Friday, March 14, 2008
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.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
My New Life
Things I Said That I Never Thought I Would:
“Hey, get that live frog out of your mouth.”
“You cannot eat worms in my class. Give me that box of dead, cooked worms. If anyone eats another one, you’re getting detention.”
Integrating?
These few months have passed, and I feel very distant from the community, besides of course the teachers and my students. So, I’ve devised a plan to integrate:
Attend Church. Actually I don’t mind it because there is a lot of singing and they translate the sermon into English for me and the Ovambos. Hasn’t really been working. Nobody talks to me except for the kids.
Learn Khoekhoe. 2 kids volunteered to teach me some words. I’m still looking for a KKG grammar book. If I get that, I’ll be set. Really language is posing a barrier to integration, that's for sure.
Visit the parents of my kids. Actually I’ve really enjoyed visiting the farms where some of the employed parents work. Below are some tales from the farms.
Secondary projects I’ll start in May. Dance club, Health and Environmental Club, Hiking Club
Farm Visits
New Post. Two white people own all the businesses, animals, etc, and employ 40 black people in a weavery. They make karakul sheep wool rugs for export to Europe and the US. The website of the company is www.ibenstein-weavers.com.na and the rugs look pretty nice. Most of the people who work there are parents of my students. I also met the white couple—they were super nice to me, but didn’t even acknowledge the kids I was with.
Things I learnt from the kids on the New Post trip:
There are two ghosts on the road at night. I shouldn’t walk there.
There is a mean baboon who only has 3 legs who will attack and kill me if I go farther than New Post by myself.
My 12 and 13 year old kids kill full-sized Kudus (think horse size). With rocks. And sometimes bows and arrows. They also kill wild birds with slingshots.
Farm kids are doing well. Actually most of them are the best students. I think it is because they live with their parents, and their parents are employed (and alive).
Trips like this are a perfect antidote to the endless “sit down” and “be quiets” in class. You would marvel to see how they blossom when they are in their own territory. Just funny, because that’s what I imagined Peace Corps was about: me walking though the kalahari desert hand in hand with a bunch of shoe-less african children (The farm kids have shoes, they just don’t wear them. I mean really, I wear shoes, but my feet are still gross or wet when I take them off, so what’s the point?). I am feeling Jesus-like.
2nd Farm Trip: Ibenstein.
This one was a bit different. First, there were at least 30 kids, whereas before there were only 10. Second, we had to ask permission to the white people to go in their land. It was awkward. Third, all the kids got in trouble for swimming in a water hole. Fourth, apparently they raise ostriches, because they were EVERYWHERE. It was neat, but the kids kept their distance, so I did too. They may walk around barefoot but they know when to keep their distance and to avoid tall grass. It was a weird trip overall, but the kids still enjoyed it.
Trip to the top of the mountain. I went with two learners to the top of a small mountain outside of Dordabis. The views were nice, but the climb was LOOONG. I think they are my new hiking buddies.
My Friend
Found a scorpion in my house. That’s a first. It was big and yellow. Swept it outside and called a neighbor to kill it. Turns out according to my handy dandy guide to scorpions and spiders it is the most poisonous one in southern africa, causing a handful of deaths each year. You know, if scorpions are the alternative, I can fall in love with my cockroaches.
Guilt and Temptation
I feel guilty kind of for not spending much time with the teachers. Some teachers have even said that I should spend more time with them outside of class. Here’s the issue. They say they want to practice English, but I am there every day at school in the morning or at Tea break, and they basically don’t talk to me at all. I would join in the conversation if they would talk in English but they don’t. At other times when I have spent time with them, they still revert back to Afrikaan and KKG, while I sit there in my own thoughts. When they are talking English, they are always pointing out how different I am—its more like talking about me while I’m present. So really its just awkward. I’d rather spend time with the learners.
Temptation—that’s the problem with Peace Corps. We’re up to 3 Early terminations now, that I know about. Could be more. Because its volunteer work, you can leave any time, no penalties, besides not being able to say you completed a 2 year term. With school, you get a degree at the end. With Peace Corps you get the achivement of having lived in Africa for 2 years. It’s really a problem. I knew I was taking a chance coming to Africa. And it hasn’t been for nothing. I’m happy that I’m here, but I love Spanish and Latin America more, and I’m losing the language FAST. And I’m not picking up KKG either, soooo. Its really tempting to transfer to Latin America, but the thought of abandoning these children creates too much guilt for me. Not yet. One thing is for sure—I am not cut out to be an Elementary teacher long term.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
A Day in the Life of Me
February 14th, 2008
During the Week:
5:30am Wake up, hope clock says a different time, get out of bed to check cellphone just to make sure the time on my clock isn’t wrong. It isn’t.
