So while I'm in the blogging mood... Aside from that funeral, term 2 went well and fast. There's so much thats happened! Camp GLOW (girls and guys leading our world) was a major development. Volunteers from around the country nominate their brightest students to participate in a 7 day leadership camp. I was on the planning committee and in charge of one of the days of camp. My day was gender awareness and team building, hands down the most fun day. The team building aspect was turned into an olympic style theme. Tons of team spirit! We had 8 teams of 10 and the students were well mixed by region and language, so they had to make an effort. We started the day with opening ceremonies where the guys wore toga's and I had on a shetenge (pics on fb). They did a balloon relay, a scavenger hunt and a 4x4 wood walking relay. They had a blast. These activities were placed in between the gender awareness sessions. They talked about stereotypes and how to live outside of them, there's a gender birds eye view activity where they can listen to how the opposite gender views them, and the 4 corner activity that encourages them to take a stand on an issue and defend their stance. So all in all, a balanced day. Closing ceremonies took place at night. We lit the torch and our background music was the monday night football theme, so it was real intense. It was awesome. Each team came to me and lit their teams candle. We handed out prizes to the top 3 teams for the olympics and to a 4th team for spirit. The next day of camp was hiv/aids day, which included condom demonstrations where each child got to practice putting one on a wooden penis. Other days included a career fair, field trip to the parliament buildings and unam. The kids had a blast, I'd definitely say it was a success. The middle of term 2 was the Dirty 30s COS conference, close of service. A 2 day conference to talk about what you've done and whats next. About 6 people from my group are extending for a year, including Shannon and Julie, lovelies I've mentioned before. It seems about another 15 are travelling for a few months and the rest of us are heading home, usually for job or grad school purposes. The following 2 days was our All Volunteer Conference, with all the volunteers in Nam. They put us up in a nice hotel and we ate buffet style for 8 meals. Dope. We used that time to celebrate 50th anniversary of peace corps. Right after camp glow term 3 started. We're about a month in now.

Finally home. Its been a crazy day! So the regional celebration for

arbor day is taking place here tomorrow. The governor and everybody

else is supposed to be here. So instead of school they just made the

kids clean the school, which included picking weeds from the ground,

some of which are as large as high bushes, raking sand, cleaning

windows and a series of other manual labor tasks. The boys kept coming

up to me complaining about the work, even though I wasn't instructing

them to do anything. I just sat around with my girls and had some

pretty intense conversations. One of them was called out about

sneaking out of the hostel to go meet her boyfriend and how she

doesn't like to wear condoms because they make her break out. She's in

6th grade. So now I'm on a search for free latex-free condoms that

she'll have continuous access to. There's a lot of older boys living

in the area, but they're all drop-outs, so I'm tellin them like, stay

with boys in school, not ones that couldn't pass the grade you're

currently in. Also, I finally learned how to do cornrow's! Took a

while, and a series of teachers, but finally my fav girl Umuna came

through and thankfully she was patient. I'm not good at it yet, still

have some trouble starting it, but I got the pattern down. I'm always

thinking like, I know I'll want to do cute little styles on my

daughter so I need to learn this before I go. Success. Its getting

really hot, so a few of us headed over to a ladys house to buy some

'ice'. Ice is basically some type of juice drink that they pour into

little bags, tie a knot, then freeze. You buy one for fifty cents,

bite off the corner, then start sucking out the juice. So that was the

first half of my thursday. 2 weeks left of school!

This morning myself and two colleagues went to the neighboring village to attend the funeral of one of our students. Yesterday I was informed that 7th grader, Uakaama (wah-kom-ah) had passed over the break sometime, the cause of death was never discussed, despite my inquiry. We left our village at about 645am and walked to the local shop to hitch a ride with people who would also attend the funeral. Upon arrival, about 10 mins later, I noticed Uakaama playing outside. I'm confused. So I ask again, pointing to the girl and I'm told its her twin sister, Uetujama (weh-to-yam-ah). Oh, ok. We enter this family compound, a series of informal houses primarily made of cow dung. We sit in a large circle in front of one particular house with the men on one half and the women on the other. People always travel with their own chairs, much like you would when attending a summer concert in the park. Being a special guest, a chair was brought to me. The ceremony opened with a prayer by a pastor, a teacher from my school. The duration of the program, all in their mother tongue went like this: a man would stand, request a song for the women to sing, then he'd either read scripture or speak from the heart. This happened about 15 times over the course of about 2 hours. There was one woman who was allowed to speak, Kaukuata (cow-kwa-ta), her surname. This woman reminds me of Debra in many ways. She's blunt, outspoken, independent and constantly challenges gender roles in this society. She was a teacher at my school for years, until winning the council(wo)man seat as of November of last year. She is the first female in this region to hold the position and if I'm not mistaken, she's the only female pastor in this region. When she talks to men, she doesn't speak as if she's subordinate, rather their equal, despite what she was taught growing up. For her personality and accomplishments, she is respected by women and men alike. When she stood up to speak, she wasn't just speaking from her place in office, she was speaking for all th women that aren't allowed to stand up and speak. I don't have a single clue as to what she was saying, but I was moved. I felt that i was witnessing progress and the evolution of women in this village and across the region. The ceremony came to a close and a select group of people were chosen to go inside the house, for what I had no idea. I was one of those people. Myself and about 15 other people shuffled into this dark shack. Once my eyes adjusted I noticed there were women already on the ground lining the walls, and as I found my place and a prayer began I noticed this small pink and white coffin on the ground. I just froze. Noone should ever have to see such a small casket. The tears began to pour rapidly from my tear ducts. Up to this point, I felt no emotion, death is such a common fact of life here, and that was my approach this morning. But this little box has some mother's 13 year old little girl in it. The little girl who always raises her hand even though she doesn't know the answer is in this box. It was overwhelming. I wasn't prepared to face this box today. At some point, the prayer ended and we were being shuffled out. The coffin followed and was placed in the back of the truck. And from a distance the box got smaller. Its just so small. I tried not to look as they drove away. The men and a few women went to the burial site, the rest of the women stayed behind. I just couldn't stop crying. How does one bury their child? How do you cope with that pain? As I'm sitting under a used crying uncontrollably, one of the women from my adult English class, named Tatu, sits with me, she starts rubbing my back and saying 'opuwo' which means enough. After sitting in silence for a while they bring us tea and fat cakes. She starts explaining to me that when a twin dies, the living one must put their hair, nails and clothes in the grave with their sibling, because you came into this world together, therefore you must go together. And the living twin must change their name. Tatu told me she was also a twin and Tatu is her new name after her sister passed. This is a bit strange to me that now I know of 3 deaths, all of which were twins. The third is of my host brother. If you've been reading my blog, the December 09 entry, he was the one that took me around the village to meet everyone. Well, last November he was killed in a car accident in Zambia. He is a twin. So after a bit we were served a modest plate of food: potato salad, potatoes onions and gravy over rice, and goat ribs. I gave Tatu the ribs. We sat around for about an hour after that, then hitched a ride back to our village. What a way to start term 2...

So yesterday while I was monitoring a grade 5 exam, I look outside and notice this teacher beatin the shit out of these little first graders with this tiny ass switch. They were doing class outside on the ground and everytime they did something incorrect, academically, they were hit. They were hunched over on the ground, but once they were hit they would stand and arch their backs in the same way you can imagine a slave getting whipped when they stick their chest to the sky. There wasn't much I could do (considering the last time I called out a teacher in front of students) so I just went and stood by the door and once she saw me watching her she stopped hitting them. Last night 2 more girls came and told me that they were beat by one of the hostel supervisors. (last week a group of children came to my house to report they were beat by a teacher, this was at 9pm, an hour after their bed time) In an effort to do something I went to the early meeting with one of the vice principals and the principal today. I told them that there is a problem with corporal punishment and they need to do something about it. The kids come and report everything to me. Two weeks ago they reported that 14 of them were beat for not completing their summaries. When I approached that teacher about other ways he could handle it, he said that when they are that defiant, he will beat them. So now the vice wants this teachers name. I ask her, "What will happen to the teacher then? I've come to this office several times about this issue and about specific teachers at times, but nothing has happened to them! Not even written documentation that anything ever happened." Here I am trying to hold him accountable and he's giving me the run around about how they shouldn't be hitting and how its always been a part of their culture since apartheid.. So we head to the staff room to have the normal morning meeting. He brings up the fact that he's asked them over and over not to hit the kids blah blah blah. Then another teacher asks, in a back handed slap-in-my-face kind of way, "isn't it true we are practicing other illegal methods of discipline? Like sending kids out of class?" Clearly referring to me, when kids are disruptive I don't feel they should be in the class ruining the educational experience of others, so they must take their desk outside the class and complete their work there. Or in the event they're done with their work, I give them a sheet of paper that usually says something like, 'I will respect my peers...' then they have to complete the sentence and give me a front and back explanation of why they did whatever they were doing and what they need to do next time. The real challenge for them is to be able to write in English for that long. I chose not to respond to this in the beginning, but then I just couldn't help it. My question, "Which one are parents going to be more concerned about?" To which I got no response, obviously. Then the question arose about why the learners are coming to me everytime something happens? To which I replied with a question, "if you were a child, would you report to someone who beats kids or someone who doesn't beat at all? They know I'm a safe space and that I would never hurt them, no matter what they do." So now everyone is under the impression that I'm the reason why the kids report to me. Most of the kids that report stuff aren't even in my class, they're lowerclassmen whom I've never met. But to the teachers, I'm a part of some conspiracy to report them to a higher power. Which I've already done, and sadly, nothing happened. Then I reminded the principal that when we were driving to the school, back in October 09, the FIRST thing he mentioned to me was that he didn't tolerate corporal punishment at his school, this statement followed by a drawn conclusion that he'd lied! And BOY did this cause quite a stir. The teacher sitting behind me says, "who the hell are you? He did not lie, how can you say that?" And in my attempt to respond she started yelling that I could go to hell and how can I say such things. So I start yellin for her to be quiet so I can answer, wrong method I know, then the rest of the staff intervened. Once I was given the opportunity to explain, I talked about the principals lack of action in this matter and how he clearly wasn't holding up his responsibility as he said he did in the beginning. Apparently, in this culture calling someone a liar is a big deal and very serious. Funny, corporal punishment is a big deal and is very serious. Then the inevitable happened, the teacher who wants to propose a solution. Not a bad idea right? A solution being the development of a disciplinary policy, which another teacher and I have been slowly working on. The issue I have with this is that I've found atleast 8 documents of school rules and policies that aren't being followed. The volunteer that was here 4 years ago attempted a discipline policy, I need to email him about the outcome of that, but either way nothing is being practiced now, which leads me to my concluding statement in this meeting, "We're gonna have to wait until a parent files a case against a teacher before you guys take this issue seriously!" In extreme c.p. cases parents file with the police department and only then is that school under the magnifying glass of the ministry of ed. Only then is it a 'problem.' Meeting adjourede. I went to my class and cried and cried and cried. Its not that I'm against the concept of a discipline policy, rather I have little to no faith in these teachers and their inability to implement a policy and actually follow it. I gave up on the teachers a long time ago. I'm fighting for my kids. That's who this is all about. It kills me to see them get beat with sticks or hoses or keys. The kids know I hate it, THATS why they come to me. You know, in the beginning when we were training they told us that we would see c.p. but honestly I didn't think it would bother me. The veteran volunteers would share their experiences about how they would just go into their classroom and cry, and I would be sittin there thinkin, 'wow, grow a pair.' That is until I experienced it for the first time. I was in the secretary's office and the principal came in with a boy who'd pierced his ear. The principal hit the boy upside his head with a closed and cupped hand while yelling about how boys in their culture aren't supposed to do that. I've exhausted the channels. I can't go to the principal anymore, thats useless. I've gone to his superior, who reminded me that its illegal, as if that alone meant it wasn't happening. I've gone to the regional counselor's office several times last year. I gave information to the school evaluation team that came. But nothing. Nothing has changed. No action has been taken. And though I will continue to assist in developing a discipline policy, I know that it won't change anything. What I CAN hope for is that when my kids become teachers, they remember me, how I treated them, how I dealt with discipline issues, how I stood up for them and how a true educator is supposed to communicate with their learners. And that is what I must always remind myself: The kids ARE sustainable.

I mean, this is what MY garbage truck looks like, how bout yours??? It COULDN'T be this eco-friendly. Nam Biz. What Up. (sorry, can't rotate on the cell)

Hello again! So as some of you know, after my second laptop went out of commission, I went out and bought a tv. A few months later I got a dvd player. One of the good things about my dvd player is that it has a usb port, hence I thought I could use my external hard drive. False. Apparently, there's too much space on the drive for the player to read. THE REQUEST: 4gb flash drives. Smaller storage devices work so all I'll have to do is transfer the files to the sticks. I say 4gb because I know it works for sure. It would be a shame if I wasn't able to watch all the movies and tv shows my brother worked tirelessly downloading for me. 4gb drives are pretty cheap, under $15. So if anyone is wondering what I need in the last 10 months of service, this is it! Thanx!

Its xmas morning here in Namibia. I'm laying down here in the room wearing a white tank top and my setenge. My pink rag in on my head and I'm wearing no make up. I'm listening to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Kanye's new album, which btw is Utterly Ridiculous. There's like energy flowing through my body like currents everytime i hear another song. I'm laying down reflecting on the year that was. It makes me smile thinking about Ashley back in January. <<She was certifiable. She was angry. She was depressed. She was overwhelmed. She insisted on digging a hole, 12ft not 6. In term one of this school year she thought she could fight every battle. Why else would she be here then to create positive change? She fought about corporal punishment. She fought about misuse of funds. She fought about housing. She fought about time management, organization, dedication, ownership. She fought with the principal, the vice, the teachers. When it was all said and done, at the end of term 1, nothing changed. "Why the fuck am I here if these people don't want my help?" she asked. And while the answers were in the cosmos, she remained angry and lost. To attain much needed stress relief, she set off to South Africa for vacation and returned for Term 2 refreshed and ready to go. She started the term off well. The kids seemed to be performing at a higher level than before. Ashley decided to try a different approach and incorporate subject matter that was relevant to her learners. No longer did she follow the English text books expecting them to supply her learners with the information they needed to be contributing and successful members of society. For grade 7 the themed topic for the term was HIV/AIDS education, or more specifically, sex education. The problem with AIDS education is that its importance is reduced because its so oversaturated. The main issues exposed are condom use and multiple-concurrent partners, but hardly any information about sex itself. It started out during HIV/AIDS Awareness week when she asked her learners if they wanted to put on a play for the school. They loved the idea. The classes got together with Miss Brown to create a storyline. Their play went as follows: a student snuck out of the hostel at night and went to the bar. She drinks alcohol with a group of older men, has sex with a few of them and ends up pregnant. She gets kicked out of school and is sent to her father's farm. After a few months she starts showing and is sent to town to go to the hospital. Now she needs to find out who the father is out of 4 possible men. The girl is HIV positive and the men must get tested also. 2 of the 4 men also test positive and one of them is the father. The girl dies giving birth and the father dies when the child turns 11. The last scene is the girl going in for counseling. This tragic, yet common story, was drafted by a class of 7th graders. In class, she created a question box that was read during designated times throughout the week. Frequent questions were about what sex is and how to make a baby. Interesting questions were about putting hair perm on their vagina to stop their menstral cycle. She held in depth discussions about the construction of their sexuality and even issues like masturbation. It is against everything Miss Brown believes to teach abstinence, so condoms are readily available at all times in her class. Up to this point, Sex Education was by far the most successful task she chose to tackle. Another project was proposed, to teach English to the matrons and community members in the evening. Ashley loved these classes, they were so fulfilling for her. She had a common ground with Namibians. An understanding of wanting to learn and wanting to teach. While they all spoke English on some level they "wanna speak like Miss Brown." Stepping outside of herself for a moment, she realized that she had a primary AND secondary project that was working. This is all a Peace Corps Volunteer could ever ask for. So now that her professional life was taken care of, she spent time to focus on herself. She knew that being angry is not what she wanted from this experience. She didn't leave everything she knew and loved to be depressed. How could she justify leaving when she was neither happy nor feeling like she was doing what she went there do. So she left it behind. Aiming to explore her innerself through a series of spiritual tasks, she quickly attained the level of consciousness she needed to happily continue her experience. Sure, all of the issues that were there before still existed, but she chose not to let those things affect her life anymore than they already had. In a long moment of weakness she allowed the things around her dictate her moods, her emotions, her behavior even. She was stronger than that and she knew it. The power of her mind was incredible. She grew past all that was negative. Term 3 of school was a sweet walk in the park. Sex education with grade 6 and human rights with grade 7. Evening English classes remained. Only 2 weekends spent out of the village, birthday and thanxgiving. She began to love the village. She preferred to be there, in her own space, in her own house, living her beautifully simple African life. >> I'm so excited about next year. I can't wait to start teaching again. Can't wait to be back home in the village. Can't wait to see my former 6th graders as 7th graders. There's so much we can do. They understand me. I understand them. I have a poultry project I've been playing close to the chest. I'll give more info when everythings a go. Otherwise, you all should know that I'm doing very well. Spiritually, I'm in a good place. With that said, everything else falls into place. I meant everything I said in the Real World post just to make a point that this is in no way easy. But don't mistake that for anger, I just don't want people acting like I'm on some vacation. I just refuse to always be on stress mode. I refuse to go return home next year angry about this experience. Earlier this year, i would've gave anything to fast forward to next year. Now, I'm good. I understand how volunteers stick it out despite the most ridiculous circumstances. For example, the volunteer that was at my site before me is like the model pcv, she even did a third year. In the beginning I couldn't understand how she would want to stay here after dealing with all the shit in our school and village. But I get it now. I, like her, chose to focus on the things that work. Focus on things that you can change, battles you can win. I could still be angry, frustrated, stressed out, but that doesn't help anyone. She came to visit before leaving Namibia about a month ago and we really vibed, now I was a year in and had seen what she saw. Its all love. Imma wrap this up tho. Bout to go make my xmas chicken. I made my corn pudding yesterday. Think i'll whip up some fancy green beans. Chow down wit a pineapple soda and watch me some Boston Legal, that is if I can find it in myself to take out this Kanye. Since i started writing this, its played 5x. I can only think of 1 way this xmas could be better...

