All is well.
Thanks to all those who sent things! I greatly appreciate it, and can use everything you can send! Some people are still wondering what to send, so here is my updated wish list:
1. Colored paper/construction paper--any kind of colored paper will do. I swear it does not exist in this country.
2. School scissors
3. Chalk
4. Stickers
5. Things for my raffle--pencils, erasers, small toys, whatever.
And for me:
1. Music. Anything. Just no heavy metal, rap, or damara music.
2. TV shows on DVD. Anyone with TIVO? I'll watch whatever you give me.
3. Chocolate chip cookies
4. Laffy Taffy
5. M&Ms
Thanks once again.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Feels like home
Back at site. It feels like home. Finally.
PC is two separate lives:
Life one: Training, weekends, and vacations with PC buddies. Feels just like college, study abroad, and sometimes tourist trips with friends. Like college, its chill, but somehow fun even though you’re not doing anything besides watching movies and eating crackers and peanut butter. This is what I will miss most when I go back. This is the Keep-you-sane part of Peace Corps.
Life two: Me in my village, only white person who lives in Dordabis proper. I’m constant entertainment for others. The daily grind of going to school. There are serious ups, like sunsets, or goat babies, or when my kids come to visit me. Then there are serious downs like homesickness, wanting to murder kids, dealing with everything Namibian (taking forever to do things, wild chaos, focus on appearances). This is the roller coaster, life-changing part of Peace Corps.
Random thoughts:
I remember reading in someone’s blog that the PCVs liked to look back and see what they looked like at Staging because we all looked so different. I didn’t really believe I’d look different. But now my hair is the longest its been since sophomore year of high school, and it’s the blondest its been since I was, what, 4? I’m getting a great farmers tan. I’m also fatter than I was when I left. So . . . they were right. Also, we all looked so young then, and it was only 7 months ago!
Latin America was easy to love—all I had to do was walk off the plane. Everything was wonderful from the first (music, people, food, culture). But Africa is like that troubled child in your class. Most times you are wrestling with it, trying to get it not to sabotage itself, clashing heads, and suddenly there are moments of great love. Or like an unfamiliar taste in your mouth: it just takes some getting used to. Africa is not easy to love, but it’s growing on me.
By the way, I never would have taught middle school or come to Namibia if it wasn’t for Peace Corps. And I’m thankful, because it’s an experience I would’ve been missing. It will teach me how to teach better for any level, and it will help me to recognize problems I would’ve overlooked otherwise.
Changes I didn’t foresee in myself, but they’re there:
Appearance—farmer’s tan and blonde tips, longer hair.
Becoming a kid person. (What the crap?)
Becoming a good hostess: always offering something to drink, making small talk, wanting people to come over to my house all the time.
Becoming totally open to any random person staying with me at any time. Also, open to calling up totally random almost-strangers to stay with them.
I let go of my former life. I can’t even salsa dance in my room anymore because its too painful for my psyche. I let go of Spanish. I know I’ll get back to it. Even if it takes a few years.
Not even caring if a cockroach gets in my bed anymore.
Liking things from the U.S. that I never really liked when I was in the U.S.: peanut butter, incense and candles, action movies, chips, corny sitcoms, commercials, etc.
One of the major lessons I learned in Grad school was how to be happy alone. After living with a college roommate in my room for 4 years, and living at my Mom’s house during breaks, it was a hard lesson to learn. Mainly because I had too much work to spend much time with friends.
Anyhow, by the end of grad school, I knew how to be alone and happy. But it’s causing problems now. I doubt I’ll ever be integrated in the community if I keep being ok being alone. I mean I could live the 2 years perfectly content going to school during the day and watching movies at home during the afternoons and evenings. But it wouldn’t really be Peace Corps. I think in these two years I’m going to learn how to be with people again.