5:45am Take cold bucket bath.
6:40am Staff Meeting—think awkward silence and funny requests.
7:00am School begins. I love these kids and want to adopt them all.
9:00am Tea Break
9:30-11:00am I am pulling my hair out trying to tone down the kids energy.
12:00-1:00pm I hate these kids and want to murder them all.
1:00pm School is out. I go home and eat leftovers.
2:00pm Naptime!
Afternoons: Afternoon classes, lesson plans, handwash clothes, sweep and mop, regain energy, fall in love with children again when they come visit me.
8:00 Eat dinner, watch the same movie for the 189th time
10:00 Bed time
A Typical Saturday in Windhoek (my shopping town):
9:00am Wake up next to colleague’s random family member who I am sharing a bed with.
10:00am Eat huge meal loaded with butter.
11:00-1:00 Do something. Sometimes read. Sometimes escape to the Peace Corps Office. Sometimes pretend to be interested in the TV programs and African music videos.
1:00pm Eat huge meal loaded with butter, oil, and meat.
1:00-8:00pm See 11:00.
8:00pm Eat huge meal.
9:00pm Climb into bed with lady I just met.
During the Weekend in D-town:
10:00am Wake up. Love life.
10:30-1:00pm Clean (The wind and dust don’t make for clean houses)
1:00pm Cook and eat yummy food. I love making crepes now (in absence of a stove to make chocolate chip cookies.)
2:00-6:00pm Do something. Normally organize something (photos on my computer, books in library, clothes, etc). Sometimes laundry.
6:00pm Cook and eat.
8:00pm Movie Time
10:00pm Bed time
So you see, my life isn’t so eventful. Really I feel like combination old lady/mother of 75 children/entertainment for community/part of the 6am-1pm working world. But for some reason I feel more grown up.
The good thing is everything I’ve ever done in my life can be of use here. If grad school confirmed how much I don’t know, then Peace Corps is confirming how much I do know (in my brain, not in a book).
For instance ….. prepared me for ……
1. A childhood fascination with art: Art class
2. Creativity: Art projects with no resources whatsoever
3. English major: English teacher
4. Salsa dance: something for youth to do instead of contract HIV
5. Learning to cook over the past 2 years: cooking without many options
6. Costa Rican cockroaches: African cockroaches
7. Learning to wash clothes by hand in Mexico: Washing my clothes here
8. Living in rural Mexico: Living in rural Namibia
9. Learning to be alone at Grad school: being alone here
10. Finding out that directors commentaries are actually interesting in Grad school: doing the same in Africa.
11. Tucson desert climate: Namibia desert climate.
12. Teaching spanish 102: teaching younger kids English (many of the activities are the same)
13. Living in another culture in Costa Rica and Mexico: “”
14. Working at a school in Nogales, Mexico: Working at a school in D-town, Namibia
15. Spending a lot of time in libraries: teaching library class
16. Typing papers for 6 years: Helping teach the principal to type
I could go on.
Other Random Thoughts:
One person I just met said it was interesting that I did not feel uncomfortable being here, what with being new and alone in a community. I don’t. Hmm. Guess I’ve travelled too much now. It’s normal to be the weird white lady living in a place few white people come to.
Valentines Day:
Someone is sitting in “my seat” in the staff room. I sit instead by my male colleague (1 of 2 at the school). He says, “Do you know what today means?” There is general laughter. I say, “Yes, it’s the day my mother sends me chocolate.” That ended that.
One of my best learners writes me this note (not corrected):
To Mrs. Leo,
First of all I will great you than I will say that there is a special joy in heaven and even in me.
Happy Valentine day I hope that you will enjoy your day with peace and Happiness.
You are the special teacher I have never had. the smile which is always on your face show me that you like me as well as the others children in the class.
From: Toshline
This is so cute really. I asked her later what teachers she liked besides me. She said noone. This is because teachers here are mean. I mean downright mean to these kids. I can’t imagine the damage it does to their psyches.
I gave valentines with personalized notes to all the kids. They will love me forever.
Kids love books. Every time I am in the library they are practically fighting to get in too. This makes my year.
Bugs: There are some massive bugs here including a 7inch long grasshopper and beetles that are 5 inches long. At least they can’t come in under the door.
I emptied my fridge of cockroaches but they moved into the cabinet. This is war now.
