Small Bump in the Road

Moving to my permanent site wasn’t quite as magical as my first visit.  I guess it was to be expected.  The majority of my time here thus far had been wonderful, I had to have a hard time at some point.

On October 17th we all officially transitioned from PC Trainees to PC Volunteers.  We swore in in our “target languages,” and while my heart was pounding through the entirety of my being, I gave part of the Silozi thank you speech.  We sang. Some danced.  And that was it.  We were officially volunteers.  And that same afternoon some of us left for our permanent sites, leaving Okahandja to feel somewhat empty.  Those of us who were to leave the next day took our last trip to Spar (our beloved grocery store) and ate ice cream.

The next morning I piled all of my belongings into a combi at 5:30am, expecting to leave no later than 6:00am.  This did not happen.  After the combi dropped us off where the supervisor from a nearby village was waiting to drive us up to Caprivi, we spent a few hours trying to sort out a luggage issue.  The plan was for a pick-up to take our luggage up to Caprivi while we road in the car with the supervisor.  Turns out the those driving the truck didn’t want to go that day.  We had to leave most of our luggage behind, save for a few back packs and water filters, and have faith that someone would eventually pick up our belongings from the house where we left them.

They arrived.  A few days after being at site.  This was a few days after feeling entirely alone and frustrated and awkward.  I started teaching seventh graders on Monday, feeling completely unprepared, though I think I actually did ok.  My hut was not yet equipped with a bed, so for the first few nights I slept on a cot in another hut, belonging to an absent PCV.  The amount of new people was overwhelming, most of whom I had not seen during my site visit a month earlier.  Swarms of bees had made themselves comfortable in my hut. Ants ate their way through bags to infest my bread.  At this point, the logical thing in my head was to throw it away.  So I did.  Only to find that 15 minutes later a small  boy found the bread in my trash pile and people proceeded to eat it.  I felt like an ass for throwing it away.  I don’t know why I got so worked up about it, but the situation with everyone around while it happened was really awkward.  That combined with seeing children so upset and crying to the point of wetting themselves, and then getting in trouble and being beaten repeatedly with a stick, was a bit much.  It was a lonely first week at site.

The days did get better though.  The end of the week was equipped with an actual bed, all of my luggage, more confidence in the classroom, the children not being shy around me anymore (though this was to the point of them barging in my hut and rummaging through my things), and complete confidence that I will eventually feel perfectly content in my village.  I actually do like it there.  It was just a bit of an…adjustment.

And now? And now Katima Mulilo is comforting me with it’s flush toilets, showers, milkshakes, packages waiting oh so patiently at the post office for me, and good company.  A weekend that I’m sure will get me ready to feel refreshed and ok about heading back to Mubiza.