Ten years ago I was in high school and wanted to be a missionary for the Southern Baptist Church (hah!). Now, I’ve lived in Southwest VA, Tucson AZ, Mexico, Costa Rica, and Namibia, and I speak Spanish. Seriously now, where is my life taking me?
THINGS I LIKE ABOUT NAMIBIA:
Sunsets/sunrises
I can see mountains outside my window.
People have absolutely no inhibitions when it comes to dancing or singing. It’s wonderful.
Being in touch with nature.
Being able to walk to work.
People pick up hitchhikers! Awesome!
Tribe mentality—people care for their own.
Plurality, understanding multiple languages
Emphasis on family
The way people on the street will help me without me asking them for help.
Namibians are not afraid to ask for things. (This is also annoying).
Greetings must be said to everyone. (This is also annoying sometimes).
The way people turn up unexpectedly and will help you with whatever you are doing. (This is also annoying sometimes).
Goats. Baby goats are so damn cute. (They are also annoying sometimes).
Wild animals everywhere.
Clotheslines.
Don’t need a tool for anything.
The way PCVs share things and bond.
I look like crap, and people still think I’m beautiful.
Body hair is really no big deal here.
Kids. (They are also annoying sometimes).
Otjiherero music.
Some people still wear traditional dress.
Weather is normally hot. Yes!
Night skies are amazing. You can see stars right down to the horizon. You can see the milky way.
PC is two separate lives:
Life one: Training, weekends, and vacations with PC buddies. Feels just like college, study abroad, and sometimes tourist trips with friends. Like college, its chill, but somehow fun even though you’re not doing anything besides watching movies and eating crackers and peanut butter. This is what I will miss most when I go back. This is the Keep-you-sane part of Peace Corps.
Life two: Me in my village, only white person who lives in Dordabis proper. I’m constant entertainment for others. The daily grind of going to school. There are serious ups, like sunsets, or goat babies, or when my kids come to visit me. Then there are serious downs like homesickness, wanting to murder kids, dealing with everything Namibian (taking forever to do things, wild chaos, focus on appearances). This is the roller coaster, life-changing part of Peace Corps.
Random thoughts:
I remember reading in someone’s blog that the PCVs liked to look back and see what they looked like at Staging because we all looked so different. I didn’t really believe I’d look different. But now my hair is the longest its been since sophomore year of high school, and it’s the blondest its been since I was, what, 4? I’m getting a great farmers tan. I’m also fatter than I was when I left. So . . . they were right. Also, we all looked so young then, and it was only 7 months ago!
Latin America was easy to love—all I had to do was walk off the plane. Everything was wonderful from the first (music, people, food, culture). But Africa is like that troubled child in your class. Most times you are wrestling with it, trying to get it not to sabotage itself, clashing heads, and suddenly there are moments of great love. Or like an unfamiliar taste in your mouth: it just takes some getting used to. Africa is not easy to love, but it’s growing on me.
By the way, I never would have taught middle school or come to Namibia if it wasn’t for Peace Corps. And I’m thankful, because it’s an experience I would’ve been missing. It will teach me how to teach better for any level, and it will help me to recognize problems I would’ve overlooked otherwise.
Changes I didn’t foresee in myself, but they’re there:
Appearance—farmer’s tan and blonde tips, longer hair.
Becoming a kid person. (What the crap?)
Becoming a good hostess: always offering something to drink, making small talk, wanting people to come over to my house all the time.
Becoming totally open to any random person staying with me at any time. Also, open to calling up totally random almost-strangers to stay with them.
I let go of my former life. I can’t even salsa dance in my room anymore because its too painful for my psyche. I let go of Spanish. I know I’ll get back to it. Even if it takes a few years.
Not even caring if a cockroach gets in my bed anymore.
Liking things from the U.S. that I never really liked when I was in the U.S.: peanut butter, incense and candles, action movies, chips, corny sitcoms, commercials, etc.
