trying to hide the leftovers (because if there’s still meat on the bone, someone will eat it), when they gave me a huge bag full of dishes. They were all orange and white stripes – totally cute. Then on Wednesday morning, the hostel matrons gave me another gift bag full of dishes. They were totally cute too. And I feel like these people get me because in all those dishes there were six coffee mugs. That’s my kind of gift!
Otherwise, setting up my apartment has been a battle to get curtains up that will deter the little eyes that are so curious about my life. I would love to share it with them but I don’t feel so comfortable with them knowing I have a computer, Ipod, camera and an overall fancy-smancy lifestyle. The only thing they seem overly interested in, though, is the food. I have my own theories on this but some of them involve me being bitter about consistently being asked for a piece of bread, so we’ll reserve those for another day. The other battle is the cockroaches. You can say, “gross” but I say, “This means war”. Those little devils just twitch their antennae at me and say, “What are you gonna do about it, huh? Huh?” They’re going down.
As always, more later - I’ve got war to wage
March 13, 2008
Time here is an enigma. Time everywhere is an enigma. Some days just fly by and others are pulling my teeth out one at a time with no drugs. This week was one where I lost a lot of teeth.
This past weekend, Jill and I walked out to the Rest Camp just outside Khorixas. They have a pool, restaurant, palm trees and a gift shop. Nothing says western like a gift shop. It was nice to have someone give me a sprite with ice in the glass and to be able to put my feet in a blue pool (even if it doesn’t have chlorine: a chemical I feel is even more necessary in Africa). Walking out there, I was hoping that an out-of-the-ordinary afternoon would make everything feel right again. But my hopes were not answered. While it was nice, I was still in Khorixas.
Don’t get me wrong; it’s not Khorixas… it’s just that I haven’t left since February 1st. It takes me 25 minutes to walk from one side of the city to the other. And what’s on the other side, you ask? Another view of the middle of nowhere! Its truly fascinating living in one of the least populated countries on the planet but I have cabin fever!
I hope to remedy this problem next weekend with my plans to visit Swakopmund for the Easter holiday. Judging by how iffy travel in this country is though, I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much. But, honestly, if this trip falls through, I may actually go crazy – real crazy, the kind where you don’t know you’re crazy. I’ll be sure to keep you posted… that is if I remember how to use a keyboard in my demented state…
Well, as you can see, I’ve started occupying my time by making personal sanity threats online. But I have healthier outlets too. On Monday, Tuesday and Thursday afternoons the kids have “study” from 3 to 4. This means, from what I can tell, the kids all come back to school to sit in a classroom and play the quiet game. I’m sure they’re doing something but it’s definitely not homework for my class (Average marks on my last math homework assignment? 0/25. My optimism is waning. Sorry). This next Monday, I chose six Grade 7 learners to train to work in the library during study. I asked for volunteers who would be willing to help me re-shelf books, sweep and mop the library every week. I got about 50 out of the 75 Grade 7 learner sign up to help (this only furthers my theory that they’re not doing anything in study). So, I made a quiz for them to show off their alphabetizing and organizing ability then chose the 6 top scorers to help. I’m really excited for the extra help and for kids practicing having extra responsibility. Also on Mondays, Jill has taken over a club called “Window’s of Hope”. It is a national program that is taught at a lot of schools. It teaches kids more about HIV, AIDS, puberty and relationships. If the kids come to every meeting, they get a certificate (which has a lot more draw than you would initially think). There’s a Windows group for Grade 4-7. We work with Grade 7. I’ve been helping with the club also – which really just means, Jill does all the planning and I show up to hang out and remind the kids to stop talking when someone else it talking. I also got to give the lecture on what each reproductive organ does, from a biological standpoint (I remember my high school Anatomy and Physiology teacher said, “it makes me blush,” when we got to that topic so he brought in a nurse to teach the reproductive chapter. And in his memory, I’m going to admit that it makes me blush too).
On Tuesdays, I have Reading during study. The Grade 6 and Grade 7 teachers picked 5 learners from each class that had “reading difficulties”. This means that they can’t read at all. According to their Khoekhoe teacher, they read better in English that they do in Khoekhoe. I think there’s a fundamental problem with me trying to teach them how to read in English without them first being able to read in Mother Tongue… but who am I to be a pessimist… and I don’t know how to teach reading in Khoekhoe (actually, I think one of the teachers is considering starting a reading group for Khoekhoe too). I have to admit, though, I’m kind of at a loss for how to teach a target language while only being able to communicate in that target language - especially when I’m not that great at drawing.