So I made a list of things to include in my blog like back in August. So here it is...

Namibia is pretty advanced in random ways, ways that we aren't yet (or maybe we've passed that???)

~~~Refill containers: so all soaps and detergent come with refills, you should really only buy the carton once.

~~~Electric Kettle: you plug it in and water is boiling in like 2mins or less, its crazy and super convenient. I suppose it necessary since the convention of high tea is taken so seriously. All events will break for tea, including school. While we, Americans, would rather push through a meeting and go home early, they put it into the schedule and will not allow it to be bullied.

~~~They don't seem to throw very much away. Kitchens and bathrooms rarely have garbage cans.

~~~DVD players and car stereos all have usb ports! I think this is a newer feature in Am.

You're in Africa!!!

~~~I'm always surprised when I walk out of my room on a Saturday morning to find my roomate sweeping the floor topless. Its these moments when I'm remindid where I am. In every other way, she's modern, then BAM! Breasts! She'll just have a towel wrapped around her waist AND will do this with the front door open.

~~~Donkey carts are means of transoprtation. Its just a 2 wheel cart with 2 donkeys at the front. The garbage men in my village use a donkey cart. I'll ride it one day, the garbage men are also my students in my evening adult english class!!!

Men

~~~Saying NO in Namibian culture is simply a challenge for the men. No matter how firm or consistent you are at saying no, he will chase you until you say yes. (Bane of my existance)

~~~If a male and female are having a public dispute, no one will help or intrude. They feel that its a domestic dispute and therefore not their place.

School System and Teachers

~~~Majority of students drop out at 8th-10th grade because they've either failed twice or they can't pass the national exam.

Even the few that actually graduate from 12th grade aren't eligible for higher education, or many can't pass the grade 12 exam. Even the few that do pass have limited options.

~~~Teacher College??? A great option!!! You don't need a bachelors degree to enter. Its only a 2 year program. And its FREE!!! Why wouldn't you become a teacher?! Consequently, you have an outrageous amount of teachers that could care less.

Teacher Perks: (Especially in rural areas) Free Housing, N$4,000-N$7,000/month, a bonus for teaching in the rural area.

~~~Learners: Here's the grading system for all grades 7 and under: A 80-100, B 56-79, C 45-55, D 45-30, E 0-29.....Soooo, yes, all they need is a 30% to pass!!! Because clearly, getting a 3 out of 10 shows competence. How do they expect these kids to be able to compete with the rest of the world?!?!?!!?

~~~English is NOT spoken enough. Teachers use their mother tongue to make their jobs easier, the kids don't speak it amongst themselves. and when they go home for vacation they don't hear it or speak it at all!!!

I don't know what peoples' perception of peace corps is, but let me tell you: it doesn't get more real than this. So, no, i'm not working at a job that I need in order to pay my bills or put food on the table. But my life is extremely real, difficult, challenging. I am being challenged in ways that most of you will NEVER have to face. Is the significance mitigated because I signed up for this? You decide, I don't care. Living in a village where you are expected to know everything because of your background is very trying. Living amongst people that your were raised to believe you share a kinship with who constantly challenge your identity and heritage is no walk in the park or ideal. Aside from standing on the side of the road with my hand out, my only means of transportation usually includes cars filled with men who, more times than not, are intoxicated, is that not real? I'm at the point where I prefer to stay in the house or not put on make up to try to avoid as much attention as possible when I'm in town. There's always someone cat callin, grabbing, or making their best effort in some way. I rarely feel safe. I'm always paranoid or afraid. Its almost impossible to have female friends, and all my male friends have gotten the wrong idea, so I have no Namibian friends. There's not one single person in this country that understands me, where I come from, or why I am who I am. I came across the world to create sustainable change, especially in education, yet i'm combating a series of contradictory policy that makes said task virtually impossible. The last 17 months of my life have been the most emotional ever. I have had my highest highs and lowest lows. I never understood what depression was until now, since I've been here. Mentally and emotionally, I'm tired, but I can't go to sleep. I'm not done, there's so much to do. For them and for me. Through all these experiences I've grown so much. I KNOW I'm a better person than when I left. I'm still learning myself. I'm still teaching myself. I still have a ways to go but i've made great leaps. I could've given up. Gotten out. Said "enough". But I didn't. And I won't. This is MY REAL WORLD.

So here we are in term 3. One of the teachers asked me about helping him organize the trip to Swakop so our relay teams can compete in the marathon. I happily accepted. Soon after he approached me again about being a track coach. (so, brief background on this: I Hate Running!) but i accepted, confused about my actual responsibilities. The kids only did real intense training for like 4 weeks. Then here we are, October 14 ready for departure. A combi, like a van, arrives 2 hours late to pick us up. This combi is a 10 seater, yet we have 12 kids, 3 teachers and the driver. Wtf. So we all squeeze in and 2 hours later, hit the dirt road. They told us we would be taking the back roads to okahandja since the trailer didn't have updated registration. This was both good and bad. The good part is that i got to see a bunch of warthog's (pumba), springbok's, and kudu along the way. Very cool animals. Except for the pumba's, they're kinda dumb, they almost wait for your car to approach to decide to run across the road. The bad part, these are the most mysterious back roads i've ever seen. And since their hardly driven on, its real bumpy. About an hour into the drive we had a flat. We're parked out in front of Dasha's village changing the tire and preparing to get back on the same road. About 4 hours later we arrive at a closed gas station in the middle of nowhere, its now 9pm. Its dark. Then another truck full of road workers pulls up. They start trying to pump gas, eventually one of them works. No payment, no attendent. Hey, whatever works. An hour later we arrive in okahandja. We are driving down a paved road when.........yes, another flat tire! The guy pulls the van into this truck stop. Its now 10pm, the kids haven't eaten, and we don't have a spare tire. The kids end up eating bread with honey for dinner. By about 1130pm someone came out to help us and we drove to the house where we would stay for the night. Its Mara's house! This was sarah g's host mom from training, we partied there all the time. The boys slept outside on the back patio, the girls slept on the kitchen floor, and i slept on the couch. That morning the van was supposed to go in the shop to fix something, i'm not sure what. And coincidentally, group 32 was swearing in this morning also, in town. So i got dressed and went to the ceremony. Everything there was done at about 1. Car still not fixed. My former language trainer is family to the teachers i'm with so he takes me to them. They tell me that now the van won't start. Seriously? Then one of the teachers decides to call in another car from whk. So this van drops us, me and the 12 kids, at the gas station with all our stuff. Do you know how ridiculous we looked at the gas station with hella bags and blankets and foam matresses? I have no clue where the 2 other teachers are. We sit and wait for a good 2 hours before the new van arrived. Here's the deal: same amount of seats, minus the trailer for our luggage. ClusterFuck. So we're all sitting on top of blankets, bags at our feet. This was impossible. At this point its 6pm, we need to be at the coast in 3 hours, but it takes 4 to get there, in a sedan. We arrive an hour late for registration, but it was fine. The Lucky Star people served dinner, spaghetti noodles with ground beef. Typically a meal i enjoy, but this wasn't good. The kids didn't even eat it all. Mind you, they're hungry and poor, they'll eat anything! You have to know your food is bad when my kids don't eat it. Along with dinner each of us got a t shirt and 2 cans of lucky star. Lucky star was mentioned a while back as something i love. Its canned fish in a tomato sauce. Hella good. Anyway, they sponsor this marathon every year. The kids do relays and compete by age group and adults actually run the half or full marathon. We pile back into the van and head to where we would stay for the night. A preschool. I was given a bed, but our driver was lookin at me strange, so i decided to go to a classroom and sleep with the girls. It was freezing so i layered up. I woke up in the middle of the night hot and all the blankets wrapped on me smelled like urine! So gross. There was nothing i could do about it. That morning the girls brought of a bucket of warm water to wash up in, but there wasn't any privacy what so ever, so i just covered myself in powder and changed. Wearing "beach" attire, I froze my ass off all morning. My kids got off to a good start in the relays. We went to each stop to see them pass off. We roll up to the finish line about 1. There's like 30 peace corps volunteers there, about 10 participated in the marathon. And the only 2 to do the full marathon...from the Dirty 30, of course. We waited for the awards part. There were so many different categories. My girls got 5th place! I was happy about that. So apparently my little 4th grade girl passed up a dude in high school and he got mad and decided he absolutely had to hurry and speed pass her. After the marathon he approached her and shook her hand and gave her the respect she deserved. Thats just how we get down! Afterward i took the group down to the beach to play for a while, for most of them, its the first time to see the ocean. I got some good pics of them playing in the water, i'll post them next month. The rest of the evening i stayed with the other volunteers. We went out to eat and to a club, them piled up about 15 people in a 6 bed bungalo. I slept on my towel, used my sarong as my blanket and my duffel bag as my pillow. Rough night. Next morning Lauren and I went for b-fast and the van was on the way. They show up just as i'm about to embark on this fab steak. Damn! So i hurry up and eat it, thinking they're waiting on me. I go outside and they tell me they're waiting for kfc to open...in like an hour! I'm like, who waits for kfc to open? Then, sure enough, an suv full of black dudes pull up, turn off the car, and wait. I just start laughin. Black people all over the world, same story. Conclusion: when kfc finally opened, the lady came out and said all their systems were down. Hahahaha, so we left.

So the Friday after the blow out I left the village and went to Windhoek for my groups Midservice Conference. This time we were in a different resort. Still far out in the mountains though. The place was decent. Day one of the conference was about reflecting on the first year of service. We did all these reflection activities. I wasn't into it. After what just happened at school, this whole situation is on my shit list. Day 2 was about preparing for year 2. Looking back at those notes, I vowed to try to create better relationships with those I work with and to take my health and recreation seriously. We'll see. Day 3 they brought us back to the city and Shannon and I hit the road to hitch down to Mariental for the Southern Girls Conference. This is a 2 day camp for girls that addresses issues like self esteem, appropriate relationships, career choices, health and fitness, gender roles, and hiv and sex education. Day 1 featured classes, another volunteer and I did the appropriate relationships class. The girls were split into 6 groups so they attended the classes on a rotation basis. My class began by discussing the different kinds of love, and more specifically romantic love. We discussed what a healthy relationship looks like, versus an unhealthy one. We discussed the pitfalls of young girls and how to avoid them, like getting pregnant, involving yourself with a sugar daddy, and hanging in the wrong crowd. We ended the class by writing the characteristics of a good man, the type they should be with, instead of the type they settle for. That evening 2 male volunteers spoke to the girls allowing them to ask questions about boys and sex. It was a successful day. Day 2, fun day! The rotation schedule had all fitness stuff, dance class, yoga, some games. I taught the dance class...but no ordinary dance class...a Richard Simmons, Sweatin to the Oldies, Live Edition, dance class! 3 in a row, 40 min each, was a bit much for ya girl, but I held it down! It was a blast, the music was jammin and i was sweatin away. A great work out. I kinda want that dvd now. On that note, if you have any work out dvd's send them this way! Later that night we threw them a surprise dance party. It had the works, "thumpin" music, balloons, streamers, and a t shirt for each girl. They had a blast. Day 3 was alot of sitting around and waiting. The transportation sucked so the girls were waiting around until late that night. Sunday Julie and I hitched up to okahandja in a big rig. Boy was that an experience. It was one of the bigger ones with a bed in the back seat. Me and julie are in the back and another hitcher is in the front. The driver is obsessed with me and starts talking about the house he'll buy us in swakop. My reply to things like this is that i would be a horrible wife since i don't cook, clean, or generally do anything to contribute to the household, but rather that i expect my husband to do it. They are usually appaled by this. How could a WOMAN do this? Julie was trying to explain the concept of shared responsibilities to him, with no luck. Men here don't really find it their responsibility to help with anything around the house, especially the kids. If the baby is crying and the woman is cooking, she better figure it out! It didn't help that he was driving BELOW the truck speed limit. Then he drops us just outside of windhoek so his company doesn't see him unloading passengers, but it was free so whatev. Now we're on the side of the road, seemingly, in the middle of nowhere. A nice lady picks us up and takes us to the peace corps office, free. We grab some stuff from the lounge and head back to the street, with more stuff. This guy picked us up and took us to the hike point to get to okahandja, free. So we are standing at the freeway on ramp waiting for someone to get us. Then a guy with his wife says he'll take us for 40 a piece, we take it and in one hour were there. This week we were the resource volunteers for group 32, the new education group. We basically did sessions with them about school policy and practice and cross cultural sessions addressing issues like bereavement, harassment, and integration. The week went well and they are a pretty awesome group, which helps immensely. Back to school. Term 3.