One of the major lessons I learned in Grad school was how to be happy alone. After living with a college roommate in my room for 4 years, and living at my Mom’s house during breaks, it was a hard lesson to learn. Mainly because I had too much work to spend much time with friends.
Anyhow, by the end of grad school, I knew how to be alone and happy. But it’s causing problems now. I doubt I’ll ever be integrated in the community if I keep being ok being alone. I mean I could live the 2 years perfectly content going to school during the day and watching movies at home during the afternoons and evenings. But it wouldn’t really be Peace Corps. I think in these two years I’m going to learn how to be with people again.
Ten years ago I was in high school and wanted to be a missionary for the Southern Baptist Church (hah!). Now, I’ve lived in Southwest VA, Tucson AZ, Mexico, Costa Rica, and Namibia, and I speak Spanish. Seriously now, where is my life taking me?
THINGS I LIKE ABOUT NAMIBIA:
Sunsets/sunrises
I can see mountains outside my window.
People have absolutely no inhibitions when it comes to dancing or singing. It’s wonderful.
Being in touch with nature.
Being able to walk to work.
People pick up hitchhikers! Awesome!
Tribe mentality—people care for their own.
Plurality, understanding multiple languages
Emphasis on family
The way people on the street will help me without me asking them for help.
Namibians are not afraid to ask for things. (This is also annoying).
Greetings must be said to everyone. (This is also annoying sometimes).
The way people turn up unexpectedly and will help you with whatever you are doing. (This is also annoying sometimes).
Goats. Baby goats are so damn cute. (They are also annoying sometimes).
Wild animals everywhere.
Clotheslines.
Don’t need a tool for anything.
The way PCVs share things and bond.
I look like crap, and people still think I’m beautiful.
Body hair is really no big deal here.
Kids. (They are also annoying sometimes).
Otjiherero music.
Some people still wear traditional dress.
Weather is normally hot. Yes!
Night skies are amazing. You can see stars right down to the horizon. You can see the milky way.
Saturday, May 3, 2008
More craziness from Namibia
PROPOSAL
What a weird Saturday. Anyhow, this baster farmer named Mr. Ochizen comes to the school in D-town to see me, like I’m an exotic animal at a zoo. Then he invites me to his farm. I say ok with the full intention of never going or seeing him again. Then, the next day, he comes to my house to see when I am free. I say Saturday. Then he comes the next day. I say Saturday. Then I talk to the teachers about this 75 year old, toothless, Baster (mixed ancestry) farmer to see if it is safe to go out to the boonies with him. At first, they say ok no problem. Then they say no as he is not well-liked in D-town. Or anywhere. They say Mr. Ochizen (the teacher—no relation) needs to go with me if I go to make sure I am safe.
Then baster Mr. Ochizen (BMO) comes again and I tell him that teacher Mr. Ochizen (TMO) wants to come. BMO is NOT happy. I say I’m not going unless TMO goes.
So, all three of us go to the farm.
We see goats (like I don’t see enough of those every day?). Woo. Then the men eat meat and drink cool drink. I just drink cooldrink and pass up the goat meat. Then BMO proposes to me. And he was serious. I said, “No, I never want to get married,” which is pretty close to the truth. Especially when the proposer is a 75 year old toothless goat farmer living in Namibia who barely speaks any English. My rejection of him “will not affect our friendship.”
Then we go back to the village. Bizarre.
GARDEN
Later on some girls from the location came to visit me and helped me plant a garden. The last time I dug a hole in the ground was when I was about 8 years old and wanted to dig an underground playhouse. I spent all summer on that thing and only got about a foot deep. So, I’ve been putting off the digging aspect of my garden. But with the help of the girls we finished the entire thing, planting and all in one hour! I figure if I don’t learn how to garden here, then I won’t learn ever, since everyone is a farmer here. Plus the soil is SOOOOO rich from all the animal shit. I throw my veggie trimmings over the fence for the goats to eat (which they don’t!) and the seeds from a butternut squash sprouted and now I have a huge squash plant right outside my fence. I’m hoping the onions, carrots, and green beans I just planted will grow with equal vigor. And the goats ate my tomato plant. Mofos.
