Sarah Likes to Travel

Coming to a Close.

2011-10-23T01:12:00.001-07:00

I realize that my already sporadic posts dwindled within the last 6 months to a year or so. Perhaps because things became so normal, so it didn’t cross my mind to write about them. I figured it was time to do another in honor of my service coming to an end.

I’ve been in Namibia for 26 months. One month left and I’ll be an RPCV (returned peace corps volunteer). Not surprisingly, I am excited and nervous and exhausted and anxious. Mostly excited because of what I’ve set out for me during the next five months.

This term has been full of a lot of continued frustration with my learners. Don’t get me wrong, I love them outside of the classroom, but through this experience I’ve discovered that I am not meant to be a teacher. My patience has become short over the last year and I’m tired of yelling at learners to be quiet, breaking up fights, watching little boys cry, grading their workbooks, listening to complaints about who does and who does not get to watch movies and dealing with stolen (insert school supplies here). So, while I will of course miss the crazy brats, I will not miss being their teacher.

Luckily, this last school term has been interrupted on a few occasions by activities that took greater priority and let me miss a few days to spend it with other volunteers. For one, I spent an entire week in Windhoek for a final medical exam to make sure I am fit and healthy (yes, I’m fine minus the 20 *gasp* pounds I’ve gained since coming to this country). I took a day off from school to visit a section of the country that I had missed out on. The North. Which holds the majority of the Namibian population and is mostly Owambo. I stayed on a traditional (yet slightly modern because of the shower and flush toilet!) homestead with another volunteer. Ate worms (yes I enjoyed them), got drunk at the shebeen, explored the maze of China shops in Oshikango, ate mounds of Chinese food while enjoying four hours of karaoke, and spent time with good company in Ongwadiva before heading back to site. This month also greeted me with the Lucky Star Marathon which took place in Swakopmund on the coast. No, I didn’t run it. I enjoyed the coast. A large group of us took the overnight train from Okahandja to Swakopmund. The train took 11 hours. It’s maybe a four hour drive. We kept ourselves plenty entertained, though our portable speakers were not enjoyed much by the other passengers.

And now I’m in the home stretch. Four more weeks of teaching which seems entirely do-able. I’m handing off some of my classes to my replacement who arrived last week. I’ll be busy making the grade 6 English exam, putting in the learners’ final grades, and using class time to take class photos. I’ve already started trying to organize my house to make packing easier. This process has only made me feel even giddier for what’s to come: a four month vacation.

I can’t even begin to explain my excitement. Two other volunteers (one of my fellow Caprivi volunteers who I used to live close to, and the volunteer who lives in my shopping town and hosts me almost every weekend) and I are using the money Peace Corps gives us for “readjustment” to travel. Our tickets are booked and we are very ready to go, sometimes asking ourselves why we chose November 23rd as our final date when we could have been done by now. We will begin by hitchhiking for the last time up to Katima Mulilo. Afterwards we will make our way over to Malawi, set up our hammocks, and lay on a beach. After Malawi we go to Zanzibar and then hopefully over to have a look at Kilimanjaro. We end that month of Africa travel with a flight from Nairobi to India. We’ll travel India for a month before heading to Thailand for 3 weeks, Bali for 3 weeks, a week in Singapore, and the last two weeks in the Philippines. And then it’s back to Chicago. Where I’m sure I’ll be an emotional mess.

And then who knows. I’m still trying to figure out what I am supposed to be doing. Though the time here has made this uncertainty much easier to handle. The fact that I’m not tied down to any one place is kind of exciting so I guess I’ll see where I end up.

beyond frustrated.

2011-07-05T10:13:00.000-07:00

Looking at my most recent post (March 8, 2011) kind of makes me laugh, and is also kind of upsetting. I ramble on about how great my learners are and now they have turned into my biggest source of frustration. I've gone through a lot of frustration while being in Namibia. Ranging from no water to language barriers to an education system that leaves much to be desired as well as classroom management. But these days the one that makes the top of the list is classroom management. I'm going over and over in my head what was different prior to term 2 that made my classes so much easier to bare, even if they were a little out of control at times, and I haven't really come up with an easy answer.

It's mostly grade 5. More often than not I am content with grade 6 (and yet even they are worse than last term). But grade 5 has become a pack of monsters. I can't even find them cute anymore. Their lack of respect and zero desire to learn leaves me exhausted and angry at the end of the day. Perhaps it's this particular group of learners. Because hey, I taught two grade 5 classes last year and they weren't nearly as bad, and I've also received complaints from other teachers about this particular class. (Grade 5 is divided into 3 classes, 5A, 5B, and 5C. I teach English to grade 5C and computer literacy to all grade 5 classes.)

Problems range from learners constantly getting out of their seats, never bringing pens, losing their workbooks, stealing, fighting, shouting, writing in textbooks, ripping pages out of story books, not doing homework, etc. It leaves very little time for teaching when all I'm focusing on is getting them to just sit down and listen and do their work. I've tried different kinds of classroom management. I used to give rewards to groups that behaved the best and earned the most stars on their star chart, I've given punishments to learners acting out (writing, changing seats, forced to leave the classroom, and a visit to the principals office) and none of that really works. Sometimes it will help them behave for the rest of the class period but by the next day they are back to normal. I reached out for help to my superiors at school. They came to my class, had me point out the misbehaving learners, took them to their classroom as if they were going to have a talk, and proceeded to beat them. Made me feel like a really good person (note the sarcasm). Teachers claim this is the only thing that works but even that's not true. The kids might shut up completely for the remainder of the day but then they are back at it the next day. And with one learner it even made the problem worse because he returned to class and for the next few days all he did was complain about how angry he was that he was beaten and how he wasn't going to do any of his work.

So. School has not been going so well for Miss Bennett these past few weeks. I have a week long break coming in two weeks which is not soon enough and I am only hoping I will return to school feeling refreshed and ready to finish the term.

Aside from that things are going great! I am in the process of making post-PC plans. The immediate plans include World Tour 2011, which will be 3 months of traveling with two fellow PCVs. Thus far our plans include traveling up through a few countries in Africa; potentially Zambia, Malawi, Tanzania, Kenya and Ethiopia. Then proceeding by plane to India, Thailand, Bali and the Philippines. As plans get finalized I'll be sure to post.

But for now, I'm just going to dread the coming school day and hope I make it through alive.

obsession.

2011-03-08T10:24:00.000-08:00

It's official. I am obsessed. I absolutely love my learners. Of course I loved them last year. But there's something different these days and I can't figure out what it is. Maybe I'm more comfortable in my home. Maybe their names aren't so hard to pronounce anymore (sorry Uetuarera and Uatiraije...I'll forever struggle with your names). Maybe it's just on the days when all of my classes behave (which is today). Maybe it's my new habit of drinking coffee in the afternoon. They are amazing enough for me to stand outside of the hall while they leave to go to bed just so I can wish them a goodnight. And enough for me to feel sad that they had to go to bed.