Term 2 was kinda blah. I left for about a week in June for my medical check up we get. This was uneventful, while i love the holiday apartments they put us in, I could have gone without the flu shot that made me sick for over a month, could have done without the urethral swab because the technology isn't up to par, could have also gone without the filling. That dentist wasn't go great. The term seemed to fly by. My kids are doing slightly better. I'm able to have some decent discussions with my 7th graders, and grade 6 is finally starting to understand my humor when i'm talkin shit to them, haha. In late July a select few of us had training for trainers. We were picked, or accepted, to be resource volunteers for the incoming education group. The training was the entire training staff, us and the Namibians. We put on a skit for them to address the diversity amongst American. Our setting was a call center, since thats one of the few places you can be yourself in a work setting. I was the ghetto chick, sarah was the stoner chick wearing head phones, julie was completely apathetic, shannon was the valley girl only intereste in fashion, stewart was hella brooklyn fagetaboutit, andrew was gay, brad was the suck up, and brittney was southern baptist. It was awesome. The skit was our boss addressing our personalities and telling us the "right" way to speak to customers. The Namibians loved it. And it opened to door for some really interesting discussion about the diversity of both cultures. I think it was helpful and eye opening. We touched on the use of the word nigga since i used it during the skit. We discussed the acceptance/intolerance of homosexuality. One of the staff members admitted to assuming volunteers were racist when they decided to leave Namibia early. He talked about how he could get pass that notion. The other volunteers (all white) quickly explained that racism is frowned upon in America, and not accepted, and that pc volunteers are the least likely people to be racist. While I agree with the last one, i quickly told the staff member that racism is as fresh is America as it is anywhere, especially if you're a person of color. I reminded them that white people don't have to think about race. But we do, so just as you're thinking about racial matters, so am I and my country has been independent for over 200 years, yours is just 20. I think he made his comment intent on being criticised; i think he found a sense of comfort knowing that people in first world countries are struggling with the same issues. When this training was over i spent the next week at the medical apartment because i was still sick from the flu shot and not showing signs of getting better. Nothing positive really came from this week. I ended up spending too much money, and didn't get better. I return to school the following monday. In the 6:40am meeting, my principal start going on and on about how the upper primary (5-7) teachers, don't cape about their learners. I told him to stop saying that cuz its not all of us. He stopped me and said, no its all of you. You don't care about your kids. I get up and GO OFF. I start yelling about how far I am away from everything I know and love to be here with these kids and you have the nerve to say i don't care. He stood firm, no you don't care. I couldn't stop the tears, s stormed out. As I left he says, no you don't care, where were you last week? Of course, i come back yelling about how i was in a medical facility all week and he knew that. I just went home. The kids were just taking exams, so i went home to grade the english exams they completed the previous week. I never returned to school that week to proctor exams as they expected me to. Fuck this.

Saturday: so i'm a little exhausted from the last 2 days and i don't want to have to spend money. Everyone's planning to go out and do all this stuff, i pass. Then they tell me where we're going is free and we have a car. I'm like, cool, i'm down, sounds like my kind of day. The plan is to go to Cape Point, the most southern point in Africa and see the penguins. So we walked up the street to this guys house to get the truck. Its a bakkie so everyone gets in the back, me catie and stu are in the front, i have on white pants. Catie has the map directing sturu where to go. First we hit up a gas station just before the highway. We don't know what kind of gas it takes so we ask the attendent, he smells the tank and says regular unleaded. We get it and we're off. It feels so good to finally be in our own transportation, we're so used to public transport or hitching, this is refreshing. We're on the highway for about 20 mins, we're almost there. As we're getting off the car starts doing this put put shit. It starts turning off and not accelerating. Thankfully we're off the highway, but now we.re stuck in this traffic and the car keeps stalling everytime we stop. We start thinking its the gas. We pull over, about 20 miles from our destination, and call the owner. He says the car takes diesel. DAMN! None of us are mechanics and we don't know what to do. So we set off for a gas station. I'm like, can't we just sift it out with a hose and put diesel in? Apparently not. After walking about 3 miles to the nearest has station we find someone to tow the car there. The guy says he can't get it fixed until the car place opens on monday. We keep truckin. We were right in front of a train station so we went to buy tickets for the next town. The bus takes us as far as they can go, then we get out and walk. We walked dumb ass far to see penguins. Brisk walking up hella hills for like an hour. Nobody is trippin but me. This here is evidence of the blatant cultural differences in vacationing. Ain't no way i'm on vacation sweatin and hella tired. But here I am, wit my open minded ass, sweatin and tired. In my white pants, cute top and matching jewelry. Damn shame. We Finally reach this mutha and they tell us its 35 dollars! I'm hella mad now. We go in and out toward the beach just to see these sorry ass penguins. And everybody walkin by me talkin bout, aren't they so cute? Hell nah! Its just like my dad said, you try to step out your comfort zone, try to be adventurous, then you get fucked! This is NOT vacation. I don't give a damn about penguins! Then, thats it. We walk hella far back. About half way we stop for fish and chips. This was easily the best part of the day. It was a huge piece of fish and hella fries for like 30. We're all sitting around discussing how to get back. The waiter tells us not to take the train cuz we'll certainly get mugged. Its already dark. What are our option? We call this taxi service that tells us 450 a piece. Joke. We call a few more places, same deal. We start walkin back to the train station, in the dark, worried about how we're gonna get back to the city. Finally a cab from cape town says he'll come. Now we're at this sketchy, dark, cold train station. The guy showed up almost 2 hours later. Btw, we were 6 girls and 1 guy. The trip ended up being about 80 a person. I'm so glad this day is over. Sleep. Sunday: everybody is planning on going to robyn island, where mandela was, but it was too expensive and it ended up being closed anyway. They all left to go to the waterfront where there's a big mall. I stayed behind to take out my braids. I left early that morning to go find a decent hoodie, but no luck. Ah, well, may as well go to Mickey D's again. :) i went back to the hostel and stayed in the common area just watching tv and taking out my hair all day. I watched reality shows all day! I miss that. Vanessa comes in and watches tv with me. She asks if i'm getting dreads, i totally forgot about them. Then my mom calls and says my tax return just came in. Perfect timing! Cuz i am broke as a joke! So yes, now i can get my hair done. I throw on a bandanna and vanessa and i go out for pizza. Shots of jager to celebrate my new found wealth! Monday: the others leave for robyn island and i go around getting quotes for my hair. I hook up with catie for happy hour. I go back the the original place and book an appt for tuesday. The evening was great, we went to club carnival where the bartender was from kentucky and the owner was from Namibia, so cool. We got free shots and drank jam jars all night. Then we went for Mexican Food, the rest of this evening is blurry. I do remember eating chicken fajitas and they had CORONA! Tuesday i wake up early and go to get my hair done. I looked like buckwheat o the first day. So, naturally i left and bought a few hats. I met up with the others at the planetarium, we all fell asleep on this movie about the stars, hahaha. Then we went to this cute little diner for the burger specials. I didn't feel well so vanessa and i just chilled and watched tv the rest of the day. Wednesday: the group, except me and vanessa, decided to climb table mountain. Y'all aint doin this to me again. So V and I went shopping. I bought my first pair of skinny jeans. Yes this is a monumental moment in my life, you should know this, especially those of you who read my blog expecting to just hear about poor little African children. :) Of course, we go to Mickey D's, i got my nope pierced. And then, we found a SUBWAY! Get this: no metric system, 6in and footlongs all day AND its linked to a liquor store. At night they're open to each other. Thats perfect. That night somebody decided to get fancy so we went to this mozambiquiban/portuguese place. The food way good, but generally the place was lame. It was like the kind of people who talk about how refreshing it is to have an establishment as such. I would call them the post modern bohemians of ct. Or we can call them snobs, like they seem all committed to the grass roots, but they're not. Posers. Then we went club hoppin again, emily brown and her bf joined us. It was fun until this like Indian mafia guy was like super stalking me all night. He offered to buy us drinks, we refused. But then he had his big ass security guys watching me on the dance floor. It was getting really creepy, so we left. Went to a couple more clubs, Dasha met up with us. At this point there's about 10 members of the Dirty 30 in cape town. Thursday: me and vanessa had to go to the bus station early. We were out by 8 so we could get Mickey D's for b-fast. I got a big breakfast, 8 ash browns, and a mega mcmuffin: sausage, ham, egg, cheese, ketchup. We left by 10am aboard an 18 hour trip back to whk. The bus played Daddy's Little Girls and Hancock. We got in 630am the next morning. Maycation is a wrap. Term 2 begins.

About 13 amazing hours later, we were in cape town. That ice cold air was blowin in from the bay, just like when you get to sf. It was nighttime and the city was lit up beautifully. Their main street, Long st looks so much like Bourban street in the N.O. Like clubs and restaurants on the bottom, hotels and hostels on top. Super duper diverse population. If i could sum it up, cape town is a mix of new orleans' architecture, new york style and los angeles diversity. American writers and travel agents will sell it as the san fransisco of South Africa. Night 1 we head across the street from our backpackers hostel to this Cuban spot. It was stylish and culturally appropriate/respectful. We met up with stewart, catie, and sarah g, who also had friends in from America. We ordered a shit load of drinks cuz the specials were insane. But the food menu sucked, so after we all had about 3 drinks we went 2 doors down to this Jamaican joint. I ordered the jerk chicken nachos and a mojito. Day 2: in the hostel this lenny kravitz prototype approached me talking about how beautiful i'd look with dreads. On our way out he takes me to this shop and i said i'd think about it. We head to get sim cards for our phones for the next 2 weeks. We ate b-fast at a nice cafe, came back to get our stuff, watched a little judge joe brown, and headed for the train station. We were on our way to Stellanbosch, wine country. The Napa of SA. The train ride was a good 45 mins long. Stellanbosch is much like Napa, its a small quaint town with little mom and pop shops, boutiques, and trendy cafe's. Its also a college town. The first night we head to a cafe that has R25 drink specials. We each have about 2 then just cruise through town, on foot of course. That night we hit up this Japanese sushi spot for dinner. It had that revolving sushi bar. Pretty sweet. The next morning we head out at 9am for the Wine Hopper Tour. So this basically takes you around to 5 different wineries for tours and tastings. We decided to just take the first tour and just do tastings at all the other places. We had our own driver taking the 7 of us around. By 5pm there was only 4 of us that could hang and we were gone! This was an awesome idea. For dinner we go to a pizza place, i'm low on funds so i don't eat and i'm trying to eat mickey d's anyway. Afterward, julie and i hit up a club since there's some drink special. Priorities? Yes. Then everybody joined us at the second club where there was a 2 for 1 special, but it was hella empty and the music was wack. Stop 3, MC DONALDS!!! Ok, remember that scene in Houseguest when sinbad finally found the mickey d's? That was all me! I stood in line patiently, somehow. Ordered a McFEAST. This is basically a double quarter pounder with barbeque sauce, the south african sauce is different from ours. It was so bomb. I think julie posted a pic of me on fb enjoying this bad boy. Last stop of the night, the thumpin club. Julie and stewart went ahead and called us. We ask where she is and all she's saying is that she is at a thumpin club. We eventually find them, only to discover this awful club with awful techno blasting and like 8 people inside, including the help. Day 3: check out, walk hella far to the train station. Not just hella far, but with heavy ass bags, a wretched hang over, and rain pouring like hail thats up to your ankles. Sorry, i didn't pack for the outdoors, i'm wearin flip flops. Pneumonia? By the time we reach the station, like an hour later, we are literally drenched as is our bags. We get inside the station only to find the workers are preparing for a strike, so a bunch of train schedules are being cancelled. No train. Could this day get any worse? I go in this sketchy bathroom to change expecting some disgusting man to walk in at any moment seeing as how there was no door nor light. It was 1 when we finally left for cape town. Them more walking from the train station to our backpackers hostel, hella far. We check in and start to split up. I realize i only have 800 left and still 8 days, can't do it. Vanessa and I walk back to the train station to change our return bus ride date. Then, it happened again, Mickey D's. That night we ate at Mama Africa. Kinda lame since we had to pay 10 dollars for an entertainment fee, yet the band was like 3 rooms over. We ended up club hoppin the rest of the night. Take a breather, i'll continue in the next post.

See that last one wasn't so bad now was it? Lucky for YOU i actually wrote down everything that happened on my Maycation! So after rere, instead of going to Swakop for a few days I just stayed in the capital to save some money. I was in "the location" ie the ghetto, with my host sister from Okahandja. I also visited some families from my village that live in Windhoek. I was between their houses for like 4 days. I got into this heated arguement wit this simple minded piece of shit. He started talking about how I wasn't Black since I'm from America, hence I'm basically white. Then after all this ridiculous jargon he tried to be on some, but we're brothers and sisters. "Hell nah" I said with fury. I don't know why I let shit like that bother me, but it still does. Never thought I'd have to fight to be Black. The crew comes back from swakop and we head to the highway to hitch a ride down to Mariental. It was a drag carrying all that shit along side the road. There's an ongoing joke about me and the things I pack. I don't know about you, but i don't see anything wrong with packing several changes of clothes, shoes, make up, jewelry, and of course, an iron. Also miscellaneous things like a candle, matches, polish remover and scissors. I'm not the flyest member of the Dirty 30 for no reason. So Shannon, Julie and I stayed at Debbies for the night. We were so exhausted from hitch hiking we just put on Royal Tenembaums and went to sleep. The next day we got up and hitched down to Keetmanshoop, the last major town before exiting Nam. We met some of shannon's kids in town and had lunch with them. Bomb ass milkshakes there too! Then her friend picked us up and took us to the location. We would stay at his house for the night. First things first, beer. So we set off down the dirt street to a shebeen to buy beer and what do we find? ...you're absolutely right! A BABY! Yes, we found a baby alone in the middle of the street. Where's that 15 cents a day guy when you need him? So we decide to keep the suspected orphan while we continue our search for cold brew. We finally get back to the house and meet his roommate, R. Kelly. Names are just like that here, so i was like, wat up Kells?! They cooked for us, goat in gravy with pap, or porridge. This style of porridge is really thick. You grab it with your hands and ball it up, then sop it up in the meat and gravy. The three of us shared a communal bowl of meat and obnoxiously large plate of pap. Who needs place settings when you can sit on the floor and use your hands? It was good. The following conversation is questionable. Her friend told us that Americans killed Jesus. More specifically, Al Capone's 3x great, who worked for the CIA. I'm still at a loss about this situation. Getting to cape town: we decided to take this hook up shannon's friend had which was to lay in the back of a courier truck. However, everytime we'd ask questions about it, it was never quite for sure. Instead, we decided to leave his house early in the morning and stand on the road. Next morning: the three of us met up with liz and vanessa at the gbs station we were going to hitch hike from. We get b-fast from Wimpies and approached a man who was driving one of those luxury 10 seater tour buses about taking the 5 of us. He said he was going to cape town, but that he couldn't take us. Julie and i decide to go on the road, while the others ask people who come for gas. I'm sitting on my bag, bout to eat my phat deluxe b-fast when julie jumps up. Now i'm nervous, whats goin on?! She points at the bus, the guys taking us! Fuck Yea! Comfortable, luxurious, private bus, free and straight through to cape town. He even stopped a few times just for up saying he knows women need to use the restroom frequently. Couldn't have been luckier.

Heyyyy! Its been a long time, I shouldn'ta left you... Sooooo, I'm back. The deal is my second computer has failed me and I've been without all this time. I could have just gone to my schools computer lab BUT, my patience is STILL too short to deal with such incompetent machinery. Alot of small things have happened since my last post so i'll try my best to get it all in. I'm doing my posts from my phone so your understanding in this matter is appreciated. Also, i don't think i can seperate paragraphs either. Perhaps i'll split the posts by events so it'll be easier. (and Chuck, this is with you in mind.) I'll just start new topics with the pound/hash #. Here goes, i believe i left off discussing my groups' re re connect, training. We basically had a chance to debrief on term 1, which for most of us, was a complete disaster. We really didn't have a grasp on what we were doing, how to teach learners who can't read, and deal with contradictory policies. Here's the deal with school: learners only need a 30% to pass. In the beginning of the school year, this standard was changed to 55 percent, but after receiving term 1 results, it went back to 30 nation wide. Wtf?! I understand the catastrophy they would have on their hands if people were failing on such large scales, but seriously, 30% isn't exactly progress. As a teacher, if your learners don't atleast get this, you feel as though you have failed. Thats a shitty feeling. Issue number 2 with the schools: transfer policy. If a child fails any grade between 1 and 4 more than once, we just keep moving them on, transfering them to the next grade. Same with grades 5 through 7, they can only fail once, all the other years, we just pass them along. How do I do this? So a kid who couldn't read or write their own mother tongue is now expected to read and write english? And somehow pass? Did I leave something out? Oh yea, they are taught in their mother tongue to grade 4. Then their medium of instruction changes to English. All the sudden they have to read, write, and speak only english. Whose fucking idea was this? I get wanting to preserve your culture and tradition, but they're screwing the kids. Well, I don't feel so shitty anymore knowing all this. One term down, 5 more to go. On my way to Cape Town, SA!

