It published the post before I was finished.

world tour blog: http://eatchubpoop.tumblr.com/

I hope you enjoy following our travels. Peace Corps, it's been real.

Well, I guess it's true what they say about the second year of Peace Corps going by a lot faster than the first year, because it's been a whole year since I posted on this blog. Whoops. As a PCV, things that seemed noteworthy when you were first starting out don't really seem worth talking about anymore, and the days kind of slip into a rhythm so that you don't notice how much time is passing. Then after a while you realize that months have gone by, and it's nearing the end of your service. How strange it is to think back on this first months, when two years seemed like an eternity, and realize that you're finished.

I officially COSed on Wednesday, and am now an RPCV. I wish I had been more faithful about posting about my life here, but really the second year was much like the first. There were ups and there were downs (but not as many as the first year). At the end of my service, when I look back and see what I value most, I find that it's the relationships formed with my learners, my host families, my community and the other Peace Corps Volunteers.

And now, as an RPCV, what are my plans? Well, first and foremost, Sarah Bennett, Sarah Gibney and I are going on World Tour. And if you haven't lost faith in my blogging abilities completely, you can follow are journey on our world tour blog, at this address:

Lutaka Musipili Philimom, grade 7

Dear Americans

Hallo how are you there in USA? I am doing fine here in Namibia to Kabbe.

My name is Philimom I am a boy of 14 year Our teacher is Mrs brown Emilly She teach us English and maths. I think I will get an A in maths.

I wish you Good Luck to meet me other years coming. I like to be a piote [pilot] One time I will meet you in USA.

Yours faithfully

Philimom Musipili Lutaka

So I gave some learners the option of writing a letter to America to post here. Here are some letters I got back. Enjoy!

Letter 1: Thikukutu Given, grade 7

Hello. How are you? I'm awesome here in Namibia. My name is Thikukutu Given. I'm a friend of Miss Emily Brown. I am in grade 7, Miss Emily teaches us English and Maths and I am a clever boy because I always participate in English and Maths.

One day miss Emily was sick and I went to visit her there I met her friend Kait and I even did some Maths work there. I enjoyed staying with Miss Emily and Miss Kait. I even watched some movies with Miss Emily.

Greating to you all and your family. Even Mr. Skip and Miss Brown too the parents of Miss Emily.

Letter 2: Lutaka Mutwamezi Philosophy, grade 7

Hellow!!! My name is philosophy my surname is Lutaka the use to call me my culture name Mutwamezi I live in Kabbe Area in Linyandelo village means we suffered alot

I wish you to pray for me to pass

Best wishes!!!!

Okay, so this post is about a month overdue but first of all I want to thank all of my family and friends who donated money so that I could take learners to the Lucky Star Marathon! You all are wonderful, wonderful people who made twelve Caprivian learners from Kabbe very very very very very happy. I've posted pictures on facebook already but now that I have internet at my school again (for now, until someone breaks it again) I'll recount the story titled "the time I decided to transport twelve learners from the village 3000 kilometers in 3 days so that they could run in a marathon."

Each year Etosha Fisheries hosts a marathon in Swakopmund. For those of you who don't have a map of Namibia handy, Swakopmund is on the coast about 300 k West of Windhoek. It's also the most magical place in Namibia, because not only does it have TWO of the three movie theaters in the country, but it also has a Thai restaurant. So anyway, each year there is a marathon which runs from Walvis Bay, about 40 k south of Swakop, up to Swakop. Part of what makes this marathon important for this story is that they also have a learner relay, so teams of 4 learners each run about 10.55 kilometers and together finish the length of one marathon.

When I first heard about the marathon I thought, hmm I like Swakop, it has thai food, I should go there. Then I remembered that I'm an education volunteer and work with children and that every time I go for my daily 5 k run learners run next to me shouting "Miss Emily! Miss Emily! Miss Emily! Miss Emily! We can walk as fast as you're running!" And run in crazy circles around me until the annoyance of trying to run in 35 degree Celcius heat with small boys pointing out my pathetic running ability forces me to say "Good for you. Now let's see how fast you can run to thaaaaaaat tree way over there." So, I thought to myself, these kids like running, they've never been and might never get a chance to go to Swakopmund, and this is the first time in their lives they'll be exposed to the idea that if they work hard and train for things good things might happen, I should train learners and take them to this marathon.

So, at the beginning of this term I made an announcement during morning assembly that anyone who wanted to train for a marathon should meet at the big tree after afternoon study. I didn't tell the learners where it was right away, because I didn't want them to train for the marathon just because they wanted to go to Swakop, which somehow made them all think I was taking them to America. Whoops. But anyway, I paired down the 40 learners who showed up to train to the 12 best runners who came the most consistently, and preemptively put in my request for regional transport about 5 weeks before the actual event.

To give you an idea of what it's like to try to organize events in Namibia, I'm going to now recount to you the story within this story titled "How I got transport for the marathon."

Now, in America, I'm pretty sure when you put in a request for something like transport, they file that request, tell you whether there's transport available for the event, and, if there is, on the day you have requested transport for you can show up, get in a bus with your twelve learners and be driven to and from the place you have requested to be driven to and from. Not so in Namibia.

I put in the request for transport, was told I would be given two GRN bakkies (pick up trucks) with two drivers who would drive me to Swakop 2 days before the marathon, and then back the day after. Ok great. My friend and fellow PCV in town checked several times for me, and every time I went to town thereafter I checked in to make sure everything was all right with the transport and was told each time that there was no problem. On Monday of the week of the marathon, I called the transport office to quadruple check that it was available. The conversation went something like this, "Hi Mr Tawana, this is Emily Brown." "What? Who?" "Emily Brown. The teacher in Kabbe." "Who?" "The Peace Corps Volunteer." "???" "I'm the one who is trying to take those twelve learners to Swakopmund this week for the marathon." "Okay. You are the one taking two bakkies to Rundu." "Right. Two bakkies and two drivers to drive us the Swakopmund and then back." "No, I'm afraid that won't be possible. All of our drivers are in Windhoek for a workshop." "?!?!?!?!?!?! Um, sorry?" "All of our drivers are in Windhoek for a workshop." "?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!" "Do you have any teachers who can drive?" "Um. No. Let me check." After frantically asking my principal, I found one teacher at my school with a drivers' licence, which didn't really solve the problem since I had two bakkies now with one driver. Peace Corps Volunteers aren't allowed to drive, and on top of that I don't know how to drive a stick shift on the wrong side of the road and didn't really want to try with 6 kids' lives in my hands.

I called Mr Tawana again and asked if we could have a combi instead. He said no. I called the coordinator of the marathon to see if Ethosha Fisheries was providing regional transport, which I heard might happen. I was told by the woman in charge that they would find transport and not to worry, and she would call me back later that day. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I hadn't heard from her by the next morning, I got a little worried so I called again. She informed me that the bus providing transport from Katima was full, and asked if I could find my own transport. I explained that I called her because my own transport had fallen through. Atata.

I asked around and found out that last year a Caprivi volunteer paid a Combi driver to drive him and his learners to the marathon and then was reimbursed by the circuit office. The next day I went to the see the circuit inspector to see if they could do this for me. The circuit inspector was out, so instead I talked to the acting circuit inspector. I explained the problem and he said, "so the problem is that you have two bakkies but only one driver? So if we find another driver will that solve the problem?" I said yes, and he promised to find a second driver. I thanked him profusely, and headed off to the transport office to check on my bakkies. When I arrived at the transport office I was told to go to another section of the ministry because the transport officer was in Windhoek. When I got to the other office I asked the man sitting behind the desk about the bakkies. He replied, "We are having a problem of bakkies. I don't feel well. I'm going home." Translation: There are no bakkies. "!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" "Let me make a phone call." After calling the acting transport officer he sent me back through the winding corridors back to the transport office, where I explained my problem and the acting transport officer said that there were no bakkies at the moment, but he would make a few calls and try to pull them from the field. Close to extreme exasperation I sat down to wait, while the other man in the office talked to me about the bible for 45 minutes. While I was waiting I got a call from my HOD saying someone from the ministry of youth (a separate ministry altogether from the ministry of education) had called because he had a bus on which he was transporting learners from other schools to the marathon, and that I should go to see him to see if there was room.

I walked all the way across town (in above 40 degree Celcius humid Katima weather) and went to see the ministry of youth guy. After waiting for about 30 minutes he showed up, and explained that the Marathon people had given him N$10 000 for a bus, but a 22 person bus cost N$14 000, they had a donation from another sector of N$1500 and the schools were going to cover the rest. I said okay, and asked how much, and was told that each team would pay 625, but since I had 3 teams and we wouldn't all fit, I had to pay close to 3000. I asked why, and he said it was because we would need to get a bigger bus. I asked how much more a bigger bus would cost and he said he didn't want to call to get a quotation because then they might charge more than 14 000. "?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" So, to clarify, I was expected to give him a random extra N$2000 without getting a quotation? Yes. But, he said he heard I had one driver and one bakkie, so we could fit one of my teams in the bakkie and one of my teams in the bakkie and the other 8 could go in the bus and then I would just pay the 1250 for my two other teams. Resisting the urge to bang my head against his desk I explained that I actually didn't have that bakkie anymore, so really I needed to get all of my learners on this bus. As we were negotiating, the guy from the ministry of education called and said he had gotten one bakkie. Then the acting inspector called to say he hadn't found another driver. Fine. I agreed to put 4 of my learners in the bakkie and the other 8 on the bus and to pay the difference of N1250 (thank you again to all of my wonderful family and friends who donated!!!!!). MOY guy then informed me that they were just happening to give us the 27 seater for the same price as the 22 seater so we could just put the luggage in the bakkie. Wanting to scream at him for trying to rip me off but feeling relieved that my learners were going to Swakop I said fine.

The next day we loaded the learners onto the bus, along with MOY guy and his family, because even though there wouldn't have been space to fit all of my learners on the smaller bus, there was room for him to bring his family on a free vacation. Ahhh corruption. But anyway.

After overnighting in Rundu, we arrived in Swakopmund at around 2:00 the next day. After we unloaded the bus at the coast the learners all rushed toward the ocean. This was the first time any of the Caprivi kids had ever been to the ocean. For some it was the first time they were out of their region. Their excitement and wonder was worth every exasperated second of getting them to Swakop. After taking countless pictures of my learners playing in the ocean, and after collecting seawater to bring back to the village to keep ghosts out of their houses, we went to register the kids to run.

The next day we woke up early to get the kids ready and got the starting point just as they were about to start. After they started running I went from checkpoint to checkpoint to see each runner in each of the 3 teams cross the checkpoint. Although my runners weren't the fastest, the look on each of their faces as they crossed the finish line was priceless. I was so proud of all of them for completing the race that it obliterated all of my feelings of stress and exhaustion. After the marathon was completed we had an awards ceremony. Each of the runners received a T-shirt and a medal which they proudly put on, and my school won a raffled box of running shoes! Each of my runners won a pair of sneakers, with some left over to be distributed to other learners at the school.

After the awards ceremony we took the learners back to the beach, where they ran in and out of the water under my supervision. While they were swimming I looked over to see them pulling something huge out of the water. I ran over to see what they were doing, only to discover that it was a dead seal that had washed up on the shore. Atata.

After explaining how to use the beach showers and imploring them to keep their clothes ON while showering, they got dressed and we walked to the small museum. We went inside to look at displays and they asked me questions such as whether the taxidermied animals were still alive. Afterwards I bought each of them an ice cream cone (they all chose chocolate except for one brave learner who asked for "pink") and we boarded the bus to start the 19 hour journey home. Although exhausted, sunburned, dirty and smelly, the trip was absolutely amazing. I will certainly be bringing learners again next year.

Well I'm about 3 weeks into my third term of teaching in Namibia. While many pcvs in the education sector really really hate teaching, I think I lucked out a lot with my placement because I love teaching. There. I said it. I love teaching. So much, in fact, that I'm considering getting my teaching degree in America when (if?...when) I return. There are definitely things I don't love about teaching in Namibia. I hate the bureaucracy, and being forced to make ridiculous files, the unrealistic expectations of the management, the frustratingly low levels of the learners. Sometimes my learners drive me insane. Corporal punishment makes me feel physically ill. But there is little I love in this country more than being in the classroom. One day last term I was giving grade 7 a "pep talk," meaning they were being noisy and I was feeling cranky and trying to make them be quiet and listen to how to add and subtract fractions(yes, even though I love my learners, Miss Emily does have her cranky days) and I finally said in exasperation: "I am here for you!!!! You are the most important people in my life here!!!" And while I was saying this I had a moment of clarity where I realized that this was actually completely true.