Who knows. But there's something about them. Like Rikuvera, moved here from Windhoek and his English is EXCELLENT. He is clever and always eager to show me his answers to be sure they are correct. Ikuaterua Novengi. She always has the trendiest clothes and accessories. And for a while I was thinking damn, what do her parents do?! Turns out she is part San (a group that has been highly discriminated against), lost her mother, and along with her sisters has been taken under the wing of someone with the last name Novengi while her real father works on a farm in the village of Otumborombonga. So her support is coming from Novengi, her father, and money from the government because she is considered both an OVC (orphans and vulnerable children) and San. Kaesekama is the sweetest girl. Not the most clever. But doesn't do terrible either. But she tries the hardest by far. Tjipekapora. New. Very smart. Shy in class but loves to ask me for sudoku puzzles and oh so polite. These kids are awesome. Tjindu and Kandjeo. Twins. They struggle with reading and writing but Tjindu can never seem to close his mouth. Sylvia. Can't read or speak much English but puts in a genuine effort. And despite the likelihood that she will fail again this year, she does know more words than last year and I've seen her actually read a couple (BIG improvement), which is very exciting. Riuisee. Tiny and cute. Amazing. The list goes on.

love love love.

18 months in.

2011-02-23T06:31:00.000-08:00

I've been in Namibia for 18 months now. In the grand scheme of things that's not much time, but for the short time I've been on this planet and compared to one year ago...that is a long time. I've still got at least 9 months left and then what? Well, I do have some promising possibilities which will be discussed when they are more concrete.

Thinking about finishing my service leaves me with mixed emotions. So far this year teaching is going really well. I don't know what big change occurred that is making me enjoy being in the class room so much more. The difference is huge. Granted, I despise teaching computers to grade five. I hate it with my entire being. And I have to teach it 9 times a week. I dread that class. I yell. Force learners to leave. Tell them they drive me crazy. Use god's names in vein. It's not fun. But give me an English class and I'm all for it. So, apart from teaching those little monsters how to use a mouse and click on stuff, I'll be sad to leave these kids.

As for the bureaucratic side of the Namibian education system...also a pain in the neck. And honestly, aside from attending a few mandatory meetings, I just boycott the paperwork and files that are required of Namibian teachers yet don't contribute in any positive way. It just makes me wonder what kind of paperwork goes on in the American system. And if they are similar to the paperwork here in the slightest I feel oh so sorry for all of my past teachers. So nope, I won't be missing the paperwork. Not that I do it anyways.

So here I am. 18 months in. 9 to go. Happy.

Ok.

newfound love for learning kids how to speaking english

2011-01-28T02:11:00.000-08:00

The second week of the new school year is now over. Have we begun with classes yet? Sadly no. Our timetable is not yet complete, though a few teachers who are eager to begin grabbed the classes they wanted and taught a little throughout the week. Which is what I did and have found that I am more excited than ever about teaching. I can only hope this doesn't wear off as the year progresses. Sure I've only assigned their seats, talked about and created class rules with them, and did one introductory lesson, but I still really enjoyed it and being with my learners. Thus far they haven't really bothered me at my house, which might be one contributing factor to me really enjoying being at school. When I am at home, I need time to myself. To not be surrounded by a million children and to just relax. Last year they didn't really allow me that by knocking on my door every 10 minutes.

Also, I am beginning the year being way more organized than how I started last year. And I also have a better idea of what the hell it is I am supposed to do. Teaching for the first time is rough. And now I have a better grasp on it. I feel more confident in the classroom.

So. I hope this newfound love keeps up. Not that I hated school last year, but I always looked forward to the weekends and sometimes school drove me crazy. Now, my favorite part of the week is actually being at work. Which is weird. My weekends are boring and I look forward to being at school.

One year left, and I have high hopes. I have plans for decreasing my school's need for volunteers. Specifically with the computer lab. And I realize this plan may not play out as perfect as I'd like. But it's still a plan. And I already have an idea of the problems that could (and probably will) occur.

To sum it up, Sarah is having a great start to the year.

food food food.

2011-01-16T01:25:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot about food lately. For a few different reasons. A desire to be healthier. Children telling me they are hungry. Watching films that highlight fine cooking (which can be painful when you're cooking on basically two hot plates and access to fresh vegetables isn't always easy to come by). And over the holiday I spent the last week and a half in Mubiza, my former village, where I enjoyed the food my Namibian family so graciously cooked for me. And I came to realize that apart from the cooking oil and sugar, I knew exactly where all of my food was coming from, which is pretty great compared to my food consumption in the U.S., and even here in my current village of Ongombombonde.

An average meal for me in Mubiza consisted of the staple maize meal (cooked into buhobe, a thick porridge you can mold into a little ball in your hand to pick up other parts of the meal), vegetables which can include tomatoes, onions, and some type of green (my favorite being sinshungwa which is a slightly bitter leafy green), and sometimes fish. The maize is grown in the region, and during the right season it's grown in my family's own field, and locally pounded. The tomatoes and onions are bought at the market and grown by the vendor's families. The leafy greens tend to be harvested straight from my family's back yard. And the fish are from the Zambezi river. Even when we eat buhobe with milk and sugar I know exactly where the milk comes from. I can see that cow every day. That's two ingredients that I can't trace to their origins without a little bit more work: oil and sugar.

Compare that to what I was eating in the U.S....well, I'd have to put a lot of effort into finding out where everything came from. And Ongombombonde. It's dryer in this part of the country, and I am further from a place that can offer me fresh vegetables. So, many times, I have to resort to canned goods. Even now, looking at my fridge and cabinets, I'm not exaclty sure what the food went through to arrive in my kitchen.

I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. Only to say that Namibia has made me think a lot more about the resources I consume on a daily basis: food, water, electricity, etc. It feels good to not be so wasteful. And it makes me worried about returning to the States and old habits.

insects and dignity.

2010-12-07T23:18:00.000-08:00

I am glad I am not an insect. Their deaths always seem so terrible. They lack dignity. This poor winged creature is constantly going in circles with his head pressed against the floor. His wings beating a million times a second and the direction they are taking him is downward. It's like this one last mad scramble not to die. Looks sad.

The other day I walked past a giant beetle. And I mean giant. It was dead. Being devoured by hundreds of ants under the beating sun. A few minutes later I walked by another giant beetle. Same kind, only alive. Unfortunately he had gotten himself flipped on his back and couldn't turn back over. He was doing that same mad scramble right before death. His legs flailing to try and get enough umph to turn over. As I walked on I couldn't get the terrible images out of my head of him dying of hunger or the sun cooking his tiny body or other insects getting to him before he finally passed away. So I turned around. I walked back to the enormous beetle and took control of the situation. I picked up a stick, helped turn him over, and watched him walk away.

Shifting focus.