So in these last two weeks we've been in training in the capitol city. The first week was Project Development Management and Male Engagement. The PDM was basically about how the volunteer and the community counterpart are supposed to be working together to develop a project. Male Engagement is about educating men to empower women. We discuss stereotypes and gender roles. It was pretty ridiculous hearing about all the view points from the men and women here. The male opinions are somewhat universal in that they think they're the shit and gods gift to the world. The women are a little different in that many of them are aware that their men are cheating, almost to the point that they accept it as a part of life...nothing to stress over. The following week, this week, was just technical training, so basically stuff about teaching and integration.

Tomorrow we will check out of this 'resort', I'll be around the way for a few days. Then our official vacation starts. Here is our itinerary:

(5/6-8) Swakopmund: 2 nights, N$230 (30USD, plus spending money)

(5/8-9)Windhoek: 1 night, N$100 (13USD, plus spending money)

(5/9-14) Miscellaneous Travel South N$500 (66USD)

(5/11-14) Stellanbosch Lodge/Wine Tour: N$600 (80USD)

(5/14-23)Cat and Moose Lodge: N$1260 (168USD, plus a lot of spending money)

We don't really have an itinerary for whats happening between 14th and the 23rd, but just to name a couple, we will visit Table Mountain, Robin Island. I have no idea how much all this will cost, but we hear its like America. America? They have MC DONAAAAAAAAAALDS!!!! (say it like Oprah when she's introducing a guest)

Unfortunately my camera charger was stolen so I won't be able to take pictures so you will just have to wait for other people to post them to see how my vaca went. Also, I mentioned some names up there, feel free to google these places to see where I'm going and what we'll be up to. There's about 4 in our immediate group and others we'll be meeting at random times while we're there. Sooo excited!!!

Loves ya!

And as my little cousin says: “Middle and Index”

Easter Weekend

So for some reason good Friday is a national holiday and we also get what they call “easter Monday” off. Whatevs, I'll take it. So Thursday morning (4/1) I asked my principal if I could drive with him to town, so 1 I wouldn't be squished and 2 I wouldn't have to pay. He says sure, but tells me to get ready now cuz we're leaving soon. So I ended up missing half the school day, but my classes are always on task so no big deal. So, anytime my principal and I are alone he feels the need to inform me of the cultural norms of Herero men, both as a warning and just to be informative. So he starts talking to me about the girlfriends that he's been 'allowed' to have over the years and the process in which he gets them. So he tells his wife that he's interested in some lady and points her out. His wife is then supposed to go talk to this woman and inform her that her husband wants to be able to come over and 'sleep' with her. The woman can accept or decline. Should she accept, the wife gives her a list of 'duties' that she will be expected to do. Now this can range from anything sexual to domestic things. Like, if the wife will be out of town, this women will need to come over to cook and clean, etc etc. I'm like blown away by all this, and how chill his wife is with it. So then he tells me how he picked his wife. He said it came down to her or this other woman. So he brought both of them in his bed, there was a spare bed on the floor, and as he wished they would simply, switch. Not allowing that conversation to go any further into detail, his current wife came out on top, so to speak.

Then finally here we arrive in town pretty early, it was only about 11h00. So I go in the house, sit my stuff down and get situated for a min, then head off to town. It was dumb ass crowded cuz of the coming holiday and it was a pay day weekend. Hella people, everywhere. So to no surprise I ran into like 30 people that knew me, from my village, to people that work there in town, to people that remember me from Okahandja! What? So just grabbed a few basic things and headed back. I had to go to the Ministry of Ed to drop off my electricity receipts cuz I'm not supposed to be paying, but I have been. (Like N$50/wk)

Then back to the house, chilled for a while and let some friends know I was here for the weekend. They decided we should go out tonight. So I got picked up around 19h00 and we went to the location to some place that was pretty chill. Mostly older people were there so I wasn't gonna have to worry about riff raff. As I was being introduced, one of the men held out his hand and said, “halo oshilumbu.” (So in case you've missed the previous posts, otjirumbu (or oshilumbu depending on which tribe I'm with) means white person.) And I replied, “No, I am NOT white, but my name is Ashley, hello.” They all started laughing, always surprised that I understand when I'm being called white. So this evening I was in the Ovambo part of the location, just a different tribe. It was cool, they were chill, everyone was nice and respectful. We called it a night. Smooth kick off to a 4 day weekend.

Friday was good Friday so nothing was open. I stayed in all day. I washed my hair and put it up, it'd been down for the last month or so. Nikki and I just chilled, we watched some of season 3 of Secret Diary of a Call Girl, btw I freakin love that show, so interesting. And played a card game a few times accompanied by wine, then called it a night.

For some odd reason I slept in til like 9 on Saturday. Once I got myself together I ate a cheese roll (a bread roll with cheese melted to the top) then headed out for the day. I went to Mendos and got my edges trimmed. I'm starting to notice a pattern. Every time I come I always have to wait. Last time he said it was just so the clippers can cool, this time he said he just wanted to sit out front for a min, and of course I was to be there with him. Who does this? The small talk was brief so I was in his chair within 10 mins. Then I was out in 10. All my barbershop visits are pretty much the same, so no need to go into that again. It was almost 2 and I was noticing that everything was closing. Why? So I walk around the corner to buy electricity for the next two weeks. Now its 14h00 and like everything is closed but I still need to get tomatoes and mushrooms for our pizza Nikki would be making. I get up to Spar and the guard is blocking the door. I'm like, Damn. There are 5 people knocking on the door pleading for him to open, but he wouldn't budge. WARNING: Cockiness Ahead: So I walk up. This guard always takes a special interest when I come into the store, I am always greeted, sometimes am given a basket, and never have to check in my bags with the outside closet. He sees me and I raise 2 fingers, indicating that I only need 2 things. He smiles and opens the door letting all six of us in to do our last minute shopping before the holiday weekend continues. End Cockiness, I'm just sayin.

So I get another invitation to hang out in the location again. I get picked up around 19h00. We go to this area where its just a row of bars and clubs. We go inside to get drinks, then hang out in the front, against the wall. I mean, I may as well'd had one foot hatched back against the wall. We were just chillin. People watching I suppose. I was introduced to the owner of the club and a few of his friends, we would be with them for the rest of the night. The owner, noticing how at ease I was and how much I seemed to 'fit' there with them (I guess as opposed to being all prissy and 'too good' to be around here, around them) he says, “ I like your style, hangin with us Black people like this,” and with sincerity I replied, “Ya'll my people, its nothin.” So to my immediate left there are a crowd, even mix of men and women, also even mix of drunk and sober. Two of the men put on a hell of a show...for, me. Every other word was Nigga this, Nigga that. The part that killed me was that their use was accurate, in the sense that a foreigner can say the word but use it in the wrong context (even with all the possible contexts available). One of them was a teacher I met previously, he knew I was American so he was laying it on eeextra thick. Initially, it was funny. HaHaHa, ok, you're drunk and you're trying to impress the shiny American, I get it. But as I listened closer, they were using the words that came directly from rap songs, and thus explaining the *proper use. Once I figured this out, it was disgusting. It took me back to the guy at the barbershop. It reminded me that, thats who WE are to them. Eventually they dispersed.

*Disclaimer: By 'proper', I mean the way an American would use it, someone who understands how to use it.

So out of nowhere this big girl starts beating the shit out of this dude, in the street in front of us. She was like really beating him. I think he was caught off guard, or thought she was playing, but then he noticed that she was serious, then he got serious. He was twice her size, then he started to come after her like micheal meyers, all slow with intensity. She ran. So the crew I was with thought it would be safer for me to be away from all this. They are very protective of me. I'm never alone. I get escorted to the bathroom, outside if I need to answer my phone, you name it. Good people. So he escorted us to this private patio area in the back of the club. It was just us, like 6 people.

So we start talking and they become very interested in the word nigga and its use. I knew this would come up during my time here, wasn't prepared to do it over Black Labels, but here goes. So I broke down the word Nigga into 4 categories: 1. referencing a friend or foe; 2. the Black people v. Niggas theory; 3. the origins of the word and its evolution and; 4. off limits to white people. So 1 can be easily explained using rap songs as an example, this is the one they are familiar with. 2 was a little tricky, but one of the guys' understanding of this was that it they are the uneducated bunch. I tried to piggy back off that and explain that its the ones who aren't doing anything, one who produces more negative than positive, ones who make the conscious choice to live 'the life' and thus make it more difficult for the rest by becoming self fulfilling prophecies. The ones who make the rest of ya'll look bad!(Coundn't help but to think of Kevin on The Office trying to describe the Chris Rock piece from the Diversity Day episode, hellllla funny.) 3 was easy to explain. Started with slavery, word to keep us oppressed, we flipped the script, well the young ones, and how we use it today. Or not use it depending on who you talk to. I tried to explain the (general) arguments for the younger v older generations and how and who chooses to still use the word and why. I realize this isn't the topic to generalize on, but for the sake of explaining all angles, I found it appropriate. 4 was also easy. I took it back to like the 90s (accompanied with a late 60s story with my dad) when people would actually fight 'others' using the word. I explained the difference between a white person using it now versus the 60s and 70s , but in either case, its not cool. Up to this point I tried to remain neutral, not revealing my stance on the word. But inevitably, I was asked. I explained that I used the word when I feel its appropriate, when I'm with like company who share the view. I explained that because of my environment, both now and in the past few years, between college, Max, and Namibia, my opportunities to use the word have decreased, but that I have no problem using it. My brother and I use it, in more of a joking context, but use of the word nonetheless. I am one of the people who can't stand when people who aren't Black use the word. Then I was shocked when one of them asked, “what about Puerto Ricans?” (Fat Joe is huge out here for some reason, so clearly thats where this came from) And I just started bustin up laughin cuz subconsciously, they ARE an exception to me. Like my senior ball date, Junior, a Puerto Rican, who said nigga as much as the rest of my friends. It never bothered me, I guess cuz he was raised around Black people, all his friends were Black, and he loved Black girls. But put a white person in his place? Its a NO go. Maybe I'm just biased, cuz no other ethnic group gets an exception from me. Its the same out here too though. I feel like, you're not a Black American so its not your word to use. I don't say that, but its how I feel.

“It is absolutely silly, and unproductive to have a funeral for the word 'nigger' when the Actions continue. We need to have a movement to resurrect brothers and sisters. Not a funeral for niggers...'cause niggers Don't Die.”

Eban Thomas, Song: Project Roach, Nas (N.I.G.G.A.)

--In reference to the NAACP and their 'funeral' to bury the word, hilarious.

So somehow we got onto the issue of interracial marriage. So here I am, voice of the Black American woman, explaining why Black women don't like it when Black men marry white women. I tried not to get too technical, but I suppose it was inevitable. I started running down the figures of Black men in prison, and as a result the amount of educated, successful (nah, forget successful...employed), heterosexual Black men were actually available. And within that group, the ones that 'made it', ie: 6 figures and/or famous, and the percentage of them that marry white women. If anything I was trying to explain the frustration and disappointment of it all. Personally, I don't care one way or the other. Admittedly, though, I've said my fair share of “aww Damns” when I see another one bite the dust. Lmao!

Lets talk about Black people. So I was explaining my anxieties about being sent to Africa and how Black Americans are under the impression that Africans don't like us. I don't who started this...rumor, but we've all heard it, and for any of us who plan on going, will research it. I told them that I worried at how people would respond to me, if they would like me, accept me, see me as Black, see me as family, kin. And much to my surprise, the answer was yes! They love me! So one of the guys explained that they don't like Americans because we have helped some of the countries that colonized Africa over time. Understandable. They told me I was welcome, and I told them I felt it. I explained how I felt being around them, like I was just with my cousins, chillin in the back yard, choppin it up, listening to music. It doesn't feel that different being around them then the Black people in the states, especially ones my age. So I brought up the comment the owner made earlier about “hangin with the Black people,” and reiterated that I really feel like, we're all Black, one big family, like distant cousins. Their faces just lit up, they obviously agreed.

Next topic: Why do people love Lil Wayne so much? I couldn't have imagined the conversation would take such a turn, but it did. So, briefly and to myself, I tried to come up with a suitable answer for why people take to him so much. Then I thought about his attitude, his personality. Here's what I came up with: Because, like me, I am who I am, you can take it or leave it. And I was serious. With every perfection and flaw that exists within him, or I, it is what it is. He is completely in love with himself, content, if not overly satisfied, by who he is, and for that reason, we love him. And for that reason you love me. Out loud I did the same analysis of myself, explaining that I'm just me and nothing or no one is going to change that. They appreciate that. By they I mean people, all people. As I am.

Then my internal analysis of myself began: When I got here I expected that I would have to conform to many things, but now I'm like, no thanx. I feel like the Namibian people would benefit far more from me if I was myself, rather than some adaptation of them. The way people respond to me, treat me, appreciate (social setting, not school) me, accept me, I would be a fool to force myself to conform to a lot of things. I'm like a mini celebrity, I can do no wrong, this influence creates opportunities unique to me and my experience, so in this sense, I'm lucky. Any Namibian woman who walked into a club, bought a Black Label, opened it with her teeth, then sat there and dared you say anything about it, would lose triple points. But not me, if anything, I think things like that make me more human to them, more approachable, within reach. Being American, then attractive by Namibian standards, puts me at a high rank full of expectations, then when I don't fit into that box, their like, cool, she's regular. They see I'm down to earth, free of any superiority complex, this puts them at ease. This wasn't meant to come off cocky. It doesn't mean that I'm careless. I know I represent PC and the US no matter where I am, it just means that I don't fit into the typical PCV box and fully intend on taking advantage of that opportunity The opportunity is rare for both parties and thus worth the acknowledgment and examination.

For example, most volunteers can't go out in the location and hang out like me. The fact that I'm Black gives me a pass, access. Not just Black, but I can kick it, lol. Consequently, I'm able to inform my people on the Black America they should know. I don't know how many opportunities will they get to be around an American that they share interests with, like music, clothes, cultural similarities, that they will be able to hang with like this, chill and vibe on this level. Like there are things that just seem universal for Black people, demeanor, attitude, pizazz, body language, these are things that make me feel like I'm just kickin it with any other group of Black people. We have so much in common, an invisible kinship. Indeed a unique experience for all of us. Its Beautiful.

Another example, my stance on alcohol with the community. Initially, I decided that I wouldn't consume alcohol in my village. That was short lived. Now its just boxed wine that I consume in my room, my learners never see me. But for many volunteers, the choice not to do so is because there is a huge problem with alcohol consumption in Namibia. Being Me, I've decided to teach responsible drinking, instead of a No Alcohol stance. First of all, I drink, and its never been a problem, never halted my growth, got me in trouble, or hurt anyone. Secondly, I just don't want to be a hypocrite. When the topic is raised, so far its been out of the classroom conversations, I explain the dangers of excessive alcohol consumption, how to drink responsibly, knowing your limits, and most important (for now), waiting till they are 18. :) I treat telling them not to drink alcohol like I treat the abstinence campaigns, the shit doesn't work. They're gonna do what they want, with or without your approval, so better they are prepared with information on how to be safe and responsible about it.