Volunteers in other sectors have more free time to spend in their communities doing projects and what what but when you're an education volunteer you don't have much time to spend outside of the school. I spend all of my time with learners. I go to school at 7 in the morning and stay until 4:30 at night. I run with them in the evenings (I'm currently training them for a marathon in Swakopmund!) They come to my house to watch movies with me on weekends. They write me letters asking me to be their best friend. Actually, they are my best friends in my village. These learners are the most important people in my Peace Corps life. They're the reason I'm here. And even when my secondary projects fizzle out, or school bureaucracy makes me angry, I still love those kids. And even when they don't listen in class, or knock on my door at 6 in the morning on a saturday, or break my pens or steal my sticky tack I still love 'em.

So I'd say, I'm pretty lucky.

This weekend was a busy weekend! On Friday Sam Nujoma, the founding president of Namibia, came to my school. He was in the region for the king of the Masubia tribe’s birthday celebration, which took place in Bukalo on Saturday, so he came to my school on Friday. My school is named after him, so I think he visits quite often when he’s in the area. Sam Nujoma is extremely popular with the Namibian people: he was a freedom fighter and the first president after Namibia gained independence so people , associate him with defeating the Apartheid regime. Thus, my school went crazy preparing for his arrival. School was cancelled on Thursday so the learners could clean the school grounds (so illegal – can you imagine that happening in America?), and on Friday tons of people showed up to see him speak. I got to shake his hand which was pretty cool – unfortunately I entrusted my camera to a learner to take pictures and he somehow missed that. A band played for the event, and learners performed from the school choir and culture group. Caprivian culture groups wear reed skirts and dance a really intense hip shaking dance which is actually really great. It’s crazy how people can move their bodies here: I swear all of my learners can dance. A dance group from the village also danced spell. For that the women wear big skirts with a lot of fabric underneath and kind of shake their hips while clapping.

After the dancing Sam Nujoma gave a speech. When I asked one of my cleverest learners, what he thought of Nujoma’s speech he answered “when he said he had been in SWAPO (Namibia’s main political party) for 46 years I thought he was very old. Also, he doesn’t speak English properly.” I will reserve judgment on that in case the Namibian government is checking up on this blog. Nujoma also donated N$2000 dollars to my school to build new class buildings which I didn’t know we needed but okay.

On Saturday I went to some of the event in Bukalo. Bukalo is about 10 k from my village and kind of the capital of the Masubia nation. The Masubia are the main tribe in the Eastern Caprivi, which is the side my village is on, but there are also Masubia people stretching into Botswana. In Caprivi there are two main tribes: the Masubia and the Mafwe. The two tribes don’t get along very well and there’s a lot of tension between them. The Masubia people speak Subia and the Mafwe people speak Sifwe, which is why the Caprivian language is Silozi even though the Lozi tribe comes from Zambia. It’s a bit confusing. The Khuta, or tribal court, for the Masubia people is in Bukalo and it’s where the king lives. All villages also have smaller khutas which are run by the village headmen, or indunas, and it’s where disputes are settled. The Khuta in Bukalo is extremely formal. Women must wear sitenges, and before you enter, or even if you are just walking past the entrance, you have to kneel down on the ground and clap. If you forget you have to pay the king in cattle. When you come before the chief you also have to kneel down and clap the whole time you are in his presence. Men can kneel down on their knees but women have to get even lower, so their hands and knees are on the ground.

But anyway, this weekend was the Subia king’s birthday so there was a cultural festival in Bukalo which happens this time every year. I only went to part of it because I was feeling a bit cultured out after the event on Friday and several other events that have happened at my school this term. Kaitlin, Andrew and I showed up while they were still giving the speeches. We wanted to go inside the main arena where the king was sitting so that we could see him better. From what I could see he was dressed in leopard furs, and in front of him on the table was a leopard skull. He’s actually pretty young, in his 40s, and I have heard tell that he didn’t actually want to be king, but he was somehow forced into it because there were no other heirs. We weren’t able to get into the main sitting area because it was full, and I’m not sure we were actually important enough to sit there. Everyone who entered or exited had to kneel and clap, and anyone who passed before the chief had to kneel and clap before him. Since there were no seats in the arena they let us sit with the band who were right next to the sitting area. Sam Nujoma gave a speech, and after he finished there was an entertainment break when the band we were sitting with got up to play. The band had gone to eat lunch so they were late arriving back, so while they were waiting they kind of just focused the cameras (the news was there) where they were sitting, so basically just on we three random white people. Then the band finally got back, so they got up to play, with the cameras still focused on them with us in the background. Awkward. Made more awkward by the fact that the song the band played was about “shooting the mukuwa” with two female dancers shooting at a “boer” to the sound of drum beats. The boer, or “mukuwa” since there’s no differentiation in the language between boer and white person was differentiated with a big belly made of pillows stuffed under his shirt to show that the white man was well fed and greedy. The boer was defeated and everyone cheered while meanwhile we makuwa were sitting in the background watching awkwardly while being filmed. It was a very uncomfortable experience.

After the song finished the current president of Namibia, Pohamba, spoke for about an hour. By the time he was finished we were pretty done also, so even though there were more speeches and dancing to follow we hiked back to Katima for hot showers and pizza, both of which, to be honest, are more rare in my current life than watching important people give speeches and Caprivian dancing.

I haven’t written in so long I’m starting to get emails questioning whether I’m okay, so I suppose it’s time for a new post. At the end of April/beginning of May I went to “reconnect” which s part of our peace corps in service training (IST), which is basically exactly what it sounds like: technical training on things like project development and teaching to help us in our various primary and secondary projects. But really ISTs are an excuse to hang out with everyone in the group (the Dirty 30, as we’re the 30th group to arrive in Namibia and well, it’s catchy. We even have 30 people in our group, since we started with 33, lost 4 who went home and gained one who had a site change here from Benin). During our free time during IST we engaged in recreational activities befitting Peace Corps volunteers, playing chess, planning our secondary projects, working on our local languages (code for drink drink drink, and set up the Peace Corps projector in the conference hall to watch hours of Glee). We also had a Doppelganger party, where we drew names of our groupmates from a hat and had to dress up and act like that person for the night. It was pretty hilarious to see how not only do we have very distinct mannerisms that other people in the group obviously pick up on, but we also have so few clothes in this country that we could instantly tell who it was by the outfit. Stewart was me, so he wore my iconic purple t-shirt, chacos and jeans. A few weeks later I was in Rundu meeting another volunteer at dusk, and she said she couldn’t tell whether it was me, but then she saw that I was wearing my purple shirt.

After reconnect Brian flew into Windhoek to meet me and we went on a 2 week trip traversing 4 Southern African countries. I think he’s planning on writing a guest post about our trip so I’ll leave it at that.

So for the last 2 ½ weeks I’ve been back in Caprivi, getting back into the swing of teaching and village life. Actually last week I had to miss a week of school to attend a grade 7 Maths workshop in Katima. Namibians are constantly planning workshops forcing teachers to miss school to discuss things that could have been done in half a day, or via a “circular” (memos that are rumoured to be distributed to all schools, but I somehow never seem to see them. Then when I ask questions like, “did they change the grading scheme for upper primary grades and not tell anyone?” I hear “well didn’t you get the circular?” Nope.) This workshop was particularly painful. We spent a day talking about filling in our continuous assessment forms, which I thought had to be filled out every term, so I have no idea what the teachers at the workshop did last term. Then we talked about files. Oh files, the bane of every education volunteer’s existence. All teachers in Namibia are supposed to have 5 files, each with a different title but with the same papers in them that are impossible to find. They have to be neatly organized and covered with wrapping paper and your performance as a teacher is judged solely on these files. I mean, it doesn’t matter if your learners are doing well or if you can actually teach, if you don’t have those files you fail. I haven’t made my files yet, which probably makes me a terrible teacher. No matter that my grade 7s who started the year not being able to multiply now know all of their times tables.

Maths is, as they say here, a problem. I’m pretty sure that in the lower primary grades (1-4) they do not learn math. At all. They learn how to count up to 20, and recite it 100 times a day (and apparently all forget about 17, according to Andrew who’s listened in on these lessons). Then, suddenly, in grade 5, they’re supposed to start doing long multiplication and division, learn about fractions, decimals and what and what, and they don’t know how to add or subtract or know their times tables. Then, by grade 7 they have a national exam which tests them on what the syllabus says they should be learning, such as multiplying and dividing fractions and decimals, geometry, and the what and what. Then they obviously all fail, literally. At my school last year we had a 0% pass rate. I think the pass rate for the region was 20%. Then we have workshops to discuss why they’re failing, which is obviously because teachers don’t have wrapping paper covers on their binders. Is my frustration with the Nam educational system coming across?

So anyway, I’m trying to take pleasure in small accomplishments, like the fact that I can now ask a kid what 9 times 7 is and she generally knows the answer. I mean, some don’t, but it’s baby steps. So that was my week last week, but made better by the fact that a pizza restaurant opened in Katima and I ate pizza 4 times in 5 days. Our standard of living in Caprivi is improving.

So that’s about all the updates in my life. Not too exciting (except for the pizza!) Today I have a holiday because it’s the Day of the African Child, commemorating the student uprisings in Soweto in 1976 to protest the apartheid education in South Africa. So now I get a random Wednesday off of work! I should spend this time lesson planning and working on setting up the school library but I’ll probably cuddle up under my blankets (it’s winter here now and it is COLD, way colder than I actually thought it would ever get) and watch Friends. Ahh Peace Corps life.

I just completed my first term of teaching! The end of term exams were pretty much standard for Namibia. They didn't send the exam timetable until the second week of exams, then they didn't send any of the exams on time so it was pretty much chaos for 2 weeks. I finished recording all of my term marks which meant I had to track down just about every learner and force them to hand in their work, which took about 2 weeks, only to find out that we don't count the term marks, or continuous assessment first term. And actually the April exams don't count at all. Yup, makes a lot of sense. But in marking all of this work I did come across some gems so I figured I would type them up now for your reading pleasure.

Grade 7 composition about what happened when a boy got a dog for Christmas, written by Nchindo Mukaya:

"last christmas i received a dog called banana. banana is a good dog. it is have colour that i like most in my life. Its colour is blue, green, yellow, it have long tail and it have four legs and big eyes." The composition ends: "but sometimes my dog is very bad. It can kill someone."

A composition I assigned for grade 7 asked them to write a letter to someone from another country. One kid wrote to me in South America, one wrote to Jacob Zuma and one wrote to Robert Mugabe.

Philosophy Lutaka Mutamezi: "How are you? robert mugabe it seems to me you are fine me two i am fine just like that life goes on.

Given Thikukutu: Diversity Tour application, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?:

"I would go to north america to visit miss emily brown's family and i would love to meet miss emily brown's family because miss emily brown is like my friend. I always stay with him and she always tells me stories about his family thats why i want to go to north america."

Things to work on next term: punctuation and pronouns.

A funny thing happens when you're a Peace Corps Volunteer and you're nearing your 8 month mark of volunteer service. You start to love America and all things American. Now, I don't consider myself overly patriotic. I don't have an American flag sticker on my car in America. My learners have been bugging me to sing them the American national anthem but I've been refusing because 1. i don't want to humiliate myself so thoroughly by singing in front of my class, and 2. I'm afraid I'll forget the words.

But after about 8 months of service, I find that I day dream about the simplicity of owning a car (PCVs can't drive), and being able to just get into that car, drive on the right side of the road (here they drive on the left hand side, or, sometimes, the middle) and go to the store. And even if you don't have a car there's reliable public transportation. Like, you know there's a bus that stops here, wait here and in a reasonable amount of time there will be a bus. Here if you need to go to town you can wait anywhere from 0 to 3 hours. And even if I do get a ride right away there's no guarantee that we won't make multiple turns and take an extra hour and a half, getting to town, by which time I have to turn around and go back to the village. If I run out of toothpaste in the middle of the week I pretty much have to wait for the weekend. And even then there's no guarantee that I'll get a ride into town. In America when you want to do something you can just do it. You don't have to think about it. Here, going to the bank can take 6 hours of waiting in line only to have the window close when you're the next person up. In America you can get a haircut, go to the bank, go to the post office and go shopping in like, a MORNING! Here that would probably take at least 2 weeks.