2010-11-17T22:34:00.000-08:00

I wake up to an aching jaw and realize I've been clenching my teeth in my sleep again. Generally not a good sign because it usually means one of two things: I'm either stressed or angry. Considering that I have completed all of my work for this term and I am struggling to find ways to fill up my days, I am not stressed. After reflecting over this I think I've come to realize why I'm having such a difficult time sharing.

Since the arrival of another volunteer, my focus has shifted away from my projects, possible things I could do, and all the ways in which I am growing and changing and what I'm experiencing to a focus on: there is an invader in my space. (And yes, none of this is her fault I realize that. She didn't choose to come to a site with another volunteer, just like I didn't ask another volunteer to come.) So, my previous experiences as a volunteer has been focused on me, my learners, projects, contemplating life, getting excited about reuniting with other Peace Corps Volunteers when we have those chances, etc. And now it's about whether I have to share my class room, answering questions, avoiding being perceived as a racist (spending too much time with the only other white person can do that), frustration with her age, figuring out how to live in the same space in a civil way, and this entirely new interaction that I wasn't prepared for. I guess I am having trouble articulating this as properly as I had hoped. It's just a huge change in focus. I wish I could just block her out of my vision and carry on like before. Next year I have a few projects in mind that I would like to start now that I'm finally more comfortable in this new place....but is she going to be present? Is she going to want a say in them and want to help facilitate? She is much more interested in spending time with other volunteers and feels more isolated than I do. I'm not interested in spending time with her. I'm interested in spending time with Namibians and my learners on my own. (And when I do spend time with other volunteers, it's those rare occasions when members of the beloved Dirty 30 can come together.) She always seems to have to ask me what I'm doing and where I'm going. Is it always necessary for her to know? I know this may seem rude or childish, but I don't always want her in my business.

Ups and Downs

2010-11-04T02:13:00.000-07:00

Term 3 is winding down. I have only three days left of actual teaching. Tomorrow is our school's prize giving ceremony, which has basically taken up all of the classes this week with teachers preparing certificates and prizes instead of teaching classes. Because of course you can't do any of that preparation in the afternoon after school is out. But I am glad for the ceremony. Actually rewarding kids for their acheivements is not always very common here.

While for the majority of the term I was a little ball of anger, I think I finally got that out of me and feel more relaxed, less stressed, and just relieved for the term to be over. An invasion of space has been my biggest struggle this term. I wasn't exactly prepared to share my school, or my house, with another volunteer. I'm not entirely sure that a school needs two volunteers, especially when my goal for my work here at this school mostly involves making this school less dependent upon volunteers. Being the third Peace Corps volunteer at this school and seeing that some members of the staff still don't know how to turn on a computer is kind of disheartening. I understand computers can be hard to use if you've never used one in your life...but it's one button. One. Turn it on by yourself please.

So here I was. Enjoying my privacy. My space. And being the only volunteer. And in walks a fresh out of high school girl who needs my fridge, my stove, my shower, my dishes, my pots and pans, my classroom, and my village friends (or...friend really...this village is pretty tiny) who I spent time getting to know on my own. I was just not in a place to want to be any kind of mentor or friend ready to support someone who has moved away from home for the first time. If I wanted to be a new volunteer mentor I would have signed up to do that with my own organization. I think also having no say in the fact that this volunteer was here and going to be in my classroom also got on my nerves.

Luckily, I think things have smoothed out a bit. She finally has more work at school to do and so spends less time in my class. I've also gotten less snappy with her. And it's almost December holiday which certainly has brightened my spirits.

The unfortunate happenings lately: While I'm becoming more and more cheerful this term, the school staff seems to be more and more comfortable doing horrific things in front of me. Naturally I've adjusted to things that shocked me when I first arrived in country, but I will never adjust to corporal punishment. When teachers do it in front of me I freeze. And when they leave I have to go compose myself. A teacher walks in to my classroom the moment before I start teaching. Marches up to a boy of about 12, and starts shoving him, pulling him out of his chair by his ears, pushing him back into his chair, clapping him across the face, punching him. She yells damn it! and storms out of the room. Poor Mbavazamba starts crying and his classmates comfort him while I take a moment to go cry outside. I get all worked up, and I'm ready to make an announcement about corporal punishment in the morning briefing...and that teacher is absent. It'll have to wait for another day...

Another afternoon a young girl is crying. A boy in a grade above her beat her. Naturally the punishment should be a staff member whipping him with a piece of garden hose, slapping him across the face, and allowing the young girl to do the same.

Not okay.

Fortunately I feel more comfortable with my staff, and before the end of the year (as in the beginning of next week), this issue will be discussed with the entire staff. And my goal is to hold an alternative to corporal punishment workshop with the teachers next year.

Privilege.

2010-08-28T00:28:00.001-07:00

I think I should admit, for those of you who don’t know or suspect, that I knowingly use my white privilege (and foreign privilege) to hike free rides in this country. The white folks that stop would probably never stop for a person of color. The black folks who stop would probably expect me to at least pay a little were it not for my white/American/volunteer status. Do I feel guilty about this? Of course I do. I’m taking advantage of privileges I did not earn. Privileges that I was simply born in to. But then I look at my watch, realize I’ve been standing on the side of the road for three hours with no hope of any public transport (combis) leaving soon, and flag down the car driven by the Afrikaaner/German/Portuguese/Foreign/White couple.

Ever since I started hitch hiking in this country I’ve thought about how blatant that privilege is and that I am using it knowingly.

Yesterday, it felt as though someone gave me a big slap in the face. I’ve taken courses, spent hours studying and contemplating injustices in this world, both to do with race and other minorities, and I don’t think that information was really sealed until walking into the public hospital in Katima Mulilo. And all the while I’ve been thinking about how guilty I feel while hitch hiking. Ridiculous.

Health care is not something I generally have to think about. I’ve only had to deal with minor health problems throughout my life. I’ve never had to worry about whether or not I could be treated by competent doctors. Health insurance. That helps. But then something happens. You start to realize just what it means when you see the inability of others to be treated by well trained doctors in clean facilities. Our world has come so far in medicine and yet the treatment, the facilities, the doctors that are so easily sought after by some are simply unreachable by the majority of the world. We have the technology, the power, to treat the sick and alleviate pain and yet all of that is given to a privileged few…and I am one of those few.

A dear friend of mine is in the hospital. I hadn’t seen her for three months, and our reunion took place in ward 5 of Katima Mulilo’s hospital. I walk in to a room of 20 beds. Each one a metal frame and thin foam mattress. Posters in Silozi reminding patients about sleeping under mosquito nets are torn and taped on the walls. There are chips in the concrete and dirty fans hanging from the ceiling. A cockroach runs by on the floor and it’s been two hours since the patient in the next bed over left and the nurses still haven’t removed the soiled bed. Patients have to be sure to protect their wounds from the flies that have let themselves in. A single toilet and shower for these patients. My friend was promised they would change her bandage today, but seeing that it was already after 5pm it’s doubtful that it will happen. Maybe tomorrow. Not only that, she told me the doctor who performed the surgery did not do it well. Cut something he wasn’t supposed to cut which has made the bleeding worse and perhaps is contributing to a longer stay. All of this and it was only a few weeks ago that I experienced a hospital in Windhoek for a weekend. Was treated by doctors who weren’t overloaded with patients. Received timely treatment and was constantly assured my needs would be tended to promptly. A private bathroom. Cockroaches? Not a chance. Because being me, being white and American and of a comfortable monetary background, I somehow deserve this. I somehow deserve the guarantee that my pain is more legitimate, more important, more painful, and so I should get the beds that are controlled by a remote, that have nurse call buttons attached to them, and beds that have their sheets changed every day whether or not they are soiled.