Last topic of the evening: Religion. Again, initially I wasn't gonna touch this, but I'm pretty good about assessing my audience. I'm respectful about it, but if you bring it?! I got sumthin for that ass!!! So on this particular evening I was asked why I wasn't a Christian. Just so people don't get it twisted, I take it back to the beginning. And perhaps, for those of you stateside who still don't understand me, this should help: I explained that I was baptized Catholic and was in catholic school for the majority of my years in education, including 2nd half of college. I inform them about a conversation with our priest that I had when I was in 7th grade. At All Hallows, the priest comes in twice a year to each class and allows the students to ask questions about the religion. A good idea, a way to hold them accountable I suppose. Before we were able to ask questions the priest had a story. The story was about a man who was rich, he had a mansion, several cars (one of which he drew on the board), and lots and lots of money. Then he said that this man wasn't giving any of his money to the church so he was therefore going to Hell. What. The. Fuck??? So having learned on how to question/challenge authority from my brother, I asked why on earth did he have to give ANYthing to the church? To which he replied, “Because God made it possible for him to have all these things.” I verbally disagreed and stated that HE made it happen, by going to school and working hard. So after a good 10min exchange Ms Gonsalves stopped me and told me that I was being rude and disrespectful. Not that I really thought about it before, but now my 'faith' was shattered. In the same session I had other questions, about Jesus, you know the rational hows and whys and the answer was always “you have to have faith.” Thats not enough for me. If I wasn't forced to go with the school to church every Friday, nothing was catholic about me at that point. It didn't help that around the same time people were coming forward all over the country about being molested by priests and how the Catholics had covered it up for so long. That was icing on the cake. Guess I've just been drifting until recently. So I didn't go into this much detail with them, but they got the picture. Then I brought up two other things: 1, the bible and how everyone is always referring to it, but how ridiculous it is that its been rewritten and translated so many times, do really think you're getting the Word? And 2, Why do you owe him EVERYTHING? (In my head I was thinking of that scene in Jackie Brown, when Ordell gets Beaumont (Beaumonts, brains out) out of jail, goes to his house and says “I hate to be the kinda nigga does a nigga a favor, then BAM! Hits a nigga up for a favor in return? But I'm afraid I gots to be that kinda nigga.” LMAO) But really like ok ok he died for you but now you gotta devote your whole life right back to him! Like thats hella selfish. If somebody did something for you out of the kindness of his heart, they would not expect repayment all like that. I'm just sayin. Its not my style to convert (or divert?) people, so I stopped.

That was the end to a long evening full of very interesting conversation. Before I left I was invited to their party they were giving for his brother the next day, Easter Sunday. And you KNOW I noted the irony of celebrating easter at a club with alcohol on their eeextra holy day. :)

So, Sunday, holiday, everything is closed, so I didn't do much. Sat around and watched the latest 30 Rock episodes that Nikki downloaded. Around 18h00 I started to get ready and was picked up around 19h30. We went to the same place, the private patio area where the party would take place. I opted out of Black Label tonight, me and the owner agreed to drink Amarula. This is a drink similar to Kahlua, a sweet milky liquor with the flavor of the fruit Amarula, a tree in South Africa. Its really good, smooth. So like any Namibian event there was meat, of course. We were celebrating his 23rd birthday with 50 of their closest friends. Everyone was served a piece of beef, maybe the size of a pork chop, along with a bread roll that had butter and a sausage stuffed inside. There was cake, but I didn't eat it. (Cuz I don't like cake, Kish :p) The rest of the night was pretty chill, we were just listening to music. I tried a Springbok shot for the first time: its Half Mint Liquor and half Amarula, soooo good. I only had one cuz I've heard horror stories about mint liquor. Weird: So these two girls came over to me and were like oh my god you're so beautiful! Can I have your number? Ummmm, yea weird, like I said.

Monday, or Easter Monday in Nam, was my travel day back to the village. I got to La Bamba (aka Shell gas station where I can get a venture ride to my village) at about 14h00 and didn't make it home till kinda late for some reason. Whatev.

The second week of April school has just been preparation for exams. All of my classes have been reviewing stuff about reading comprehension, form filling, extracting info from tables and graphs, and basic grammar stuff according the each class syllabus. So the end of April to the first week of May is ReReConnect, like another training and regroup after the first term of school. Then in a week or so we'll be heading out to Cape Town for about a week. Cape Town is the main tourist city in South Africa. All the volunteers we've talked to say that its just like America. They even have Micki D's!!! I'm hella juiced about that. I'm sure we don't really have a itinerary yet, but theres tons of stuff to so, from great restaurants, to swimming with the dolphins, safaris, and theres companies that blend several attractions for a flat rate that take you around. I'm really excited about it.

I'll return on Monday 24 May, then school starts on Wednesday. Then we have term 2 until August. I have the Southern Girls Conference the week of exams, then the Dirty Thirty has our mid-service conference. It will be our 1 year anniversary here, already!!! Then term 3, then out for December.

So I should do some clarifying before I end this blog post. My social life here is great, great people, great relationships, great memories...this part, while slightly premature, I will definitely miss. The other part, the job...not so much. Ok, lemme go back, my kids, I love them...most of them. They make the rest of the school bullshit worth while. So if you're on facebook you see that I frequently post my frustration with school and the people in it. For example, the food situation. It was break time and the workers were not ready to serve mere slices of bread on time. The 40min time passed and not all learners were given their portion. The principal went over to the kitchen and told them to stop serving because they had to get back to class. Leaving most of upper primary, grades 5-7, unserved and hungry. I was unaware of what was going on until my 7b class, my favs, came with sad faces and hands clinching their stomachs. I asked what was wrong and they told me they did get to eat. My kids already know my stance on this, no food=no school. But for those who still felt up to it I changed the poetry assignment from the current one to writing a poem about why they were upset. Some of them were striking. Maybe I'll post a few with their permission. After I gave the assignment, I immediately went to the principal asking him why my kids didn't eat. He said there was no time and they must get back to class. I was furious, especially because 3 of the 8 upper primary teachers weren't even here so what the hell are they rushing back to? So we start going back and forth, he tells me that these Namibian kids can go all day with no food and that I'm just worried cuz I'm American. I explained to him that food is a Right, not a Privilege, not something they are allowed to be deprived of. He tried to convince me that the kids were just acting pitiful for me, but it didn't matter if they were puttin dubs on it, the fact remains.

So its just a series stupid shit that pisses me off so much. Or in the daily morning meeting at whatever point they decide to stop speaking English, I just get up and leave. I guess I'm over that. Or when they try to teach me Afrikaans, and I'm thinkin like, thats the colonizers language, why do you think its so great?! How hard did you have to fight to overrule that shit?! Stop speaking it to me! It doesn't help that my mood swings are swift and without notice. Sometimes I'm really social in the village, like hanging out, walking, having the kids over, then other times I don't want to be bothered by anyone. Sometimes I just want to be in my room, in my world, but inevitably, someone wants to know where I am, why I'm not outside washing clothes, so they'll come over...i don't answer. They'll call..i don't answer, they'll knock on my damn bedroom window, this is when I get pissed. I move the curtain with noticeable irritation and a look that is uninviting. The conversation usually leads me to say, “no I'm fine” then slamming the curtain back down.

There are times I feel like, ok, I'm here to help, to assist in any way I can to somehow improve their lives, but in the same breath and for the same things, I feel like I'm a fucking tool. I feel like their used to the volunteer doing shit for them, so thats what they expect of me. For example, there is a teacher that always needs me to type stuff for him. Usually its no big deal, but this past week he asked me like everyday to type this letter like 5x throughout the week. I'm thinking like, why can't he do it?! He owns a laptop, so he can, but he asks me instead. I told him when I had time and went to do it then. I finished it during our break time. As he walks into his office I just finished and told him I was done. He asks, “with both of them?” It took so much restraint not to go off, but instead I just said, “you could type it.” and I walked out. I'm not typing shit else unless its directly related to something I'm involved in. Fuck that. So as a response to this, among other things, I intend on having a meeting with the school staff about what a Peace Corps Volunteer is and what I'm supposed to be doing. I have to explain that my Primary Project is teaching, thats it. My Secondary project, whatever that may be, is NOT something to be started, nor lead, by me, but rather someone at the school or community. Because I'm their 5th volunteer they have this skewed idea about who we are and what we're supposed to do. They are used to volunteer starting and leading projects where they just sit back and watch or take orders. Problem with that: there are NO projects from the previous volunteers that are still running, NOTHING has been sustainable. (This is with the exception of the library, built by the 1st volunteer, and since then maintained by the volunteers.) Sustainability is what we are after, what do you do when nothing is sustainable? Sustainability relies on the idea that a native counterpart leads the project and assumes all responsibility upon your departure. There are projects on the table, but I'm seeing little effort on their part, so therefore I don't budge. If I don't do anything but focus on my classroom during my 2 years, I've done my job. Its taken a while to wrap my head around that, but I won't contribute to enabling inactivity. They've become dependent, I can't even blame them for that. What I can do is inform them of how to get the most out of their last PCV, how to utilize resources, and just how to do things on their own.

So I guess I'm having a dual experience. Extreme highs and lows, as expected. Its cool, but I must say I impressed by myself for not going off on someone yet.

Wat Up?! So, a short update of my goings on...

Town: I arrived in town at about 9am on March5th, a friday. I was dropped of at the Ministry of Education so that I could drop off some documents to Nikki and get some forms I needed for my teaching files. Then I went on the main strip to withdraw money...woohoo! Money. I walked across the street to my barber Mendos. He was already cutting someone's hair so I'm just chillin out front for a min. There usually aren't women around this area so, of course, I am a big spectacle there. I walk inside and sit down to avoid any further attention. After about 10mins he's done with the other guys hair, but tells me to wait for the clippers to cool down. So now the waiting time has turned into a photo shoot with me and him. And all these annoying men are coming up to the shop trying to see me and talk to me. Mendos and I have an unspoken agreement that he keeps the dogs at bay when I'm in his shop. This usually gives him the ok to tell them that I'm with him, much to his amusement, of course. Unfortunately, today, it wasn't working. Persistence doesn't even describe what was going on. Most of the Hereros attended the school where I work so they all know where I live and usually tell me that they will 'make a turn' at my place when they're in the area. Great. Then this guy comes in, who is relatively normal. He starts asking me about America. He says he wants to go, but he's scared of all the ghettos. His entire impression of the states, at least the places he wants to visit (L.A., N.Y.), comes directly from Black rappers. So he kept saying “shit, nigga” with his arms tilted in an attempt to be 'hip hop.' Now since I live in LA I must know Ice Cube and Snoop Dogg. Also, ALL of Black America speaks, dresses, walks, and acts like these rappers. To which I had to quickly correct, using myself as an example. I tried to liken our 'ghettos' to their 'locations' so he could understand that its not everywhere, and thats not everyone. It kinda broke my heart because seriously, this was his impression of Black America. I had to tell him to stop sayin 'nigga' so much. It made me think about the images that we put out into the world. I mean sure, Snoop makes music for the ears of the West Coast, but he's worldwide, and therefore so is his image to be interpreted by whomever. I don't hold him responsible; he's just being himself. So then who is responsible?

On the contrary... I had a discussion with the principal from the secondary school at the next village about Black America. He thinks that Black America doesn't have any culture, that we're “just like the other white people.” I always get really defensive about this because their definition of culture is tradition. So since they can trace their tradition back to some village with some language and practices, thats culture to them. So therefore, we, Black Americans that is, have no culture. I always wanna say “if we're lacking soooo much, then why the fuck you tryin to be like US soooo bad?!?!?!?” But I don't. I attempt to explain that culture is always changing, evolving. But it doesn't work. We are as cultureless as ever. Then I attempt to explain the difference between nationality and ethnicity and the effect that can have on ones culture and what traditional values they follow. It usually a lost cause, but I always feel the need to make my point.

The following wednesday we, 2 teachers and I, were assigned to the regional athletics (track) meet. We almost didn't make it because there wasn't transportation and the ministry was running out of cars to get the kids with. There are no school buses, btw. Finally around 4 or so a small truck pulls up. He is expected to take 2 teachers and all 15 kids. No correction, 9 kids cuz the other 6 didn't have birth certificates present. We all pile in, and of course I 'm stuffed in front, in the middle, ass usual. We arrive at one of the teachers houses in Gobabis. We just hang out on the front porch for a while. Then the other teacher comes and he and I start walking around the location, then we went into town. We went to Spar to get some food. I hadn't eaten food in almost a week, just bread last thursday when I had to take my malaria pill. I bought: a polony( thats how they spell it here), cheese and tomato sandwich, an Italian salad (lettuce, tomato, kalamata olives, Italian dressing), chips (fries), pack of cheese, a coke and a powerade. I ate all of it except the cheese, I was too full. That was alot to eat, but having access to all that good stuff was slightly overwhelming and quickly brought back my desire to eat food again.

It s getting dark so we decide to start heading back. As we pass the gas station he sees someone he knows and tells me to sit and wait cuz this guy can possible give us a ride back to the location. This is really weird and intrusive as far as I'm concerned, but of course here, its normal. The guy comes out, they talk for a min, we get in and head back to the location. In a semi-lame attempt to show my gratitude for the life I greet him in Herero, much to his surprise. Score! He's impressed and thankful for recognizing and using his mother tongue. When we get back to the house everyone, including all 9 kids, are glued to the tv watching the new soapie: Shades of Sin. I just sat outside with my colleagues husband and the other teacher I was with. We were out in the dark talking for a while. Then the kids came out and started listening to music and dancing. By about 22h00 (10pm) I was ready to go to bed and I knew we had to be at the school the next morning by 6h30 for some meeting about the meet. At about 23h00 the teacher walks in the room and tells me to eat. I told her that I was already full from the food at Spar, plus it was too late to eat. Then she said she would feel bad because now I'm gonna report to the principal that I wasn't fed at her house. So I sat up and gratefully took the bowl. It was minced (ground) beef with potatoes and onions. It was really good and filling, a bit much for my stomach but I ate it all anyway.

I slept on a mattress (aka rectangular piece of foam) on the floor with the teachers sister and a 3 month old baby. Awesome, how am I gonna sleep with this new baby?!?!? My alarm went off at 5h30 and I realized that this baby didn't make a peep all night, not even the little baby grunts, she was quiet all night. I knew she was up but she wasn't making noise. I suppose she was just playing with her imaginary toy or friend. I made a point to thank her mom when she woke up later just to tell her that she had such a good baby. So of course no one was up and they were just getting up by the time I was ready. We are definitely not making this meeting. We made the kids a big pot of oats and we ate sausage and cheese. A teacher and I walked to the school where the meeting was to take place, only to find it was long over and everyone was at the stadium. We got a taxi to the stadium. Its about 7h30 now and the meet is supposed to start like, now. Nothing is together, they are still setting things up. I see another volunteer from Norway that I recognize so we end up hangin for a little while. I'm officially assigned as the time keeper for 2nd place. So I spent a bulk of the day at the finish line and walking around back to report my time. It was a pretty easy going day. It was hot and long, but ok and tolerable I suppose. The day wouldn't have been complete if I wasn't being harassed by SOMEONE. So there was this guy who wouldn't stop asking me for my autograph so that he could tell all his friends that he met someone who lives in Los Angeles. This was so crazy to me. Then he was like, “can I just have your American phone number to put into my phone so I can phone you when you get back.” Ummm, no. So between him and a few others arguing over who was going to sit next to me, the day was not completely boring. My acting supervisor for the day was a teacher at a local school, we're about the same age and clicked pretty well so I guess I can say I have native friends in town now. Cool.

