une 17, 2008
Usually, when I go to write something I think is amazingly clever about my experiences in Namibia, I reread the last paragraph of my last post. This may seems stupid because usually the two posts don’t relate at all. But I like to be reminded of the last thing from this lifestyle I tried to communicate to the States. However, this time, it was stupid for another reason. Mostly it was stupid because my “tail” of the donkey didn’t include anything of the donkey’s “tales” – which are important for the simple fact that I must have been mesmerized by their “tales” to have written “tail” so much instead of “tale”. Are you confused yet? Because I am.
Wow. My English skills are… showing signs of diminution… are reducing …are less… are becoming stupider… are dumb… are, uh, doh.
Speaking of dumb, I ran into a pole this weekend. I’ve wondered before what my reaction would be to running into a pole. It turns out, I stop moving. Stay in contact with the pole while assessing the situation. Then I simply state, “I ran into a pole”. It’s not nearly the reaction I would have hoped for but, well, it was a reaction.
Anyway.
I went to Windhoek this weekend. This is in the theme of the Dumbness I discussed earlier. It takes about 4 to 6 hours, sometimes 9 to get to Windhoek. And this weekend? I traveled all that way to see a movie. Dumb, right? But Indiana Jones is so worth it. Even when he’s getting old. Then, the whole weekend kind of downgraded into an eating tour of Windhoek. Which, despite how it sounds, was a lot of fun and probably included more vitamins than my body has had since I made it here. But let’s be honest, it also included a lot of sugar. Yum.
The weekend was also fun because I got to see a lot of the girls from the Bing. I like those girls. And it was also not so good because this person I randomly know… and maybe have no relation to at all… and I may not even know her… got mugged. Like I said, I may not even know her… and I wasn’t even there… But her purse got taken from her shoulder at 9 AM on a busy street corner. Sheesh, Windhoek. After a long talk with some security guards at a nearby shopping mall and a few trips to a large drainage pipe most of her belongings were recovered. On the plus side though, we’re now friends with the entire security team at one of two malls in Windhoek. That’s got to count for something, right? Not that I was even there… or know the person who was mugged…
That said, I think I’m getting to know the city well. I know to never carry a bag. I can get around most of the areas of Windhoek (Though, I don’t really know Katatura that well. It’s kind of like a location of Windhoek. I’ve only officially been there once but I’ve driven through a few times now). I would say my biggest accomplishment in Windhoek familiarization is the habit of looking right then left when crossing a street. It really is a handy skill. Without it, you find yourself standing immobilized on a street corner confused by all of the fast moving vehicles that all magically lack donkeys dragging them along. This skill, though, I’m sure will retard my ability to do anything traffic related in America. But saving the world is worth it, right?
Oh yeah, before I go, the pole. The thing about Windhoek is everyone is out to get you. So when I turned even one second to look at something, this darn malicious pole jumped out in front of me. And then, it ran into me and stubbed my toe. Sheesh, Windhoek.
Joo joo joo joo-oooo-oo-ne 25, 2008
A few quotes that I appreciate:
“Oh Miss, I am having neat. You must give me mom.”
- Katrina, grade 6. I give the kids stickers when they do a math problem on the board. She already has the sticker that says “neat” and wanted the one that says “wow”. The kids seem to think that “wow” goes upside down though. Which is weird because “wow” is a really common expression here.
“You are looking nice today. Like a lady. It is quite the change.”
- A teacher the morning I showed up in a pink skirt.
“Ah, you look smart. It seems you are an American.”
- Another teacher about clothes again. “Smart” is a type of dress. “Clever” is smart. I was wearing a black shirt and jeans – you know, in case you want to look American.
“Say ‘eat’.” – me
“#u re.” – Cleaners at the school determined for me to learn Damara
“Ok, say ‘sit’.” – me
“#u re.” – Cleaners with raised eyebrows
“Eat?” – me
“#u re.” – Cleaners
“Sit?” - me
“#u re.” – Cleaners, raised eyebrows
*Moment of silence where we realize that maybe it is hopeless.
“Miss, are you having donkeys in America?” – Grade six learners
“Yes”
“What noise is making them run?”
“Umm…”
- If you know what noise we make in America to make donkeys run, let me know. Because I don’t.
Last Thursday was mail day. It was a lot of fun because I got a few packages. I also got a card from my mom. It was one of those cards that has a recording that plays when you open it. On the front it says, “This is a test of the emergency smile broadcast system” and on the inside is says, “you can now return to your regularly scheduled day”. Then, while the card is open the recording of the two cartoon characters making the emergency broadcasting noise – “EEEEEEEEEEEEE!” *large breath in and “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! This is a test. This is only a test. If this had been a real emergency it would have been followed with…” *Giggles and woots and general cartoon chaos . I thought it would be really fun to put the card in the library to see how long it would last. Kids tend to grab anything within grabbing distance and ask a barrage of questions about it. So I decided the card could be the current object to grab. But I didn’t have a clue how amazing their reactions would be. Most kids survey the front then open the card. When the noise starts, most of them make a face like evil has just entered the room and throw the card down. Then, gaining bravery, they take up the card again and hold it to their ear. The ones that make it through the whole recording ask me, “what language are they making, Miss?” They don’t believe that it’s English even when I tell them. And the best part, when they have had their fill of the emergency smile broadcast system, they run out of the library and down the hall screaming “EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” I wonder how long I can keep this up before the other teachers search me out to destroy the card…
Last week was HIV/AIDS awareness week. So on Friday, we got the day off of school to march all of the learners down to a big rally at the stadium. All 6 of the schools in Khorixas were going to meet there. Each teacher was supposed to walk with their respective grade to make sure they didn’t run away or get run over by a car. Since, in theory, I don’t really have any responsibilities… I don’t get paid!... my supervisor told me I should ride in the car following the kids. It was great, except that a lot of the staff at our school aren’t really fond of walking, so, I got a few bitter stares. We got to the stadium a little late so we got the spot in the sun. It wasn’t so bad (my Rudolf-look the next day would beg to differ though). There were speeches and songs. Each school had prepared a presentation. Our school had two presentations - one for the little ones and one for the big kids. The big kids did great. I loved their presentation and how proud they were of it. The small kids did a song called, “I’m the boss of my body”. It is my new, official favorite song. I can’t really remember all the words, but it’s my favorite. The small kids got called up again to sing an encore. It was cute.