And for everyone else who does not fit into this deserving category as I do….you’ll just have to wait.

goals, goals, goals

2010-08-23T23:37:00.001-07:00

Well it’s official. I’m no longer in the “almost a year” phase. I have been in Namibia for a year. Our group is doing our final in-service training workshop before our COS (Completion of Service) Conference next year. (While it will be nice to not have Peace Corps hijacking our school holidays anymore, we won’t all be together as a group until July of next year which is a bummer.) This training is all about focusing on our last year (and a few months) of service. Where are we now and where do we want to be when we COS. Sarah made some goals. Have a look see:

- put a greater effort into learning Otjiherero

- spend more time outside of school

- conduct computer lab/library workshops with the other teachers so that they don’t stop using their resources like they did when the previous volunteer left

- figure out plans for after Peace Corps

- continue to keep contact with friends in Caprivi

- visit the four O’s

- see Victoria Falls

- get healthier

- write in my journal more often

- take more pictures

And for those of you reading who like to send me packages, I am reading Charlie and the Chocolate Factory with some of my grade 7 learners. For those that finish the book with me, I am going to throw a small party. We will watch the movie(s) and eat lots of chocolate. If you want to send any scrumptious American chocolate my way, feel free! P.O. Box 1198 Otjiwarongo, Namibia. We will finish the book next term and hopefully the party will be in November.

A year?!

2010-08-11T02:37:00.000-07:00

I've been here for almost a year. At times it seems hard to believe. Has anything really happened in that amount of time? And then I think back to myself a year ago and it feels like everything has happened.

Beginning with an anxious, slightly self-conscious, eager, excited, twenty-two year old recent college graduate. Memories of my thought processes are fuzzy. But remembering the nervousness makes me laugh. Expectations? I should have written those down.

And then off to Caprivi. What other volunteers joke is actually Peace Corps Zambia. So far from other volunteers. Caprivi accounts for much of Namibia's statistical exceptions. Caprivi provided some of the hardest and yet some of the best times in Namibia so far. All of my major adjustments took place while residing there. Pile up all the shocks that resulted from problems existing within the education system with the absence of indoor plumbing, the need to fetch water, bathing with a bucket, washing clothes by hand, and not understanding the language made way for some rough days. But then you fall in love with bathing under the stars and being able to reduce your water usage and cooking outside and enjoying an open fire every single day, walking through maize fields, eating pumpkin and malaka, watching the kids dance and sing, and suddenly finding yourself to be accepted completely into a family.

And then a few mistakes were made and it's off to Herero land. Term two is over and I'm feeling good. I spend more time at school in the new location. Days can be long and exhausting but what makes everything great at the end of my day: I love my learners. They can misbehave and drive me crazy in classes, visit me non-stop at my home after school and on the weekends so much that I want to crawl in a hole and hide, they can refuse to listen, be terrible at English, constantly ask me to watch DVDs, but I still love them, even those whose names I don't know (come on, give me a break, I have hundreds of new learners, many names I can't pronounce, and some I only have class with once a week...).

So as the days of this term wind down, I'm preparing myself for a lovely (and hopefully stress free) short break, involving books and reunions and travel.

Then I think back to what started this post. A year. In Namibia. And I still have a year and 4 months to go.

Managing

2010-07-09T17:21:00.003-07:00

Classroom management. That is tricky. Of course on the days when I’ve planned better lessons it’s easier, but even on those days it’s a struggle.

I think I scared grade 5A today. Threatening to send the next person who talks to the principal, and then actually marching them to the principal’s door really shut them up. Granted there was only about 10 minutes left of class, but I hope they keep that in mind.

All of this makes me try to recall how I was in school. I feel bad for my teachers. Vivid first grade memory: would not shut up. Got my desk moved to the front of the classroom next to the chalk board. Vivid seventh grade memory: my English class made our substitute teacher cry. Vivid memory all throughout school: passing notes like nobody’s business. Vivid elementary school memory: not following along with the reading and counting the paragraphs so I would know where I had to start when it came my turn to read. Yes I’ve cheated. Yes I’ve avoided homework. Yes I’ve said I did the reading when, in fact, I did not. Yes I’ve skipped class.

So while I was a pretty good student for the majority of the time, I wasn’t entirely innocent. I just have to remind myself these kids are kids, plus they don’t speak English. So it’s going to take a lot of work.

Now the real question is…how do I go about teaching these grade 5 learners (that are obviously a bit old to be in grade 5) how to read? I guess we have to start with square one: the alphabet.

Thanks for the Birthday Party, America!

2010-07-09T17:21:00.001-07:00

4th of July weekend was incredibly enjoyable! I was given permission to be absent on Friday, and hitch hiked up to Rundu. Friday night included reunions with friends and drinking and sleeping upright in an armchair which turned out to be more comfortable than I expected.

Saturday morning: cafe + coffee + omelet + hilarious conversations including unconditional love and a debate on whether or not it’s possible to label a two year old an “asshole.” The purchase of a case of Heineken was made, along with the staple drunk snack for Sarah B: Nik Naks, which are basically MSG infused African Cheetos. Delicious. The day proceeded with red, white, and blue and drinking and frisbee and music and laughing. And ended with fireworks. Or really cheap sparklers.

Sunday we hitch hiked back. Despite hanging out on the side of the road for hours, I actually really enjoy that activity and wish it was acceptable and safe in all parts of the world. Building small piles out of rocks and really thinking about exactly where I am at this point in time is a fun game. Straight A student goes on to overly expensive, easy to get accepted into, private university. Has some life changing experiences. Graduates with honors. And now finds herself sitting on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, Africa, playing with rocks. And enjoying it immensely.

Adjusting All Over Again

2010-06-17T09:27:00.001-07:00

So here I am. New site. New home. New school. New learners. New language. New everything.

I am sometimes overwhelmed with how much I miss the north. Though that’s not to say my new site doesn’t have positive aspects or that I’m not enjoying myself. Let’s have a look see:

My new school has a much greater amount of resources. A computer lab with 20 computers (and if the modem wasn’t broken we’d have internet access). A library that’s fairly set up, though organizing it has proven to be extremely difficult. I have my own classroom so I can decorate however I’d like (and I’m contemplating painting a world map on one of the walls, though this could be a really big project). We have enough text books so that the learners don’t have to share in class (3 to a book was hard to work with). The first two weeks here I had 50 learners in a classroom with 30 desks and 25 chairs, but now I have a surplus of chairs and almost enough desks (which makes classroom management oh so much easier)! Overall I think my teaching is going much better (though I do have more learners that are further behind, so much that they can’t read, write, or speak English). Having a term under my belt allowed me to come into the classroom with more confidence.