We concluded at about 14h30, and thats after canceling the relay due to lack of teams.

The other teacher and I went into town to get some last minute things before we were to head back to the village. I got some candy for my classes and a bunch of different types of juice and soda for when my learners stop by. Then back to the village we go.

When we pulled up I told our driver to drive into the school campus so the athletes can be greeted by their peers. When we drove up he was honking and all the kids rushed to the car like MJ was inside. They have a lot of pride in their athletes. So we opened the bakkie for them to get out and all the kids were clapping and cheering for them. Then we turned the radio up real loud and the kids started dancing and singing and high fiving the participants. It was great. A welcomed return for our kids. They were like movie stars.

So I'm not sure what happened but I didn't hear my alarm go off the next morning so not only did I miss the morning meeting (yea, bummer :/) but I also missed 1st period. Really no explanation, guess I was just really exhausted from the previous day. The rest of my Friday went smoothly, I suppose.

The following week there was an advisory committee coming to assess our school, identify problems, and recommend positive changes. I was excited about their visit. I knew that I could learn from them and get much needed guidance that I can't get at my school. For example, I am the English Department Subject Head...I have no idea what that means, but I'm that person. I'm also the librarian, by default because I teach a library themed course twice a week. So as a result of their visit, the other teachers spent the whole weekend in their classrooms tying to make sure all their academic files were up to par and up to date. Judging how long they stayed in their classes, I would say they had a lot to catch up on. I mean, they had small boys bringing them food throughout the day so they wouldn't have to leave.

The team arrived on monday evening. The Ministry of Education didn't arrange for housing so they are basically on their own to find a place to stay. I told a few of the female staff that I had an extra room available if they wanted to stay with me. So 2 did. I was observed the next day. All the other teachers were frantic about being observed and evaluated. I wasn't, I was excited about working with someone who could actually answer all my questions. After class I spoke with her about my teaching. She asked why I wasn't using the cross curricular themes. I told her that I wasn't aware that I should be using them. She showed me exactly what I should be teaching and how I can make it learner-centered education. It was awesome. So now the themes I teach will all fall under: Environmental Education, Information Technology, HIV/AIDS, Communication, and 2 others I can't think of right now. She told me that I wasn't confined to the English text book, which I hate, so I was happy about that, Actually, she recommended that I use the text book from the social science, natural science, and agriculture disciplines. She said I should be supplementing the other classes and use English was a way to explore applicable topics that are relevant across the curriculum. I'm excited about it. She told me that she wouldn't evaluate me until I changed my lesson that incorporated the cross curricular themes. So by the next day I created a group project themed after HIV/AIDS that will cover various English and various requirements in the syllabus.

So this past weekend marks the 20th year of independence for Namibia. I went down south to Mariental to visit a bunch of Dirty Thirty's and attend a meeting for the Souther Girls Conference (SGC). SGC is a 4 day camp for girls that focuses on self esteem, future goals, and just loving the fact that you are a women. So as of now I'm signed up to give courses on Appropriate Relationships and am the creative movement dance instructor, this is basically on some jazzercise or sweatin to the oldies type stuff. The conference is in August.

The rest of the weekend was fun filled, just hangin out with the crew. We basically sat around, played drinking games, watched some American shows on the projector and just kicked back. It was a nice break from it all. Monday morning we went to the gas station at the highway to get back. We waited about 5 hours to get a ride. Once I got to Windhoek, I immediately went to the hotel. Peace Coprs is making it mandatory for all the volunteers to get swine flu vaccines. If you refuse, you WILL be sent home...yea, the states. So I told them I could come in on Monday to get the shop, but since that was a holiday, I had to come in on tuesday. Subsequently, I got put up in a super sweet hotel for the night. This place looked like one of those time share places. I had a living room, tv, stereo system, a balcony, double bed, full kitchen with everything in it, and a decent mini bar. It was sweet...and free for me. :)

I stretched the 11h00 check out by watching tv, taking another shower, and cooking eggs that I purchased the previous night. When I left I went to tthe Peace Corps medical office for my shot, then I went to the volunteer lounge which is around the corner from the medical office. I got some free magazines and used the internet to upload those pics that are below. I left there around 1 and got a taxi to my hike point for Gobabis. So a hike point is where the cars are that are going to your town. They are designated at various gas stations all over town. The taxi driver dropped me at the wrong spot so the gas station attendant took my bags and walked me to the correct place, then he found me a taxi that was going to Gobabis, AND assured me safety with this driver. Pays to be pretty...sometimes.

Now I'm back in town but its too late to get a car back to the village so I'll be in town for the night (tuesday 3/23). Tomorrow I will go into town and buy electricity, some good seasoned chips, a mirror for my room, some vegetables, and a box of wine.

Random:

 Weight: I now weigh 169, I was 195 when I arrived. I think my weight is sustained, I've been this weight for a while now. Another volunteer gave me a work out plan so I should be starting that soon.

 Food: I'm eating, but not that much. I eat oatmeal for breakfast every morning. I add vanilla extract, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Then I'll only eat one other meal, usually a dinner-portioned lunch. If I'm hungry during dinner time I'll eat a carrot or tomato.

 Friends: I'm not walking as consistently cuz things have been crazy at school, but I will get back on track. And people know me every where I go, I make friends every where. Its sweet, it makes everything slightly more bearable when there is someone my age around, whether its in the village or town, or anywhere in Namibia for that matter.

 Book: So I finished New Moon, the second book to Twilight. So Edwards vampire family had a little incident in the house with Bella's blood and it scared the shit out of him. He thought the best idea was for him and his family to move away. He leaves. Bella is beyond heart broken, she's......dead, in many ways. She would rather die than feel the pain of life without Edward. Edwards sister Alice has premonitions and foresaw Bella killing herself by jumping off a cliff. Word gets back to Edward that she did this and through a series of miscommunication he believes Bella is dead. He then flies to Italy to piss off this large group of vampires, to provoke them to kill him. Alice takes Bella to Italy to prove to Edward that she's still alive. They do and they all go home. He tells her how difficult it was to be away from her for such a long time and that he's not strong enough to stay away from her anymore. Happy Ending! I've started book 3, Eclipse, its good so far.

 Cape Town, South Africa: So far we have booked accommodation and a ride back to Namibia. The hotel for 8 nights will be $1260R=$168USD, and the bus ride back is N$560=$75USD. This doesn't include food and tourist stuff we will be doing. I've already started the water diet again, to avoid buying food, to pay for this. I'm super determined to go and have the best time I can! We'll be there from May 15-22.

 Mail: If you are planning on sending me a package just send it to the PO BOX 1022 Gobabis, Namibia, Africa address. School will be out in a month and I don't want to have to wait for the break to be over to get it. So if you send it to the PO Box I can just pick it up in town on my own. Thanx!

Thats all. It brings you to date. Enjoy the rest of your week!!!

So here are some pictures of my school and house. The first few is of the school and my classroom and some of my classes in session. There are pictures of my house, first my bedroom then the kitchen, bathroom, and the view from my back porch where I spend alot of time and of course, the occasional back yard slaughtering of a goat. Also, pics of my kids at dinner. Enjoy!

So in an effort to not bombard you with months worth of goings-on I will make an attempt to post more frequently. I can now post from my phone, but thats only as reliable as my email chooses to be on that day. Perhaps I will post from my phone when I think I have something important to say. Maybe thoughts about whatever that I wish to share with you, for whatever reason. Life in the village

is pretty boring so I have plenty of time to think about a bunch of other stuff not necessarily related to anything going on in Africa. Also, for those of you on my email list: If you wish to be removed from this list please reply requesting a removal.

Scene: I'm in my new room (I'll explain), both large windows and curtains (government issued sheets) are pulled back. Its been raining all day today. Thankfully the power hasn't gone out...yet. I'm wearing some Adidas track sweats that I found in the PC volunteer lounge, they're blue with green trim, very large for me and very comfortable. I have my gray LMU shirt on with my hot pink Old Navy fleece over it. I'm kinda cold, but I'm lovin this weather. I'm really trying to absorb it. I'm sitting on my bed, my back is to the school and from my side window I can see my back yard, along with my neighbors, and into the bush. I'm not listening to music today. I'm simply enjoying the sound of the rain.

So last time I posted I was in town. It was uneventful considering I hadn't been there in 5 weeks, which is a record for me to be in the village, but due to financial issues, I had no choice. I spent most of that friday in the Teacher Resource Center on the computer trying to find the right program for my laptop. So I bought this netbook (a condensed laptop with no disk drive) but the problem I'm having is that its not Microsoft Windows, but rather Linpus Linux Lite...whatever the hell that means. The system is perfect for someone only wanting to use Internet (primary function for netbook consumers) but trying to change any of the default settings is extremely difficult. Its designs that way for a reason, people that want to change things about it, typically won't purchase that type of computer. Needless to say, for even the slightest advanced computer user, its not user friendly. The problem: I can't play any audio thats not mp3 and it won't play any video. The solution: Codec package. Great I have that but installing it is a huge issue. Its not just double click and run. Its hella complicated and I haven't been able to figure it out yet. So basically, my Friday was spent on message boards reading about this problem and learning that a bunch of others with the same computer faced similar issues. Great.

Saturday I went into town to take care of some business: got my edges trimmed, did my grocery shopping, went to 2 internet places to see if they had any know-how about my new computer system. The rest of the weekend was quiet, nothing major. Oh, there was valentines, but whoop-ti-doo. Ya know, I was in a relationship every year since 10th grade on this day and its never been a big deal, why??? I've grown as angry as single people usually are about it. Whatevs, guess its just not in my cards.

Monday I returned back to the village as there is no transport on Sundays. When I got home I saw that my counterpart, a male teacher, and his two sons (21 and 8) moved into my house. Now, it wasn't a problem for me because I totally trust this teacher and his sons are as polite and respectful as he. I knew, however, that Peace Corps wouldn't go for it. I'm not sure what it was but when they moved in the house suddenly felt like a home. Up til now I had been living with a female teacher. It was just cold. I felt like I couldn't put my kitchen things in the kitchen, couldn't leave pantry food out, couldn't leave my door open, or unlocked for that matter. I can't say it was anything she did, but it just didn't feel like home. So now here I am in this house with 2 men and a little boy. I feel completely safe. I began to put all my kitchen stuff out (utensils, water filter, dishes, pantry food etc.). I frequently left my door open when I was home, which I never did before. I laid down in my room with the door open. I didn't have to close it every time I left. It just felt right. I guess the type of teacher he is was why it was ok. He was very straight-forward, a problem solver. As far as work ethic goes, he's easily my fav. It was like there was an unspoken agreement about my space and they respected that. It was easy living with them.

On Wednesday, my Peace Corps supervisor, along with the volunteer I replaced, BriAnne, came to do a routine site visit to make sure everything was in order. Not to my surprise, he was very upset by my new living arrangement. I told him it was ok and I felt extremely safe, but that didn't matter. It was a matter of policy. It would only be alright if his wife stayed here permanently, which to my counterpart, wasn't an option. He would have to move.

After we got passed that issue I was asked some basic questions about teaching and settling into the community. Everything was ok, no big deal. After he filled out the paperwork, enough with the formal stuff. He asked, “Now Ashley how are you really doing?” And I responded honestly, “I don't know why I'm here. I don't understand how this school is now at its 5th volunteer. There is clearly no need for me. They don't utilize the volunteer as an addition to the staff, but rather, I'm a part of the staff. They give me the same 'duties' they have given to all the volunteers before me.” I continued to explain that sustainability wasn't really an option with few to no eager soul attempting to start or take over any projects outside the realm of their classrooms. To which I got a typical “Peace Corps” reply, “The kids are sustainable.” Correct, I agree whole-heartedly. I didn't say this, but I feel like the kids are sustainable EVERYWHERE, but why do you insist on sending people here? So even though I didn't say that, I was assured that I was NOT going to be replaced by another volunteer. Good. I was also assured that just focusing on my teaching and classroom, they complimented my classroom and assumed my teaching was on the same level, was fine and if there were little to no prospect for secondary projects, thats ok. That was helpful to hear, I felt relieved and reassured. I guess I liked knowing that they agreed with what I was saying and would have my back if it were a problem.

The rest of the week went in a flash and by friday my new roomies were moving out. At the time I was in the smallest room in the house. A nice sized room for a kid, but for me with stuff and a slight case of claustrophobia, I wanted to move rooms . The other two rooms are much bigger, both of which are similar in size. There's the first room. I don't really like that one because it only has 1 window and a weak flow of air, thats the room I was in when I lived with Alvee next door. It was a dim room because of the porch. So dim, warm....not my cup of tea. The previous teacher I was living with was moving back, she had the master bedroom before. While all this moving was going on my principal/supervisor keep asking my why I don't move into the larger room. I've always been polite about it, not wanting to displace anyone. So it wasn't an issue before. But now, the room was empty, the teacher moving back in had already put in a transfer request (and because of her daughter's disability she had special consideration and more likely to go at any time), and I'd just received another visit, this time from the secretary telling me to move into the big room. So right then and there I decided to move into the master bedroom suite. Virtually twice the size as the room I was in. There were tons on kids helping the other teachers move so when they saw me carrying stuff, they were eager to help. I probably carried all of 1 bag, they did the rest. They like helping me.

The female teacher shows up, also having moved hardly anything by herself, and noticed I have taken the room that was previously hers. She asked why I didn't tell her and I said “I didn't think it would be a problem because you will be leaving soon and besides,” noticing she wasn't buying that, “everyone has been telling me for weeks to move into the larger space.” SHE.WAS.HOT. She quickly asked what would happen with her spokes (curtain lines) as if that would encourage me to move back to half the space. To which I replied, “Oh yea, take them.” lighthearted and in agreement. She went into the supposed living room, which has become her kitchen, and hops on the phone. I don't have to know the language to know that her anger grew with each word. One of the kids came and told me that she didn't want to help me and that she didn't like me in this room. I shrugged, indifferent. I spent the rest of the day organizing my things. My wardrobe didn't fit through the angle of the doorway so now I don't have anywhere to hang my clothes. I can still use it, its in the room I was in, but her stuff is also in that room so I'd rather not.

Saturday was a nice day. I committed myself to laundry that hadn't been done in 5 weeks. I figured it would take all day and thus filling time. It seemed like everyone was out doing laundry also. Everyone sits outside with their buckets and wash basins. Their pretty thorough here, like they wash bed sheets and curtains weekly. Thats crazy. I'd learned previously about the color of the water so I washed methodically. Whites, bright colors, then dark colors and black. I dumped that water out and refilled to wash my towels and bed sheets. I started about 7am that morning and wasn't done until about 2pm. I wasn't even being as thorough as usual, just target areas (arm pits, crotch) and spots, but it still took forever. As I was washing the last item, my sheet, some learners were told to pick the weeds from my backyard. As I said in the previous post, weeds are grass. They have shovels and they skim about a centimeter deep to loosen the root and another comes behind them to rake it up until there is only a hard layer of sand or dirt. They were out there all day. I stayed with them. I guess they were avoiding cleaning another teaches yard they didn't like, but I enjoyed their company. Sure didn't ask to help though, :) I gave them candy and made punch a few times giving them frequent breaks. I attempted to be a good host, plus I know they don't get shit from the other teachers they help. We were on my back porch laughing and playing around til about 6pm when they went to dinner. I closed up shop. I went into my luxurious new palace and started looking through magazines for cut-outs to place on my wall.