Saturday and Sunday were perfect peace corps days. There wasn’t any water. There wasn’t really anything to do but laundry, by hand, which was ruled out because of the water situation. And I cooked – taco flavored chicken and taco flavored popcorn. Sounds like a perfectly peace corps weekend.
This week has been slow. Slow weeks are good for savoring life. But a lot of life in Africa is about the like-a-band aid approach - just got to do it and get it over with… cold baths, community meetings, crowded markets, speaking in clicks. Just do it. And that’s hard to do when time moves slowly.
The week hasn’t been too bad though. The science fair is next week on Tuesday. There are two kids in grade seven that I’m working with. It’s been interesting. I feel like a mom trying to force my kids to learn and do their homework. They like it when we’re actually working on the experiment. In the mean time though, it just doesn’t seem appealing when they could be playing soccer or writing notes about boys. I thoroughly understand. But it’s science! Doesn’t everyone love science?
Don’t answer that…
Our project is called, “Light from above”. It’s about sunlight and our ability to capture heat with certain colors. We collected all our data yesterday. We set boxes covered in different colored paper out in the sun. Each had a thermometer in it. Then we checked the temperature every few hours. Now we need to work on understanding what it all means. It would be a lot easier to explain colors and light and heat if I could find a prism to show them all the colors in the rainbow. Yesterday, I at least got across to them that sunlight is an important topic here because, well, we live in a desert! I’ll be really excited if they get rainbows and light absorption tomorrow. I’m also nervous about getting this board together in time. I know the kids want it to be beautiful. We’re running out of time though. Cross your fingers… or, Namibians, hold your big thumbs… and wish us luck.
The 27th day of June 2008 – It’s the only one I’ll ever get.
I was burning my trash tonight. It made me think of the first time I tried to burn trash in Khorixas and almost lit the town on fire. I’d like to think I’ve come a long way since then. Everything seems just like its supposed to be. This is great and disappointing at the same time. It’s great because I live in Namibia and I managed to find a balance that feels normal. It’s also not so great because I’m exhausted.
While you all are out enjoying your summer sun, just remember that you’re taking it from us. The sun rises somewhere around 7:00 and sets at about 5:15. This is a shame because I start work at 6:50 and leave between 4 and 5. And, while living in the sunniest place of my lifetime, that kind of schedule doesn’t leave a lot of time for sun-soaking. And it definitely doesn’t leave time for a 20 minute walk to town to get groceries or check the mail.
Also, I’m making friends. But, let’s be honest, the social cues are still alluding me. When someone walks away mid-sentence, did I do something? Do I smell bad? And the language/accent barrier is larger than ever. Though, I have learned that I greatly appreciate the people who say, “what?” until they understand me. Today someone asked me a question in English. I wasn’t sure what he said so I said, “What did you say?”. He said, “Oh, I see. Ooookay.”. I hate Ooookays. They’re the I-have-no-idea-what-you-said-but-I’m-going-to-fake-it-Ooookays. Though I think we all have to admit that we’ve used them from time to time.
I’m getting really good at doing my own laundry. And I’m getting really good at ignoring cockroaches instead of obsessively cleaning. But the school has a water pipe problem. The solution, you ask… turn off the water except for two hours a day. So now, I don’t even have to worry about scheduling a cleaning time. It’s scheduled for me… Only one problem… The two chosen hours are a surprise! Fun, huh?
Another new development – I love shebeen music. The informal bars that are set up in the squatter’s camp and throughout the location play music that is loud enough to share with the whole section of the neighborhood. And, for the stability of the children in the area (because they don’t get a lot of stability), the shebeens play only one chosen song. It’s like a mating call that belongs only to that shebeen. You can hear a song across the location and know which shebeen just got a customer. There are two Namibian singers I know – Gaza and The Dogg. I can’t tell the difference between them yet. I think The Dogg has more sirens and whistles… like gym class… but it’s not a hard and fast rule.
Yes, things are feeling normal now. It’s exciting mostly. I just wish my new normal could be a little easier. Maybe, like, you know, a washing machine, water heater, dishwasher, car and family and friends easier…
I greatly appreciate normal. But what keeps me going most days are the surprises that I can find joy in (the key phrase – “that I can find joy in”. The “someone stole my trash” surprise or the “no water or power for a day or so” surprises just don’t seem to cut it).
For example, today all the grade 7 girls got called out of their last class. This, to them, meant that after their meeting they could run away. So, I had all the 7A boys. They silently copied the notes on electricity from the board. The silence startled me and was a little unnerving – what was wrong with my class? They said, “Miss, you see, when it is just the boys we are sitting nicely.” Maybe they were trying to frame the girls but either way, it was impressive. When I realized the girls were just going to skip the rest of class, I got out the circuit experiment for the boys to work on. I thought it would be mildly entertaining but I was wrong. They loved it! They’ve got all of these ideas about making circuits with switches and using solar power. They even set up a time to work on it more on Monday. It was so fun to watch them try different wires and bulbs to see what would make light. These boys are clever... the American kind of clever that also implies that they like to play tricks. So, sometimes they’re a handful in class. And they all managed to be assigned to the same class. But the day was worth it just to see them all working together and being passionate about something.
Today was also different because I got to be secretary. Well, not really, but she did lend me the computer for a few hours to type up the science fair project. It was nice to sit there because parents and grandparent would come in and try their best English to try to explain what they needed. But my best English couldn’t explain to them that I had no idea how to help them because I wasn’t the secretary. The “Alright. Let’s give this a try” expression on their face before their question mirrored something I feel a lot. It was good to see it on another person for once.