CRAZINESS KIDS FACEJust had a 13 year old girl drop out of 7th grade because she is pregnant. This sucks. In a worst case scenario, she was raped (perhaps by a family member), got pregnant and HIV at the same time, will no longer go to school, so will not have a legal means of income to support her child, her parents are drunks, so she will end up selling herself and getting reinfected herself with HIV to feed her baby and die before the child’s 10th birthday. The child will be an orphan living in bushes asking people for handouts to survive. God, that is grim. But probably pretty close to the truth.
Also had a 13 year old learner steal alchohol and hide it in the hostel garden. Was planning big party over the weekend. I didn’t touch alcohol til I was 18.
How can all this happen, you ask.Where are the parents? Well, many of them are dead because they contracted HIV and AIDs. Others live far from their children, and children are in boarding schools where they basically run free. There is a hostel mother and father in charge of some 50 kids a piece. Other parents live with the kids but are drunk and passed out all the time they wouldn’t know the difference if they had kids. Other parents are living with the kids and just let them run free. Other parents are actually disciplining their kids (WOW!).
I have one girl who has come to ask me for food every week. I give it to her because I know her parents drink all the money away and don’t have any food. If there is any country where serious AA classes are needed, it is this one. If we could just eliminate poverty we could eliminate so many problems: health issues, orphans, alcoholism, teenage pregnancy—all these things through various manners we could eliminate. Once again I’m overwhelmed and I don’t know where to begin or whom to begin with. It’s only 2 years to try and make some kind of difference—actually a year and eight months now. I think it won’t be much.
END OF TERM
Enough said. Class average in Grade 6=42 D. In Grade 7=50 C.
ANIMALS SEEN ON DRIVE TO/FROM DORDABIS:
Kudus, Baboons, Oryx/Gemsbok, Giraffes, Jackals, Meercats, Hartebeasts, Springboks, Warthogs, Bats, Goats, Sheep, Cattle, Donkeys, Horses, Dogs, Cats.
Jefta said he saw a Wildebeast, but I’ve yet to see that.
DRAMA IN D-TOWN
Next term I begin my secondary projects, of which I have many many ideas. I was talking to Mr. Ochizen, who is the only one in this town who gives me a picture of what’s really going on. My naïve “oh I’m a foreigner” has been sucessful with everyone except him. But at least he tells me the real deal.
So here’s the drama:
My supervisor used to teach at DPS a few years ago until she was moved to a different school to be HOD. She applied for the position of principal once the other principal died. TMO, the school board, and others opposed her and wanted someone else to be principal, but the ministry of education decided it would be her. Thus, there has been drama between TMO and Sup ever since. It doesn’t help that she takes things personally, and TMO has good ideas. So that’s why I’ve tried to stay out of it by being somewhat distant to all the teachers. Its funny, but I can tell they are both trying to recruit me to their side. Speaking of values, I am totally on TMO’s side—he really cares about the kids and the community (that’s a huge surprise for a Namibian male). But in terms of what others can offer me (rides, ability to do school projects), the other teachers have the say. So that’s at the root of the divide between the teachers.
NOW FOR THE COMMUNITY DRAMA:
There are several groups here: The counselor, Commuity leaders (TMO, white dude who owns everything, people in the location who don’t like outsiders, people in location who want best for community.
So, the counselor, a bit of a male chauvinist pig, thought his wife was screwing TMO (I got this story from TMO, no consensus that he was). They had a fight. Then the counselor fought with the white guy about land. Originally the white guy was going to sell the land the squatter’s settlement was on to the government, but he didn’t want a flood of people from other parts. The political party SWAPO wanted to bring in Caprivians and Ovambos from the north to D-town so they could get more votes and overpower the people currently in town. So the deal fell through. Now, the counselor is bitter enemies with the white guy, and is still not liking TMO.