I had a bag of empty cans and yogurt cups outside (so the cucarachas could enjoy them in peace) and someone stole it. What? It was a bag of trash! On a sidenote, in Katutura, apparently thieves steal blankets through open windows off people who are sleeping. I’m changing my locks.
Things kids have eaten in my class: a picture I gave them, paper, piece of eraser, chalk, an entire tube of toothpaste, sweets, stickers, pre-chewed gum, etc. There really is no sense of germs here. I.e. I threw out chicken bones for the goats/dogs. 5 minutes later my neighbors son is eating them. This is a kid who has food. Now I put them in a bag when I throw them out.
I’m finding my place here, but I wish I could get out more in the community. Besides church there’s basically no interaction between me and the town at all. I am so busy all the time with school stuff. And it’s so hard to integrate with this language business. Everybody speaks Khoekhoegowab and Afrikaans, but not necessarily English. And obviously I don’t speak either of the first two. I debate back and forth about which one I will make some effort to learn. Haven’t decided yet.
During the Week:
5:30am Wake up, hope clock says a different time, get out of bed to check cellphone just to make sure the time on my clock isn’t wrong. It isn’t.
5:45am Take cold bucket bath.
6:40am Staff Meeting—think awkward silence and funny requests.
7:00am School begins. I love these kids and want to adopt them all.
9:00am Tea Break
9:30-11:00am I am pulling my hair out trying to tone down the kids energy.
12:00-1:00pm I hate these kids and want to murder them all.
1:00pm School is out. I go home and eat leftovers.
2:00pm Naptime!
Afternoons: Afternoon classes, lesson plans, handwash clothes, sweep and mop, regain energy, fall in love with children again when they come visit me.
8:00 Eat dinner, watch the same movie for the 189th time
10:00 Bed time
A Typical Saturday in Windhoek (my shopping town):
9:00am Wake up next to colleague’s random family member who I am sharing a bed with.
10:00am Eat huge meal loaded with butter.
11:00-1:00 Do something. Sometimes read. Sometimes escape to the Peace Corps Office. Sometimes pretend to be interested in the TV programs and African music videos.
1:00pm Eat huge meal loaded with butter, oil, and meat.
1:00-8:00pm See 11:00.
8:00pm Eat huge meal.
9:00pm Climb into bed with lady I just met.
During the Weekend in D-town:
10:00am Wake up. Love life.
10:30-1:00pm Clean (The wind and dust don’t make for clean houses)
1:00pm Cook and eat yummy food. I love making crepes now (in absence of a stove to make chocolate chip cookies.)
2:00-6:00pm Do something. Normally organize something (photos on my computer, books in library, clothes, etc). Sometimes laundry.
6:00pm Cook and eat.
8:00pm Movie Time
10:00pm Bed time
So you see, my life isn’t so eventful. Really I feel like combination old lady/mother of 75 children/entertainment for community/part of the 6am-1pm working world. But for some reason I feel more grown up.
The good thing is everything I’ve ever done in my life can be of use here. If grad school confirmed how much I don’t know, then Peace Corps is confirming how much I do know (in my brain, not in a book).
For instance ….. prepared me for ……
1. A childhood fascination with art: Art class
2. Creativity: Art projects with no resources whatsoever
3. English major: English teacher
4. Salsa dance: something for youth to do instead of contract HIV
5. Learning to cook over the past 2 years: cooking without many options
6. Costa Rican cockroaches: African cockroaches
7. Learning to wash clothes by hand in Mexico: Washing my clothes here
8. Living in rural Mexico: Living in rural Namibia
9. Learning to be alone at Grad school: being alone here
10. Finding out that directors commentaries are actually interesting in Grad school: doing the same in Africa.
11. Tucson desert climate: Namibia desert climate.
12. Teaching spanish 102: teaching younger kids English (many of the activities are the same)
13. Living in another culture in Costa Rica and Mexico: “”
14. Working at a school in Nogales, Mexico: Working at a school in D-town, Namibia
15. Spending a lot of time in libraries: teaching library class
16. Typing papers for 6 years: Helping teach the principal to type
I could go on.
Other Random Thoughts:
One person I just met said it was interesting that I did not feel uncomfortable being here, what with being new and alone in a community. I don’t. Hmm. Guess I’ve travelled too much now. It’s normal to be the weird white lady living in a place few white people come to.
Valentines Day:
Someone is sitting in “my seat” in the staff room. I sit instead by my male colleague (1 of 2 at the school). He says, “Do you know what today means?” There is general laughter. I say, “Yes, it’s the day my mother sends me chocolate.” That ended that.