I realized two things while I sat at the secretary’s desk. First, I realized that the quickest way for the school to convince me to help find donations for new computers would have been to make me type something earlier. They asked when I first arrived. Shocked, dazed and utterly useless at first, I couldn’t help them in their search for new computers. Since then, I’ve sent out a few letters and spell checked a few others. Sitting there today though, I’ve got a second wind for this whole computer donations thing. I can’t remember the last time I saw a computer that old. At the very least though, we need a new a key board. The letters are mostly ok. But if you want to press “Shift” you have to press it then use your nails to pull it back up. This makes “Caps Lock” a better option but only because it sticks half the time. “Enter” was like a wild card. Press a little to far to the left on the button and it wouldn’t register at all. In the middle, one line down. Too far to the right and you’re eight pages down before you blink. This keyboard is the sole reason it took me three hours to type up a science fair project. I have a new appreciation for our secretary. This positive appreciation goes well with my new loathing of the Ministry of Education Bureaucracy that requires her to type to so many pointless papers though.
The second thing I realized as I sat there was that I shouldn’t be sitting there. This is not my science fair project. It is the learners. This got me in quite the conundrum. I remember that my mom helped me a great deal on science fair projects, papers, homework, school work, plays… life… But I also recall showing more interest than these kids do. And they’re both 13 years old. So, I pulled them into the office and made them offer me opinions. Which they hated. They have to be responsible for something. Sure, responsibility builds character and will make them better people in the long run. But mostly, they needed to contribute more just in case the project doesn’t get good ratings. I don’t want to be completely at fault. It’s my first Namibian science fair. I could be getting it all wrong. They’re doing well, though. They now understand light absorption and the spectrum of colors. I’m pretty sure they’ve got a good grasp on why they got the results they did. I hope they get to do science fair again in secondary school with all their new science fair skills (One of them did the science fair last year. But, as it was explained to me by the other science teachers, the teacher comes up with the project and writes out the poster. The kids help with minor details, like covering the poster and standing in front of it while the judges ask them questions. So, with them actually having to experiment with something they have new skills. And it would be a shame if they didn’t get to stretch their new wings in another science fair).
Oh! Water’s on! Got to go.
July 5th 2008
Have I mentioned that pumpkin bread is my new favorite recipe? I now have the ability to start with a pumpkin, a bag of flour, some margarine and a little sugar and finish with a beautiful loaf of pumpkin bread. The only thing I wonder now is why I didn’t list “baking” as one of my goals during Peace Corps staging. I know they’re going to bring those goals back out when we finish here and I’d hate for my actual new skills and accomplished goals to count for nothing.
I made a loaf of pumpkin bread yesterday to celebrate my nation’s independence. I also made my classes guess why the day was important to 300 million people and me. One of my grade 6 girls guessed, “because it’s your birthday?” Why, yes. 300 million people celebrate me. Another guess was, “because it’s Friday?” No, more than 300 million people celebrate that. I thought, “because it’s cold” was a silly answer too. Shivering in a cement classroom, in a desert, in winter did not feel like a reason to celebrate but I’m outside of the culture, so who knows… In the end, the all guessed the right holiday though. Then, true to Namibian child fashion, they asked to “borrow me your country’s flag”. Anything new and exciting becomes a “borrow me…” object.
Yes, my learners are cute. They’re cute in a hard-core, I-kill-goats, bring-on-the-discipline sort of way. Which is a cute all in it’s own right.
I got this letter from one of my grade 7 girls last week. It made me feel loved:
“I have say a nice story for you. Once upon the time there was the wite miss called Jessica. She was a best American the beutiful one and she was having Good behave and the was she is takeing in American English so nice and I don’t want her to go back. She mast stay till she die. If she die we well take her back to America. That’s all. From the lovely…”
Another one of my learners wrote a letter to my friend who visited last in May. This one made me feel less loved… but at least it made me laugh.
“Dear: Miss
… we miss you come back to our school… could you please bring us some cake. We are not having a beautiful lady like you at this school only Miss Jessica. Comeback… if your country where nea. I would be there to America. Teacher please give me pens and colours.”
I edited some of the extra out. I think the art of implying something is lost on Grade 6 Namibians. “we are not having a beautiful lady like you… only Miss Jessica.” I guess she doesn’t like my clothes? Just kidding. She’s a cutie.
Last night, I was the photographer at a variety/disco night for my school. At any point during the performance you could buy someone in the crowd to dance on stage. I didn’t know that was going to happen until I was already there taking pictures. I spent most of the night dreading the moment I was going to have to dance onstage. But, as the evening came to a close (4 hours after it started) I wondered why it would have been so bad to see the American dance. It took me a few minutes to realize that I should spend the time being thankful instead. Which I did.
Then tonight, I’m the photographer at a beauty contest. I hear the beauty contests in this country are an experience. I’ll be sure to let you know all about it later.
July 7th 2008
Well, I’m in Windhoek again. It seems I can’t get away. The PC called me a few days ago and told me I had to come down for a vaccination. I got here last night and they’re shipping me home today. And, to tell you the truth, I’m bitter about it. That’s a lot of taxi face time.
But, at least they put me up in a really nice holiday apartment. It had TV, hot water, a toaster and a sound system. One of the other volunteers passing through the city had a few DVDs with them. So we spent the evening watching Event Horizon - Which seemed like a good idea until the other volunteers thought hiding in my closet and trying to scare me was also a good idea. Don’t worry, adrenaline is good for the head.
More later! got to get that shot now.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Monday, June 16, 2008
Fear Factor - Donkey Version!
The Donkey cart of Death... Actually, it wasn't that bad.
I tried to find the most tame goat-becoming-dinner picture from the last update. If you want the real story just let me know :)
June 6th 2008 – Can you believe it? Can you really?
I’m working on my 7th month in Namibia. That’s two tubes of toothpaste. Three bottles of shampoo. Countless phone minutes. Three red pens. One full tube of chapstick – which I never lost. And more than 30 loads of laundry. It’s a strange strange feeling. In some ways, I feel like I just blinked and wound up in a classroom on the wrong side of the planet. In other ways, I feel like the past seven months have been so wonderful and so terrible that I may never be the same again. And I think I’ve finally realized that I would like to be a different person after this. I’m just not sure what kind of person that will be.
This past weekend I was in Windhoek to see Heather off to America. Since a trip to Windhoek costs a minimum of Namibian $160, I decided it was time to check in on some PC business I had been putting off. It was good that I went to the office because they decided to keep me an extra day to finish everything up. It wasn’t so bad because, being there with approval, I got a free place to stay and three free days off work.