Wednesday and Thursday afternoons I spend doing a variety of things. Mostly, this means watching TV on DVD (Desperate Housewives Season 2 and, currently, Lost Season 1 – which I already watched during training but its worthy of another go), obsessively cleaning my flat to defeat the cockroaches, making some form of unhealthy food to devour (Sandies are my new favorite cookies. Who knew donuts were so easy? And why does anybody buy brownie mix?) and, on good days, testing my bravery by picking the busiest time of day to walk on a new street in the location (it takes a lot of greeting energy but usually ends up being worth it). On Fridays, I usually check my PO box and spend a bit of time listening to the Shebeen music in the Donkerhoek (the squatter’s and I are neighbors now. They really know how to live it up).
Last Friday, my learners had a choir concert. They told me it started at 6. We showed up at 6 to an empty hall with the kids singing on stage. They would sing a part of a song and then stop. Then they would start another song and the choir director would get a cell phone call and stop the whole thing. It was really odd. When our choir came down off the stage and another school took the stage we figured it was a good time to go home. I was stopped at the door and asked why I was only going to stay for the rehearsal. The real show didn’t start until 8. We decided to leave anyway but got stopped by one of my learners who was so sad we were leaving early. It broke my heart a little. She’s a tomboy with a sensitive soul – my kind of girl. In the end, though, she was just happy that we showed up for rehearsal.
That about wraps up the recent happenings in my humble life but before I go, let me just tell you about a wise NAM27 friend of mine. He thinks some things he does sound normal: I did my dishes… I ate a tuna fish sandwich… I went for a bike ride… He also thinks a few things he does sounds impressive… I went rafting… I went bungee jumping… I defeated a snake… But, the reason my friend is so wise is because he’s realized that with the simple phrase “IN AFRICA!!!” the mundane sounds exhilarating: I did my dishes IN AFRICA… I went for a bike ride IN AFRICA… And the impressive sounds almost unbelievable: I went rafting IN AFRICA… I went bungee jumping IN AFRICA… So, because it seems a lot of what I’m doing these days is mundane and a little down to earth for this whole post I’m going to add:
…IN AFRICA!!!
And hope that you feel a little more impressed with my life : )
March 18, 2008
When I first arrived in Namibia, I didn’t notice a lot of weird or unusual bugs. Throughout training I saw the occasional scorpion, many mosquitoes and one or two freakish yellow-segmented “hair-eating spiders” (I think they made up the hair eating part, and frankly, the spider part too – they look more like miniature lobsters). Since I’ve been at site, I’ve changed my tune. I have become far more acquainted with Namibia’s insect life than I ever could have hoped for.
In Khorixas it seems you can measure the seasons by the bugs. The type/species/color/sound of bugs change every week or every two weeks. When I first arrived in January I saw large black beetles with three bright stripes. Then there were the flat wall spiders (they’re really really flat. Its bizarre). Wing-shedding termites came next, followed by the bird-sized moth. The moths were trailed by the black “ho-ho” – a smelly beetle that only travels in hundreds. And most recently, we enjoy the company of bright red and green robot beetles. I call them robots because nothing organic should ever move the way they do. Lucky for us, the flys and mosquitoes are constants and with all this changes I need a few rocks in my life.
And the cockroaches… oh, the roaches. They’re new… and un-welcomed in my life.
March 19, 2008
Today is the last day of school for the week. I am so thankful for this long weekend. I’ve been in a funk lately. The funk is partially due to me spending too much time “alone” (read: I am always around people but I’m rarely with people. Does that make sense?) and it’s partially due to me being overly aware of cultural differences. Lately, I only seem to be able to focus on how differently I think and act. I find myself starting thoughts with “At home…” and “When I was in school…” On one hand, it’s definitely not healthy to compare and judge so much. On the other hand, a kid threw a rock at me yesterday while screaming “white person!” in Damara… So, I have a distinct feeling I’m being judged too.