Then there is the old pastor, who recently left, who wanted the school to be under his domain. This is ridiculous.
So how this plays out now:
The school can’t have a garden because the pastor won’t lend the school any land, and the hostel is currently paying for water, and the hostel is church-owned, so they won’t let the school have any water.
Nothing can be done to better the community through the normal ways of doing things, through the counselor and government because he won’t help TMO’s crowd. The teachers don’t do anything or can’t do anything because they don’t like being called outsiders, and the community called them out for mismanaging school funds.
Then I get thrown into this mess. Thus far I’ve managed to avoid taking sides. But since I will be soon getting involved with the community then I will.
Apparently TMO made jokes before I came that he was going to hook up with me. He has no intentions of doing that now, as far as I can tell. But he keeps saying things like that to upset my supervisor deliberately. So now, the teachers are trying to keep him away from me: Example: A couple of weeks ago I was chatting with him getting all this good news about the town, when twice a teacher came to interrupt us and say she needs her marks.
If I have to take sides I will. It will be on the side of the kids.
VACATION!
Finally a much, much needed vacation has come! The first weekend I spent in Windhoek with Megan. Then Ashley came from Opuwo and we spent a few days submitting passport applications to the department of home affairs. (Two of her kids were sponsored to go to summer camp in America).
Then we headed to Okahandja for a few days and hung out with Ruth. Later, went on to Usakos for a day to hang out with Nick.
We went sea kayaking in Walvis Bay and saw seals, dolphins, flamingos, and whatnot (all of which I can add to my wildlife seen in Africa list). Then we went back to Usakos to chill for a week. Then went back to Swakop to go sandboarding.
Hitchhiking east of Windhoek is SOOOOO easy. Sometimes we didn’t even have to wave our arm, people stopped within 10 minutes usually, and it was free! People we rode with: cute afrikaaner in really nice car who didn’t talk at all, not cute afrikaaner in afrikaaner shorts in run down car who did talk, german family in really really nice car, pastor from South Africa who was going see a profetess in Dune 14, colored family on vacation, and afrikaaner young couple who invited us to their braai.
Sandboarding: SOOOO we hiked to Walvis Bay with crazy pastor who asked us when was the exact moment we met God and almost didn’t let us out of the car. Then we searched for sand boards in Walvis Bay and NOWHERE sold any, so then we searched for cardboard, but stores weren’t giving it out. So then we walked to Dune 7 (7km) in sand along a deserted road. It took forever. Then the presidental motorcade passed us, strangely enough, and didn’t even stop to pick us up. We finally reached the dune and were exhausted, but we climbed it anyways. It was fun. Then we got a ride back to Swakop and went out to dinner with Julia and Danielle in Swakop.
I LOOOVE being with Americans again. Who know about all this craziness that goes down in Namibia.
What a weird Saturday. Anyhow, this baster farmer named Mr. Ochizen comes to the school in D-town to see me, like I’m an exotic animal at a zoo. Then he invites me to his farm. I say ok with the full intention of never going or seeing him again. Then, the next day, he comes to my house to see when I am free. I say Saturday. Then he comes the next day. I say Saturday. Then I talk to the teachers about this 75 year old, toothless, Baster (mixed ancestry) farmer to see if it is safe to go out to the boonies with him. At first, they say ok no problem. Then they say no as he is not well-liked in D-town. Or anywhere. They say Mr. Ochizen (the teacher—no relation) needs to go with me if I go to make sure I am safe.
Then baster Mr. Ochizen (BMO) comes again and I tell him that teacher Mr. Ochizen (TMO) wants to come. BMO is NOT happy. I say I’m not going unless TMO goes.
So, all three of us go to the farm.