Windhoek is a magical place. It has restaurants and hot running water. If you ever happen to be stuck in Windhoek and need a croissant sandwich, I can tell you where the best one on the contintent is… but you have to promise to take me too… and buy me carrot cake. But, while being so wonderful, and magical, and housing croissants, Windhoek is also a bear trap for my poor little volunteer wallet. Lucky for me, there was another 27 volunteer staying an extra few nights in Windhoek. And instead of painting the town red our extra night, we found an old VHS and a dusty PC TV and watched Shallow Hal. It’s a classy movie… Ok, its not. But I thoroughly enjoyed it. According to the movie, Peace Corps volunteers all look like Gweneth Paltrow – on the inside. The bottom line? If you’re having inner beauty trouble, just volunteer.
Wednesday, I got a ride with a Peace Corps driver part of the way back to site. I know I’ve mentioned PC vehicles before but I just need to say again that they are beautiful. They have more inner beauty than any volunteer… including Gweneth Paltrow. They’re so great because they have seatbelts and air conditioning. They’re so great because they have diplomatic plates and they’re not allowed to pick people up by the side of the road. And they’re so great because the drivers know we think we’re poor and they know they’re being used. You know those times when you invited someone to go to a concert, or movie, or out to dinner just because you didn’t have a car and they did? And you know how you felt like they could see right through you? That is my life. But when someone just wants to give me something for free and I don’t have to ask for it or convince them I need it, it really is a great feeling. It’s like being taken care of. It’s like having my mom around. It’s a relief.
To get the rest of the way home though, I had to find a taxi. There are two taxi drivers that go from Otjiwarongo to Khorixas that I like. Everyone else I’ve experienced who drives that route is, well, crazy… or racist… or sexist. I’m not sure which. I SMSed the two I like but was plum out of luck. They weren’t driving. I sat in two taxis in various parking lots for a combination of three hours without going ANYWHERE before I finally got in a car that had enough ambition to actually leave. And while it was nice to be headed towards home, the ride made me think of Tyra Banks… And I’m sure you are all wondering: Why? Well, I thought of Tyra because of one particular episode of her talk show I had watched before I left the states. It wasn’t a regular occurrence that I used to watch her show. But if it was daytime, and I was bored, it was better than soaps. Anyway, on one particular show she decided she would wear a fat suit and see how the general public treated her differently. I don’t remember the exact outcome of the show. But whatever she experienced would have been hard to describe. I know this because I want to describe the feeling of being an American woman by yourself and crawling into a taxi in the middle of Otjiwarongo. But a concrete description would be almost impossible. Not to mention that half of the experience could be written off as paranoia – prolonged stares, looks out of the corner of their eyes, whispering, pointing, squishing to the opposite side of the car, overuse of the words “!uri”, “skol jefro” and “Amerika”. Then halfway home, they interrupt the conversation to tell me, “These two [passengers] are your good friends”. What does that mean? And what have they been talking about? And if two in the car are my friends, does that mean that the other two have chosen to be against me? And why do we need to choose one way or another? Can’t I just have a ride to Khorixas without being a car debate? But if I am going to be a debate, can’t I at least have the courtesy of being talked about behind my back instead of in front of my face in the wrong language? Inner beauty? Try inner self-doubt.
I saw one of the women from that taxi ride recently. She was so excited to see me. So I’m not really sure what was discussed. Being in the dark really is a tough place to live. And it’s not really something I’ve ever had to deal with before. I’ve always had some sort of cultural cue. Something to cling onto and claim I knew an inkling of what was going on. But here, sometimes I can’t even pretend. Is clueless an aura? I think I glow clueless.
June 11
Sometimes I wonder if I’m becoming a bitter person while I’m here. I would like to change and grow while I’m here but I don’t think that bitter is the direction I would like to go. Some of you may argue that I was already bitter before I came and I say to you, psshaw… Some of you more kindly put that I am a realist, in which case I say, I am. And realism and bitterness do not go hand in hand. Unless you’re a pessimist, which I’m not.
So, using my realistic eyes I have made a few observations that I would like to share.
Most recently, my observation was of the 7th grade math book. On the back cover, it has a picture of the Namibian flag and says, “Buy Namibian products”. On the inside it has a word problem that asks learners to make a pie graph of the different color eyes in their classroom. Sally’s got hazel. Michael has blue. Jeffery has brown. Etcetera etcetera… I consider the problem, look around the classroom and consider the problem again. First, no one is named Sally, or Michael, or Jeffery. But names are the least of our problems. And I don’t want to be the downer but I imagine this problem isn’t going to help anyone’s math skills. I could draw plain circles before grade seven. And that would be the answer – One plain circle with the word “Brown” written on the inside. And when we had finished our eye survey I’m sure no one would be any cleverer about pie graphs than they were before the pointless exercise. So, moral of the story? Buy Namibian products if you live in Windhoek or Swakop. But if you live anywhere else, ask the Peace Corps for a volunteer who will come and help you write more plausible math questions for your learners.
Observation number two? We form a committee for everything. Everything. If there isn’t a solution in the first two minutes of a topic, it’s going to a committee. There’s nothing you can do about it. Once the word committee hits the fan, you’re out of the game. Unless of course, you get nominated for the committee. In which case, you can’t do anything. You’re there. You’re the committee. If you didn’t want to be on the committee? You have to form another committee to discuss the replacement options for you on the first committee. And don’t forget the committee that we’ll need to form to assess the emotional needs of everyone involved. Which is only second in importance to the committee we’re going to need to get all of this paperwork done. I’ll volunteer for that committee but only if I can be the chair of laminating flowers to all the paperwork.