Maybe judging isn’t the right word though. Maybe, more often, it’s observing. My learners like to observe. They like to observe freckles, eyes, “painings” (sunburns, scratches, pimples…), length or “bigness” of “hairs”, eyes, eyebrows, accents, walking, backpack carrying, drawing, writing… the list goes on but it only gets more pathetic. The kids love to tell me how I do everything differently and why I look different. It’s a little too much for me to handle sometimes. When volunteers return to America, they say they miss the attention. They say they wonder why no one cares that they’re walking through town and why no one marvels at their mundane accomplishments. So, when I get home, I’m going to need you all to tell me you can see my veins, that I walk like a man and that I have big hairs. Just every so often until I re-adjust to being normal. And I’ll be sure to say, “Well, in Namibia, I…” just so you can feel a little judged too. Deal?
Ah, I kid, but it’s only because everyone’s thinking it and I’m just trying to say it.
Aside from the mind games, things at site are going pretty great. Last Friday night, an acquaintance invited some of us to a concert. The choir was from Outjo and has been traveling around singing about discrimination. It was an event for the youth so it was held at the secondary school. It was a lot of fun for a few reasons. First, it was fun to be out after dark. I believe admitting that only solidifies my less than sparkling social life reputation. Normally, though, walking around any African city is a bit intimidating in the dark. Since I’ve moved to the location though it’s been a lot easier to find someone to walk with. It takes about ten extra minutes but everyone gets dropped off. Daytime. Nighttime. It’s all fair game now. I’m liberated! Hey, don’t judge. I know I’m a grandma. Second, it was fun because many of the faces I’ve met are becoming repeats. I really like a lot of the locals I see around town on a regular basis. It’s good to talk to people who realize that you’re another person – not just a wallet, white skin or a potential girlfriend (they’re big on quick “commitment” here, so let’s be honest… another wife. And I did mean to say another. Two? Three? Eh, who doesn’t have five wives these days?). It’s nice that I’m finding some familiar friends to talk to. It makes me feel safe. If something goes awry I know there are a few who would be quick to my rescue. And, third, it was fun because choral education here is silly. Don’t tell any of the performers, but when they sing a whole song about saying no to sugardaddies I giggle. I even giggle when I’m sitting in the front row. You know, it’s just been awhile since I’ve heard the word “sugardaddy” in three-part harmony. Overall, the kids are doing a good thing. It’s great that they want to help their community in any form. It’s going to make them more well rounded in the long run. And well rounding is a skill that hard to come by in these parts.
Today, I spent a lot of time just talking to learners. Since it was the last day, the kids were eager to get back to their farms for the long weekend. This made them less than keen on the whole learning science idea. I called some kids in for discipline from a problem yesterday but I just didn’t have the heart. Instead I told them they had a job to do – I made them tear paper into tiny pieces so that we could make new paper. They loved it. I know it’s probably a bad idea to have learners love discipline. I’ll reap the benefits of that later. The other kids in class heard about the tough discipline and came running. Pretty soon we just had a huge paper tearing party. It felt a little like a sleepover. It could have been all the observations or just that I was hanging out with a lot of 7th graders. It was fun either way. And, bonus, they’re learning how to recycle and brushing up on their English skills by telling me all about the city’s gossips – there’s far too much to keep track of (not surprisingly, most of it involves alcohol and hangovers).
Well, I’ve got to finish packing for my big weekend away tomorrow. Travel here is beast. It really grates on the planning part of my personality. If I lived anywhere else, I would actually know how I’m getting to my destination tomorrow. But here, I’m just waking up in the morning, taking my backpack and walking in search of some combi (van) that’s headed to Swakopmund also. I’ve got a good feeling about 7am tomorrow. I figure if I’m up early, someone’s bound to be leaving throughout the day. Apparently I missed four combis that already left today, though. I’m thankful for cars and the fact that one day I will drive one again. An, if I want to, I will be the only person in that car - wasting gas, radio blaring and feeling great about it all.
See you in Swakop!
I don’t know I why I never gave much thought to hard-boiled eggs before in my life. They are the perfect food. They are full of protein that didn’t come from a goat or a 40-dollar bag of chicken. They cook in their shell – which is clean, even if a cockroach was crawling in the pan. And they travel… just like me. The only problem is I can’t eat them in front of people or I feel like Anne from Arrested Development (“I’m sure egg is a very lovely girl”).