As for the downsides, they tend to really bum me out, but luckily not enough so that I want to leave. As I mentioned earlier…about 50 learners in a class is WAY too much. That should be two different classes. I am teaching English to grades 5a and 5b, both of which are almost 50 learners. I teach library sciences and computers to 6a, 6b, 6c, 7a, and 7b. It’s really hard supervising the library AND computer lab at the same time. I’m never going to learn all of their names. Not knowing people’s names gives me an extremely unnecessary amount of stress. But I have no idea how I’ll remember them all when I can barely pronounce some of them. Which brings me to language: I have zero knowledge of Otjiherero. I at least went into Caprivi with a couple months of classes.

Also, I am living alone. One of my biggest adjustments. I’m constantly surrounded by learners, but I miss being close with a family. Babies. Family meals. Feeling completely comfortable. That sort of thing.

I just have to keep reminding myself I’ve only been at site for about 3 weeks now. I should give myself more time to feel completely comfortable here.

So. Here I am. Ongombombonde in the Otjozonjuba region of Namibia. Lots of Warthogs. Lots of baboons.

Oh and it’s freezing. I am constantly cold now that it’s winter. I didn’t realize it got so cold here.

Insignificant. In a Good Way.

2010-05-09T03:37:00.000-07:00

I love being reminded of my insignificance. There's a much needed clarity to the whole ordeal and my emotions become so human. So trivial and disconnected from just pure existence. My feet sink into the sand and I step back and watch the ocean erase the evidence of my standing there at all. I watch the water while others attempt to shout to other continents. Other families. The air is refreshing and the ocean noise drowns out silence. I am reminded of how vast existence is. It's more comforting than any idea of some all powerful being could ever be. The feeling of not being watched over, looked after, by a higher power is comforting. It connects me, rather than disconnects me, to every rock, plant and animal that is here. We are all just here. Existing. And that feels great. Every feeling that I have is necessary and yet somehow unimportant at the same time.

Then I pick up a crab, and with sand between my toes I bounce merrily to new friends, and think of everyone who has had an impact on my life. Friends, family members, lovers, past and present. And moving away from this family I have just settled into is not the end of the world after all. I can miss them and love them, and keep on making new connections. Everything is so much bigger than I am. And I am insignificant. In a good way.

Well…this is unfortunate.

2010-05-01T00:36:00.001-07:00

I’ve sort of landed myself in a sticky situation, and I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have control at one point in this whole ordeal. But it’s come to the point of the Peace Corps forcing a site change upon me, not that I’ve done anything wrong in the role of a volunteer. Come Tuesday, I will know whether or not I have to leave the home that has cradled me so wonderfully for the last six months of my life. I will know if I have to leave the family I have come to love. Leave the children who have made me realize that yes, I do want children. Leave my learners who have driven me crazy yet made me fall in love with them. The learners that bring me baobab fruit and help me hoe and rake my yard. Leave the tree that provides me with hours of shade during the hot afternoons. Leave the projects that I have only just begun. Leave the region that is abundant with flood waters during the rainy season, and birds so beautiful that they almost take my breath away. Leave the long strip of road that I have to journey on to reach most of the other volunteers within the country that surprises me we elephant sightings. Leave the culture whose dancing and traditions I’ve come to deeply admire. Leave the language that I can’t really speak but that has become soothing to my ears. Come Tuesday I will know if I have to leave the place that has challenged me in so many ways but that I have come to love with the entirety of my being.

I am just hoping this is not happening. While I am sure I can find happiness in another place, I don’t want to leave my beloved Caprivi region for someplace located closer to the center of Namibia. Sadly, I am almost 100% this is happening.

This is unfortunate.

How is this term almost over already?

2010-04-06T01:59:00.000-07:00

This term is almost over. And teachers attending classes doesn't seem high on the priority list. Exams start next week and I was sent into town for a four day workshop that ended up being cancelled. Splendid.

But! Yesterday I took a walk to see how far the flood waters reached and ran into a learner of mine harvesting in her field. She gave me maize and sugar cane.

Also I bake a lot of cakes here. I should open a bakery.

Success!

2010-03-17T06:58:00.001-07:00

Considering the complaints some of my posts have contained, I figured I should post on a good day!

I’ll preface with a bit of a downer. My grade 5 class is generally out of control. Noisy. They fight. They beat each other. Many of them are quite a bit behind in English. And getting through class with them can be a struggle.

But not today!! They were so attentive and participated and it was wonderful! Both grades 5 and 6 today were perfect! I played a quiz game with them, the winning team got sweets, and they loved it! The noise level wasn’t out of control, and they were so eager to answer questions.

Way to go guys! Let’s act the same in tomorrow’s classes!

Thanks immune system, now let’s try actually working.

2010-03-09T12:33:00.001-08:00

What did Sarah eat today? Well considering the fact that her throat is practically swollen shut with infection and mucus (lovely description, would you like a picture?) I was able to get down a few bites of jell-o (or Jelly as they call it here) and a couple pieces of pasta. Luckily though, I can now drink more than a spoonful of water and also talk without starting to cry. We are making progress. Where did this illness come from? Who knows. I think I waited a little too long to see the doctor (as always, I was hoping it would resolve itself on its own) and she was really surprised when she took a quick peek in my mouth. But here I am, 4 injections, 3 garglings of antibacterial stuff, and 2 dissolving pills later I can drink this here cup of water one sip at a time!

The past couple of days I haven’t really been able to eat, talking has been extremely difficult and my interactions with strangers unpleasant because I don’t want to come across as rude but also I just don’t want to talk. It hurts. Leave me be.

I feel as though my posts are turning out to be somewhat filled with complaints. Perhaps because the only time I feel the need to write is when something is going wrong. And right now. I’m sick. And I’m tired of it. I want to enjoy food again. I also want to stop fantasizing about Chipotle burritos. Seriously. What is THAT about?

Anyways. I was told I shouldn’t work for the next few days. I feel bad for the learners. But considering the amount of time other teachers show up my track record is pretty great regarding attendance. Maybe next week will present itself as shiny and new and all the teachers will be present and we can proceed through the school day like it actually matters! There will be no mass circuit meetings that pull all teachers out of school to discuss nothing, there will be no celebration of international women’s day that cancels school for some teachers to give a few speeches about….well…I couldn’t tell you what they were about. And there will be no teachers absent, leaving just the principal and me to manage grades 5 –7 (do you know how rowdy those kids get when they sit in class for hours with no teacher? it makes my life difficult). And maybe the new kindergarten will figure out how to not disrupt my classes by putting their screaming children someplace other than right outside the windows of my grades 5 and 6.