Sunday morning I got up early. I showered and went to my classroom to grab a few things. I was determined to decorate my room. It took my all day, but looks good. Most of the walls are covered with magazine stuff: pics of Hally, Beyonce, Jay-Z, Eva L., Scarlette JH, Mariah Carey, Janet, Kardashian, Kendra, Rachel Zoe, some jewelry adds, perfumes, perfect body models, name brands, tv shows I watch, and some make-up stuff. Then I have other stuff color coded scattered throughout the wall. The orange is food recipes, the pink is publications from the volunteer generated newsletter, and the blue is language stuff I should work on. Also scattered are statements I should remind myself constantly to stay here and sane: 1. Everything happens only as it should; challenge: to understand why. 2. Primary project: the learners. Secondary project: the learners. 3. Remember: You are merely planting a seed. 4. Stay Inspired. 5. This experience is bigger than YOU!!! -than your emotions, -than your happiness, -than your stability. 6. Remember WHY you joined the Peace Corps. How bad you wanted it. How long you waited to go. How much you sacrificed. Between all that are letters/poems written by my brother, and cards from my mom, Max, and Nasir. So yea, it kinda looks like a teenagers room, but its reminders of home, America the Beautiful. I have advertisements for things I don't own, and probably never will, but it makes me feel comfortable, like I'm back in the wonderful materialistic/superficial world of Los Angeles. There's a Sephora ad, but I only wear cheap make up; there's an ad for Coach and Tiffany's and Co, both of which I will probably never own (both my choice and lack of means); an ad for Ralph Lauren, this is more of an ode to Max, his favorite brand; oh, and a Peach Snapple ad, cuz i just like Peach Snapple. :) I suppose my new goal is to completely cover the walls with randomness that makes me happy so if you could send me your old magazines I would appreciate it, c'mon it'll cost no more than $5 to do so.

One of the walls, well half of it, are the principals of the Kybalion. So a former co-worker and friend turned me on to this book, noting my non-traditional belief system I follow. The Kybalion: A Study of the Hermetic Philosophy of Ancient Egypt and Greece. “The Lips of Wisdom are Closed, except to the Ears of Understanding.”- The Kybalion. This text is really amazing. It one of those books that is timeless and applies to everything. I appreciate its laws and how they apply to me and my life and how I'm only subject to which I cannot overcome. Once I have gained a higher level of consciousness, I am, literally, in complete control.

So, in case you've missed it, here's my philosophy: I, the soul, created this life before it began. Each and every moment, action, activity, incident, was planned. The people I've met, and loss, the places I've been, and avoided: All the plan. I.AM.GOD.

If this bothers you, don't send me messages with religious bruhaha, just walk away, peacefully.

Because my life is planned and its occurrences are deliberate, I am forced to trust everything that happens. For example: when all my stuff was stolen, I was initially shocked, but thats all. I accepted that it was the plan. That for whatever reason I was not supposed to have those things anymore. I have even gone as far as to assume that some family is somehow living better because of their new...things. I hope some mom has nicer clothes to wear to work now, some kid can finally learn how to operate a computer, some teenager is enjoying my jewelry, some kid no longer has to sleep on the hard floor as he now has a thick padded sleeping bag, and perhaps the cash funded much needed food. I didn't think this thoroughly when it happened, but I was sure that it was supposed to happen. It gave me a sense of calm that, prior to this philosophy, I didn't possess. This is the base of everything I believe.

All truths are but half-truths and all paradoxes can be reconciled. -The Kybalion

Anything else is in addition to this. The Kybalion is in addition to this. A series of other ideals like I.AM.GOD. comes directly from the 5%er philosophy that teaches that we are all gods, no one is above or below. I don't agree entirely because I only apply my philosophy to ME and no one else. And from Eastern Philosophies I have adopted reincarnation to my existence. I don't believe that this is my only lifetime. I'm sure I will have many more. Its a pretty good feeling. I never feel defeated. I never feel like I'm not accomplishing enough. I won't feel like my life is incomplete because I know I will return. I haven't decided as to whether or not I've been here before, but I will certainly be back. I love it when people say, “you only got one life to live.” I love it because it doesn't apply to me. On the other hand I feel sad for them, I see the defeat, the incompleteness, the long list of unattained goals, the dilemma of living the life they want versus the hand they've been dealt. I'm free. I am at the mercy of no one. Its truly an amazing feeling having been the creator of your own universe.

I don't expect nor encourage people to see the world as I. I really don't care how others view things. And while I'm at it, this is the respectful approach. I refuse to bombard anyone with my beliefs with forceful aggression to adopt my views, and I expect the same courtesy. I don't care what you follow, who you believe in, what you live by.....just don't bring it my way. Deal? For the first time in my life I know exactly what and who I am. I am what I created. Thats it. I am still growing. I am still learning. I am still reaching higher levels of consciousness. I don't need your babble about what you believe. Keep it to your damn self or go harass anotha Sucka (with my dad's voice and tone in mind).

But I digress...

So lets talk about food. I have been forced into a few creative food situations as of late; with either my lack of choices (ingredients) and/or power outages, I've had to pull some meals out of the hat. I'm getting more and more creative with each day as my options dwindle.

Lets call this new section VulnerableVentures in Culinary Namibia:

 Meal: Butter and Onion sandwich. Cause: power outage.

 So as the power went out my stomach roared. I needed food, but unfortunately everything I had needed to be cooked. I had bread, butter, onions, carrots, and seasoning. I was hungry and determined to be satisfied by what was available.

 What you need: bread, butter, onions, garlic salt, pepper

 Alternatives: whatever seasoning you want

 Recipe: Wheat bread, place butter on both pieces of bread, a nice layer is necessary; Sprinkle garlic salt on one slice and pepper on the other slice. Cut onions to your preference. Place onions as needed, if you have time, spelling things out or making pictures with the onions may brighten your mood, seeing as how the power is out. Place bread together, Enjoy.

 Meal: Bread and Gravy Delight. Cause: bread was starting to turn green.

 So I knew I had to use the bread as there was still another untouched loaf in the fridge. I had a few gravy packets, onions and eggs. I wasn't sure what I would do, but it came swiftly and I was amazed at the outcome.

 What you need: bread, onions, gravy, eggs, butter, electricity*

 Alternatives: Good w/out eggs, but not as filling. Also, a cheese sauce in lieu of gravy would be awesome.

 Recipe: butter 3 slices of wheat bread, both sides. Place them in a pan to grill on low heat. Slice onions and sauté them in butter. Add 1.5cups of water to the onions and add the gravy packet. Let onions and gravy come to a boil for 2mins and remove from heat. Watch your bread, as not having a non-stick pan can become problematic. In another pan make scrambled eggs. When all three are done place bread directly on plate. Spoon scrambled eggs evenly across the slices. Then pour a generous portion of gravy and onions atop the bread and eggs. It will be messy so try to clean up a little while the gravy is soaking into the bread. I find a spoon works best. Enjoy.

 Meal: Grilled Peanut Butter sandwich with a Twist. Cause: Sweet tooth...and use of bread

 I wanted something sweet, but not in the form of candy, something savory. I headed for the kitchen to assess what I already knew I had. I decided I would make a grilled pb sandwich. While looking through my “pantry” area I still had frosted flakes and some honey. I thought, “these'll be nice additions to the meal, neh?” So it was.

 What you need: bread, butter, peanut butter, honey, frosted flakes, electricity*

 Alternatives: Substitute honey for nutella. Substitute cereal for anything sweet and/or crunchy.

 Recipe: Butter one side of each slice of bread, on the other side place a generous portion of peanut butter (also, this is messy, so it would totally suck if the WATER was turned OFF while you were cooking this meal, yes SUCK). Place the buttered side face down in the pan on medium heat. When you notice the physical properties of the peanut butter change its time to add a few sprinkles of the frosted flakes and some swirls of honey to taste. Remove each slice separately, stack on plate. Enjoy!

*denotes alternative: gas stove, or over the fire, I suppose.

Random: So I've been thinking about what I'm gonna do when I return. I realize that its not til the end of next year, but I feel like it'll come faster than I think. By 'do' I mean as a career. Up to now I have wanted to be a teacher, never quite settled on the grade, but a teacher nonetheless. I've decided that I don't think thats what I want to do. There's a lot of aspects I enjoy about teaching, the kids, the security, the summers off :), but I don't know if I am as passionate as I tell myself I am. I'm not sure if I would be wiling to stick in there if I had to be under horrible management, like I was at last year at a school in south LA. The principal I worked for was awful and in many ways, made it easy to not want to be there. The counterproductivity was all too frequent. I feel like if I decide to teach it needs to be in inner city school, mainly where, unfortunately, poor management is all too present. A part of me feels like if I have to question myself at all, thats enough to tell me thats not for me. I'm not quite sure what to do. Then I posed a question to myself: If you didn't feel obligated to serve the 'worlds' children, what would you be doing with your life? Answer: I would be a Sociologist specializing in the study of Sexual Deviants. Wow, hell of a jump, neh? I'm really intrigued by sociology. Those were my favorite classes in college. I love how open it is and how much can be discovered. I love the flexibility and application to various outlets. I don't know how to make a career out of it, but then again I haven't researched it. Los Angeles is home to some of the best Sociology grad programs in the country, that helps. I guess I'm just puzzled on what to do, how to do it, and how to know if its what I really want. Is it possible that I could join the two? Study sexual deviance amongst youth? The lack of sex education in school? The abundance of “sex” in the faces of the next generation? I'll always be interested and a part of education one way or another, also I'm intrigued by those that choose to deviate from sexual norms, especially those making careers out of it. In a perfect world I would be the superintendent of education for the United States and the Head Sociologist for the study of sexual behaviors at the University of the United States, lol yea, Me and Hakeem in the same place. I appreciate any suggestions or recommendations should you have them.

Books: So somehow I've turned into a slight reader in my time here. Perhaps its because I can't watch anything right now but whatev. So here's what I've read so far...in the last month:

 Bright Shiny Lights, James Frey

 Dude, Where's my Country?, Michael Moore

 Finding Freedom: Stories from Death Row, Jarvis Masters

 Twilight, Stephanie Meyer

 The Kybalion, The Three Initiates

 Stupid History, Leland Gregory

Here is what I'm currently reading:

 I am America and so can you, Stephen Colbert

 My Boring-Ass Life, Kevin Smith

 Out of It, Stuart Walton

 New Moon, Stephanie Meyer

 Transformation Soup, Sark

 The Alchemist

If there is something you want to send, by all means. Oh, no history books, thanx.

So I actually just finished Twilight today, I started yesterday. I've seen the movie quite a bit, but I figured that since I'm in the mood to read that may be a good series, to the disappointment of Max because I am reminded that these books are designed for 12 year old girls. Whatevs. I loved the book. I love love stories. The intense passion between the characters is amazing. The modern day Romeo and Juliet with a vampiric twist. I love it. So if you don't know the story: Its about Bella who moves to a small town in Washington with her dad because her mom is remarried and is travelling with her new hubby. She is a junior in hs when she becomes dangerously attracted to this boy, Edward. A series of “unexplainables” occur and she discovers that he is a vampire. By the time she has this information she already has fallen irrevocably in love with him. She ignores his warnings to stay away from him knowing that she would be his easiest, yet most difficult prey. He is equally drawn to her as she is to him. The more time they spend together, the less they can stand to be apart. I have just started the second book, but she has a close encounter in the first and desperately wants to be a vampire so that she can truly be with him forever. He despises the idea.

Stories like this always have me thinking about love and how we approach it. I question whether or not I have it all wrong. I guess I really love the story because I find parallels from my life. I suppose I am more of a mechanical thinker, rational. I tend not to think with my heart, but I'm slowly learning that its probably better for me to do so. My senior year in high school I choreographed a dance piece that signified the search for love and finding the greatest love of all. The piece was beautiful, considering I'd never choreographed anything before. The moves were purely generated from my heart. My heart, in the possession of a 23 year old with long beautiful hair and an angelic spirit. Like Bella, I was head over heels, can't see straight, crazy in love with this man I had just met. Forever didn't seem like enough time with him. He was beautiful, intelligent, spiritual in ways that challenged my thoughts and wise far, far beyond his years. Like Edward, he was different from the other guys in my life. He was quiet, kept to himself, not wanting to be in the spotlight or draw attention, but you can't help but to notice him the second he walks into a room. His confidence, sense of...cool, is striking. You can try to take your eyes off of him, but you're still paying very close attention. He inspires me to be more, to do more. He expects only the best. He sees qualities in me that I don't see in myself. And though, like Bella, I believe I am more closer to ordinary in comparison to him, he sees everything that I am and

reminds me I couldn't be more wrong. He sees beauty in my flaws. He sees perfection in our love, and I agree. As we approach our 6th year anniversary I reflect on the beginning.

The day we met. April 20, 2004 (4-20/Senior Ditch Day) I'm at Jamba Juice with Serina, heavily under the influence and in desperate need of a bathroom. I see him in the line about 3 people behind me. Gorgeous, wearing an old school sun hat, slightly tilted to the side, not paying any attention to me. He's standing next to another guy, paying close attention to me. I find my way to the bathroom, then sit near the door as Serina finishes up with her boyfriend behind the counter. He has his drink and is on the way out. He passes me. Then turns around and walks toward me. (His explanation is that God told him I was the one so he had to turn back.) He asks my name and tells me that I am nice looking. He asked for my number and I gave him the real one, something I had never done before, I mean, my fake number was memorized. Later that night he left me a message leaving his number. I couldn't quite understand the last 2 digits so I had to figure it out the hard way: listen to the message a billion times and come up with possible number combinations, then call. I began to feel anxious. I didn't even know him, but something about him was drawing me in. I needed to talk to him. About 12 combinations later I finally reached him. We had basic conversation. It was nice to talk to him. Within 2 weeks we were together. It was exciting. He was the furthest thing from anything I had been with before. He possessed qualities I see in my dad and brother, though the three would never admit it, my mom sees the same. Fast forwarding 3 years ahead while living together in Inglewood, I thought with my head and left. We were apart for a year. I think we needed the break, its become a healthy rehab in my opinion. By the next year, rational thought wasn't working in my favor. I needed something, bad. It was him. Only him. Nothing or no one can hold my heart the way he does. Once I got passed the “earthly” and “human” issues we had, it was an easy decision. While we still had things to work through, it was becoming increasingly insignificant in the scheme of our love. He had to be back in my life, and this time: for good. The more I grow the closer we become. I am still playing catch-up, for he is light years ahead of

me in the journey, but we remain side-by-side. My eternal partner, then, now, and forever.

Thats all I have for now. Hope you enjoyed it!

Update: So the creative part of me has drowned so with my desire to eat food. I wrote this last Saturday. On Sunday I made this large pot of rice with a soup packet and for some retarded reason I added a marinade packet expecting for it to be appetizing. It wasn't. It was effing gross. I had maybe a few spoons full and then put it in the fridge. Its Thursday night, its still there.

On Sunday(2/28) I was invited for a walk with some local peers. I'm not entirely sure how far we walked but we were out from 2pm to about 9pm. I got to go to all the local villages around here, it was nice. So now we walk everyday for a few hours. I'm about 5 days in and still so sore from it all.

Special Solicitation:

At the end of April the Dirty Thirty has a training for about a week and a half. Immediately following a bunch of us will go to Swakop to have some fun, then head down to Cape Town, South Africa for a week. Seeing as how travelling was one of my motivations for joining the Peace Corps I’m going, no matter how broke I am, or how much macaroni and soup packets I have to eat until then. So here’s where YOU fit in, if you would like to contribute to this trip you may do so by contacting either of my parents to make a deposit. Thanks so much!!!