So much has happened in the last week, I’m not sure if I can sum it all up. Last Friday was Leap day! Yay! In order to celebrate leap day and our continuing sanity, a group of 10-15 PCVs were going to come to Khorixas for Mexican food (not surprisingly, a rare commodity in Namibia). It was going to be Taco Fest ’08. I was so excited to hang out with a lot of Americans, eat tacos and generally relax without having to travel long distances. Sadly though, a few days before Taco Fest ’08 the PC Namibia decided to crack down on travel. This meant that only three were close enough to get permission to make the trip. Apparently, Nam27 is just too young in their Namibian lives to successfully travel around the country. Which is odd, because we weren’t too young during training (“just hike (hitch hike) back from shadowing. It’s in your budget to take a taxi too”) and at the beginning of service in January (my supervisor had to explain how to get a taxi in Khorixas. She’s helpful… really helpful. I hear this makes me a lucky PCV duck). But, overall, I can understand the PC not wanting the responsibility to inform families back home about a car accident or similarly devastating incident. (And don’t tell them I said, but rumor has it, we’re standing on the shoulders of a few previous Nam volunteers with less than excellent travel judgment… but you didn’t hear it from me).
I was disappointed at first but it turned out that the partial cancellation of Taco Fest ’08 would work in my favor. For the past couple of weeks, my co-workers have been telling me to pack my bags. And no, they didn’t want to get rid of me. My flat near the hostel was almost ready and they were excited that I was about to move closer to school. I was excited too (the daily tour of K town was getting old) and so I spent the 25th packing the things I didn’t use on a daily basis. Luckily, that was also the day my house-mate was cleaning the volunteer house so I was given some Tupperware without lids, ancient pans, plastic wine glasses, a couple of sink stoppers, an old collection of glass peanut butter jars and a mediocre toasted sandwich maker (it takes about 20 minutes to toast bread). I was told in my replacement letter (where a previous PCV at your site will write you a letter giving you the ins and outs. I think I mentioned this letter when I wrote about getting my site assignment), things in the volunteer house left by previous volunteers became a part of the house and, therefore, needed to remain there. So, I felt a little guilty taking them. But in the end, I overcame my guilt by looking at the kitchenware as loaners. I’ll return anything worthy of return after two years (read: the glass jars are not being toted back across town).
I spent the whole week waiting for someone to say “Surprise! It’s time to move.” Then, on Leap Day, I was teaching my last science class when one of the teachers at my school came in to tell me my furniture was being delivered. The PC Namibia requires that we get a means to cook (stove), a bed, a table and chairs. I also got two extra mattresses and a refrigerator (I think the fridge might be required also, but I’m not sure). I asked for five extra minutes to finish up my lesson (I was having all my learners hold bread in their mouths for 20 minutes to experience the effects of saliva. True, I could just tell them what saliva does, but would it really be science if I just told them?) and then I headed over the hostel yard to see my furniture and new flat. When I got to my flat it was a bustle of activity. The hostel matron was putting the finishing touches on cleaning. The math teacher was moving my table in. The two HODs (Head of Department) were removing the wrapping and Styrofoam from my new refrigerator. All the work was being done for me. I was a little in the way – which a feeling I’ve never appreciated. Luckily, the work was done so quickly (odd for this country but, land of contrast, can be expected from time to time) they finished within 20 minutes and gathered me, another teacher and four Ministry of Works men to drive to town and collect my things. With all those men, you would have thought moving my stuff would have been a breeze. And I’m sure I made it look effortless as they watched me carry five loads out to the truck from the comfort of the shade and the consolation of a cold beer. The work went quick enough though. I was out of the house before my housemate even started making her lunch. I made a promise to come back later in the day and clean my room, hopped in the truck and, as per tradition, ran a few other people’s errands on the way back to my flat (cars are the valuable commodity. Everybody wants a ride).