We see goats (like I don’t see enough of those every day?). Woo. Then the men eat meat and drink cool drink. I just drink cooldrink and pass up the goat meat. Then BMO proposes to me. And he was serious. I said, “No, I never want to get married,” which is pretty close to the truth. Especially when the proposer is a 75 year old toothless goat farmer living in Namibia who barely speaks any English. My rejection of him “will not affect our friendship.”
Then we go back to the village. Bizarre.
GARDEN
Later on some girls from the location came to visit me and helped me plant a garden. The last time I dug a hole in the ground was when I was about 8 years old and wanted to dig an underground playhouse. I spent all summer on that thing and only got about a foot deep. So, I’ve been putting off the digging aspect of my garden. But with the help of the girls we finished the entire thing, planting and all in one hour! I figure if I don’t learn how to garden here, then I won’t learn ever, since everyone is a farmer here. Plus the soil is SOOOOO rich from all the animal shit. I throw my veggie trimmings over the fence for the goats to eat (which they don’t!) and the seeds from a butternut squash sprouted and now I have a huge squash plant right outside my fence. I’m hoping the onions, carrots, and green beans I just planted will grow with equal vigor. And the goats ate my tomato plant. Mofos.
CRAZINESS KIDS FACEJust had a 13 year old girl drop out of 7th grade because she is pregnant. This sucks. In a worst case scenario, she was raped (perhaps by a family member), got pregnant and HIV at the same time, will no longer go to school, so will not have a legal means of income to support her child, her parents are drunks, so she will end up selling herself and getting reinfected herself with HIV to feed her baby and die before the child’s 10th birthday. The child will be an orphan living in bushes asking people for handouts to survive. God, that is grim. But probably pretty close to the truth.
Also had a 13 year old learner steal alchohol and hide it in the hostel garden. Was planning big party over the weekend. I didn’t touch alcohol til I was 18.
How can all this happen, you ask.Where are the parents? Well, many of them are dead because they contracted HIV and AIDs. Others live far from their children, and children are in boarding schools where they basically run free. There is a hostel mother and father in charge of some 50 kids a piece. Other parents live with the kids but are drunk and passed out all the time they wouldn’t know the difference if they had kids. Other parents are living with the kids and just let them run free. Other parents are actually disciplining their kids (WOW!).
I have one girl who has come to ask me for food every week. I give it to her because I know her parents drink all the money away and don’t have any food. If there is any country where serious AA classes are needed, it is this one. If we could just eliminate poverty we could eliminate so many problems: health issues, orphans, alcoholism, teenage pregnancy—all these things through various manners we could eliminate. Once again I’m overwhelmed and I don’t know where to begin or whom to begin with. It’s only 2 years to try and make some kind of difference—actually a year and eight months now. I think it won’t be much.
END OF TERM
Enough said. Class average in Grade 6=42 D. In Grade 7=50 C.
ANIMALS SEEN ON DRIVE TO/FROM DORDABIS:
Kudus, Baboons, Oryx/Gemsbok, Giraffes, Jackals, Meercats, Hartebeasts, Springboks, Warthogs, Bats, Goats, Sheep, Cattle, Donkeys, Horses, Dogs, Cats.
Jefta said he saw a Wildebeast, but I’ve yet to see that.
DRAMA IN D-TOWN
Next term I begin my secondary projects, of which I have many many ideas. I was talking to Mr. Ochizen, who is the only one in this town who gives me a picture of what’s really going on. My naïve “oh I’m a foreigner” has been sucessful with everyone except him. But at least he tells me the real deal.
So here’s the drama:
My supervisor used to teach at DPS a few years ago until she was moved to a different school to be HOD. She applied for the position of principal once the other principal died. TMO, the school board, and others opposed her and wanted someone else to be principal, but the ministry of education decided it would be her. Thus, there has been drama between TMO and Sup ever since. It doesn’t help that she takes things personally, and TMO has good ideas. So that’s why I’ve tried to stay out of it by being somewhat distant to all the teachers. Its funny, but I can tell they are both trying to recruit me to their side. Speaking of values, I am totally on TMO’s side—he really cares about the kids and the community (that’s a huge surprise for a Namibian male). But in terms of what others can offer me (rides, ability to do school projects), the other teachers have the say. So that’s at the root of the divide between the teachers.