Another thing I’ve observed in my time here is the state of Namibian classrooms. I can’t speak for all of Namibia because I’ve only taught in two schools here. But one of my favorite things about the classrooms here are the desks. The desks at my school are trick desks. I think this is brilliant. If you have a learner you don’t like, just make sure they sit at the trick desk. This may not make them a better learner. But it will sure make you laugh when the desk plays a trick on them. You see, trick desks are the 4 out of 5 desks whose tops are not attached. This means if you try to move the desk or anything on top of it the board that sits on top of the metal frame will come crashing down to the ground. Sometimes only one side will slip. This is also entertaining because all of the learners’ possessions will slide and roll to the ground. I’ve been attempting to think of a solution for trick desks for a while and really can’t think of anything. Except duct tape. Trick desks are second in entertainment to trick chairs. Trick chairs have ceased to be funny to me though because I too have been attacked by them. Sometimes, the fake-stable board doesn’t even exist in trick chairs. In this case the learner will balance themselves on the bars that make up the frame of the chair. Then they will proceed to make all sorts of funny faces until I stop class and tell them to go find a board somewhere to spread across the bars. I found a board for one of my learners today. But to my surprise, she rejected it. It was too dusty. She would rather balance her behind on bars than to get her skirt dirty. Oh, this place.
This observation is actually more of second hand information. But I’ve definitely experienced evidence that it is true. I’ve heard that dating in Namibia goes a little something like this: The guy asks a girl out. The girl says no. The guy asks the same girl out. The girl says no. The guy asks the same girl out. The girl says no. The guy asks the same girl out. The girl again says no. Repeat for a prolonged period of time. Really the girl likes the guy this whole time but they aren’t supposed to say yes right away. I’m not really sure why. But, I do know that this practice is really obnoxious for visitors and volunteers. Because when I’m saying “no” I really mean no. A lot of times I say “no” and I really mean, “I’d be really happy to never talk to you again and you’re scaring me a little”. But “no” is nicer, don’t you think? Anyway, as far as they can tell, my no may mean “maybe later”. And this is sticky because then they ask again and again. And every time they ask the “no” that is coming out of my mouth starts resembling the “get away from me!” more and more. And that’s just being a rude volunteer.
That’s about all I can observe for today. I’m sure there’ll be something else to boggle my mind tomorrow. I do kind of resent the people that describe what happens to your point of view here as, “becoming more bitter”. I don’t think you become more bitter. I think you just start to accept that you may never understand the way things work. I think that you start to understand that cultures really do affect who you are and the way you do things. And I definitely think that, while the bureaucracy and red tape of a foreign country make me want to pull the hair straight from my head, I am still enjoying the company of the people around me. Because, in the root of who we are, I’d like to believe we are beyond culture. And that has got to be one of the least pessimistic things I’ve observed here.
June 12
Today, I had my math class working on multiplying and dividing decimals. I asked them to raise their hands if they needed help on any problem. Recently, my math class has gotten really good at doing work on their own. In term one, I would ask them to do work and they would just stare at the wall or pull out and OYO (a youth publication that educates about life skills. It’s really a neat idea but a bit of a nuisance in math class). I don’t know what got into them but most of them will actually work on their assignment now. The only problem is that there aren’t five of me to walk around and answer questions. The kids know how to do the problems but they don’t know they know how to do the problem. If I’m there saying, “Now what do you do? Now what do you do?” they’re magically able to do the problem.
Today though one of the kids raised his hand and when I came over he told me, “Miss, this one’s ear is paining”. I asked the girl he pointed to if it was true that her ear hurt. She said, “Yes, miss, it is a Kakerlaka”. Ewww – remember the kakerlakas from previous blogs? I hope so because…ewww. That’s got to be so terrible. Terrible. She went to the clinic but has to go back a few more times. She cried for a good part of math class. But she’s such a good girl because she also finished her assignment. A few weeks ago she told me she wanted to be a doctor when she grew up. I hear that a lot around here so, while not neglecting or discouraging, I accept those claims from learners with the grain of salt. But today I decided that with her determination, she might be able to make it.
She’s also one of the members of our new girls’ club. Our first meeting was last Thursday. It went really well. I think that was mostly due to Jill’s amazing marker collection. We let the girls decorate some regular exercise books to be their journals. Most of the girls seemed really excited about decorating their books. Then they wrote about what makes a good leader and a little about themselves. This week, we talked about teamwork and played a few games to encourage teamwork. It was also a large success, I would say.
I’m really excited to be working with a few learners more closely. There’s just a lot that I want to teach them about. One thing in particular has been bugging me lately is the fear of mistakes that leads to lack of creativity and lazy work ethics. When kids write most of them are literally copying drawings of letters from the board. They look and see “e” then they look in their book and draw an e. They look and see “a” then they look in their books and draw a. They look up and see “r” then they look in their books and draw r... it takes so long to copy just one word from the board because they are literally just drawing it into their books. This is a problem when I’m asking for something creative too. I’ve learned that I have to show an example or two then erase it. Then the next day I have to say, “Remember the example? Do something like that”. A lot of times it will still vaguely resemble my work. When I don’t do an example at all, they copy from each other. This would be fine it they were sneaky or smart about it. But mostly, they just blatantly copy. Sometimes they don’t even copy the answer to the write questions. And, worse is when they copy from someone who is not as smart as they are. If someone got a 1/20 on their assignment, don’t copy from them! They don’t know what they’re doing! And I’m not even going to accept it because it’ll be late work! Not that they understand late work.
I don’t blame the learners completely though. The system has a lot to do with… well, everything. Yesterday, I did a simple experiment in class. We mixed salt and sesame seeds together to show what a mixture looked like (they were the only two things I had lying around my kitchen that were cheap enough to use). Then we put the mixture in water to dissolve the salt. Then we filtered the seeds out. The glass of water is currently sitting in the window to evaporate the water. It’s supposed to leave the salt but since then a few bugs fell in and a lot of dirt. By the time the water evaporates, the salt will be in another mixture of gross things that float around in classrooms. Anyway, the experiment was fun because it was so different from what they normally do at school. It was nice to break away from the Namibian norm and have a little fun in class. It was also fun because the last time I brought in food for an experiment, learners were begging me for food to eat. Begging like starving people. So I prefaced this experiment by saying, “you can eat whatever you want but you have to wait until after school today”. They thought it was hilarious. And sure enough, kids showed up to guzzle old pop bottles of salt water with sesame seeds floating in it. It was almost like the Khorixas version of Fear Factor. I was proud… actually I was laughing my face off.