One of my best learners writes me this note (not corrected):
To Mrs. Leo,
First of all I will great you than I will say that there is a special joy in heaven and even in me.
Happy Valentine day I hope that you will enjoy your day with peace and Happiness.
You are the special teacher I have never had. the smile which is always on your face show me that you like me as well as the others children in the class.
From: Toshline
This is so cute really. I asked her later what teachers she liked besides me. She said noone. This is because teachers here are mean. I mean downright mean to these kids. I can’t imagine the damage it does to their psyches.
I gave valentines with personalized notes to all the kids. They will love me forever.
Kids love books. Every time I am in the library they are practically fighting to get in too. This makes my year.
Bugs: There are some massive bugs here including a 7inch long grasshopper and beetles that are 5 inches long. At least they can’t come in under the door.
I emptied my fridge of cockroaches but they moved into the cabinet. This is war now.
I had a bag of empty cans and yogurt cups outside (so the cucarachas could enjoy them in peace) and someone stole it. What? It was a bag of trash! On a sidenote, in Katutura, apparently thieves steal blankets through open windows off people who are sleeping. I’m changing my locks.
Things kids have eaten in my class: a picture I gave them, paper, piece of eraser, chalk, an entire tube of toothpaste, sweets, stickers, pre-chewed gum, etc. There really is no sense of germs here. I.e. I threw out chicken bones for the goats/dogs. 5 minutes later my neighbors son is eating them. This is a kid who has food. Now I put them in a bag when I throw them out.
I’m finding my place here, but I wish I could get out more in the community. Besides church there’s basically no interaction between me and the town at all. I am so busy all the time with school stuff. And it’s so hard to integrate with this language business. Everybody speaks Khoekhoegowab and Afrikaans, but not necessarily English. And obviously I don’t speak either of the first two. I debate back and forth about which one I will make some effort to learn. Haven’t decided yet.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
Photos
In case you want to see photos of Namibia, check out the photos I uploaded to Facebook. You should have no problem seeing them at this site:
http://arizona.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2228163&l=5d1e6&id=10131893
Hope you enjoy!
http://arizona.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2228163&l=5d1e6&id=10131893
Hope you enjoy!
I'm a PCV!
January 13, 2008
Happy New Year!
I’m officially a Peace Corps Volunteer, no longer a Trainee!
Here are some updates:
New Years: New Years was a blast and made up for a boring Christmas. In the afternoon Obie and I practiced dancing salsa for the talent show. I had been feeling a little sick from dehydration all day, but that resolved itself. Then, we headed to the dry riverbed where a bonfire was in progress. It was a really fun party!
New Years Day: Leslie and the gang organized a fabulous breakfast for us consisting of french toast, real scrambled eggs, and pancakes. I love them forever.
Talent Show: That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I performed a salsa dance with Obie. Among the other entries were Jeff B. playing guitar, Justin and Grace performing poetry, Sarah and Chaz lip-syncing, the ladies dubbing Britney Spears to “Not a PCT, not yet a PCV,” Jay and Griffin singing the theme to Gardener’s Daughter, a fashion show of PCTs in traditional Damara/Ovambo dresses, Selma performing traditional African dance, Jeff K. solving a rubics cube, Chris robot dancing, Leah and others singing songs, Kengo doing a funny skit, etc. It was pretty much hilarious.
Awards: My room 22 girls got the award for having the cleanest room. See below to see if you agree. Also the Bing girls got an award for “Most Remarkable CBT experience.” We rock. As a result Leslie invited us to Swakopmund over Easter break. Yay!
After the Talent show: We had a braai (barbeque) with absolutely fabulous grilled veggies, chicken, green beans, apples, and pineapple. It was to celebrate the Redskins making it into the playoffs or something like that. That was the best dinner in Africa so far! And then we dance partied into the night.
Why I keep talking about food: Not normally being a person concerned with food, I’ve suddenly appreciated any American cuisine. Food generally speaking in Namibia is rather blah-se. For instance over the past few weeks my menu has been:
Breakfast: cornflakes and hot milk, bread with tons of butter and a teeny bit of jelly.
Lunch/Dinner: pasta with mayonaise, pasta with butter 2 slivers of onion and a bit of tomato, squash drenched in butter and sugar, carrot slaw with raisins and apples and sugar, goat, sheep, beef, gemsbok, canned peas, etc.