So tomorrow. Get ready. Sure no school for me. But laundry here I come. Also, you mother fucking ants or termites or whatever the hell you are devouring my roof with your stupid little selves, I’m going to destroy you. I like my thatch roof. It’s not for you to eat. So fuck off. And shower area that keeps collapsing, I will fix you with my own bare hands tomorrow! None of this involves talking or eating so I think I’ll do just fine.

Connections

2010-02-24T08:06:00.001-08:00

Connections are good. While my social circle here, aside from the learners, has remained somewhat small, I am extremely grateful for the connections I have made. Though sometimes I worry that the attraction between us is so great that I’ll be somewhat devastated when I have to leave this place.

Didn’t think about that.

2010-02-24T08:02:00.001-08:00

I don’t know why I didn’t really think about all of this before I left. The past couple days I’ve been thinking of what life could be like when I return home. Sure I’ve thought about what I’ll be doing school and work-wise. But I didn’t really think about my social circles. Just assuming that I’d be welcomed back by the same people who waved goodbye, not really taking into consideration the fact that 2 years is a long time and I’m not the only one who will be different when I return.

Don’t Worry. Things are Looking Up

2010-02-24T08:01:00.001-08:00

From February 9th

While I’m still certain I’ve made the right choice in coming here, the previous two weeks left me exhausted, homesick, lonely, burnt, disappointed, and ready to pack my bags and go home. Ok. Maybe that’s a little dramatic. But I did have a few minor breakdowns.

I think it all started when Manga’s grandmother passed away. She left for a week to attend the burial in another village and I felt entirely alone. I can’t say I’ve really branched out to many people in my village. I’ve sort of nestled myself in my family here and have gotten quite comfortable. Manga was gone. So was her husband Eddy. And everyone else who is usually around to visit them. I was left with only the company of two children, who are normally fed by Manga. I wasn’t sure where they were eating, and sometimes they’d tell me they didn’t eat. So I was constantly worried about them. And running low on food. Also, the company of children can be exhausting. Adult interaction is necessary. Especially when you’re teaching children all day. Near the end of this week I started getting sick. Stomach issues that I had been lucky enough to avoid until then. Not to mention the entire week I had no control over my classes. I was miserable.

Manga returned. Not entirely excited to see me, for she was still mourning the loss of her grandmother. Of course I understood, but given that I was in a bit of a selfish state of mind I was still hurt by this. I proceeded to get even more sick. Missing days of school. During this stretch I felt like I was drowning in mindless paperwork required at school and learning that my principal has somewhat different views on gender norms than I do. We got in a heated debate and I was entirely offended.

My physical ailments did not stop there. Some wasps decided to make their homes on the thatch of my roof. To get rid of them here, they throw boiling water on their nests. I boiled some water. Positioned myself in what I thought was a good way to throw said water. Aimed. And turned my wrist in an awkward way. The boiling water completely missed the nest, instead burning my wrist to the point of infected open wounds a few days later. (No worries it’s healing quite nicely now.)

Other issues involving the school and athletics arose. No one tells me details about things going on here so I always feel a bit lost when it comes to after school activities. Some learners were set to go to Ikumwe to compete in track and field last Saturday. Friday night they were apparently supposed to sleep at school. Supervised of course. The sports teacher left to go secure transport and buy food. He didn’t return. The learners went the whole evening without eating. When he returned in the morning he was late. He didn’t bring food. We went to Ikumwe and the sports teacher left to buy food (why he didn’t do this already I don’t know). He didn’t return until the end of the day. As we were leaving. The learners went for so long without food and all we could buy them were fat cakes and juice powder. We were almost certain he wasn’t even going to come and we’d be without transport. He showed up. Dropped us off at school, and left again.

Luckily that run of unfortunate events came to an end. Recently classes have been much better. My physical health has improved and with it, my mental health. So, yes. I’m still glad I came, but things aren’t always peachy.

Saying Goodbye to a Month of Relaxation.

2010-01-22T04:36:00.001-08:00

1.8.10

While some of my fellow volunteers were a bit restless during the month of December, I was almost entirely content. School concluded and left almost the whole of the month with no scheduled activities. It really improved my ability to do nothing, and feel truly relaxed and at peace.

Most of my days were spent sitting underneath the big tree in our lapa (yard) on a reed mat and playing cards. All of my meals were cooked for me and I actually enjoyed doing laundry (I even enjoyed fetching the water, mostly because it made me feel accomplished afterwards). Every now and again I would take a quick trip to town, maybe buy some necessary ingredients to bake a cake or 100+ peanut butter cookies. And Grey’s Anatomy. Yes I got Manga hooked on Grey’s Anatomy. So hooked that we finished the entire series. I watched The Lion King twice with my family and also finished three seasons of 30 Rock on my own.

The break welcomed extended family members to the Sabuta village, making it feel a little crowded at times. Christmas celebration manifested itself as a church service on a Friday, followed by drinking. A lot of drinking.

At times I wanted to scream because my house was almost always full of people, most of whom didn’t even knock before entering, taking my ice, cups, and spoons. And as some of you may know, I need space now and again to process, to think. “Me time,” if you will. Despite this, I came to love these people. When I return from my current week of training to the village, many of these people will be gone. The holiday will be over and they will have left for school or work. I’m pretty bummed. I just have to remind myself that much of my family will still be there and I will be going back to classrooms full of learners. So right now, I’m just trying to pump myself up for my first actual term of teaching here. Sometimes I don’t feel adult enough for this.

Teaching?

Seriously?

My Trash is not My Own

2009-11-18T16:15:00.001-08:00

Everything I throw away gets rummaged through by all the children in my village. The large hole behind my hut, meant for dumping rubbish, becomes a gathering place for six to eight children any time they suspect I have tossed something into the pile of empty beer bottles and wrappers. This is the same pile where I threw out an ant-infested loaf of bread that was then eaten by these same children.

I can always count on the faces of these children trying to peer in through my windows multiple times throughout the day. Since most of them are too young to speak English, the best I can do is lift up my curtain, make it obvious that I know they are there, and knock on the glass.

I’m always being watched. I open my door, it creaks, and there I am facing the rest of my village. It seems that the sound of the door creaking has become the announcement that my house is now open to all the children who wish to go through my stuff. And I’m doing my best to let them be curious and still keep my space. Doing my laundry becomes entertainment for others, my short walk to my pit latrine can be seen by everyone, I can never go fetch water alone (though I do appreciate the help), and I can’t leave my door open unless I want to supervise the children. The feeling of being watched 24/7 is exhausting. Especially when you’re someone like me, who has always needed space to unwind and reflect and breathe.

And sometimes when I think I can’t take it anymore, Imasiku and Simalumba (also refered to as Simamba, Bamba, Bomba, and various other things) always restore my love for the kids here. Imasiku no longer refers to me as mukuwa (the word for white person), but does his best to call me by my name (which comes out as Shala). And Simamba, well he’s the cutest baby that looks like an old man that I’ve ever seen and when he waves at me I can’t help but feel better about everything.