Well, before I go, I definitely need to tell you about the epic adventure I had this week. I took my first donkey cart ride!! Our SCORE volunteer, Tonje, is leaving tomorrow. It is the end of her service here. One of her friends offered her a ride in his donkey cart as a going away gift. After school on Tuesday, I was standing around to watch her ride off into the sunset on a donkey cart when they told me to get in too. What was I to say? “No, sorry, I don’t believe in donkeys”. No! I said, why not! As the donkeys were being beat to start them running, the driver made sure we knew that these donkeys were the slow ones. I was A-ok with slow donkeys but later I decided he was lying or had somehow mixed up his donkeys. And with the generic sad eyes and malnourished bodies, I could see donkey mix up being a common problem and a plausible explanation for a lot of donkey cart death. But this is a theory I will have to test later in my time here. The ride wasn’t so bad for the first little bit. We were on a generally flat road. It wasn’t until we made it to the part of the road going downhill that I really did start to worry. And to make it worse, the young man who was driving the roller coaster cart decided downhill was the time to tell us about a recent donkey cart mishap he and his close friend luckily survived. His nerve-racking tail was only interrupted every so often so he could whip the donkeys to make them run faster. This whole time, I had been holding onto the side of the cart like there was no tomorrow. I decided that a death grip would be the best means of survival in the event of a crash. But, I learned from the tail of the donkey cart crash, the course of action previously taken by cart driving experts is jumping. I’m sure you’re not surprised that this didn’t sooth my nerves at all. Jumping is not in my reflexes. Flinching, death grips and the fetal positions are all in my reflexes. But jumping? Jumping is not in my reflexes... I was pondering this when I was suddenly brought back to my current situation by a flying pebble that made its way into my mouth. First, ow. Second, eww – donkey foot pebble. You’ll be happy to know we made it to the bottom of the hill intact. I would like to think this was due to my death grip skills and Jill’s simultaneous death grip on my knee (You should know that my knee and her large variety of “Oh My God!!!!!” noises were the only thing keeping her in the cart. I don’t think jumping is in her reflexes either). But we could also blame this success on the driver, the slow donkeys or Tonje’s calm demeanor throughout the entire experience. We got a few more minutes of touring around before our shaky legs were dropped off by the side of the road to walk to rest of the way home. And it was definitely on this walk home that I decided I will never be bitter at another donkey cart that passes me by when I’m walking to town on a hot afternoon. I decided this because I never want to get in a donkey cart again without preparation. This preparation will include one or more of the following: a helmet, elbow pads, a will, a recent prayer to God, or personal acquaintance with all two to four of the donkeys so that I can ensure they are in fact “the slow ones”.
I’m working on my 7th month in Namibia. That’s two tubes of toothpaste. Three bottles of shampoo. Countless phone minutes. Three red pens. One full tube of chapstick – which I never lost. And more than 30 loads of laundry. It’s a strange strange feeling. In some ways, I feel like I just blinked and wound up in a classroom on the wrong side of the planet. In other ways, I feel like the past seven months have been so wonderful and so terrible that I may never be the same again. And I think I’ve finally realized that I would like to be a different person after this. I’m just not sure what kind of person that will be.
This past weekend I was in Windhoek to see Heather off to America. Since a trip to Windhoek costs a minimum of Namibian $160, I decided it was time to check in on some PC business I had been putting off. It was good that I went to the office because they decided to keep me an extra day to finish everything up. It wasn’t so bad because, being there with approval, I got a free place to stay and three free days off work.
Windhoek is a magical place. It has restaurants and hot running water. If you ever happen to be stuck in Windhoek and need a croissant sandwich, I can tell you where the best one on the contintent is… but you have to promise to take me too… and buy me carrot cake. But, while being so wonderful, and magical, and housing croissants, Windhoek is also a bear trap for my poor little volunteer wallet. Lucky for me, there was another 27 volunteer staying an extra few nights in Windhoek. And instead of painting the town red our extra night, we found an old VHS and a dusty PC TV and watched Shallow Hal. It’s a classy movie… Ok, its not. But I thoroughly enjoyed it. According to the movie, Peace Corps volunteers all look like Gweneth Paltrow – on the inside. The bottom line? If you’re having inner beauty trouble, just volunteer.
Wednesday, I got a ride with a Peace Corps driver part of the way back to site. I know I’ve mentioned PC vehicles before but I just need to say again that they are beautiful. They have more inner beauty than any volunteer… including Gweneth Paltrow. They’re so great because they have seatbelts and air conditioning. They’re so great because they have diplomatic plates and they’re not allowed to pick people up by the side of the road. And they’re so great because the drivers know we think we’re poor and they know they’re being used. You know those times when you invited someone to go to a concert, or movie, or out to dinner just because you didn’t have a car and they did? And you know how you felt like they could see right through you? That is my life. But when someone just wants to give me something for free and I don’t have to ask for it or convince them I need it, it really is a great feeling. It’s like being taken care of. It’s like having my mom around. It’s a relief.
To get the rest of the way home though, I had to find a taxi. There are two taxi drivers that go from Otjiwarongo to Khorixas that I like. Everyone else I’ve experienced who drives that route is, well, crazy… or racist… or sexist. I’m not sure which. I SMSed the two I like but was plum out of luck. They weren’t driving. I sat in two taxis in various parking lots for a combination of three hours without going ANYWHERE before I finally got in a car that had enough ambition to actually leave. And while it was nice to be headed towards home, the ride made me think of Tyra Banks… And I’m sure you are all wondering: Why? Well, I thought of Tyra because of one particular episode of her talk show I had watched before I left the states. It wasn’t a regular occurrence that I used to watch her show. But if it was daytime, and I was bored, it was better than soaps. Anyway, on one particular show she decided she would wear a fat suit and see how the general public treated her differently. I don’t remember the exact outcome of the show. But whatever she experienced would have been hard to describe. I know this because I want to describe the feeling of being an American woman by yourself and crawling into a taxi in the middle of Otjiwarongo. But a concrete description would be almost impossible. Not to mention that half of the experience could be written off as paranoia – prolonged stares, looks out of the corner of their eyes, whispering, pointing, squishing to the opposite side of the car, overuse of the words “!uri”, “skol jefro” and “Amerika”. Then halfway home, they interrupt the conversation to tell me, “These two [passengers] are your good friends”. What does that mean? And what have they been talking about? And if two in the car are my friends, does that mean that the other two have chosen to be against me? And why do we need to choose one way or another? Can’t I just have a ride to Khorixas without being a car debate? But if I am going to be a debate, can’t I at least have the courtesy of being talked about behind my back instead of in front of my face in the wrong language? Inner beauty? Try inner self-doubt.