That afternoon I had left class at about 1:00 and was in my new flat with furniture and all my things by 1:45. It was a big change for 45 minutes. But, just as quickly as everyone had shown up to help, they all disappeared with the reassurance that they would be back with light bulbs and gas for the stove before 5:00. “Just wait here,” I was told. Great… But, wait… Friday afternoon was beginning to look miserable with no food and a leash to my new apartment. I decided to bolt to a take-away (a hole-in-the-wall type grocery store) in the location for shortbread cookies and Simba chips (made by Lays, I think). Of course I chose the wrong time because as I came running back around the corner some blue jumpsuits (Ministry of Works) were waiting on my stoop to make my new toilet flush (a problem I wasn’t even aware I had). While those two were hard at work on the plumbing, two more blue guys showed up to work on the light bulbs. But, they forgot a ladder, so one ran back to the ministry to snag one. He came back with a ladder and another blue guy (who was out to prove that it’s always 5:00 somewhere). About that time, two Eddie Bowe teachers meandered in “just to take a look.” While I was showing the teachers around and carefully avoiding the plastered blue guy, we heard this terrible thudding noise and ran outside to take a look. The truck carrying my gas had arrived and (driven by blue guy) was stuck in a ditch. The truck went forward, then backward, then forward, backward, forward, backward… My gas tank rolling to the front of the truck bed, then to the back, then to the front, back, front, back… Now, I’m no expert, but I don’t want anything ruining the structural integrity of a 5-foot tank of anything explosive that’s going to park itself in my house. Luckily, the beer drunken earlier or our raised eyebrows convinced this blue guy to stop and let the gas go.
My house was humming. It was full of men in blue jump suits and people debating the best way to set up an American house. As the work dwindled down, I watched five men in blue jumpsuits and two Eddie Bowe teachers debating how to screw in a light bulb and my imagination wandered: “How many Namibians does it take to screw in a light bulb? I would have put my money on two or three… but five to seven, hmmm…” and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I’m sure there’s a lame joke in there somewhere. If you find it, let me know. And, Mom, Dad, let the little blue guy jokes run rampant.
Everyone was gone by 4:45. I shut the door and locked it. It was time to breathe. I was so lucky to get such specialized attention on a Friday. Even though it was stressful, I’m going to try to treasure the memory because it’ll probably be a year before another blue suit walks into my flat – Welcome to the do-it-yourself chapter of my life. I didn’t rest too long because I still had to walk back to town to clean my old room.
On my way back to my new flat from town, I stopped by Jill’s to see what had become of Taco Fest ’08. With the action of the day, I was a little out of the loop. I found Jill just chilling in her apartment alone. I was equally exhausted. So I found a cozy spot on her tiled floors to call mine while she broke the news about Taco Fest ’08. It turned out that two from Katmanjab were coming much later that night and one from Outjo didn’t know when she was coming. While she was telling me the unfoldings of the travelers and the Fest the sun went down and I found myself laying on a tile floor in the dark, exhausted and disgusting, reveling in the hilarity of the fest we had planned for that night. Earlier, we had even considered making a piñata for the occasion. The irony of this place is too much to handle at times. All I can say is, go ahead and make plans – just don’t plan on using them.
That night, I spent the first night in my flat. If any of you are considering the Peace Corps, or moving to another country in general, you should know that things you think make a home are not always what you would expect. In America, I would have said company, comfort and convenience make a house a home. But here I’ve discovered all I need is my fan, my mosquito net and some fashion of privacy. I like the poetry in my previous line of thinking but it’s much easier to get a fan and mosquito net here. So, after setting up my fan, hanging my mosquito net (more to keep out the cockroaches, beetles and other various forms of evil than actual mosquitoes) and pinning some sheets in the window, it was time for bed in the comfort of my new home.
The next morning, I stopped by Taco Fest ’08 to find three PCVs and one unexpected VSO had made it to Khorixas. Things were looking up for the Fest. We all walked to town to hit up Multisave, PEP and the hardware store. Then we spent the day relaxing in the company of other Americans (and one Canadian). At the end of the day, I took everyone on a nature hike (and by “I took everyone” I mean I got schooled by one who practically ran up the cell phone tower hill, two had been before and two stayed behind to actually make the tacos… but who’s counting). We watched the sun set from the hill. When we got back to Jill’s, it was time for tacos. Taco Fest ’08 rating: Tacos? Great. Fest? I’ve had better. ’08? There had better be a ’08.5 or that was a bit of a bust. Truthfully, though, it was good to hang out and eat Mexican food. I felt… what’s that word… oh, yeah, normal.
