Some Thoughts

Lesson plans: Seems like every lesson I plan bombs, but I’ve got 2 under my belt that rocked the house. Am I getting the hang of this thing?

Thought on Being White:
Being white and/or comparably wealthy in Namibia means one thing: people asking you for things all the time. Frankly, it’s annoying as hell. If they really need the things I have no problem giving them whatsoever, and it’s pretty obvious from the request if they really need something.
Yet it makes me wonder: What is wrong with white people? White people form the upper eschelon of the whole world yet we’re penny-pinchers deathly afraid of being cheated by the “other.” One black Namibian described white Namibians as the following: they take life too seriously; they don’t want to lose even one penny. And it’s true. Yet they have way more money than anyone else. Is this a power thing? Is this a wealth thing? Is this a race thing? Is this a city culture thing? To what extent am I (world traveler who would rather be with the oppressed) actually part of this particular culture? I haven’t figured it out yet.

Some thoughts on AIDS:
Being here for 4 months I’ve been surprised how little I’ve seen or heard about the impacts of the AIDS epidemic in Namibia. But as time goes by it shows its ugly face. About half of my students from what I can tell only have one parent because the other one died. I’m finding out more and more students have had both their parents die of “sickness.”
One colleague had 2 relatives die within one month. Another colleague’s brother died of “sickness” just last week.
I was wondering why I never heard about a funeral in D-town. Well it is because they are not allowed to be buried here. Anyone who dies must be driven to Windhoek to be buried and the funeral services are held there.

How My Heart Broke:
At 9pm at night I hear a knock at the door. Probably someone asking for matches or cards or something (see 2 above). Or some guy intent on romancing me (and failing).
But no, it was a “street kid” although that’s not really an accurate term. The kid must’ve been 11 or 12 years old. It was immediately apparent he was a street kid because he was very dirty, out and about by himself at 9pm, and his eyes were yellow from malnutrition and/or Hepatitis A.
He asked me for food. When the hostel kids ask me for food they ask me for nice foods their parents or the hostel wouldn’t serve them. I don’t give them because that would lead to every hostel kid knocking on my door for nice foods I can’t afford for all of them.
This time it was different. The kid asked me for any food whatsoever. I gave him 3 buns and some butter. The kid then told me he would be willing to work tomorrow to pay me back for the buns. I said that wasn’t necessary. He then gets down on his knees and thanks me profusely. He was being totally serious. Turns out his parents are dead (think AIDS), and he lives in the bush (i.e. the wild).
That means this child has to face survival every single day in a way I’ve never had to face it (finding food, water, shelter).
That means this child is extremely vulnerable to abuse of all kinds, scorpion and snake bites (we have lots of scorpions, plus cobras, puffadders, and mambas so it’s a legitamate concern), malnutrition, dehydration, and a host of other maladies. That means chances are this child will die sooner than later.
There is something seriously wrong with a society that permits this to happen. There is something seriously wrong with a world that permits this to happen.
I told the kid to come back anytime he was hungry.