I saw one of the women from that taxi ride recently. She was so excited to see me. So I’m not really sure what was discussed. Being in the dark really is a tough place to live. And it’s not really something I’ve ever had to deal with before. I’ve always had some sort of cultural cue. Something to cling onto and claim I knew an inkling of what was going on. But here, sometimes I can’t even pretend. Is clueless an aura? I think I glow clueless.
June 11
Sometimes I wonder if I’m becoming a bitter person while I’m here. I would like to change and grow while I’m here but I don’t think that bitter is the direction I would like to go. Some of you may argue that I was already bitter before I came and I say to you, psshaw… Some of you more kindly put that I am a realist, in which case I say, I am. And realism and bitterness do not go hand in hand. Unless you’re a pessimist, which I’m not.
So, using my realistic eyes I have made a few observations that I would like to share.
Most recently, my observation was of the 7th grade math book. On the back cover, it has a picture of the Namibian flag and says, “Buy Namibian products”. On the inside it has a word problem that asks learners to make a pie graph of the different color eyes in their classroom. Sally’s got hazel. Michael has blue. Jeffery has brown. Etcetera etcetera… I consider the problem, look around the classroom and consider the problem again. First, no one is named Sally, or Michael, or Jeffery. But names are the least of our problems. And I don’t want to be the downer but I imagine this problem isn’t going to help anyone’s math skills. I could draw plain circles before grade seven. And that would be the answer – One plain circle with the word “Brown” written on the inside. And when we had finished our eye survey I’m sure no one would be any cleverer about pie graphs than they were before the pointless exercise. So, moral of the story? Buy Namibian products if you live in Windhoek or Swakop. But if you live anywhere else, ask the Peace Corps for a volunteer who will come and help you write more plausible math questions for your learners.
Observation number two? We form a committee for everything. Everything. If there isn’t a solution in the first two minutes of a topic, it’s going to a committee. There’s nothing you can do about it. Once the word committee hits the fan, you’re out of the game. Unless of course, you get nominated for the committee. In which case, you can’t do anything. You’re there. You’re the committee. If you didn’t want to be on the committee? You have to form another committee to discuss the replacement options for you on the first committee. And don’t forget the committee that we’ll need to form to assess the emotional needs of everyone involved. Which is only second in importance to the committee we’re going to need to get all of this paperwork done. I’ll volunteer for that committee but only if I can be the chair of laminating flowers to all the paperwork.
Another thing I’ve observed in my time here is the state of Namibian classrooms. I can’t speak for all of Namibia because I’ve only taught in two schools here. But one of my favorite things about the classrooms here are the desks. The desks at my school are trick desks. I think this is brilliant. If you have a learner you don’t like, just make sure they sit at the trick desk. This may not make them a better learner. But it will sure make you laugh when the desk plays a trick on them. You see, trick desks are the 4 out of 5 desks whose tops are not attached. This means if you try to move the desk or anything on top of it the board that sits on top of the metal frame will come crashing down to the ground. Sometimes only one side will slip. This is also entertaining because all of the learners’ possessions will slide and roll to the ground. I’ve been attempting to think of a solution for trick desks for a while and really can’t think of anything. Except duct tape. Trick desks are second in entertainment to trick chairs. Trick chairs have ceased to be funny to me though because I too have been attacked by them. Sometimes, the fake-stable board doesn’t even exist in trick chairs. In this case the learner will balance themselves on the bars that make up the frame of the chair. Then they will proceed to make all sorts of funny faces until I stop class and tell them to go find a board somewhere to spread across the bars. I found a board for one of my learners today. But to my surprise, she rejected it. It was too dusty. She would rather balance her behind on bars than to get her skirt dirty. Oh, this place.
This observation is actually more of second hand information. But I’ve definitely experienced evidence that it is true. I’ve heard that dating in Namibia goes a little something like this: The guy asks a girl out. The girl says no. The guy asks the same girl out. The girl says no. The guy asks the same girl out. The girl says no. The guy asks the same girl out. The girl again says no. Repeat for a prolonged period of time. Really the girl likes the guy this whole time but they aren’t supposed to say yes right away. I’m not really sure why. But, I do know that this practice is really obnoxious for visitors and volunteers. Because when I’m saying “no” I really mean no. A lot of times I say “no” and I really mean, “I’d be really happy to never talk to you again and you’re scaring me a little”. But “no” is nicer, don’t you think? Anyway, as far as they can tell, my no may mean “maybe later”. And this is sticky because then they ask again and again. And every time they ask the “no” that is coming out of my mouth starts resembling the “get away from me!” more and more. And that’s just being a rude volunteer.
That’s about all I can observe for today. I’m sure there’ll be something else to boggle my mind tomorrow. I do kind of resent the people that describe what happens to your point of view here as, “becoming more bitter”. I don’t think you become more bitter. I think you just start to accept that you may never understand the way things work. I think that you start to understand that cultures really do affect who you are and the way you do things. And I definitely think that, while the bureaucracy and red tape of a foreign country make me want to pull the hair straight from my head, I am still enjoying the company of the people around me. Because, in the root of who we are, I’d like to believe we are beyond culture. And that has got to be one of the least pessimistic things I’ve observed here.
June 12
Today, I had my math class working on multiplying and dividing decimals. I asked them to raise their hands if they needed help on any problem. Recently, my math class has gotten really good at doing work on their own. In term one, I would ask them to do work and they would just stare at the wall or pull out and OYO (a youth publication that educates about life skills. It’s really a neat idea but a bit of a nuisance in math class). I don’t know what got into them but most of them will actually work on their assignment now. The only problem is that there aren’t five of me to walk around and answer questions. The kids know how to do the problems but they don’t know they know how to do the problem. If I’m there saying, “Now what do you do? Now what do you do?” they’re magically able to do the problem.