Sunday and the rest of the week, I spent trying to set up my flat. Monday after school, the teachers all met at my flat to throw me a surprise party. It was so sweet. They decorated the outside of my flat with paper roses and signs that said, “Welcome home J. Roger”… I know… just look the other way and smile… They also brought sodas and a tray full of goat meat. We were all sitting on the floor (because I only have two chairs) eating our goat. I American-finished my meat (which means I didn’t pick the bone clean) and was trying to hide the leftovers (because if there’s still meat on the bone, someone will eat it), when they gave me a huge bag full of dishes. They were all orange and white stripes – totally cute. Then on Wednesday morning, the hostel matrons gave me another gift bag full of dishes. They were totally cute too. And I feel like these people get me because in all those dishes there were six coffee mugs. That’s my kind of gift!
Otherwise, setting up my apartment has been a battle to get curtains up that will deter the little eyes that are so curious about my life. I would love to share it with them but I don’t feel so comfortable with them knowing I have a computer, Ipod, camera and an overall fancy-smancy lifestyle. The only thing they seem overly interested in, though, is the food. I have my own theories on this but some of them involve me being bitter about consistently being asked for a piece of bread, so we’ll reserve those for another day. The other battle is the cockroaches. You can say, “gross” but I say, “This means war”. Those little devils just twitch their antennae at me and say, “What are you gonna do about it, huh? Huh?” They’re going down.
As always, more later - I’ve got war to wage
March 13, 2008
Time here is an enigma. Time everywhere is an enigma. Some days just fly by and others are pulling my teeth out one at a time with no drugs. This week was one where I lost a lot of teeth.
This past weekend, Jill and I walked out to the Rest Camp just outside Khorixas. They have a pool, restaurant, palm trees and a gift shop. Nothing says western like a gift shop. It was nice to have someone give me a sprite with ice in the glass and to be able to put my feet in a blue pool (even if it doesn’t have chlorine: a chemical I feel is even more necessary in Africa). Walking out there, I was hoping that an out-of-the-ordinary afternoon would make everything feel right again. But my hopes were not answered. While it was nice, I was still in Khorixas.
Don’t get me wrong; it’s not Khorixas… it’s just that I haven’t left since February 1st. It takes me 25 minutes to walk from one side of the city to the other. And what’s on the other side, you ask? Another view of the middle of nowhere! Its truly fascinating living in one of the least populated countries on the planet but I have cabin fever!
I hope to remedy this problem next weekend with my plans to visit Swakopmund for the Easter holiday. Judging by how iffy travel in this country is though, I’m trying not to get my hopes up too much. But, honestly, if this trip falls through, I may actually go crazy – real crazy, the kind where you don’t know you’re crazy. I’ll be sure to keep you posted… that is if I remember how to use a keyboard in my demented state…
Well, as you can see, I’ve started occupying my time by making personal sanity threats online. But I have healthier outlets too. On Monday, Tuesday and Thursday afternoons the kids have “study” from 3 to 4. This means, from what I can tell, the kids all come back to school to sit in a classroom and play the quiet game. I’m sure they’re doing something but it’s definitely not homework for my class (Average marks on my last math homework assignment? 0/25. My optimism is waning. Sorry). This next Monday, I chose six Grade 7 learners to train to work in the library during study. I asked for volunteers who would be willing to help me re-shelf books, sweep and mop the library every week. I got about 50 out of the 75 Grade 7 learner sign up to help (this only furthers my theory that they’re not doing anything in study). So, I made a quiz for them to show off their alphabetizing and organizing ability then chose the 6 top scorers to help. I’m really excited for the extra help and for kids practicing having extra responsibility. Also on Mondays, Jill has taken over a club called “Window’s of Hope”. It is a national program that is taught at a lot of schools. It teaches kids more about HIV, AIDS, puberty and relationships. If the kids come to every meeting, they get a certificate (which has a lot more draw than you would initially think). There’s a Windows group for Grade 4-7. We work with Grade 7. I’ve been helping with the club also – which really just means, Jill does all the planning and I show up to hang out and remind the kids to stop talking when someone else it talking. I also got to give the lecture on what each reproductive organ does, from a biological standpoint (I remember my high school Anatomy and Physiology teacher said, “it makes me blush,” when we got to that topic so he brought in a nurse to teach the reproductive chapter. And in his memory, I’m going to admit that it makes me blush too).