What else is amazing about America? The food. Oh the choices! The quality! If you want to go out to dinner you have SO. MANY. CHOICES. Indian food, Thai food, Mexican food...a fellow volunteer who extended for a 3rd year recently went home for her 30 days of leave and while she was there she ate 18 burritos. Burritos! Sometimes I would give my right arm for guacamole. And beer! Oh I miss a good microbrew. Alas our choices in Namibia are quite limited. Sometimes on a friday evening I just want to kick back with a nice cold magic hat #9. If I'm in town I can settle for a Windhoek or Black Label but in the village it's inappropriate for me to drink because I always have learners around. But even a Windhoek just ain't the same.

Also, in America it's not hot all the time. Sure it gets cold, but then when it's cold you can take hot showers and wear sweaters and thick socks and cuddle up into bed. Here when it's hot, which it has been nonstop for the last 6 months, there's nothing to do but sweat. And showers, well those are nice if you don't live in the village. I'm stuck with a bucket bath. With the combined dust, humidity and heat I haven't been clean in 8 months. Sometimes I think I'm clean, after I just took a bucket bath, but then after wiping my face with a tissue I realize I am actually just as filthy as I was before.

Don't get me wrong. I like Namibia (most of the time). It's just that being here has made me appreciate all America has to offer. So this weekend I want you to eat some good food, take a hot shower and crack open a cold one. While you do so think of me.

So I'm using free internet at the TRC and I'm going to suck as much as I can out of the 2 hours that I have. So I figured some of you might be interested in what my daily life is like out in the African bush. Basically, on weekdays I wake up at 6:10 to get ready for school, which literally takes me about 10 minutes since I have about 4 work outfits in Namibia and I don't even have a mirror to beautify myself. So ponytail, blouse, skirt, done. School starts at 6:50 with assembly, where kids sing the National Anthem about 6 times until they sing loudly enough, and classes start at 7. I teach until 1, when I go home to eat lunch and nap for an hour because I'm exhausted after teaching all day in the ungodly Caprivian heat which just does not seem to go away. Ever. Then it's back to school for afternoon study when I try to have extra classes to get my kids up to speed since I've been trying to teach remedial classes since my kids don't know their times tables and they're expected to know long division by now. But usually my principal decides he'd rather have the kids do manual work because, you know, it's all about having a pretty school and less about whether the learners know how to do math. I leave school around 5:30 to go for a run (I know, Namibia has forced me to start running. After fatty, oily, salty Namibian host family cooking I started worrying that the very few clothes I brought with me would stop fitting. So, running). Then I usually cook dinner, watch something on my computer and go to sleep. Are you bored yet? Yes, the life of a PCV is not very glamorous, particularly an education volunteer living in a village in Caprivi. If adventure is what you be after you will not find it here.

Weekends I usually spend doing school work, visiting my host family, and more recently watching the same kids movies I have on my laptop over and over again with my learners. They discovered that if they do stuff for me, like help me hang my laundry or fetch water, I'll let them watch movies on my laptop. Actually they don't even have to do stuff for me, I'm such a sucker. So I've watched the Lion King and Shrek about 4 times each in the last 2 weeks, Harry Potter, Fight Club which they inexplicably wanted to watch (I only let the older kids watch that). I actually kind of love my learners and I also love kids movies so it's kind of a win win situation for me.

When I start getting restless I come to town to get milkshakes and eat ice cream. So I don't really have too many complaints about life in the village. Actually with all of the lesson planning and marking I do it feels like I don't have too much free time, so when I do have some time to kick it it's pretty nice.

Well my internet time is quickly dwindling so I'll leave it at that.

In my grade 7 math class I'm trying to teach them about the laws governing mathematical operations (I say trying because I'm pretty sure they don't get it). I think there should be some kind of law governing life in Africa, something like the "Getting Stuff Done Law." It goes like this. Make a to do list of things you want to get done in a day. Divide that list into two. Divide it into two again. Okay, go ahead divide it into 2 again...yeah why don't you go ahead and divide it into 2 again. There's the list of stuff you can actually get done in a day. How far off were you from what you were hoping to accomplish in a day?

Case in point. Peace Corps sent a mass sms a few weeks ago kindly telling all PCVs they could either get the H1N1 vaccine or go home. Then they tried to convince us Caprivi volunteers to hike down to Windhoek to get the shot, basically meaning missing 3 to 4 days of school. No thanks. So they sent agreed to send the vaccine up here, but forgot to inform us until I called our Peace Corps medical officer last week with a different question about a prescription and she told me I was supposed to go to town 2 weeks ago to get the shot and I better go this week or else. Since the last 2 periods of my thursdays are admin periods (free) I decided to leave school early to get the shot and to get a bunch of stuff done that I haven't been able to since I live in a village in the middle of nowhere. So yesterday I dutifully made a to do list. Get shot. Meet another volunteer to get my package slip. Go to the post office to pick up a package and mail a birthday card to my brother (March 14: Happy 21st Chris!!!!!). Go to the TRC to write a blog, write emails to a billion people, look up places to stay for my holiday, download application forms for learner leadership camps, some other stuff to do on internet. Go to the stores to shop, and ask about donating food for EWA (PC run "everyone wants acceptance" leadership camp). I informed my principal on Tuesday of my plan and he said no problem. I knew I had a lot to do but figured I could swing it. But I forgot to take into account the African law of "Getting Stuff Done."

Firstly, my principal informs me this morning that there will be no school tomorrow because there's a mass meeting in Bukalo for all the schools in the area. Ummm, okay. Thanks for telling me? I love that they incessantly complain about the low performance of learners, and yet don't see a correlation between the number of days teachers miss school due to pointless meetings, and the low grades our learners receive on exams. But anyway. Okay fine, I remind him I was leaving at 11:30 today and he said no problem. So at 11:30, as I'm finishing up my math class, another teacher comes in the room to ask why I'm not at the staff meeting. What staff meeting? The one that started 15 minutes ago obviously. The way teachers are informed of staff meetings is that a notebook with the information is passed around from teacher to teacher and each teacher initials the page with the info. Someone left the book on my desk during period 6, while I was in class (I know, I know, what was a teacher in Namibia doing teaching her scheduled classes? I should probably have been sitting at my desk planning/complaining about how much work it is to plan for all the subjects I don't actually teach). So, great. So I go to the meeting which lasts until about noon, bouncing in the balls of my feet anxious to get to town while my principal reassures everyone that there will be food at the meeting tomorrow, he's just not sure if it will be just breakfast or also include lunch, but since we end at 1 we probably don't need lunch....Seriously. This is what Namibian staff meetings cover. Awesome.

So then I get out to the hike point in the pouring rain, since rainy season also follows African time and arrived 3 months late this year, or so they tell me since I don't know when rainy season usually starts. Luckily I only have to wait about 10 minutes before a car pulls over, so I hop in even though it's going to Lusese, abou 5 k down the road, before going to town. Of course, the driver then proceeds to stop for every hiker between Kabbe and Lusese, and then from Lusese to Kabbe, until there are so many people in teh car he has to tie the luggage on the top of the car. So it's about 45 minutes until we're passing Kabbe again, and I think okay finally. Hopefully this is a fast ride. But since there are so many people the car is weighed down, and the luggage starts falling off the top of the car so we have to continually stop, so what should be a 30 to 40 minute ride takes over an hour. Of course. So now it's 2 pm and I have to get all the stuff on my list done before the last cars leave at 5 from Katima, so I head to get the swine flu shot first of all, where I have to wait 40 minutes to see a nurse, and then he has to read the directions on how to give the shot to himself. So long story short, this blog is about the only thing I'm getting done on the computer today so don't be sad if I didn't send any emails. '

Well, at least I got 2 things done on my list. Sometimes the Law of Getting stuff done in Africa can be as simple as multiply by zero (and no grade 7 learners, a number multiplied by 0 is not 34.)

I don't know if I'll be able to post before our real anniversary but that's right. February 21st marks my 6 month anniversary with Namibia. If this was any other relationship I could probably expect chocolates, flowers, maybe a nice dinner, but since this is Peace Corps I can probably expect to to be brutalized with either ungodly heat or a massive downpour, overrun by dung beetles and flying biting ants in my charming TRC room and to eat some delicious (?) nam food. Ah, true love. Well we only have another year and 10 months together (not that I'm counting) so I better enjoy it while I can.

Teaching has settled into something like a routine. I've gotten used to asking my learners to do something, like use rounding to solve complex problems, and then realizing they can't because they don't know their times tables or how to do long division. Or asking them to write a paragraph and realizing they don't know how to write a simple sentence. Even so we're ploughing through somehow.

Housing remains a problem. I have a beautiful traditional hut almost all built...but the ministry has to finish the last few components, such as the concrete floor, the door and the windows (somehow important nay?). Unfortunately, it appears Caprivi is broke. Broke ass broke. The ministry of works has no more money. Til April. How does this happen? Inefficiency and improper spending I'm guessing. Mawe. So I've been living in a spare office in the TRC which, as you can probably imagine, is less than ideal.

Well, I wish I had some better stories, but I just got done with a 6 hour time tabling workshop and my brain is pretty fried. The workshop was just explaining how to use a program to electronically generate timetables rather than the traditional method, to sit down wtih a piece of posterboard and last year's schedule and just change the names if teachers are doing different subjects. That's how we did it at my school and my schedule had to be changed twice the first week. It turns out the electronic program is really easy if you've ever used a computer before. If you're like the majority of the namibians who attended today it's about on the same level as rocket science. I was assisting the man sitting next to me when Scott, the Australian VSO who was running the session started explaining something and the guy next to me was obviously not paying attention. So when he turned to ask me a question about what had just been explained I asked, in the same tone of voice I use with my learners "Were you listening to Scott's instructions." "No, not so much," was the response I got. Ah tatata... i'm beginning to think the learners aren't quite at fault...

So anyway a better update is soon to come, hopefully. With pictures! Even though I always promise those...

Firstly, Happy Birthday Dad! Miss you!

This week was my first week actually teaching my own classes. It went pretty well considering I had no idea what I was doing most of the time. People here assume that because I'm American and their volunteer I know how to do everything, but, for one thing my teaching experience is limited to volunteer ESL classes for day laborers, and for another thing the way things are done in this country often make no sense! Like, for example, at the end of last term all teachers were told to complete their subject plans, or yearly schedules, by the time school started last week. But they hadn't allocated the subjects yet! WHAT?? Also, there's so much paperwork and bureacracy involved in teaching here. I'm supposed to make five binders. Five! I also was assigned to teach Math, even though I have absolutely no qualification to teach Math aside from the fact that I took some Math classes sometime, I think? The last Math class I took was statistics for my psych minor in college which I'm pretty sure isn't on the syllabus. As long as I'm one step ahead of the kids I should be okay though...right?

I'm also still getting used to the Nambiguity of living here. For example, every Tuesday we have morning briefings for all members of staff, which always begin at 6:40. So last week I was getting ready for school,and at 6:25 my host mom knocked and my door and said "we're late!" So I said, no we're not late, we still have 15 minutes, and it takes about 3 minutes to walk to school. So at 6:35 we left and got to the meeting at 6:38. We walked in and my acting principal started scolding us for being late. I explained that we're not late, that the meeting was supposed to start in 2 minutes, but he said we were supposed to just know to show up early. Obviously.