Adjustments.

2009-11-04T05:15:00.001-08:00

While I’ve definitely become more comfortable here in Mubiza, things are still troubling. The week began with a very hurt kitten. The poor thing might have to have its leg amputated, but we are hoping it recovers.

I then proceeded to find out that the water pumps are broken, so there has been no clean water in the village since Friday. This makes things entirely frustrating and the whole ordeal has made me realize how much trouble I have asking for help. Yesterday I was out of water and after school I sent two learners to fill up my buckets. They came back with water too filthy to put into my water filter. I hadn’t had anything to drink all day so I did it anyways and luckily didn’t get sick from it. I sat in my hut trying to figure out what to do. I needed more water and didn’t want to ask anyone for help. I wanted to be able to do it myself. Instead I sat on my bed and cried. I was really thirsty.

I decided to cut it out and ask for help. My host dad came to my hut and told me the water I had wasn’t water for drinking. So we ventured to a neighboring village to see his sister and get powder to clean the water. Of course we were invited to eat food. Unfortunately it was not my favorite dish. Sour milk and porridge. I gulped down what I could, and when we returned home I found I had missed a visit from a volunteer who lives in town. I was pretty bummed, but luckily I cleaned my water and was finally able to drink something. I think that was the most satisfying water I have ever tasted.

It gets really hot here.

Today’s frustrations came in the form of 6th graders. Their classroom is the shade beneath a tree. So that doesn’t help the teaching process. For some reason they felt like today they didn’t have to listen, and during part of the lesson a truck came right by our classes and got stuck in the sand. My voice is not loud. It’s hard to shout over an extremely loud vehicle.

Despite all this, things are good. I just need to learn to get over myself and ask for help. This lack of privacy and independence gets to me.

Small Bump in the Road

2009-10-23T22:47:00.001-07:00

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.

Bittersweet.

2009-10-23T22:44:00.001-07:00

10.15.09

Training is coming to an end. It’s bittersweet. The past couple of months have been full of amazing people, and I have deep admiration for so many of them. My fellow trainees are all unique and dedicated and fascinating…and hilarious. I can’t deny that I’ve had moments of homesickness, but with PC Namibia Group 30 I am always guaranteed someone who can make me laugh to the point of my jaw aching. And while language classes got long and entirely aggravating, it’s a good feeling when I have even an inkling about what my family is talking about in Silozi…not many Americans speak an ounce of Silozi. So thanks 4 hour Silozi classes.

I am going to miss being surrounded by these amazing people. Like woah.

But. I get to go to Mubiza! I get to live in a hut. My host family is amazing. I get to start teaching (and I’m a bit freaked out by this). I can finally get settled in. I am getting cats. I get to eat amazing food cooked over a fire. I get to start thinking about my secondary projects. I get to join the wonderful group of Caprivi volunteers!

This upcoming weekend is sure to be full of tears and excitement and anxiousness and long car rides and who knows what else.

Free Rides

2009-09-28T13:42:00.001-07:00

9.27.09

Can I just say that I love Namibia?! Despite the annoyances that inevitably popped up, and the multitude of social problems that the country is working towards overcoming, this place is magical.

This is not to say that my time here is bubbly 24/7, but all of the good outweighs the negatives. My personal downers involve language frustration, awkward family time, exhaustion, and small bouts of loneliness. Larger, more important issues, include the really high rate of HIV/AIDS, especially in the area I will be living permanently. Alcohol is another huge problem here. It’s really sad to see. There’s no such thing as having a drink here. You either don’t drink, or are completely wasted. My small small village has two shebeens (bars that sell home made brews and other alcohol), if not more, and there are quite a number of people who are always drunk. (Another annoying thing about the shebeens is that they play loud music 24/7 and can be heard throughout the entire village. Not fun to try and sleep to, but I’m guessing eventually my brain will just tune it out.)

One thing that also bothers me is the gender dynamics of this country. It is probably slowly changing, but male dominance is so much more obvious and in your face than it is in the U.S. Wealth disparity is also extreme. Namibia has the highest rating on the scale that determines wealth disparities. It’s so strange to see mud huts, tin shacks, hungry children and beggars, and then see mansions and people driving BMWs and Mercedes and fancy bathrooms in fancy coffeeshops…

Let’s not forget I said this place was magical. So many of the people here are so kind. Especially up in the Caprivi region, where I’ll be living. My host family is so generous and kind and sharing is such a big part of the culture here. When I greet the older women in Silozi, smiles stretch across their faces as they reach to shake my hand. It’s so welcoming and inviting and I’m not worried about integrating into the community. (The only thing I’m really worried about in that sense is remembering everyone’s name and face and story.) The landscape here is beautiful and I can’t wait to see it when the rains come! It’s dry and brown and the sun turns bright reds and oranges during sunset and when it dips below the horizon the stars come out. The morning greets me with loudly chirping birds and feels cool and refreshing. In my village, the roosters are my alarm. This place has grown on me.

Yesterday was especially enjoyable. A group of us hiked down to Windhoek. Our ride took us straight to the restaurant we were heading to. We ate delicious Indian food and headed towards the mall. (Yes, it feels strange to go to a mall while in the Peace Corps.) We were almost at the mall, yet didn’t realize that, when we decided to flag down a taxi. Seven of us shoved into the tiny car, hanging out windows, and we each paid N$15 for the driver to take us not far at all. Kind of frustrating but my blistered feet were thankful. We bought movie tickets and spent the afternoon in a theatre. Our trip back was ridiculous. We tried walking from the mall to our hike point on the B1 to get back to Okahandja, and had a pick-up (bakkie) not pulled over to take us to the B1, we would have been walking far into the night. The kind driver dropped us off, and we waited on the high way for a ride. We got offers from people who wanted money, and we had to continually say we were volunteers with little money. Right when we were ready to call a taxi, because we were worried it was getting too late and too dark, a truck pulled over and gave us a ride. I love the idea of hitch hiking. It just makes sense. If someone is going where you are headed, obviously you give them a ride. We are always safe, and I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing it as a female alone, but it’s fun to meet people and enjoy the free ride.

Some more info about contacting me:

-I have a new mailing address. So if you want to send me letters and things send them to:

P.O. Box 2236

Katima Mulilo

Namibia, Africa

My wish list includes: LETTERS, trail mix, and books (any fiction will do :) teehee), also it’s pretty pricey to ship things here but letters are always light and great.

-If you have Skype, it’s not too expensive to call me *hint hint* :) just ask for my number!

Thanks for being so great, Caprivi.