On Tuesdays, I have Reading during study. The Grade 6 and Grade 7 teachers picked 5 learners from each class that had “reading difficulties”. This means that they can’t read at all. According to their Khoekhoe teacher, they read better in English that they do in Khoekhoe. I think there’s a fundamental problem with me trying to teach them how to read in English without them first being able to read in Mother Tongue… but who am I to be a pessimist… and I don’t know how to teach reading in Khoekhoe (actually, I think one of the teachers is considering starting a reading group for Khoekhoe too). I have to admit, though, I’m kind of at a loss for how to teach a target language while only being able to communicate in that target language - especially when I’m not that great at drawing.
Wednesday and Thursday afternoons I spend doing a variety of things. Mostly, this means watching TV on DVD (Desperate Housewives Season 2 and, currently, Lost Season 1 – which I already watched during training but its worthy of another go), obsessively cleaning my flat to defeat the cockroaches, making some form of unhealthy food to devour (Sandies are my new favorite cookies. Who knew donuts were so easy? And why does anybody buy brownie mix?) and, on good days, testing my bravery by picking the busiest time of day to walk on a new street in the location (it takes a lot of greeting energy but usually ends up being worth it). On Fridays, I usually check my PO box and spend a bit of time listening to the Shebeen music in the Donkerhoek (the squatter’s and I are neighbors now. They really know how to live it up).
Last Friday, my learners had a choir concert. They told me it started at 6. We showed up at 6 to an empty hall with the kids singing on stage. They would sing a part of a song and then stop. Then they would start another song and the choir director would get a cell phone call and stop the whole thing. It was really odd. When our choir came down off the stage and another school took the stage we figured it was a good time to go home. I was stopped at the door and asked why I was only going to stay for the rehearsal. The real show didn’t start until 8. We decided to leave anyway but got stopped by one of my learners who was so sad we were leaving early. It broke my heart a little. She’s a tomboy with a sensitive soul – my kind of girl. In the end, though, she was just happy that we showed up for rehearsal.
That about wraps up the recent happenings in my humble life but before I go, let me just tell you about a wise NAM27 friend of mine. He thinks some things he does sound normal: I did my dishes… I ate a tuna fish sandwich… I went for a bike ride… He also thinks a few things he does sounds impressive… I went rafting… I went bungee jumping… I defeated a snake… But, the reason my friend is so wise is because he’s realized that with the simple phrase “IN AFRICA!!!” the mundane sounds exhilarating: I did my dishes IN AFRICA… I went for a bike ride IN AFRICA… And the impressive sounds almost unbelievable: I went rafting IN AFRICA… I went bungee jumping IN AFRICA… So, because it seems a lot of what I’m doing these days is mundane and a little down to earth for this whole post I’m going to add:
…IN AFRICA!!!
And hope that you feel a little more impressed with my life : )
March 18, 2008
When I first arrived in Namibia, I didn’t notice a lot of weird or unusual bugs. Throughout training I saw the occasional scorpion, many mosquitoes and one or two freakish yellow-segmented “hair-eating spiders” (I think they made up the hair eating part, and frankly, the spider part too – they look more like miniature lobsters). Since I’ve been at site, I’ve changed my tune. I have become far more acquainted with Namibia’s insect life than I ever could have hoped for.
In Khorixas it seems you can measure the seasons by the bugs. The type/species/color/sound of bugs change every week or every two weeks. When I first arrived in January I saw large black beetles with three bright stripes. Then there were the flat wall spiders (they’re really really flat. Its bizarre). Wing-shedding termites came next, followed by the bird-sized moth. The moths were trailed by the black “ho-ho” – a smelly beetle that only travels in hundreds. And most recently, we enjoy the company of bright red and green robot beetles. I call them robots because nothing organic should ever move the way they do. Lucky for us, the flys and mosquitoes are constants and with all this changes I need a few rocks in my life.
And the cockroaches… oh, the roaches. They’re new… and un-welcomed in my life.
March 19, 2008
Today is the last day of school for the week. I am so thankful for this long weekend. I’ve been in a funk lately. The funk is partially due to me spending too much time “alone” (read: I am always around people but I’m rarely with people. Does that make sense?) and it’s partially due to me being overly aware of cultural differences. Lately, I only seem to be able to focus on how differently I think and act. I find myself starting thoughts with “At home…” and “When I was in school…” On one hand, it’s definitely not healthy to compare and judge so much. On the other hand, a kid threw a rock at me yesterday while screaming “white person!” in Damara… So, I have a distinct feeling I’m being judged too.