NOW FOR THE COMMUNITY DRAMA:
There are several groups here: The counselor, Commuity leaders (TMO, white dude who owns everything, people in the location who don’t like outsiders, people in location who want best for community.
So, the counselor, a bit of a male chauvinist pig, thought his wife was screwing TMO (I got this story from TMO, no consensus that he was). They had a fight. Then the counselor fought with the white guy about land. Originally the white guy was going to sell the land the squatter’s settlement was on to the government, but he didn’t want a flood of people from other parts. The political party SWAPO wanted to bring in Caprivians and Ovambos from the north to D-town so they could get more votes and overpower the people currently in town. So the deal fell through. Now, the counselor is bitter enemies with the white guy, and is still not liking TMO.
Then there is the old pastor, who recently left, who wanted the school to be under his domain. This is ridiculous.
So how this plays out now:
The school can’t have a garden because the pastor won’t lend the school any land, and the hostel is currently paying for water, and the hostel is church-owned, so they won’t let the school have any water.
Nothing can be done to better the community through the normal ways of doing things, through the counselor and government because he won’t help TMO’s crowd. The teachers don’t do anything or can’t do anything because they don’t like being called outsiders, and the community called them out for mismanaging school funds.
Then I get thrown into this mess. Thus far I’ve managed to avoid taking sides. But since I will be soon getting involved with the community then I will.
Apparently TMO made jokes before I came that he was going to hook up with me. He has no intentions of doing that now, as far as I can tell. But he keeps saying things like that to upset my supervisor deliberately. So now, the teachers are trying to keep him away from me: Example: A couple of weeks ago I was chatting with him getting all this good news about the town, when twice a teacher came to interrupt us and say she needs her marks.
If I have to take sides I will. It will be on the side of the kids.
VACATION!
Finally a much, much needed vacation has come! The first weekend I spent in Windhoek with Megan. Then Ashley came from Opuwo and we spent a few days submitting passport applications to the department of home affairs. (Two of her kids were sponsored to go to summer camp in America).
Then we headed to Okahandja for a few days and hung out with Ruth. Later, went on to Usakos for a day to hang out with Nick.
We went sea kayaking in Walvis Bay and saw seals, dolphins, flamingos, and whatnot (all of which I can add to my wildlife seen in Africa list). Then we went back to Usakos to chill for a week. Then went back to Swakop to go sandboarding.
Hitchhiking east of Windhoek is SOOOOO easy. Sometimes we didn’t even have to wave our arm, people stopped within 10 minutes usually, and it was free! People we rode with: cute afrikaaner in really nice car who didn’t talk at all, not cute afrikaaner in afrikaaner shorts in run down car who did talk, german family in really really nice car, pastor from South Africa who was going see a profetess in Dune 14, colored family on vacation, and afrikaaner young couple who invited us to their braai.
Sandboarding: SOOOO we hiked to Walvis Bay with crazy pastor who asked us when was the exact moment we met God and almost didn’t let us out of the car. Then we searched for sand boards in Walvis Bay and NOWHERE sold any, so then we searched for cardboard, but stores weren’t giving it out. So then we walked to Dune 7 (7km) in sand along a deserted road. It took forever. Then the presidental motorcade passed us, strangely enough, and didn’t even stop to pick us up. We finally reached the dune and were exhausted, but we climbed it anyways. It was fun. Then we got a ride back to Swakop and went out to dinner with Julia and Danielle in Swakop.
I LOOOVE being with Americans again. Who know about all this craziness that goes down in Namibia.
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