2009-09-18T06:15:00.000-07:00

Sarah had a magical week, though not devoid of complete frustration. After a drive up to Caprivi that took entirely too long because of car troubles (though not all bad because it involved elephants and warthogs and buffalo and a zebra and lots of other wildlife) we arrived in Katima. This night included a bizarre trip to a bar/restaurant that was closed. We were with someone who knew the owner and he had saved plates of food for us. Also, he was drunk. And inappropriate. After eating cold french fries (chips), we were directed to serve ourselves behind the bar (because there was no way in hell he was going to serve us) and then told to fuck off. The entire time he was laughing about all this. It was just bizarre. That's really all I can say.

After we spent the night with wonderful current volunteers, I, along with the two new Caprivi volunteers, headed to our villages. My stop was first. We pulled over on the side of the road. I said goodbye to my comfort zone of fellow trainees and was greeted by chickens, starving dogs, some mud huts, and a few shebeens (bars with cheap home brews that aren't particularly safe and help to maintain the huge problem with alcoholism). Luckily a current volunteer was waiting with a member of my new host family. We dropped my stuff off in my hut and went on a walk to meet the village members. I can't stress enough how important greetings are in this culture. It is entirely rude to not greet someone, and generally they involve asking how the other person is, clapping, and hand shaking. Kneeling for elders is always important.

The first couple hours were completely overwhelming. The entire time I was ready to go lay down on my cot and cry, but I was surrounded by people and it wouldn't have been the best idea. Luckily this feeling passed quickly. My host family is the kindest I have ever met. They have a two year old son who loves to laugh at me whenever he sees me. I have finally got him saying "bye" to me when I leave for school in the morning, and he continues to say it until I am out of sight.

They cook buhobe and muloho over a fire. I take bucket baths in the afternoon to cool off. My bathroom is a pit latrine. The water is safe to drink. Spiders love my walls. I am inheriting a cat. My first hike was free. My school is right across the street. They are getting a new building (currently the 5th graders are in an old mud structure while the 6th graders have class outside), and hopefully a computer lab. There is a garden project. There are learners who want to start a girls club. HIV/AIDS is a huge problem. I get to incorporate prevention into my English classes. I love Mubiza (my village). It's very small, but an easy hike to Katima.

And yesterday? Yesterday was probably my favorite day. It included starting the day with a cup of tea I actually enjoyed (I know, weird right?), going to school and observing classes, packing, and heading to Katima. After eating a delicious lunch, we met up with other volunteers, drank oh so delicious milkshakes and headed to a fancy (and I mean fancy) lodge to drink beers from their bar and swim in a pool. The night then proceeded with tons of laughter, spending ridiculous amounts of money on chips and chocolate, curry and rice, cookies, guitar playing and electricity going out. And sleep. It was the perfect end to my site visit to Caprivi. I cannot wait to go back.

Let's Get Rid Of Sundays.

2009-09-05T09:50:00.000-07:00

This is the second Sunday that I wish I could fast forward through. Long days filled with nothing in particular lead to homesickness and the inevitable question of "What the hell am I doing here?" Last Sunday was full of frustration, flat tires, the beating sun, marriage proposals by those who find violence against women acceptable, and slow driving that stretched into the night. And today? Today involved lies about aching stomachs to avoid repeating last Sunday's adventure, loneliness, an entire season of Grey's Anatomy, and waiting for the hours to go by so it can be Monday.

I love Mondays in Africa. Monday means other volunteers. And structure. And the days are full of language training. Weekdays are exhausting but enjoyable. And I can't even begin to describe how frustrating language can be.

I also love mornings. They are chilly and sunny and comfort comes in the form of instant coffee and silence. It's a nice routine.

And now I'm just counting down until my birthday dinner this Wednesday which might be full of pizza and beer and friends and comfort. Closely followed by a Saturday of traveling to Caprivi and who knows what that will bring!

8.25.09

2009-08-28T03:52:00.000-07:00

(Just an FYI, my blog posts are going to be a bit behind, so this one is from 8.25, and a lot has happened since then)

It is only slowly beginning to sink in that I am in Africa. Surrounded by English and my fellow Trainees in Johannesburg in a nice hotel with hot showers, cold beer, and a warm bed I was still in the mindset of United States comfort. Even now, after a few days in a hostel in Namibia, it hasn't hit me completely. I still have all the amenities I could hope for, and the warnings and preparations about being able to accept that I may have to give some things up haven't been needed just yet. Granted, seeing a group of baboons crossing the road isn't exactly something you'd see in the U.S., I still haven't felt that shock that I'm in Africa.

That is very soon to come! Today, we were given our languages and a brief introduction. I am learning Silozi, a Bantu language (think ha kuna matata...an actual Solizo phrase)that is spoken in the Caprivi strip, which is the little handle in the north east part of Namibia. Some most likelies: I will be living in a hut, perhaps having to carry my own water, bathing with buckets, and 2 days away from Windhoek. This contrasts greatly to the majority of my fellow Trainees. There are three of us headed to Caprivi, the rest of us will live in other areas around the country, rural and urban, and to my knowledge, none of them will be living in a hut. I am completely ready for this.

Just a few notes about contacting me:

-I will hopefully be getting a cell phone next Friday, and thus have a lot more access to the internet.

-When sending me mail, or packages rather, if you put religious affiliated things on it it is less likely to be tampered with.

-Mail takes 2 to 3 weeks, maybe a month

-Don't send anything during the holiday season, most likely it will not reach me.

-If you don't get any emails or letters from me for a bit, don't be offended, it will be much easier when I get a little more settled in.

I guess this is goodbye, for now, Chicago

2009-08-17T12:39:00.001-07:00

Tomorrow will greet me with an early flight to Washington DC, followed by hours of need to know informational meetings and hopefully a good night’s sleep. Wednesday equals a day at the clinic and then a flight that is almost 18 hours long into South Africa. This still feels kind of like a joke. Here goes.

Off I Go.

2009-07-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

In less than a month I will be heading on my second trip of volunteering abroad, though the length of my first trip is nothing comparable to my upcoming adventure. (You can read about my time as an English tutor in Guatemala here.)

I've been accepted into the Peace Corps as a Secondary Education English teacher and will be spending my time in Namibia from August 2009 to December 2011. I'm anxious and excited and nervous and so many emotions I can't even explain, but I'm almost 100% positive that this is exactly the right thing for me in this moment.

Since the start of the application process last August I have been struggling with the thought of leaving friends and family for over two years, among other things, including what exactly it means to be a part of the Peace Corps. I've been seriously examining my position of privilege as a white female in the United States. I've been sitting pretty comfortably on the cushion of a white middle class female with easy access to education. Sometimes I worry about falling into, or at least being viewed as one in the position of a soldier to the United States' imperialism, with the attempt of spreading Western values with no regards to anyone else. But I try to see myself instead as an individual just trying to understand a little more of the world, and herself, with hopefully some knowledge or skills that at least one person might find useful. I want to immerse myself in a new community not as someone who is better or as someone who knows the "right" way to do things. And I'm well aware that this is going to have a much larger positive impact on me than I could ever hope to have on anyone else.

"If you have come to help me, you are wasting your time, but if you are here because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together." - Lilla Watson