Two weeks ago when I was on my way back to site after reconnect I smsed my principal to let him know that I was on my way, but would only arrive in Katima the next evening, so I would miss the first day of school. About 5 minutes later I got a phone call from a man who didn't identify himself asking me where I was. Thinking it was my principal, who never identifies himself on the phone when he calls, I replied that I was in Otavi (about halfway from Windhoek to Rundu) and reiterated what I had said in my message. "Okay, let me know when you're in Katima and I'll come pick you up." Okay, great. The next day while riding in a very slow moving lorry from Rundu to Katima I got another call from another male voice asking me where I was. Assuming it was my principal again using someone else's phone I replied that I was about 250 k from Katima. He told me to let me know when I was in town and he would drive me to KAbbe. I said okay and hung up. Once I arrived in Katima, after I finished doing my shopping for the week I called my principal and told him I was in Katima. "Oh, okay" he replied, "well I'm at school now." At school, meaning Kabbe. "Oh, okay. So you're not going to pick me up?" "Oh you need to be picked up? Okay, I'll come early in the morning." Thoroughly confused by this conversation and having no idea what "I'll pick you up and drive you to Kabbe when you arrive in Katima" means in Namblish, I crashed at Kaitlin's house, and ended up getting a ride with a PC driver doing site development in the next village the following morning. Later that afternoon, while I was sitting at my desk organizing my things for school, I got a phone call from another unidentified number. A male voice: "Hello, where are you now?" Thinking it was my principal again, I said "I'm at school," (duh). "Oh okay, have you moved into your house yet?" "No." (duh). "Why not?" "It's not ready yet..." (wtf?) "Why didn't you call me when you got in yesterday? I was waiting for your phone call." "Wait...who is this?" "It's John, from the ministry!" Argh!!!!! It was this guy from the ministry who came to measure my house, and, since I'm a white lady, is obviously trying to get me to fall in love with him by forcing me to drive to the flood plains with him (another story), and offering to give me rides places. I felt pretty dumb for asking my principal to pick me up in Katima. Damn you Namibian vagueness! Didn't you have teachers to teach you phone etiquette in school? Oh wait...

So those are my stories of Nambiguity for the week. I'm sure many more will ensue over the next two years. Looking forward to it!

Well, it's been a little while since I've posted. Hmm let's see, I spent Christmas in Kabbe with my host family which was...interesting. Definitely not the kind of Christmas I'm used to. My host mom invited me to church for Christmas eve...then told me service starts at 1 am. Namibia has turned me into an old lady, or my dad, who goes to sleep at 8 pm every night and wakes up at 5. Seriously, I can not stay up late anymore. But I agreed to go, thinking Namibian Christmas eve mass would be some kind of cultural event I should see, and figured I could take a nap before it started. But in true nambiguous fashion, at 9 pm, when we were finishing up dinner, my host mom said she was leaving now now for church. Okay, I said, but doesn't the service start at 1? Yes. She said. But why are you leaving now? Well people are already there, singing and having baptisms. I asked when Chuma, my host sister was going to church and she said maybe at 2 am. I was starting to get a little frustrated, since I don't really like church anyway, and the services are in Silozi so usually I just sit and zone out, and I definitely didn't want to get stuck at church for 6 hours in the middle of the night. But of course I got dragged with my host mom and host sister who decided to go and leave early. 4 hours of singing and dancing ensued, and then the service finally started, at around 1:30 am, when Chuma decided to leave because her 2 year old daughter was feeling sick. So that's the story of how I almost went to Christmas eve mass in Namibia.

Christmas day was mostly uneventful, until around 3 pm when people started pouring into the village to drink and braai. Christmas in Namibia is pretty much like 4th of July or a summer barbeque. Definitely not anything like what we're used to. I did get to talk to everyone in my family and Brian's family though, which was definitely the highlight of my holiday.

I spent New Year's in Rundu with some friends after our thwarted efforts to evade Peace Corps' notice and head to Otjiwarango for New Years' with some other dirty 30ers (our moniker for Peace Corps Nam/Group 30). However, the day before New Year's eve the friend we were going to stay with had a break in, so her house was on Peace Corps radar, and being sensible folks we thought flaunting to PC that we were breaking the very strict out of site policy (not allowed to leave your region for the first 3 months after swearing in! Period.) was a little stupid. So we spent New Year's eve watching movies and playing cards (while enjoying some WIndhoek Lager of course) while trying to stay awake until midnight. We then proceeded to wake up at 5 am to hike out of Rundu to enjoy some new year's day festivities in otjiwarango. So, that's the story of how I almost celebrated New Year's eve with the dirty 30 in Otjiwarango.

I then spent a week in Windhoek for reconnect, the second part of our PC training. It was in the mountains at a beautiful "resort" as we like to call it. Actually after months of living like PCVs this place was a resort, with air conditioning, hot showers and a pool! It was also great to see the rest of my group, who truly are such wonderful people I can't stand it. We also got to drop some mad Namib dollars eating in Windhoek. Ahh Windhoek. So strange, so disconcerting and so wonderful sometimes. Mostly the food. Indian, Italian, KFC...we even found a place called Joe's beer house which has a hefeweizen! After months of drinking watery Windhoek lager or the cheaper brands that have an aftertaste of soap that cloudy wheat beer was like 500 ml of heaven.

Which brings me to the present. Well, after hiking back from Windhoek, and realizing again how effing far Caprivi is from the capital (it took me 48 hours to get back to Kabbe, overnighting in Rundu and Katima), I arrived just in time for the first day of school! Actually the 3rd day technically, since teachers were supposed to be there monday and tuesday. But in Namibia that means nothing happens except maybe stuff that was supposed to happen last term, like finishing your grade symbol distribution (I don't know why that was so important, but it was), and what what. So yesterday the learners arrived, and of course our subjects hadn't been allocated and we had no timetable, so the learners ended up doing manual labor and running around for most of the day.

Today I showed up and at our brief staff meeting was told that the pre-primary teacher wasn't there, so why didn't I just watch the pre-primary class today? Putting aside the fact that I'm actually teaching grades 7 and 8 English and Math, and would have liked to spend some time talking to and getting to know them, the pre-primary students DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH. Or Silozi. And after 3 months in the village my Subia is in a sadder state than I'd like to admit. So I walk into this class of about 12 terrified looking 5 year olds (don't forget, this is their first day of school. Ever.) And proceed to hand out construction paper and crayons that they just stare at. I take out a crayon and start coloring my paper, saying "bone!" "See!" Color! Finally the secretary came in and I asked her to translate for me which got some kids coloring. When they got bored with coloring I decided to attempt to teach them "Duck Duck Goose" using my extremely limited vocabulary. I achieved this by going around and miming what they were supposed to do then when I tapped goose, saying "Iwe!" (you!) "Mata!" (Run!) then "Kale!" (Sit!) To my surprise it actually worked, and I successfully got them to play for the rest of the period. Poor kids. First day of school and they show up to a crazy white lady who doesn't speak their language. Being an African kid is hard in so many ways.

Well, that's an abridged version of my activities for the last few weeks. Now I'm on my way back to Rundu for a PC meeting. But first I'm heading over to Kaitlin's to bake cupcakes to bring for our Friday wine day in Rundu. Hey, even PCVs get to have a little fun sometimes ;)

Merry almost Christmas! It doesn't feel like the holiday season at all here, probably because it's about 38 degrees celcius in the shade. They have started playing Christmas music on Silozi radio though, which is pretty incongruous/hilarious. It's pretty weird to hear Frosty the Snowman while I'm sitting in my family's courtyard eating buhobe and fish with sweat pouring off my face. I'm getting kind of into Christmas though. I bought ingredients to make no bake cookies (you just boil most of the ingredients!). I have an oven but it's a gas stove and the ministry didn't bring gas when they dropped it off 2 months ago, and even though I've asked my school to call the ministry about it about 16 times since then, still no gas. Go figure. I got my host family Christmas gifts, even though I don't think exchanging gifts is part of Christmas culture here. I absolutely adore my host family though, so I'm excited to give them something. Today is my 2 year old host niece, Monde's birthday, so I came into town yesterday to bake her a birthday cake and when I get back to the village today we're going to have a little party for her. I'll be sure to post lots of pictures. She's absolutely adorable. At first, like many children here, she was terrified of me having never seen a mukuwa, white person, before, but now she calls me Memily "wangu" (My memily)and follows me around everywhere.

Village life has been a little boring for the past week or so. School ended last Wednesday so I've been spending a majority of my time in the village. So far I've been to a neighboring village to hand out Christmas presents to orphans with a group of volunteers from another organization, learned how to build a reed fence (which we put up around my pit latrine which is FINALLY in service now!! Yay!!), followed my host mom around for a day while she did all of her normal village activities, including visiting "her orphans," who are staying on a family's homestead, so she just makes sure they're being taken care of, collecting firewood (carrying it on my head makes me feel pretty badass I have to say)and what what. I've also been taking some time to just relax for the first time in four months, meaning watching lots of movies on my laptop and reading a lot. It's also far too hot in the afternoon to even sit in the shade without getting sunburned, so I've been spending a good chunk of time in my hut, which stays somehow cool during the day. It's rained a few times, which always cools things off considerably, but the last few days have been bright blue skies. Ugh. Terrible weather. Supposedly it does get cold here in May or June, but I'll believe it when I see it.

So that's life nowadays. Pretty exciting...not. I guess the action and adventure part of this story comes later on. Happy Holidays everyone!

Well, I had a whole post typed up on my flashdrive which currently isn't working at all, probably because it now has a million viruses after being plugged into a Namibia's laptop, so this will just be a short one. I had my first Namibian Thanksgiving yesterday. It was a little sad to be away from family on the holiday, and I definitely missed eating Thanksgiving comfort food, but the Caprivi kids had a celebration of our own with black bean burgers and sweet potato fries which were pretty delicious. Kaitlin even made an apple pie!

The village has been growing on me. I spent last weekend there so I got to spend time with my host family and neighbors and the kids. I love playing games with the kids in my village becasue they're so creative about how to entertain themselves. They don't have toys so they'll use long reeds of grass to make a jumprope, metal and soda cans to make metal cars that they push around, stones and the nuts from some sort of tree to make a game kind of like jax, where you have to throw the nut into the air and scoop the stones either into our out of a hole in the ground before you catch it. And of course they love to play cards, so I constantly have kids coming over to get me to teach them new card games, or to teach me some of their cards games.

I also learned how to do things that all women in the village have to do on a daily basis. On Saturday morning I went into the bush with my host mom and sister and our old lady neighbor who always calls me mulikani, which means friend in Silozi, to collect firewood. My stack was definitely a lot smaller than anyone else's but I did carry it on my head all the way back to the village. Which was probably only about a kilometer, but it feels far when you're carrying a heavy stack of firewood on your head!

On Sunday night I learned how to make nkoko, or buhobe, also known as pap or porridge: basically most Southern African cultures' staple food. Like most villagers my host family doesn't have a stove (well actually now they have my gas stove in their hut, but in typical fashion the ministry has yet to bring gas for it), so they do all their cooking over a fire. Let me tell you, cooking over a fire is hot and it's pretty easy to burn yourself -- most village women have burn scars on their hands and arms, from cooking I'm pretty sure -- and stirring nkoko is harder than it looks. And my old lady neighbor came over while I was making it and kept yelling at me in Silozi and grabbing my arm while I was stirring to say "Ona cwalo! Ona cwalo!" wich means, "like this! like this!" But I thought I was stirring it the way she tol me to...ehh I guess it's a learned art form. My host family said it tasted good though. It tasted the same as all nkoko to me: bland and kind of sandy.

Anyway, I'm actually kind of looking forward to being in the village after school ends. I was worried about filling up my days, but I think it will be nice to have a lot of time to wander around the village getting to know people and learning how to do things the village way. I'll also be in Kabbe for Christmas so I'll get to see what a traditional village Christmas is like. I hope there are fat cakes and not too many drunk people (Christmas is apparently a big drinking holiday here, just like most days of the year). I think I might try to bring a little Americanness to Christmas too by baking Christmas cookies. A week before Christmas is my 2 year old host niece, Monde's, birthday and since she might be my favorite person in Namibia since she's the most adorable baby I've ever seen I'm baking her a birthday cake.

So this is holiday time in Namibia. No Christmas trees, no holiday consumerisn, no winter snow, no turkey or stuffing or candy canes. It's just hot and sandy, and sometimes rainy now that rainy season is fast approaching. It's not bad though, just different, like most of the Peace Corps experience.