Today though one of the kids raised his hand and when I came over he told me, “Miss, this one’s ear is paining”. I asked the girl he pointed to if it was true that her ear hurt. She said, “Yes, miss, it is a Kakerlaka”. Ewww – remember the kakerlakas from previous blogs? I hope so because…ewww. That’s got to be so terrible. Terrible. She went to the clinic but has to go back a few more times. She cried for a good part of math class. But she’s such a good girl because she also finished her assignment. A few weeks ago she told me she wanted to be a doctor when she grew up. I hear that a lot around here so, while not neglecting or discouraging, I accept those claims from learners with the grain of salt. But today I decided that with her determination, she might be able to make it.
She’s also one of the members of our new girls’ club. Our first meeting was last Thursday. It went really well. I think that was mostly due to Jill’s amazing marker collection. We let the girls decorate some regular exercise books to be their journals. Most of the girls seemed really excited about decorating their books. Then they wrote about what makes a good leader and a little about themselves. This week, we talked about teamwork and played a few games to encourage teamwork. It was also a large success, I would say.
I’m really excited to be working with a few learners more closely. There’s just a lot that I want to teach them about. One thing in particular has been bugging me lately is the fear of mistakes that leads to lack of creativity and lazy work ethics. When kids write most of them are literally copying drawings of letters from the board. They look and see “e” then they look in their book and draw an e. They look and see “a” then they look in their books and draw a. They look up and see “r” then they look in their books and draw r... it takes so long to copy just one word from the board because they are literally just drawing it into their books. This is a problem when I’m asking for something creative too. I’ve learned that I have to show an example or two then erase it. Then the next day I have to say, “Remember the example? Do something like that”. A lot of times it will still vaguely resemble my work. When I don’t do an example at all, they copy from each other. This would be fine it they were sneaky or smart about it. But mostly, they just blatantly copy. Sometimes they don’t even copy the answer to the write questions. And, worse is when they copy from someone who is not as smart as they are. If someone got a 1/20 on their assignment, don’t copy from them! They don’t know what they’re doing! And I’m not even going to accept it because it’ll be late work! Not that they understand late work.
I don’t blame the learners completely though. The system has a lot to do with… well, everything. Yesterday, I did a simple experiment in class. We mixed salt and sesame seeds together to show what a mixture looked like (they were the only two things I had lying around my kitchen that were cheap enough to use). Then we put the mixture in water to dissolve the salt. Then we filtered the seeds out. The glass of water is currently sitting in the window to evaporate the water. It’s supposed to leave the salt but since then a few bugs fell in and a lot of dirt. By the time the water evaporates, the salt will be in another mixture of gross things that float around in classrooms. Anyway, the experiment was fun because it was so different from what they normally do at school. It was nice to break away from the Namibian norm and have a little fun in class. It was also fun because the last time I brought in food for an experiment, learners were begging me for food to eat. Begging like starving people. So I prefaced this experiment by saying, “you can eat whatever you want but you have to wait until after school today”. They thought it was hilarious. And sure enough, kids showed up to guzzle old pop bottles of salt water with sesame seeds floating in it. It was almost like the Khorixas version of Fear Factor. I was proud… actually I was laughing my face off.
Well, before I go, I definitely need to tell you about the epic adventure I had this week. I took my first donkey cart ride!! Our SCORE volunteer, Tonje, is leaving tomorrow. It is the end of her service here. One of her friends offered her a ride in his donkey cart as a going away gift. After school on Tuesday, I was standing around to watch her ride off into the sunset on a donkey cart when they told me to get in too. What was I to say? “No, sorry, I don’t believe in donkeys”. No! I said, why not! As the donkeys were being beat to start them running, the driver made sure we knew that these donkeys were the slow ones. I was A-ok with slow donkeys but later I decided he was lying or had somehow mixed up his donkeys. And with the generic sad eyes and malnourished bodies, I could see donkey mix up being a common problem and a plausible explanation for a lot of donkey cart death. But this is a theory I will have to test later in my time here. The ride wasn’t so bad for the first little bit. We were on a generally flat road. It wasn’t until we made it to the part of the road going downhill that I really did start to worry. And to make it worse, the young man who was driving the roller coaster cart decided downhill was the time to tell us about a recent donkey cart mishap he and his close friend luckily survived. His nerve-racking tail was only interrupted every so often so he could whip the donkeys to make them run faster. This whole time, I had been holding onto the side of the cart like there was no tomorrow. I decided that a death grip would be the best means of survival in the event of a crash. But, I learned from the tail of the donkey cart crash, the course of action previously taken by cart driving experts is jumping. I’m sure you’re not surprised that this didn’t sooth my nerves at all. Jumping is not in my reflexes. Flinching, death grips and the fetal positions are all in my reflexes. But jumping? Jumping is not in my reflexes... I was pondering this when I was suddenly brought back to my current situation by a flying pebble that made its way into my mouth. First, ow. Second, eww – donkey foot pebble. You’ll be happy to know we made it to the bottom of the hill intact. I would like to think this was due to my death grip skills and Jill’s simultaneous death grip on my knee (You should know that my knee and her large variety of “Oh My God!!!!!” noises were the only thing keeping her in the cart. I don’t think jumping is in her reflexes either). But we could also blame this success on the driver, the slow donkeys or Tonje’s calm demeanor throughout the entire experience. We got a few more minutes of touring around before our shaky legs were dropped off by the side of the road to walk to rest of the way home. And it was definitely on this walk home that I decided I will never be bitter at another donkey cart that passes me by when I’m walking to town on a hot afternoon. I decided this because I never want to get in a donkey cart again without preparation. This preparation will include one or more of the following: a helmet, elbow pads, a will, a recent prayer to God, or personal acquaintance with all two to four of the donkeys so that I can ensure they are in fact “the slow ones”.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
I've been a long time gone.
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.
(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, 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 ;)
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