The highlight of CBT was bread with peanut butter. It made my day.
In Mexico, even though there were not a lot of ingredients the food was damn tasty. Here not so much, unless you like your veggies tasting like butter and sugar. You can probably see how I’ve gained 8 pounds since I’ve been here. Yes, I’m at a whopping 106 pounds! Apparently girls go back to the states weighing 20 lbs more, and boys go back weighing 20 lbs less. I’m well on my way there.
LPI—The day before the language exam we were all studying like crazy. It went surprisingly well, and I even got the score I was supposed to “Intermediate Low.” This makes me think that I can really master Khoekhoe in the years I’m here, but it will take a special effort I’m not sure I want to make, as when I return to the U.S. I doubt I will ever use it again besides as a nice party trick. I’d rather concentrate on keeping up my Spanish.
Shopping Spree in Windhoek: We were given money to go shopping in Windhoek and we went to town buying stuff for our house. It’s so nice to have things now.
Best group: The training manager and trainers agree that we are the best group ever. For the record, most groups have 6 or 7 people leave before training is up, and we only had one. Everyone got along, there was surprisingly little drama, we were well behaved and respectful, we actually studied the language and scored relatively high. We rock!
Swearing In: On Wednesday, we were sworn in by the Ambassador at the Community Hall in Okahandja. We were on the news and in the newspaper apparently, but ironically us PCVs have no access to those things. Afterwards people started to leave and the tears began. I wasn’t that sad because I knew I would see all these people again, but it will be a long time (until May).
Last Night in the Handj: Luckily for me, I got to stay one more night. Leah, Ashley, Jessica, Chris, Danielle, and Julia went out for Pizza one last time. Then we got curtains at the fabric store and snacks at Spar. In the evening we watched Obie’s slideshow of his wedding, and chatted with those who were left over.
Everything goes down hill: Ashley left for Opuwo, so I’m the only one left in my room. It takes all freakin day to get to D-town even though it is only 2 hours from Okahandja:
8:30—time I’m supposed to leave
10:30—time counselor of Okahandja picks me up and brings me 2 blocks to his house.
1:30—time regional counselor of Okahandja region picks me up to take me to Windhoek
2:30—arrival in Katutura at my supervisor’s house.
5:30—car trouble prevents earlier leaving, leave for grocery store
6:30—mechanic meets us and we bring him along to Dordabis, normally a one hour ride. Because car’s fuel injection is not working well, car stalls every 10 minutes.
11:00pm—arrival in D-town.
The long arrival time wouldn’t have been so bad, except that once we arrive I found out that there is nothing in my apartment. I lived with my supervisor for several days before Waldo, our APCD, took matters into his own hands and pulled some strings at the ministry. The next day, I moved in with a hotplate and some suitcases. The following day, the ministry brought my fridge and furniture.
It was lovely, except that my fridge was full of cockroaches. Yes, even the freezer. Mofos. And they are not the slow and stupid kind like in Costa Rica. These ones are the evil tiny kind that won’t come out of the cracks until you are not looking or the lights are turned off, and then they take over. Ick. I’m going to be a clean freak by the time I get back to the States that is for sure.
First Days of School Namibian Style: Drink tea, cover your files in pretty paper and plastic, have kids sit there for about 5 hours straight with nothing to do at all (and expect order and silence), leave every 20 minutes or so for random tasks and class becomes total chaos. Such is life here.
Oh, we did decide what classes we would teach. I’m teaching English grades 6 and 7, Basic Information Studies (i.e. library), Life Skills (i.e. Health), Religion and Moral Education (i.e. Sunday School), and Physical Education. Basically they gave me the other courses which “don’t matter” because you don’t have to pass them to move to the next grade. I’m cool with all of them except Religion and Moral Education, but hey, maybe I can make it interesting. Thirty of fifty-two 5th graders failed the grade last year. This is normal. To me, it speaks volumes about the quality and quantity of teaching, the nutrition, and treatment these kids get throughout their young lives. To sum up, it sucks.
April/May—Reconnect (in-service training)? First Vacation!!!
Happy New Year!
I’m officially a Peace Corps Volunteer, no longer a Trainee!
Here are some updates:
New Years: New Years was a blast and made up for a boring Christmas. In the afternoon Obie and I practiced dancing salsa for the talent show. I had been feeling a little sick from dehydration all day, but that resolved itself. Then, we headed to the dry riverbed where a bonfire was in progress. It was a really fun party!
New Years Day: Leslie and the gang organized a fabulous breakfast for us consisting of french toast, real scrambled eggs, and pancakes. I love them forever.