Hey all. So it's been exactly 4 weeks since swearing in, and roughly 4 weeks at site except for my little trip to Windhoek and for some reason this week I just hit a wall. I didn't come to town last weekend. I ended up going to Mubiza on friday night to stay with Sarah. We made some yummy pasta on Griffin's stove and watched the Office, and it would have been an awesome night except that Griffin's hut is some sort of sack spider den. Sack spiders are huge, gross, super fast, poisonous spiders and according to Sarah's host dad if you get bit by one your arm will turn back and you'll eventually die. Great. Another creature in the bush that wants to kill us. Luckily Griffin's cat, Romanus, was pretty good at killing and eating the spiders but there were a few that managed to escape Romanus which resulted in Sarah and me jumping from Griffin's bed to the cot in his sitting room shrieking. And I'm not afraid of spiders. I have about 30 wall spiders chilling in my hut right now. But man, I'm telling you, those things are scary.

Oh, and to back it up a bit, last week I came home from school for tea break,which is when I eat breakfast with my family. I was sitting in my host mom's hut, finishing my bread and peanut butter (my favorite meal of the day, because it does not involve any variation of porridge), when my host mom called me outside. She put her arm around me and pointed to the thatch in my hut and said in the kind of voice you use when you have to tell someone something and you don't want them to freak out and vomit on you because what you have to say is terrifying, "Look over there." I looked up and sure enough sticking its head out of the thatch was a snake. Now, in America, I'm not afraid of snakes. They really don't bother me. I used to enjoy catching garter snakes and keeping them as pets when I was little. But in Caprivi snakes are a whole different story. Essentially villagers will tell you that every kind of snake is poisonous and going to kill you in 3 seconds flat. And that's what I've been hearing since I got to Namibia. So this has instilled a pretty intense fear of snakes, and particularly of snakes getting into my hut. Which the other volunteers told me is very rare and probably not going to happen. But there was a snake, just hanging out in the roof of my hut. My host mom ran and got two women who live in the huts next to mine and they came with long sticks and knocked it out of the roof, then one of the women beat it with the stick until it was dead. I have no idea what kind of snake it was. it was thin and green, and possibly a green mamba although those are actually pretty rare (black mambas, the way more dangerous kind, are more common). The day before a cobra tried to get into the grade 3 classroom and they killed it. So there we have it. Two snake sitings and a bombardment of sack spiders, all in the same week.

But fortunately the reason I was going to Mubiza in the first place, in addition to see Sarah, was to get my kitten! Griffin's spider killing cat had kittens a few weeks ago, so Griffin gave me one to keep snakes and spiders out of my house. And also just because kittens are darn cute. So now I have a little kitty to guard my house. She's black and white and her name is Yebo.

So aside from poisonous animals trying to kill me and cute little kittens I've just been going to school every day and trying to get to know the teachers and learners. I don't know, I think this week I just a hit a slump. It's been 3 months of living with host families and I'm definitely ready for some independence. I'm also way tired of the food and so ready to be able to cook for myself. But only 6 weeks until reconnect and then I get to move into my own hut! My mansion as my counterpart jokingly refers to it. But after living in a windowless 8 by 8 foot cave it will definitely feel like a mansion.

Anyway, I'll continue to keep you updated on snakes and spiders and what not!

More pictures! Enjoy!

On the way to site we made a detour to Botswana. Huh?

My host family in Kabbe

This is what Kabbe looks like pretty much. Just imagine more huts and lots of sand.

Group 30 Silozi group plus Kaitlin

Group 30 at swearing in!

Well, it’s been 2 weeks since swearing in and this should be my second week at site, but I had to come down to Windhoek this week to get a medical issue looked at. It turns out to most likely be nothing more serious than a strange reaction to my malaria pills, so I should be good to go in no time! In the mean time I’m hanging out in Windhoek, enjoying some yummy food, going to Super Spar (aka mecca) daily, and just wandering around the city. Hopefully I’ll be back at site soon, but Clara, the Peace Corps Medical Officer, likes to keep volunteers who come down here for medical stuff for a while, just to make sure there won’t be any problems when we get to site. I really didn’t want to have to come down here in the first place, because I’m still getting used to my site and I’m missing seeing all the Caprivi volunteers in Katima this weekend for Halloween, but I do have to admit that it’s nice having a toilet and shower.

Which brings me to my first week and a half at site. It’s been interesting. Let’s start with swearing in. It was happy and sad to become an official PCV. It was great to finally be done with training and be able to get to our sites to start doing what we came here to do, but it was so hard to say goodbye to everyone! I made some really great friends during training and now I won’t see them until January, when we all get together for reconnect. At least we still have smsing and the random phone call to get us through the months. Other than that swearing in went well. Sarah and I read the farewell speech for Silozi, and we were both really nervous but I think we did well! After the ceremony people started leaving with their supervisors for their sites immediately. Those of us whose sites are too far to get to in an afternoon hung around the center, saying goodbye to everyone, then went out for one last ice cream at spar.

The next morning I had all my stuff packed up and ready to go at 5:30 in the morning when the Peace Corps combi came to pick us up to drop us off at the center, where we would load our stuff into a ministry bakkie (pickup truck), then we would get into a sedan and Steven, Andrew’s principal, would drive us and a teacher from my school who came down to get us, up to Katima. So that morning I said goodbye to my host family in Okahandja with the promise that we would meet up in Katima in December when they come for holiday, and set off. However, when we got to the center Steven announced that the ministry bakkie wasn’t coming that day, and could only get our stuff the next day, so we had to leave almost everything except for a few essential items and valuables in OKahandja. Ugh, that was not okay. I was super nervous about leaving my stuff, figuring I would never see it again, but luckily it arrived the next Monday. So all worked out in the end.

We spent the night in Katima and the next day Steven drove us to our sites, with a detour to Ngoma, the border town to Botswana, about 15 K from Kabbe (yup! I’m that close to Botswana). Actually, we even made a little jaunt into Botswana, just by crossing the bridge separating Botswana and Namibia! So I have now officially been to 4 Southern African countries. Hopefully next time I’ll get a little farther in though…

Then Steven dropped Andrew in Lusese and me in Kabbe. The first thing I noticed as we pulled up in front of my host families hut was the remarkably absence of a pit latrine. I was promised multiple times during site visit and the last 4 weeks of training by my principal and the Peace Corps that my pit latrine would definitely definitely definitely be done by the time I got there for site. But, this is Caprivi. As of yet it still isn’t done, which has made life rather awkward and uncomfortable for the last 2 weeks, as you can probably imagine.

So I spent the first day catching up with my host family, walking around the outer edges of Kabbe in my shitenge greeting people with my host mom. The next day, Monday, I went to school expecting to observe classes and just become reacquainted with my surroundings. However, when I showed up I was informed that the 8th and 9th grade math teacher was in Windhoek grading exams, and that I should take over his classes for the week. Ummm, last I checked I’m an English teacher, and I barely remember how to do 8th grade math. And his class happened to be 1st period. So it was pretty awkward since I clearly was flustered and had no idea what I was doing, but afterwards I spoke to my principal about how I’m not a math teacher and I don’t appreciate being thrust into classes without warning. So after that I spent the week working with the English teacher for grades 5 to 7, which suited my abilities much better. By the end of the week I felt comfortable teaching a few classes, and I’m starting to really love my learners. They are absolutely adorable. I’ll be sure to post pictures of my school when I get back to site.

My only big surprise that week came the first day of school when I got back to my room and opened my door only to find that someone’s rooster had gotten inside my hut. My door, which was also supposed to be replaced before I got there, has huge gaps in it, and a rooster had just waltzed its way into the place. Because of my slightly irrational fear of birds and hatred of chickens I freaked out a little, and ran screaming into my host mom’s house to ask for help. She managed to get it out for me, but not before it had a chance to poop everywhere, including some of the only clothes I had managed to bring from Okahandja. Since that incident I’ve become very suspicious of the chickens that hang around my host family’s lapa, and don’t feel as guilty about eating them anymore.

After that the week was less exciting. I thought village life would be boring and I would have nothing to do most of the time but I’ve found that I’ve managed to fill up my days pretty completely, between school, after school lesson planning and activities, spending time with my host family and teaching all the kids in the village how to play uno (they love it, even though they pretty much made up their own rules and now I don’t really know how to play their version).

So, even though village life is definitely going to take getting used to it’s not that bad. The only things I really miss are being able to cook for myself (and eat cheese! Oh I miss cheese) and showers and indoor toilets, and having any privacy. In the village everyone knows what I’m doing every minute of the day. When I have my own house with a courtyard I think I’ll have a little more privacy.

Well, that’s pretty much it so far. I miss home and 2 years is starting to seem like a really long time, but hopefully by January I’ll be adjusted to my site and it will feel a little more like home away from home. And for those who want to experience life in a real African village visitors are always welcome!

Pictures! My host sister and baby in our lapa (courtyard)

Ok so I had a post typed up about my first week and a half at site but here in the volunteer lounge in Windhoek I can't get it to open with this version of word. So I'll try to come back and download it. But for now I'll just say this: Week 1 at site was hard. My site is definitely difficult. I don't have a pit latrine, my permanent house isn't ready, for now I live in a tiny hut with no windows and lots of spiders on the walls, and when its windy thatch blows down through my mosquito net and my bed gets covered in dirt. So I've had to get used to carrying water, having chickens break into my hut, bucket bathing and doing laundry by hand. Village life isn't easy, but then again, no one goes into Peace Corps thinking it's going to be easy! Although in some ways it's been more difficult than I thought. I think I'm really going to like Kabbe, once I get adjusted and have a place in the village.

And at home I rarely if every get sick, but my first wednesday at site I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't breathe, and since then I've had chest pains every day, and experienced really bad pains in my chest every time I try to swallow food or water. Which brings me to where I am now: sittin in the PC lounge in Windhoek. Clara, the Peace Corps Medical Officer wanted me to come down to check everything out and make sure it's nothing serious. It turns out to most likely be an adverse reaction to my malaria pills. Which is a relief, and soon I'll be back in Kabbe. For now I don't mind having a toilet and shower though!

So I'll write a more detailed post next time, with more pictures of my village!

Only one day of training left! On Friday we swear in as volunteers and then off we go to our permanent sites in all corners of Namibia. The Caprivi kids are leaving on Saturday, overnighting in Rundu and then heading to our villages on Sunday. Phewww.

Reflecting back on training, I wanted to write a post about something very important to me and I believe most other members of my training group. This is an issue very near and dear to my heart. Probably a main passion my in life, a source of joy and sorrow, and one of exceeding importance in navigating the delicate contours of adapting to a foreign culture: food.

Yes, food is a cultural touchstone that can make or break your experience in a foreign country. In many cases it defines the culture: tacos, lo mein, tiramisu, all conjure different images of certain locales. I know that many of you have probably already wondered, and I’m sure I’ll be asked eventually, so what is the food in Namibia like?

So for your benefit I’ve prepared a little description of Nam cuisine, although defining the food in Namibia in a holistic sense is a little tough, since Namibia as a whole is made up of several different ethnic groups, each with its own idea of what constitutes a good meal. Hereros, for example, love meat. A traditional Herero meal could be goat with porridge with sour milk. Yum. Oshiwambos eat Mopani worms, which are apparently big worms that they fry in oil to make crispy. When undercooked they have a bitter, squishy taste. I have yet to try. Every ethnic group eats porridge, which is boiled maize meal: kind of like very bland grits or polenta. The traditional way to eat porridge is to ball it up in your right hand and dip it into whatever meat, vegetable and sauce you happen to be eating it with. Every cultural group’s porridge is a little different. Oshiwambo and Kavango porridge is sandier, and has a softer consistency, so they don’t chew it, just swallow it whole.

Caprivians are fortunate enough to live next to the Zambezi river so they eat lots of fish, and it’s a fertile enough region to grow vegetables, particularly one called the 5 year vegetable, which is a type of bitter green, like spinach. In the village, for lunch and dinner, we usually eat porridge with fresh river fish, and either a sauce of onions and tomatoes or 5 year vegetable.

What I’ve given you so far is solely a description of traditional food. In my village people mostly stick to the traditional because they still cook in pots over the fire, and supplies are much less available than in towns where there are always at least one or two supermarkets (Spar in Okahandja has turned into my favorite place in the world). But the thing about Namibia is that as a result of colonization and “development” the food culture has changed over the years. And while families in towns will still prepare a traditional meal one or two days a week, the food as a whole has evolved to a strange mix of African, German and mayonnaise.