Maybe judging isn’t the right word though. Maybe, more often, it’s observing. My learners like to observe. They like to observe freckles, eyes, “painings” (sunburns, scratches, pimples…), length or “bigness” of “hairs”, eyes, eyebrows, accents, walking, backpack carrying, drawing, writing… the list goes on but it only gets more pathetic. The kids love to tell me how I do everything differently and why I look different. It’s a little too much for me to handle sometimes. When volunteers return to America, they say they miss the attention. They say they wonder why no one cares that they’re walking through town and why no one marvels at their mundane accomplishments. So, when I get home, I’m going to need you all to tell me you can see my veins, that I walk like a man and that I have big hairs. Just every so often until I re-adjust to being normal. And I’ll be sure to say, “Well, in Namibia, I…” just so you can feel a little judged too. Deal?
Ah, I kid, but it’s only because everyone’s thinking it and I’m just trying to say it.
Aside from the mind games, things at site are going pretty great. Last Friday night, an acquaintance invited some of us to a concert. The choir was from Outjo and has been traveling around singing about discrimination. It was an event for the youth so it was held at the secondary school. It was a lot of fun for a few reasons. First, it was fun to be out after dark. I believe admitting that only solidifies my less than sparkling social life reputation. Normally, though, walking around any African city is a bit intimidating in the dark. Since I’ve moved to the location though it’s been a lot easier to find someone to walk with. It takes about ten extra minutes but everyone gets dropped off. Daytime. Nighttime. It’s all fair game now. I’m liberated! Hey, don’t judge. I know I’m a grandma. Second, it was fun because many of the faces I’ve met are becoming repeats. I really like a lot of the locals I see around town on a regular basis. It’s good to talk to people who realize that you’re another person – not just a wallet, white skin or a potential girlfriend (they’re big on quick “commitment” here, so let’s be honest… another wife. And I did mean to say another. Two? Three? Eh, who doesn’t have five wives these days?). It’s nice that I’m finding some familiar friends to talk to. It makes me feel safe. If something goes awry I know there are a few who would be quick to my rescue. And, third, it was fun because choral education here is silly. Don’t tell any of the performers, but when they sing a whole song about saying no to sugardaddies I giggle. I even giggle when I’m sitting in the front row. You know, it’s just been awhile since I’ve heard the word “sugardaddy” in three-part harmony. Overall, the kids are doing a good thing. It’s great that they want to help their community in any form. It’s going to make them more well rounded in the long run. And well rounding is a skill that hard to come by in these parts.
Today, I spent a lot of time just talking to learners. Since it was the last day, the kids were eager to get back to their farms for the long weekend. This made them less than keen on the whole learning science idea. I called some kids in for discipline from a problem yesterday but I just didn’t have the heart. Instead I told them they had a job to do – I made them tear paper into tiny pieces so that we could make new paper. They loved it. I know it’s probably a bad idea to have learners love discipline. I’ll reap the benefits of that later. The other kids in class heard about the tough discipline and came running. Pretty soon we just had a huge paper tearing party. It felt a little like a sleepover. It could have been all the observations or just that I was hanging out with a lot of 7th graders. It was fun either way. And, bonus, they’re learning how to recycle and brushing up on their English skills by telling me all about the city’s gossips – there’s far too much to keep track of (not surprisingly, most of it involves alcohol and hangovers).
Well, I’ve got to finish packing for my big weekend away tomorrow. Travel here is beast. It really grates on the planning part of my personality. If I lived anywhere else, I would actually know how I’m getting to my destination tomorrow. But here, I’m just waking up in the morning, taking my backpack and walking in search of some combi (van) that’s headed to Swakopmund also. I’ve got a good feeling about 7am tomorrow. I figure if I’m up early, someone’s bound to be leaving throughout the day. Apparently I missed four combis that already left today, though. I’m thankful for cars and the fact that one day I will drive one again. An, if I want to, I will be the only person in that car - wasting gas, radio blaring and feeling great about it all.
See you in Swakop!
Today:
I made it to Swakopmund. I'm sure I'll have a lot to say about it later. But I can tell you now that I'm back in America... I've mentally blocked the idea that this city could be in Namibia. The idea that soon I will be going back to roosters, donkeys, rocks, dust, and cold water bucket baths is a little too much to think about when you're drink has an umbrella in it and you went to a movie theater last night. Am I still in the Peace Corps?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