Talent Show: That was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. I performed a salsa dance with Obie. Among the other entries were Jeff B. playing guitar, Justin and Grace performing poetry, Sarah and Chaz lip-syncing, the ladies dubbing Britney Spears to “Not a PCT, not yet a PCV,” Jay and Griffin singing the theme to Gardener’s Daughter, a fashion show of PCTs in traditional Damara/Ovambo dresses, Selma performing traditional African dance, Jeff K. solving a rubics cube, Chris robot dancing, Leah and others singing songs, Kengo doing a funny skit, etc. It was pretty much hilarious.
Awards: My room 22 girls got the award for having the cleanest room. See below to see if you agree. Also the Bing girls got an award for “Most Remarkable CBT experience.” We rock. As a result Leslie invited us to Swakopmund over Easter break. Yay!
After the Talent show: We had a braai (barbeque) with absolutely fabulous grilled veggies, chicken, green beans, apples, and pineapple. It was to celebrate the Redskins making it into the playoffs or something like that. That was the best dinner in Africa so far! And then we dance partied into the night.
Why I keep talking about food: Not normally being a person concerned with food, I’ve suddenly appreciated any American cuisine. Food generally speaking in Namibia is rather blah-se. For instance over the past few weeks my menu has been:
Breakfast: cornflakes and hot milk, bread with tons of butter and a teeny bit of jelly.
Lunch/Dinner: pasta with mayonaise, pasta with butter 2 slivers of onion and a bit of tomato, squash drenched in butter and sugar, carrot slaw with raisins and apples and sugar, goat, sheep, beef, gemsbok, canned peas, etc.
The highlight of CBT was bread with peanut butter. It made my day.
In Mexico, even though there were not a lot of ingredients the food was damn tasty. Here not so much, unless you like your veggies tasting like butter and sugar. You can probably see how I’ve gained 8 pounds since I’ve been here. Yes, I’m at a whopping 106 pounds! Apparently girls go back to the states weighing 20 lbs more, and boys go back weighing 20 lbs less. I’m well on my way there.
LPI—The day before the language exam we were all studying like crazy. It went surprisingly well, and I even got the score I was supposed to “Intermediate Low.” This makes me think that I can really master Khoekhoe in the years I’m here, but it will take a special effort I’m not sure I want to make, as when I return to the U.S. I doubt I will ever use it again besides as a nice party trick. I’d rather concentrate on keeping up my Spanish.
Shopping Spree in Windhoek: We were given money to go shopping in Windhoek and we went to town buying stuff for our house. It’s so nice to have things now.
Best group: The training manager and trainers agree that we are the best group ever. For the record, most groups have 6 or 7 people leave before training is up, and we only had one. Everyone got along, there was surprisingly little drama, we were well behaved and respectful, we actually studied the language and scored relatively high. We rock!
Swearing In: On Wednesday, we were sworn in by the Ambassador at the Community Hall in Okahandja. We were on the news and in the newspaper apparently, but ironically us PCVs have no access to those things. Afterwards people started to leave and the tears began. I wasn’t that sad because I knew I would see all these people again, but it will be a long time (until May).
Last Night in the Handj: Luckily for me, I got to stay one more night. Leah, Ashley, Jessica, Chris, Danielle, and Julia went out for Pizza one last time. Then we got curtains at the fabric store and snacks at Spar. In the evening we watched Obie’s slideshow of his wedding, and chatted with those who were left over.
Everything goes down hill: Ashley left for Opuwo, so I’m the only one left in my room. It takes all freakin day to get to D-town even though it is only 2 hours from Okahandja:
8:30—time I’m supposed to leave
10:30—time counselor of Okahandja picks me up and brings me 2 blocks to his house.
1:30—time regional counselor of Okahandja region picks me up to take me to Windhoek
2:30—arrival in Katutura at my supervisor’s house.
5:30—car trouble prevents earlier leaving, leave for grocery store
6:30—mechanic meets us and we bring him along to Dordabis, normally a one hour ride. Because car’s fuel injection is not working well, car stalls every 10 minutes.
11:00pm—arrival in D-town.
The long arrival time wouldn’t have been so bad, except that once we arrive I found out that there is nothing in my apartment. I lived with my supervisor for several days before Waldo, our APCD, took matters into his own hands and pulled some strings at the ministry. The next day, I moved in with a hotplate and some suitcases. The following day, the ministry brought my fridge and furniture.