Let me explain. Somewhere along the line, something very strange happened to food in Namibia. And what we’ve ended up with is a love for “tomato sauce” (Nam ketchup), mayonnaise, and processed powdered soup packets that knows no bounds. This is a typical dinner at my house: Rice, pasta or porridge, chicken or another type of meat (lately oryx since I walked into my kitchen one day 2 weeks ago only to find my host mother hacking away at a giant oryx leg), soup packet, on top of which they will dump mayonnaise and tomato sauce. Sometimes we have pasta with mayonnaise, like pasta salad but warm, with soup packet. And tomato sauce. Sometimes we have pasta with mayonnaise and rice (why?). And sometimes to spice it up we’ll have salad: lettuce, drenched in a dressing of mayonnaise, sugar and milk. Which is also the same dressing recipe used for spaghetti with mayonnaise, carrot salad and potato salad. I’m not sure exactly why it makes sense to make spaghetti with mayonnaise (+sugar and milk, just in case you were worried about being able to button your pants at some point after training), cut up a hard boiled egg and put some peas and carrots in it, serve it warm, and then to top it off pour soup over it, but that’s how we do in Namibia. Oh, and the other amazing thing about mayonnaise in Namibia: it doesn’t need to be refrigerated. We’re not sure how this works, since it still says clearly on the label to refrigerate after opening, but in every household the mayo is kept in the cupboard. Oh, and for some reason, the only food on which mayonnaise isn’t appropriate is sandwiches: butter goes on every type of sandwich. (side note: they also put butter on peanut butter sandwiches, due to some kind of miscommunication somewhere where peanut butter is the peanut part, and then…well, I think you get it).

So, to finish it off, here’s a random sample of food we volunteers have been given by our families:

Macaroni salad with fruit cocktail

Biltong (Nam beef jerkey) with gravy and potatoes

Cold baked beans with sliced banana (that was my mom – the next day we had it again with cooked carrots, and she informed me that she just loves this kind of “salad”)

Wart hog

Oryx

Goat brain

So there it is. I could go on and on about food but this is just a taste of local cuisine. Oh Namibia, how I love thee. But after my two years here I hope to never see a jar of mayonnaise again.

I wrote this post a few days ago but haven’t been able to wake up at 1 for internet before now. So it’s a little outdated but still good, don’t worry.

Hello again! Now that I have internet I can post blogs all the time…so exciting! Don’t get too used to it though because I’m not sure what my internet will be like at site since Kabbe doesn’t get the best cell reception. I kind of have to stand in one corner of my hut to hear anything, which is kind of creepy because I don’t like to stand in my hut in the dark just in case there might be lizards and snakes and things running around my feet. Eek.

Well I’ve been back from site visit for 2 weeks and now I have less than 2 weeks until I leave for my permanent site, which is insanity. On the one hand I’m ready for training to be over because I am starting to get really tired of the sessions. Every morning we have 4 hours of language training which is extremely draining. Then after lunch we usually have some kind of cross cultural or technical session, which are usually terrible because it’s 90 degrees, the presentations are given by Namibians who usually speak quickly and mumble, and they’re on subjects like the history of education in Namibia. It’s a struggle to stay awake. I think I’m going to be really sad when training is over though because I’m really going to miss the other PCVs in my group. I love the volunteers in Caprivi, so I’ll have awesome people to hang out with on weekends, but I’m really going to miss the folks from group 30 who are going to be all over the country and nowhere close to me. Time is really going by fast though! I’ve been in Namibia for 6 weeks already. Only 2 years to go…

For the past 2 Saturdays we haven’t had any training sessions so we decided to free hike down to Windhoek to do a little shopping and eat some great food. We found the best Indian restaurant in Windhoek last week which I am definitely hitting up every time I’m in town, and then we went to the movies and saw Up. I’m going to miss going to the movies once I get to site…it’s one of my absolute favorite things to do. Getting back to Okahandja last week was quite an adventure. We didn’t want to spend money on a taxi, being poor volunteers who just spent about 10 days worth of PC allowance on Indian food and a movie, so we decided to free hike back to Okahandja. We left the mall at around 5 and started to walk to the hike point. We weren’t really sure where we were going so we followed signs to the B1 in Okahandja. We walked, and walked, and walked, and walked, and then realized that we were going the wrong way. Whoops. So we doubled back and walked and walked and walked some more, and realized we were cutting it pretty close by getting to the hike point so late. So we flagged down a car that dropped us off at the hike point and started attempting to wave cars down. The only ones that stopped weren’t going to Okahandja or were taxis that wouldn’t leave when we told them we didn’t want to pay for a ride (In weird PCV Nam talk: “But we are only volunteers, and we are not having money.”) Finally we started to get a little worried so we texted Raymond, our super dreamy safety and security officer and secret boyfriend of every female PCV in Namibia, for the number for a cab. I guess he got kind of worried that we were in Windhoek so close to nightfall because he asked where we were and said he was coming to find us. Well, the PC policy on free-hiking is “don’t do it” so we definitely didn’t want Raymond to know we were at the free hike spot so we started frantically walking to a spot that wasn’t the hike point, even though we were basically busted because there’s nothing in that part of Windhoek except the highway. As we started walking an open back bakkie (pick up truck) pulled over with 2 very nice drivers who let all 7 of us pile into the back. Well, if free hiking doesn’t exactly jibe with PC policy, riding in an open bakkie is also one of those “don’t do it” rules. We texted Raymond to tell him we “found a taxi” and just imagined what he would do if he rolled up and saw us pulling away in this open bakkie. He would break up with us for sure. PC policy or not it was a great ride and completed an awesome day.

Today the Peace Corps combi was driving down to Windhoek to drop off 2 current volunteers who are leaving in December for their COS (close of service) medical interviews, so we decided to take a ride with them and then free hike back, for no other reason than that we were bored in Okahandja and wanted some more food that’s good good and not just “Namgood.” Namgood is phrase used to describe food that would be mediocre at best in our normal lives in America, but here in Namibia we chow down with gusto. For example, today I stopped at Hungry Lion, a fast food restaurant, to get some soft serve ice cream. A small ice cream cone was N$2.40, so about 30 US cents. And even though it was supposed to be vanilla but it tasted like banana, and it had a texture that was not really akin to ice cream, it was one awesome ice cream cone: Namgood. We have all found that our standards have definitely been lowered. Food like processed cheese slices that we would never eat in the states are now beloved PCV staples, and volunteers even admit to breaking apart chicken bones to suck out the marrow like our Namibian host families. To be honest I think we would eat anything that was put in front of us. And Namgood doesn’t only apply to food. Namibian TV also falls into the Namgood category. Most volunteers have become obsessed Namibian soapies. I don’t even notice the weird dubbing of “Lorenzo’s wife,” and the acting seems really good now. Namgood.

So today we got some Italian food that was even American good. Like I said before as PCVs we eat anything that isn’t nailed down. I eat so much more here than I do in the states, which is ironic because most people feel sorry for you when you go into the Peace Corps and assume you’re going to come back to America emaciated. Not so. But, once I get to my village I’ll be eating nothing but buhobe and fish, which I’m sure I’ll grow to love in a Namgood way, but I won’t have junk food readily available. So I figure I might as well enjoy the ice cream and candy bars now… Oh and speaking of food I made chocolate chip cookies for my host family and they loved loved loved them. So if you ever find yourself baking for a Namibian definitely go for the chocolate chip cookies.

Ok so It’s taken me forever to post this blog so it’s a little outdated since site visit happened 2 weeks ago, but you’ll probably still find it interesting if you think my life in Namibia is interesting…but now I’ll hopefully be much better about posting blogs because I have INTERNET on my COMPUTER!!! The way this works is that I bought a phone with internet which is how I’ve been checking my email (so write me some emails please!) and then I bought a Bluetooth USB port to connect Bluetooth on my phone to my laptop so I can use internet as much as I want! The only thing is that internet eats up my phone minutes. All of the cellphones here are pay as you go, so you buy a phone and a sim card, and then you buy minutes as you need them. SMSing (texting) is basically free, especially if you have the special MTC plan where if you send one sms a day the next 100 are free. So most PCVs just sms each other rather than calling, which is 2 dollars a minute. BUT internet is free from 1-5 am, so my strategy is to go to sleep at 10 or whatever (PC has made me lame) and wake up at 1 to upload blogs and send emails and try to download pictures. So I’ll be more sleep-deprived but better connected. I hope you appreciate and return the favor! Emails are always fun and brighten my day!

Last Saturday all of group 30 dispersed throughout the country to go for our permanent site visits. Before we left we were warned by more than one current volunteer that this week is the most challenging of our entire service. I can’t be sure that times won’t get more difficult in the coming 2 years (actually I’m positive that they will), but this week was definitely rough at times. We left Saturday morning, and Eastern Caprivi (where all of the Caprivi kids’ villages are) being as far away from Okahandja as you can get in Namibia, we left at 6 am to meet our supervisors in Rundu, who drove us the rest of the way. On the way from Rundu to Katima we had car trouble, which seems to be a running theme in all of my travels in Africa. So we had to stop at a filling station in Divundu for almost 2 hours, and then drive 60 k/hour with frequent stops to restart the car. The trip from Rundu to Katima took a good 8 or 9 hours, and the whole trip took almost 16. Eesh. Getting to Windhoek from site is not going to be easy. All of the Caprivi strip out to Kongola is national park though, so we saw plenty of animals on the side of the road, including an elephant which ran in front of our car, a herd of African buffalo and a hyena.

Since we got to Katima so late we ended up staying the night at Kaitlin, a current volunteer’s, house, and we went out for a very strange and awkward dinner at a lodge in Katima. The owner of the lodge, a very drunk, old Afrikaans man, who has what one might say a soft spot for female pcvs put aside food for us, which was nice of him, but then proceeded to sit down with us while we ate making offensive comments, and demanding that we go behind the bar to serve ourselves drinks. It was rather strange, but oh well.

On Sunday we hung out with Kaitlin and Ashley, another pcv who lives in Andrew’s village, Lusese, and waited for Andrew’s principal to drive us to our villages. I ended up getting to Kabbe at around 4 in the afternoon. Kabbe is about 50 kilometers from Katima, and it is definitely a very rural, traditional African village. There’s one brick house next to the school, where the principal lives, but everyone else lives in mud huts with thatch or corrugated iron roofs. My permanent house, or hut, I should say, which is still being constructed, will be right on school property, which is where most of the teachers stay. My homestay is a little further from the school, in another section of the village.

The first night was definitely awkward. I was exhausted, and a little shell-shocked at being dropped off in this village by myself and my host family was also a little confused as to what to do with this American. I’m the first volunteer at my site, so my community is not used to having a foreigner or a white person around. So I ate dinner with my family: buhobe (porridge) and fish, with miloho (green vegetables), which we ate sitting in our courtyard outside the house, on a mat, with our hands. Women have to eat while sitting on mats, and they also must wear shitenges while eating. Men are allowed to sit in chairs, and also must eat before the women, but there are no men in my family. After eating I took a bucket bath (the only means of showering in the village) and my host mom showed me where I was sleeping – which was in the main hut, in her room, in her bed even. Ummm, definitely not peace corps regulations. According to PC all volunteers have to have their own rooms. I didn’t really know how to handle the situation, and I was afraid of offending my host mom, who I was having some trouble communicating with, so I called my APCD and asked him if this was really what the program is. He said no, and asked to speak to my host mother, and managed to convey to her that I need to have my own room on the homestead. There’s another smaller hut in the courtyard, which was supposed to be my room, but I think the problem is that there was no bed to put in there, and no electricity, which there was in the main hut. I ended up staying the night in her room, and moving into my own hut the next morning. She even moved her bed into my hut, which made me feel pretty uncomfortable.

All right, so once that awkwardness was resolved, I started getting ready for bed, and realized I hadn’t seen a bathroom, and by bathroom I mean pit latrine, anywhere in the village. Uhh what? I smsed Kaitlin and said I had no pit latrine, and where do people go to the bathroom? She basically replied that people go, um, anywhere they feel like it, and my host mom confirmed this by telling me to just “pass water” in the bathing area. Uhh no thanks. I’ll wait for my pit latrine to be constructed…So basically I didn’t have an accessible bathroom all week (there is one at the school, which was a bit of a ways from my homestay and not convenient enough for me to use whenever I wanted. Not to mention my host mom was so worried about doing something wrong or me getting lost in my village, even though my village is super tiny and I can see the school from my courtyard, that she wouldn’t let me walk anywhere by myself). Also, to make matters worse I realized I left the water filter Kamwanga snagged from the Peace Corps office in Rundu in Steven’s car, so I had no way to filter water and I was pretty sure the water in Caprivi isn’t safe to drink. In any case I didn’t want to risk it not having a pit latrine and all. Not surprisingly not having water or a bathroom added some stress to my already stressful week. I have been assured by my APCD, the acting principal at the school and my counterparts that my pit latrine is under construction and will DEFINITELY be finished by October when I get to site permanently. Peace Corps also promised to give me a clean water filter, since the one I finally got from the back of Steven’s car was filthy and leaks. So I have high hopes for my site if they can manage to pull everything together. Apparently Caprivians are hard to motivate though, and they need lots of nagging to get stuff done.

So aside from not having a pit latrine or water, and thus teetering between peeing my pants all the time and passing out from dehydration, my site visit went smoothly enough. I managed to observe some classes, and my school is really the highlight of my site. It’s very new, with a Teacher Resource Center, brand new computer lab and some of the best teachers in the region. There is definitely room for improvement, which is where I come in, but I’m excited to start teaching and I’ve already thought of a few secondary projects to get started on (like a school library for one). And I think I’m really fortunate that the teachers and particularly women at the school have already made an effort to get to know me. Two of the young women teachers at my school even took me for a walk, and I absolutely love the school secretary. I’m glad I’ve started to bond with women, because the other female pcvs in my region said that was the most important but most difficult thing to do. Living with a host family also helps with that I think.

On Wednesday, my last full day at the village, my counterparts took me for a walk to introduce me to the community so they could see who I was and get used to a white person living in the village for 2 years, and also hopefully to prove that I exist so they finish building my permanent house and pit latrine. It was good to practice my Silozi, and most villagers were happy that I was trying, even though I definitely couldn’t understand anything beyond greetings. Also Subea is the native tongue in my village, and Silozi is taught in schools as a second language, so I’m going to have to learn some Subea. The Caprivi is still very traditional. When you greet someone who clap your hands twice, bend down to show respect, especially to older people, say the appropriate greeting for the time of day, shake hands Namibian style, then clap twice more. I also should have been wearing my traditional shitenge, which I’m going to have to wear whenever I’m in the village when I’m not at school. I’m going to get a very traditional African experience in Kabbe, which I’m really happy about. My site definitely has its challenges, hopefully some of which alleviated when my village is actually ready for me, but I know there will be many more. Even so, I think it’s going to be really great once I feel like I’m part of the community and I know a little more of the language. And I’m super excited for my permanent hut. I just hope they finish it in time…

On Thursday after school I went back to Katima to meet up with Andrew and Sarah and the other volunteers in Caprivi. As much as I think I’ll be really happy at my site it was still a relief to be away from it after this week, and to be back to accessible toilets and clean, drinkable water. A few of the volunteers took us out for amazing milkshakes in Katima, and then afterwards we went to our consolidation point, which is our meeting place in case something like political unrest or flooding happens and they have to consolidate all the Caprivi volunteers into one place. Our consolidation point happens to be a super beautiful lodge right on the Zambezi river, right across from Zambia, that has a pool! We bought beers and swam in the pool, which was amazing . Then we went back to Kaitlin’s house and made dinner that wasn’t buhobe and fish, and was super tasty.

On Friday we got a ride to Rundu, where we met up with Stewart and Alex, 2 pcvs from our group, and we also got to meet a bunch of current of volunteers staying in and near Rundu. We had a group dinner which was great. I’m looking forward to spending a lot of time in Rundu: Caprivi kids go to Rundu a lot for holidays and just to get out of Caprivi once in a while, since it’s our closest Namibian neighbor.

On Saturday we had to get back to Okahandja. Okay, so a word on transport in Namibia. Basically there are two ways to get around. One is to take combis, which are basically minibuses that go from one point to another, so they’re kind of like taxis or buses except that they won’t leave unless they’re full. So if you’re the first one into one you’re likely to wait for hours waiting for it to fill up with passengers before it will leave. And by full I don’t mean every seat is filled. Oh no, full means African full, like packed in so tightly that people are hanging out the windows. Combis will get you where you need to go, but they’re often dangerous because the driver is usually tired and maybe even drinking, and you’ll wait forever for it to leave and get you where you need to be.

The second way to get from point A to point B is to free hike. Free hiking is hitch-hiking, but it’s somewhat more reliable and organized in Namibia than in America. There are designated hike points to go to if you want a ride, and the way you signal for a ride is to raise your hand in the air and kind of wave it around. The higher your hand is the farther you’re going, and there are even hand signals cars will do back if they don’t feel like stopping, to signal that they’re only driving around town etc. Since there were 5 of us we decided to try our hands at free hiking. We got to the hike point in Rundu at around 7:30, but learned that this was kind of a lull time and we should have gotten out by 6 to get a ride straight to Okahandja. Since I’m a girl and cars are more likely to stop for me (sorry Beth McCoy and Alice Rutkowski, and any other women studies professors who might be reading this) I took full advantage of my little girl in need appeal to stand out front while the guys hid on the side of the road, and managed to get quite a few to pull over. Unfortunately car after car wasn’t going where we needed to go. Finally we got a guy going to Grootfontein to stop, so we got a ride to there, about 270 ks south of Rundu. From Groot we met up with another PCV who helped us flag down a car going to Otjiwarango, and from Otjiwarango we got a ride to Okahandja. So all together it took about 11 hours to get from Rundu to Okahandja, including our time waiting at hike points for rides. But it was definitely more fun than being crammed into a smelly combi!

So that’s my awesome site visit adventure! I think I’m going to like Peace Corps 

ps. I tried posting pictures again but the connection is so slow and I'm almost out of free internet time. So I'll try again soon, I promise.

I’ve been in Namibia for a little over 2 weeks now, and things are starting to settle down into a routine. Last week I moved in with a host family in town, and they’re great. I thought living with a host family was going to be one of the most awkward things about Peace Corps, but it’s really not so bad. I have a great Ima (mom) 4 sisters and a 3 year old nephew, and I get along with everyone really well. So my schedule for training is Monday through Friday awake by 6:15, training sessions from 8 to 5, dinner around 6 followed by quality Namibian TV, and in bed by 9:30. Wild and crazy adventures? Not yet. My life here is much more comfortable than I think most PCVs brace themselves for (hot running water, electricity, toilets, TV), but I guess I’ll live it up now since once I get to my permanent site up in the Caprivi I probably won’t have any of those amenities.

TV especially is one of the funniest things about Namibia. For one thing everyone in the country LOVES soap operas, which they call soapies, and the favorite one is called “Lorenzo’s Wife” which is a Spanish soap opera dubbed really poorly into English, and broadcast on network Namibian TV. It’s so random, but it’s great in a really terrible way. Right now my host family is watching Big Brother Africa, which is the big TV event. They have 14 contestants and one is Namibian. Tonight is the first episode and the lead in to the actual episode has been going on for 4 hours. Watching TV every night is probably not one of the things I was expecting to be doing when I joined peace corps.

This weekend we had a cultural celebration at the center, and each language group cooked traditional food over open fires, and trainers wore their traditional dress. We got there at 7 am to cook before it got too hot (it gets HOT by midday and it’s not even summer yet!) and each group cooked a few dishes. We got live chickens which we slaughtered (I didn’t participate in that part, being too close to vegetarianism) and we had goat heads galore. At the Silozi table we made 5 year vegetable which are kind of like collard greens, fresh river fish from the Zambezi, traditional porridge (pretty much every ethnic group in Namibia makes it: it’s ground maize meal, kind of like cream of wheat or polenta), roasted ground nuts, which were actually just peanuts, and sweet potato. We went down a line with our plates and got food piled on from each group and by the end I had a plate piled SO high with food I could barely eat a third of what I had. Some wondrous items that made it on my plate include goat stomach, lung and intestines, 3 different kinds of porridge, lots of beans…just a whole mess of food. I also tried traditional Herero sour milk which actually wasn’t as gross as I thought it would be. My favorites were the Silozi greens and fat cakes, which are basically fried sweet rolls…so good, but you can feel the grease sitting on your stomach after you eat one. I’m excited for my Caprivi diet: it’s much more fertile in that region than the rest of Namibia, so I’ll be able to keep a garden for fresh veggies. I’m also excited to start eating a little healthier, since I’ve found that Namibians are quite fond of mayonnaise and put it on everything.

Hmm, so, more about the training schedule. We start at 8, and we have singing and dancing for the first 15 or 20 minutes which is probably my favorite part of the day. After that we have language classes from 8:30 to 1. Uggh. I’m learning Silozi, which is not going so well. Trying to learn a language enough to become conversant in it in 2 months is definitely frustrating. We’ll see how much I know when I leave in October…hopefully I’ll be able to pick up a lot in my first few weeks at site. In the afternoons we have different sessions about health and safety and cultural integration so we can stay healthy and integrate into our sites during the next 2 years. Other than that I’ve just been getting to know the other trainees and training staff which has been a lot of fun. Everyone is great and it’s nice to have other people around to soak everything in with.

On Wednesday we find out our permanent sites. I’m one of the few that’s known what region I’m ending up in, because my language group is so small, but on Wednesday I’ll finally find out which village in Caprivi I’ll be headed to. We have it narrowed down to three, so it’s just a question of which of us are going to each village. My host mom told me today that she wants me to go to Bukalo because it’s closest to Katima Mulilo, the town in Caprivi, and I might have electricity and maybe even a brick house. My host fam is shocked that they’re sending me to a village, and I’m not sure they believe in my ability to handle village life. My host mom grew up in Mpalila, which is an island in the Zambezi that touches Botswana, Zimbabwe and Zambia, but my sisters grew up in towns so never had to live in a village. It’s definitely going to be an adjustment at first to get used to carrying water and living in a mud hut and cooking on a fire but I think I’ll get used to it pretty quickly. A PCV in Caprivi came to our festival on Saturday and gave us some good advice about getting used to village life, such as to hang up fabric to keep worms from falling through the thatch roof in the rainy season and to be careful when running because I might startle an elephant and it’ll trample me (don’t worry about anything happening to me while running though…I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen in the next 2 years). I’m really excited to get to that part of the country though. I think it’s going to be awesome.

So all in all it’s been a pretty great 2 weeks and I’m really excited for the next two years! Exhausted, but excited. And hey, send me your address if you want postcards!

Mu siyale hande! Peace out.

Ps. So i have some really awesome pictures from our lunch the other day that I'm trying to upload but it's taking a reeeeally long time, so that might just have to wait. Sorry!

Greetings from Namibia!

(I apologize in advance for the disorganization and ramblingness of this post. My head is still spinning a little bit)

We’ve been at the training site since Friday, after a little bit of a hectic experience at the airport. Basically, we were supposed to take a 9:40 flight and some of us (the first 10 in the alphabet) got bumped to a later flight at 1:20. So my group arrived in Windhoek and the site 4 hours later than everyone else so we missed the original welcome song and dance which was a little disappointing. But, luckily we sing Namibian songs every morning, so it’s not too disappointing.

Right now we’re living in a hostel at our training site, and we’ve spent the last 3 days in preliminary training activities and lectures and our free time hanging out and getting to know each other. Even though it’s only been a week since staging in D.C. I can honestly say that every single person in Nam 30 is awesome. Everyone is so funny and open; it feels like being in college but being friends with every person in your freshman class. I can sit down and have a hilarious, honest conversation with anyone and find several things in common with each person. I kind of wish we could all keep living at the hostel during training, but on Friday we move in with host families in the area, in order to become integrated into the customs and culture of Namibia and to become immersed in our local language.