It was lovely, except that my fridge was full of cockroaches. Yes, even the freezer. Mofos. And they are not the slow and stupid kind like in Costa Rica. These ones are the evil tiny kind that won’t come out of the cracks until you are not looking or the lights are turned off, and then they take over. Ick. I’m going to be a clean freak by the time I get back to the States that is for sure.
First Days of School Namibian Style: Drink tea, cover your files in pretty paper and plastic, have kids sit there for about 5 hours straight with nothing to do at all (and expect order and silence), leave every 20 minutes or so for random tasks and class becomes total chaos. Such is life here.
Oh, we did decide what classes we would teach. I’m teaching English grades 6 and 7, Basic Information Studies (i.e. library), Life Skills (i.e. Health), Religion and Moral Education (i.e. Sunday School), and Physical Education. Basically they gave me the other courses which “don’t matter” because you don’t have to pass them to move to the next grade. I’m cool with all of them except Religion and Moral Education, but hey, maybe I can make it interesting. Thirty of fifty-two 5th graders failed the grade last year. This is normal. To me, it speaks volumes about the quality and quantity of teaching, the nutrition, and treatment these kids get throughout their young lives. To sum up, it sucks.
I got nothing but love for the 5th and 7th graders. They are so hungry for affection and attention. But the 6th graders might be the end of me. I didn't win them over in the beginning, and from then on it was a disaster. I am keeping them up to an hour after school for detention. There really are no "bad" kids, you know, the spiteful kind. But there are a lot of kids who are illiterate and bored or craving attention and that means they act up in class. We'll see if they settle down with time.
· Things to look forward to:
February—I’m going to visit Megan in Mariental.
April/May—Reconnect (in-service training)? First Vacation!!!
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Community Based Training
December 30th
So, CBT (Community Based Training) is over. Here are some reflections/interesting happenings:
My host family: I stayed with a teacher, his wife, and their two kids (Roberto and Larisha). The kids were cute, but sometimes required way too much energy on my part, and so became slightly annoying. I discovered I am a kid person for 3 hours—anything after that and I am counting down the seconds til I can leave the house.
Otjimbingwe: a small town in the middle of nowhere. It was absolutely beautiful with the most amazing sunsets, but the major pastime was consumption of beer to excess amounts and all the problems that result.
Model School: We rocked the model school. I did a project with my 10th grade English kids—they did an awesome job.
The Bing-ers: There were 9 girls (an Otjiherero speaking and a Khoekhoe speaking group) who were all awesome. We spent all day with each other and noone got on each others nerves. On ocassion we hid from the total lack of privacy we receive at host fam.
Wildest host fam: Not mine, thank god, but one host fam did include an obsessive sister, domestic abuse, random family members camping in the yard, a knife fight outside her window, an 11 year old alcoholic, among other things. Insanity.
Bat boy: Every little town has their insane kid. Bat boy was ours. He prefers to live in the bushes even though he has a family and is probably 11 years old and definitely not all there. He came every day to get some free food after model school even though he did not attend model school. He subsistes entirely on handouts and is a lot smarter than people think he is.
How Bat boy got his name: One of the first days he put a petrified dead bat by Julia as a joke. Gross.
Why Bat boy got kicked out once: by putting baby birds in his pocket and then trying to eat them.
Why Bat boy cracks us up: In the middle of the 8th grade presentations, Bat boy sits in the area where the kids were presenting with bat dog, his faithful companion. He pulls the dog onto his lap and pets it while the 8th graders step around him to continue their dramas.
When Bat boy cracked: On the last day of model school he brought a knife to school. That in itself made me nervous. Then Kate told him to put it away and he came after her with knife raised high. Jessica saw and said “not ok” and then he came after Catherine a little later. We sent some 10th grade boys to get him out of the school yard. Later he sicced his dog on Jessica. Nobody got hurt, thank god.
Bat boy’s family: Apparently he has a crazy uncle who was in jail for a while and liked to break into people’s houses and poo in their pots and pans. Also a crazy cousin is currently in jail for killing the pastor’s pig. A sane aunt and sister are also in the picture but the insane half of the family refuses to live with them. As you can see, Bat boy was a major fixture of our entertainment here.
Garderner’s Daughter: And just why arent Luisa Fernanda and Carlos Eduardo together? Come on, Luisa get with it.
My suitor: Some kid came over to “get to know me better.” We watched GD together each night. Awkward. Then he gives me a Christmas present: cookies and shampoo. The next day he writes me a love letter, and I quote:
“I am stucked between two valleys, not knowing what to say or do at this point as I am leaving. . . .[Your host mom] said you were leaving and you know what it hurt like crazy . . . because I am in love with u.” We had one freaking conversation.