Tomorrow we start language training which is what I’m most excited about so far, partly because I’m extremely excited to start learning an African language, and also because this will be the first major indication of where in the country we’re going to be placed. PC/Namibia is changing the structure of the program this year in several ways. Firstly, in the past groups either went to the northern parts of Namibia, which is more homogenous and less westernized (i.e. less likely to have a western style house, electricity, running water, etc.) or the south, which is more diverse economically and in terms of race, and more “developed.” Since the last group of education volunteers went to the north, my group in the past would all be placed in the south, with maybe a few going to the Caprivi strip, which is the most rural you can get (the Caprivi strip is the little strip of land that goes between Botswana and Zambia along the Zambezi river). But, my group is being sent to all 13 regions, with a very wide range of accommodations. We have 18 English, 6 math teachers, 5 science teachers and 4 computer science teachers. Since there were so many English teachers our APCD read out the list of schools, what they were looking for, how big/small they are, how rural/urban the setting is, and what kind of accommodations we would receive. The other education sectors’ choices were mostly limited to urban or semi-urban areas, but for English teachers the choices were very diverse: some of them were schools in extremely rural areas where you live in a hut without electricity or running water, and some of them were in cities with internet at the school and full western style flats with electricity, shower, etc. Then, after hearing the choices we each wrote down 3 choices and then interviewed with our APCD about what we want, what our skills are etc.

So, I naturally picked the sites with huts, most likely no running water or electricity, and in the middle of nowhere (although hopefully only 20 ks from another PCV and the nearest town). I’m not sure if I’m going to get any of my choices but I’m pretty sure that would be awesome, although I’m not sure why. I would really be fine with anything, but I would rather be in a rural area where I would be forced to learn and use the local language and really challenge myself to adapt physically to my environment(although anywhere you’re placed in Namibia is a challenge and you have to adapt yourself in different ways.) I won’t find out what site I get until 2 weeks from now(!) but tomorrow at least I’ll know what language I’m learning so that will give me general idea of the region. We’re learning one of six languages: Oshindonga, Afrikaans, Silozi, Rukwangali, Otjiherero, and Khoekhoegowab (a click language spoken by the bushmen).

Sunday was my birthday, and I must say that I had a really amazing birthday thanks to my wonderful co-trainees. They even bought me a slice of cake from spar and sang happy birthday at dinner, and gave me wonderful Namibian gifts (such as meringue cookies and good pens from home. Which actually aren’t Namibian). The trainers sang me happy birthday in 3 different languages on Saturday too, thinking my birthday was that day, and then one of them sang to me in Oshiwambo at dinner on Sunday. I thought being away from home on my birthday might be hard, but actually it was fabulous. I love Namibia and I’m so happy to be here with all these great people. It feels like really cool summer camp. I guess we’ll see how it feels as training goes on…

Anyway, anyone at home who’s reading this…love ya! Miss ya! But probably not enough to ever come home…just kidding…

UPDATE

I found out what language I'm learning and it's Silozi, which means I'm going to the Caprivi strip, which is as rural as you can get! Basically I won't have electricity, running water and I'll be very very immersed in the culture. the culture is very different from the rest of namibia as well, and it's much greener and lush than the rest of namibia. There's also wildlife aka wild elephants roaming around and poisonous snakes which is kind of terrifying but oh well....

I'll update more later because for now I have to go. See ya!!

Just a quick post to update since I'm almost out of internet time:

So far Peace Corps is awesome, Nam 30 is a group of 33 wonderful, funny, down to earth people...we possibly fulfill the peace corps stereotype but it's a good thing! We just got to Joburg today and arrive at Windhoek tomorrow afternoon! I can't wait to see what the training facilities are going to be like.

Ok, almost out of internet time, so I'll update when I can in Namibia!

My flight to staging is in about 8 hours, my bags are packed (even though at this point I don't even remember what's in them anymore) and I'm going to enjoy my last few hours unwinding with Brian and a gin and tonic. I'm going through moments of panic and calm, mostly because it doesn't really feel like I'm leaving tomorrow. Most of the panicked moments come with trying to shove a few more things into my bags, which are just about 80 lbs (maybe a couple pounds over, but I'm hoping it won't matter too much...)

So anyway, the next time you hear from me I'll probably be in Namibia, but if I get a chance to post while still in the states I might. Folks from home, please send me your address so I can send postcards and letters. I'll miss you all, and I love everyone in my life so much. Leaving is so hard, but I wouldn't be able to if I didn't have the support of all my friends and family.

You'll be hearing from me soon. But for now, peace out.

Hey all,

I booked my flight to staging yesterday and now it really feels like it’s happening! Ahh commence nervous breakdown. No, just kidding. Actually I feel surprisingly calm and less freaked out than I thought I would. I still have 4 weeks for it all to set in though. I think at this point it’s Peace Corps or bust though, I’ve been talking about doing this for so long and been delayed enough. Nam or die!!

So, here are the details: I fly out of Burlington, VT at 7:17 am on Tuesday, August 18th, and arrive in Washington D.C., after a stopover in Philly, at 10:49. Staging is basically a one day intensive orientation where we become official PC trainees. Schedule for training looks like this:

August 18th

1:30: Registration, hand in 5039594 pages of paperwork I have to fill out beforehand (so far all Peace Corps activities have consisted of filling out paperwork. I might be in for a boring 2 years).

3-7: Meetings and info sessions, covering Peace Corps mission and background, anxieties and aspirations for service, risk management and reflection on commitment to service.

August 19th:

8:00: Checkout of hotel.

8:30: Go to clinic for vaccinations (not actually sure what shots I need for Namibia. I do think I have to take malaria pills for 2 years. I’m not sure what the side effects are for taking malaria pills for 2 years straight aside from the regular side effects of nightmares, sexy dreams and nausea/lightheadedness. While taking meflium 2 years ago I fell down the stairs at a hookah bar in Cape Town and then basically passed out on the street until my dear friends gave me a chocolate bar and a bottle of water. Side effect could also be due to not eating all day and smoking too much hookah).

5:40: Flight to Joburg takes off! The flight is 17 hours 40 minutes long. Yes, that is a very long flight. But I’ve already flown to Joburg twice, once when I studied abroad in ’07 and then when I went back after graduation in summer ’08. Actually this time it’s not so bad because we spend the night in Joburg and then fly to Windhoek the next day, as opposed to the last 2 times when we landed and I had to catch connecting flights, either to Cape Town or Port Elizabeth. Or my flight back to the US 2 years ago, when I had to do the whole thing in reverse with a wicked hangover. Try lugging 2 overweight suitcases, a laptop case and a ridiculously heavy backpack across half the world while trying not to puke up a R14 bottle of wine (approx 2 US$ aka NOT GOOD) and countless SA beers. Ha! This time I’m packing light.

Speaking of which they also included a packing advisory sheet which said not to bring more than 80 pounds, but I looked up the baggage limitations for US Air and it said 50 lbs per bag were allowed so I might risk it. Or not, since I have to lug those bags all over Africa (hopefully not hungover, but we’ll see).

I was told I need to have a going away party so it’s going to be August 7th in NYC, at an undetermined restaurant/bar. If you can make it, yay! If not, see you in 2 years. Or, better yet, come to Namibia. There are really cool sand dunes. And me! For the next 2 years at least…

So, going against my very nature, I started the packing process for Namibia about a month ago. And by that I mean I typed up a packing list, bought a backpack and hiking boots at Campmor and haven’t had any time to think about packing since then. But now that I’m unemployed and my life has become infinitely more boring since I was coerced by my parents to spend the month of July in Vermont (hopefully with a week spent WWOOFing in Plattsburgh with Brian!) I’ll be getting into shopping and packing for my trip hardcore. So, without further ado, here is my rough packing list, as compiled from the advice given in the Namibia Welcome Book, stalking other volunteers’ blogs and advice from current volunteers in Namibia.

Packing List:

Clothes:

*Casual dresses for work: 2 or 3

Formal dress: 1

*Skirts for work: 2 or 3

*pants for work: 2

Jeans: 1

*Shorts/Capri to mid-knee: 2 or 3

*Blouses for work: 4 or 5

T-shirts: 4 or 5

Sweaters: 2 or 3

Fleece

Hat, scarf, gloves

Rain Coat

Casual sandals of good quality: 1

*Sandals, comfortable shoes for work: 1

Sneakers: 1

Hiking boots: 1

Flip Flops: (maybe)

Bathing suit and sarong

Pajamas

Sweatpants

Toiletries:

Sunscreen

Face/Body Lotion

Enough shampoo/conditioner, soap, toothpaste etc. for 5 weeks

Tampons

Deoderant

Nail clippers

tweezers

Electronics:

*Laptop

*USB port

Ipod

*Ipod speakers

*digital camera

*shortwave radio

Miscellaneous:

Batteries (AA, rechargeable)

*Solar charger

Duct Tape

*Watch + spare watch

*Swiss army knife

*Flashlight, extra bulbs

US stamps

Envelopes

*2 water bottles

Stationary

Converter

Books!

Candle lantern

Dvds

Pictures

Gifts for my host family

Sleeping bag

Backpack

*Daypack

Games: Uno, travel sized games, playing cards

Seeds (for a garden)

*Full size flat sheets

(The starred items are those I still have to get)

If any past or present volunteers in Namibia come across this post and want to help a sister out by giving some pointers I would be much obliged.

Less than two months. In less than two months I’ll be living across an ocean. I’ll be a 30+ hour plane trip away from my family and friends, the support system I was born into and have cultivated in my nearly 23 year existence. I’ll be living in a country the name of which many can’t remember or pronounce, on a continent that for many has only shady or romanticized meanings. I’ll be living without most of the amenities that I consider necessities in my daily life in the US. I’ll be striking out completely on my own, with only 80 pounds of belongings strapped to my back, and I won’t be coming back for 2 years.

Am I nervous? Well, yes. I’m terrified, thanks for asking. Even though I’ve read the blogs, read the books, read the 8 trillion pages of paperwork that came with my invitation kit (well, most of those pages…) I still don’t really know what to expect. I don’t quite know what I’ve gotten myself into. I had a conversation recently with a friend who got a tattoo and then later that night had a moment of panic thinking “oh my god, I got a tattoo! Why did I do that!!!” I’d be lying if I told you that I never had moments in the past month since I got my invitation where all I could think to myself was “Holy s***, you joined the f***ing peace corps!! Why the f*** did you go and do that?????” (those of you who know me might be surprised that my inner monologue is such a potty mouth) I have nights where I lie awake paralyzed by anxieties about everything from packing to what my site is going to be like and in those moments it’s hard to wonder whether or not I’m making a huge mistake.

But then again, there are nights where I lie awake thinking about how excited I am to learn a new language, thinking about the traveling I’m going to be doing, thinking about everything I already love about Africa, the things that exasperate me but that I grew to love and appreciate in my time there. I think about how 2 years ago I stepped off the plane from Jo’burg at JFK and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to go back. I think about the people I’m going to help and the good I’m hopefully going to do. And in those moments, I wonder how I’m ever going to get everything done in 2 years, how, when the time comes, I’m ever going to be able to get back on the plane to take me away from Africa, to take me home.

And yes, I worry far too much, but that’s the way I am, it can’t be helped. So yes, I am nervous. But I’m also so excited and so so happy to have the opportunity to do this. And even despite those moments of doubt I feel sure of my decision that I’m doing the right thing, that I can handle this, that I will learn how to do this. When I tell people I joined the Peace Corps many folks tell me that I’m doing something extraordinary, something that they could never do. Well, I’m not extraordinary, not in the least. I’m maybe a little crazy but hey, you knew that already. I’m just pretty sure I’ll be able to take what Namibia throws at me just as I’ve been pretty good at taking life in stride in the past. And so, if you were wondering if I’m ready to go to Namibia the answer is yes. As soon as I figure out what in the world to pack.

Welp, it looks like I'm headed back to Southern Africa for my two-year stint with Peace Corps! I'm going to Namibia! I really was not expecting to be assigned there considering the nomination I got a year ago was to teach English in a French-speaking country in Sub-Saharan Africa. I leave for orientation August 19th and start in-country training August 21st -- two days before my 23rd birthday! During my eight week in country training I'll get language training, professional training, culture training and snake-killing training (I hope). Then I'll be assigned a village and a host family with whom I'll live for three months, and I get two weeks of teacher training in my school, then it's two years plunked down in a rural Namibian village.

I have three months to get ready and say goodbye to everyone I know, which I know are going to fly by, so if you want to see me before I leave make plans (I'll be at NYC Pride June 28th to start)! I also have to start packing and ahhhhh I have NO idea where to begin. Help help help!!!

So, yeah this blog is going to be where I update on my life and adventures while abroad so you can read and comment and not forget that I exist, thought I'd start it now so y'all could get an idea of the Peace Corps process from the relative beginning (I started the application over a year and a half ago now, and got my nomination June 11, 2008, so yeah, relative beginning).

Love love,

Ems