“We were both so busy, u with school teaching, me with business customizing, so it’s a real pity we couldn’t make time for ourselves.” I was busy trying to avoid you.
“Only heavens know how I’m gonna cope without seeing you every day. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. This is pure and exquisite and I you feel the same.”
I about died laughing at that one. Lesson learned: don’t be nice to men here. Just say No. Or they will stalk you like there’s no tomorrow, and you’re the last female on earth.
So I’m back in the Handj for a week and a half and SO glad to have some space. But it is sad because training is coming to an end, and I will miss all my friends I made here! I don’t have any group that I can hang with, and most people do have at least one person they can hang with for the next 2 years. But I am near Windhoek—maybe can find some friends there?
So, CBT (Community Based Training) is over. Here are some reflections/interesting happenings:
My host family: I stayed with a teacher, his wife, and their two kids (Roberto and Larisha). The kids were cute, but sometimes required way too much energy on my part, and so became slightly annoying. I discovered I am a kid person for 3 hours—anything after that and I am counting down the seconds til I can leave the house.
Otjimbingwe: a small town in the middle of nowhere. It was absolutely beautiful with the most amazing sunsets, but the major pastime was consumption of beer to excess amounts and all the problems that result.
Model School: We rocked the model school. I did a project with my 10th grade English kids—they did an awesome job.
The Bing-ers: There were 9 girls (an Otjiherero speaking and a Khoekhoe speaking group) who were all awesome. We spent all day with each other and noone got on each others nerves. On ocassion we hid from the total lack of privacy we receive at host fam.
Wildest host fam: Not mine, thank god, but one host fam did include an obsessive sister, domestic abuse, random family members camping in the yard, a knife fight outside her window, an 11 year old alcoholic, among other things. Insanity.
Bat boy: Every little town has their insane kid. Bat boy was ours. He prefers to live in the bushes even though he has a family and is probably 11 years old and definitely not all there. He came every day to get some free food after model school even though he did not attend model school. He subsistes entirely on handouts and is a lot smarter than people think he is.
How Bat boy got his name: One of the first days he put a petrified dead bat by Julia as a joke. Gross.
Why Bat boy got kicked out once: by putting baby birds in his pocket and then trying to eat them.
Why Bat boy cracks us up: In the middle of the 8th grade presentations, Bat boy sits in the area where the kids were presenting with bat dog, his faithful companion. He pulls the dog onto his lap and pets it while the 8th graders step around him to continue their dramas.
When Bat boy cracked: On the last day of model school he brought a knife to school. That in itself made me nervous. Then Kate told him to put it away and he came after her with knife raised high. Jessica saw and said “not ok” and then he came after Catherine a little later. We sent some 10th grade boys to get him out of the school yard. Later he sicced his dog on Jessica. Nobody got hurt, thank god.
Bat boy’s family: Apparently he has a crazy uncle who was in jail for a while and liked to break into people’s houses and poo in their pots and pans. Also a crazy cousin is currently in jail for killing the pastor’s pig. A sane aunt and sister are also in the picture but the insane half of the family refuses to live with them. As you can see, Bat boy was a major fixture of our entertainment here.
Garderner’s Daughter: And just why arent Luisa Fernanda and Carlos Eduardo together? Come on, Luisa get with it.
My suitor: Some kid came over to “get to know me better.” We watched GD together each night. Awkward. Then he gives me a Christmas present: cookies and shampoo. The next day he writes me a love letter, and I quote:
“I am stucked between two valleys, not knowing what to say or do at this point as I am leaving. . . .[Your host mom] said you were leaving and you know what it hurt like crazy . . . because I am in love with u.” We had one freaking conversation.
“We were both so busy, u with school teaching, me with business customizing, so it’s a real pity we couldn’t make time for ourselves.” I was busy trying to avoid you.
“Only heavens know how I’m gonna cope without seeing you every day. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. This is pure and exquisite and I you feel the same.”
I about died laughing at that one. Lesson learned: don’t be nice to men here. Just say No. Or they will stalk you like there’s no tomorrow, and you’re the last female on earth.
So I’m back in the Handj for a week and a half and SO glad to have some space. But it is sad because training is coming to an end, and I will miss all my friends I made here! I don’t have any group that I can hang with, and most people do have at least one person they can hang with for the next 2 years. But I am near Windhoek—maybe can find some friends there?
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