Sharp Sharp (sounds like shop shop, like saying good bye for Namibian youth)

(Scene: I am sitting in my room. I'm on a green chair with a wooden structure, a very sturdy chair, I actually have 2 in my room. The chair and the foot of my bed touch so when I sit here I kick my feet up on the bed, kinda like my make-shift recliner if you will. My bed is sort of a mess. Both of my sheets are brown, as in the color, they're not dirty. My pillow case is also brown. My favorite color is brown. I have a pile of todays clean laundry on my bed. When I'm ready to go to sleep I'm just gonna throw those clothes on the chair I'm currently sitting on. I have on my LMU alumni shirt with my LMU pajama shorts, they look like blue plaid boxers though. I have a black satin rag on my hair to keep it tamed while I'm loungin around. I don't have any make-up on. I usually don't wear any on the weekends, unless I'm going somewhere and even then its usually just eye liner. The fan is a standard sized one. Its white with green trim. Its directly on me, on low. My laptop is sitting on top of my brown pillow. Its playing The Miles Davis Quintet in NYC Philharmonic Hall at Lincoln Center, February 12, 1964. I like playing this when I need to concentrate on something else. I never listen to just listen. Maybe one day I will.)

FYI: You are welcome to visit the other Dirty Thirty blogs listed to the left. They also have interesting stories and post pics frequently.

I believe my last blog left off at the end of training. Since then a lot has happened, the good, bad, and ugly depending on who you ask.

I will start chronologically, then fade into Namibian randomness, Vocab and phrases, tell you what I miss, and hit you up with a list of what to send (us), that is of course, if you are a good person that truly feels like donating items out of the kindness of your heart, to both a volunteer teacher and Namibian learners who lack supplies because 70% of the education budget goes toward paying the very people that abuse them with sticks, water hoses, and belts on a daily basis, but lets touch on that in later paragraphs. Please keep in mind that I am remembering events off memory alone cuz some schmuck has my notebook with all details that were supposed to make it to this blog post, but again thats a later paragraph. Enjoy.

Back at Site:

First week at site I was teaching all week because the volunteer I was replacing was out of town doing her close of service (COS). The teaching was relatively easy. She had everyday and every period mapped out for me. It was basically a chapter from the text book. I lectured a little and had discussions with the class about the importance of learning English. They seem to already have the understanding that they can go all over the world with English. This is good for me, then I won't feel so bad making them speak only English when I have my classroom. I understand that it is important for them to know their mother tongue, however they will be limited to parts of Namibia only. English equals mobility, period. The important thing is that they understand the importance, if they don't then I am merely a colonizer imposing my language upon them. In my defense, however, English is Namibia's official language.

So here's the deal: our group (The Dirty Thirty, aka PC Namibia Group 30) is the first to come to site before the school year starts,(which is in January, the beginning of the new school year). This was changed as a response to volunteer recommendations that we should be able to settle in and have a chance to integrate instead of just hitting the ground running. Sounds good. But now most of us are feeling useless. We do not yet have classes of our own, no actual job to do, and many are at sites where there is still a volunteer. But of course Peace Corps gave us this obnoxiously large packet filled with week-by-week assignments designed to help us integrate into our communities efficiently. I found most of the activities to be rehearsed and unnatural. For example, a way to get to know teachers was to interview them with a set of questions provided. Blah. Week 2 at site I attempted to tackle some of these activities. Others I've delayed indefinitely because I believe that certain relationships will come naturally, I don't want to force them. I mean, I'll be here for 2 years, no need to spit it all out in the first 3 months. Week 3 I co-taught English with grade 5. And by co-taught, I mean taught by myself. Fifth grade is really difficult because they have just started to have all instruction in English. And thats not even entirely true cuz the teachers still speak mother tongue to them in class, thus making my job much more difficult. Thanks. (Background: Learners receive instruction in Otjiherero, their mother tongue, from grade 1-4)

After looking at my calendar, this puts me at the first week of November. Honestly, I have no idea what happened in the following weeks. Seriously, like 3 weeks of no recollection. Aaaand thats how boring the village life can be, you lose weeks at a time, yet feel every second go by like days. I do know, however that elections were the fourth weekend in Nov and thats when I went to town. I went on a wednesday because there isn't transport out of here on thursdays and elections was on friday. Peace Corps felt like there may be some political unrest in these elections and put us on alert mode. So what that means to volunteers is a free, and extended, weekend in town for “safety reasons.” =] So the big deal about elections is that this year was the first time anyone has actually challenged the ruling party and had even the slightest chance of winning. Inside scoop: One of the leaders of the ruling party didn't like the 'dirty work' going on, so he left and started his own party threatening to expose the ruling party in the process. Results: The ruling party still rules.

Being in town for 5 days was awesome. I must inform you that 'town' simply means a street thats about 2-3 miles long lined with shops, grocery stores, restaurants, clothing and accessory, library, interneting, post office, supply stores among other things. But after being in a village with practically nothing, I'll take it. The volunteer house is about 3 blocks from the main street. After I've put my stuff down, greeted those in the house and chilled for about 15mins I'm ready to hit the street. I usually have a list of things to take care of so I like going by myself. I always wear my old navy flip flops cuz they make me feel more casual and at ease, its probably a comfort of 'something from home' also. And I always have my sunglasses on (which I hope some beautiful young lady is now sporting looking o'so fierce). At this point its my second time in town and people are recognizing from my previous trip.

The Hair Fiasco:

I decide that I need to get my hair done(wash and blow). For the last few weeks I have been wearing it down. There's a little shopping center with all these little suites, most of which are hair salons and are about the size of a small walk-in closet, or standard sized bathroom. I walk into the only one that looks like an actual salon and tell them that I just want a wash and blow. They tell me that they will wash, but they don't have a blow dryer and that I will have to walk to another shop if I wanted it dried. I smiled. Said Thank you. I left. I then walked to said shop where there was a blow dryer. In this place you can get a fade from the barber station, get your clothes hymned by the tailor, buy hair, get a loosey (single cigarette), buy phone minutes, and inquire about a small business workshop. It was big and seemingly more legit than the other sardine cans of the strip mall.

I walk in and ask them if they offered said services. To which they affirmed and proceeded to gather all necessary materials to complete the task. By gather “necessary” material I mean large 2 liter fanta bottles to fill with water from some outside unidentified source. I wandered curiously wondering where on earth my hair would be washed, rinsed, and blow dried as I saw nothing that could tackle any of these tasks.

Then, lo and behold, I see a wash basin. Its blue, about 8in deep with a diameter of maybe a foot and a half. As she poured boiling water, accompanied by the fanta water bottles containing room temperature water, she asked me to come to her. I did. I walked up to her and stopped. She motioned for me to bend over. The basin is now sitting on a stool no higher than my knee caps. I am not a gymnast, nor is this a Lil'Jon video. I cannot bend over, straight-legged, and make my knees touch my forehead. So I squat and bend over. Extremely uncomfortable. The shampooing wasn't that bad. But after the application of shampoo I wondered where we would rinse. Would she have a surprise fanta bottle waiting its turn to be used? False. We will rinse in the same dirty water used to get my hair wet in the first place. Then comes the application of conditioner. This is usually when hair dressers comb out my hair to remove tangles and such. She made one brisk attempt and opted out. Perhaps she decided that it would be easier to comb it out after we wash it, in more dirty water. We proceeded with the rinse of the conditioner, to which I'm sure was not completely out of my hair.

She sat me down behind the counter in one of those white plastic lawn chairs everyone has. You've seen them. There was no station with a mirror or hair supplies. There were, however, shelves under the counter with random items used for hair. She towel dries my hair then immediately starts to blow dry it, UNCOMBED. WTF?! This time she made several brisk attempts. She clearly doesn't know how to deal with my hair. The woman doing it is no older than 17, has a perm, and hair just barely past her ear lobes. Not that this should have any baring on her abilities to deal with my natural hair, but she is really having a hard time and her lack of skill is extremely apparent. Starting from the back of my hair she makes her way about an inch up, just blowing it out. I tell her that she needs to put something in it like a detangler, leave-in conditioner, or some type of moisturizer that will allow the hair to be more manageable. My recommendations went ignored. She began speaking Otjiherero to the other lady, and due to my novice language skills I couldn't tell what she was saying. I kept hearing the word hair, but that all I could make out. The other girl, at least a few years older and obviously the one controlling the shop, comes and decides to take over. She starts combing it out in sections. Now I'm thinking like, ok she knows what she's doing. Then she gets to the middle of my head, which is where the hair is most course and the least dealt with, and says, “Your hair is too natural.” (Side note: Yes, I am in Africa. Yes, she was black. Yes, I was appalled. Yes, thats what I get for assuming.) I didn't respond. I didn't know how to respond. Thats the last thing I expected to hear during my stint in Africa. Then every time she came across a section of hair that she couldn't comb out easily she would repeat those very words.

The dynamic became interesting when the men entered the shop to see the new face. They would walk up to me, touch my hair, and compliment me on how nice and beautiful my hair was. We would exchange greetings in Otjiherero, to the surprise of the women of course. Then came the questions about where I was from, what I'm doing here, how I find (like) Namibia, and where I live. (Side note: in Africa, there is no such thing as personal space. So someone walking up to you and touching you is not rude or abnormal. It definitely takes some getting used to.) One of the men is a barber in one of the suites across the way, he invites me to his shop. I tell him that I will be there because I need my neck and side burns trimmed. After 3 long treacherous hours she is finally done. She tells me to come back to get a perm with a bob cut. Really?! It cost N$50 (about $6.77USD, so that makes it a little better)

I walk over to the barber. He is cutting someone's hair and has 2 guys waiting. He sees me and I tell him I'll just wait outside til he's done. He says no, come in and in Otjiherero, tells the guy to get up (secama). I kinda felt bad, But not really, I had other things to do. He starts to wrap a dirty towel around my neck then notices my nape piercing. This becomes a 5min spectacle, I have to quickly tell everyone not to touch. He spends about 15mins shaving my edges off, he gives me the mirror, I say its ok. Pay him a N$20 and I'm on my way.

Thanksgiving:

I end up going to a few different stores buying things for my house that I need. Mostly kistchen stuff and cleaning supplies. The next day is Thanksgiving, not in Namibia. I decided that I would make corn bread from scratch along with honey butter that Marie Callendars has. I made both from scratch and everyone loved them. Along with that we had lentils with vegetables and rice that Mariko made, Dasha made cauliflower soup, Nikki made stuffing and sweet potatoes, and Cathy brought fruit salad. It was a really good and healthy Thanksgiving. Out of the 5 only 2 of us are carnivores, but neither of us felt the need to buy meat, whatev. We spent the rest of the night drinking wine and watching movies on the computer.

This was my first holiday away from home, ever. I thought I would be ok, but the people I was with are either not close with their family or have spent numerous holidays away from home and were ok about it all. The day of Thanksgiving I was alright. Then my friday morning, your thursday night my mom calls me and passes the phone around so everyone can say hello to me. I made it through the phone call, but afterward I couldn't help it but to breakdown and cry. I missed everyone so much. I couldn't help but to think about what I was missing, which was nothing according to Kishaun. And within a few hours there were pictures posted from the dinner, All of them were nice and I got through the album until I saw a picture of my mom which again, made me cry. It doesn't matter how much I get to talk to her on the phone about family goings on, seeing her makes me cry.

The elections were on Friday and Saturday, nothing in my area happened. They were quite and peaceful.

The Going Away Speeches:

In the first week of December the staff threw a going-away party for the departing volunteer I would replace. While the details of this party are a blur at this point, there are a few things I remember. First, it was supposed to start at about 7pm and we didn't begin until almost 10pm, on a Thursday night, and yes we had school on Friday 6:40am morning meeting still on. The DJ played some of the hottest joints from 90s boy bands, and not necessarily N'sync or Backstreet either, to Micheal Bolton, to karaoke versions of popular music. Imagine this playlist on repeat for hours. Then there were speeches. While I don't remember them in detail I remember one that went like, “Love is like a booger, you just keep picking at it, and you don't know what to do with it.” Yeeeaaa, not sure exactly what that means, but hey English is not their first language. The other one was something about how Lance Armstrong landed on the moon. Hmmm.

Bad Goat:

That Friday BriAnne and I were invited to the principals house for dinner. Probably like a departing dinner for her and welcome for me. The principals wife has a philosophy whereby because I don't yet know her I shouldn't come and eat her food not knowing how it was prepared. So with the invite is actually cooking with her. It was a nice idea. Her kitchen was like 98 degrees, but whatev. The menu: frozen veggies, lasagna, goat ribs. BriAnne was assigned to veggies. I was to cook the lasagna layers. Wife to cook the goat. My layers didn't turn out great because half the time the burner was not actually o and the rest of the time they were merging with each other beyond my repair. Apparently, here lasagna just means layers. The meat that was to go inside the lasagna was just regular ground beef (here they call it minced). She added cucumbers and I believe onions to the meat, some basic seasoning, and not actually marinara sauce, but ketchup. Fuck me. So these were not layers that compare to the juicy Buca di Beppo (I wasn't impressed, lol yo girl!) lasagna, but rather a dry, meaty version, or NamStyle if you will. Then she had me add these thick pieces of mystery cheese. It didn't have any flavor to it. I was hoping the flavor would change and be better once it was melted. The goat ribs had been sitting is a bowl, marinating I suppose, for hours in this hot kitchen. By the time I went home that night my stomach was hurting and feeling queasy. I figured it was from the bad meat or something like that. By the next morning I was vomiting and had sever diarrhea. It was awful. I literally didn't eat anything on Saturday, I just stayed in bed, only getting up to release fluids from all 3 places. I felt like I was gonna die. I kept asking myself who I fucked with to have to go through this now? I'm still puzzled. Monday came, I didn't feel any better. I wasn't vomiting anymore but I was still scared to eat anything as my stomach felt like it didn't want anything for at least a month. I was able to eat 2 apples and a slice of bread and keep it down. Monday came and I couldn't get out of bed. I still felt like shit and could only really eat apples and bread. My host mom had the kids go get me a coke, then she dropped some medicine(they call it 'tablets) in the coke and had me drink that. Then she gave me about 5 different bottles of random shit. It was all written in Afrikaans so I didn't know what any of it was. I really didn't care, it didn't matter, I took all of them having no concept of dose or anything. Tuesday, same story. Wednesday I'm able to get up and out of bed. I had to pack because we were leaving for the holiday. We get a venture (suv public transport) and make it about half way to my shopping town when we run out of gas. We pull over at this shop and are flagging down cars seeing if they have an extra tank we can buy from them. So ridiculous, but normal.

Swakop!!!:

School was out by the second week in December. Since October my host mom and her brother had been planning to take me to Swakopmund, the tourist town of Namibia. On the day we were supposed to leave her brothers wife decided she didn't want to go because she wanted to go to a funeral. According to him, we were supposed to withdraw our reservations for the trip as well. I think not. My host mom was like, “he's not the only one with people on the coast.” I love her for that. Slight change in plans but we were definitely going. She had a taxi pick me up from the volunteer house in my shopping towm and we met to take the combi to Windhoek. (N$100)(Combi is like a van, supposed to seat about 15 people, but in Namibia there's atleast 18, or more easily. Windhoek is the capital, we have to go there because there isn't transport that goes straight to the coast.) So we are jam packed inside this combi with a 2 hour drive to the capital. I'm surprised we didn't crash as often as the driver was looking at me in his rear-view mirror, thankfully my glasses shielded where my eyes were. We arrive at Rhino Park, a place that has transport going to the coast. We each pay N$100 and put our names on list, go to the bathroom, and go up to the snack shop to get junk food for the ride. I get a few bags of chips, flavored sparkling water and a russian, which is a sausage, its really good. Buying stray pieces of meat here is extremely common. By stray I mean not accompanied by bread or anything, just pieces of meat. They like it to the point. We cram into yet another combi for a 3 hour, or so drive. Our driver however had absolutely no where in the world to be so it took like 5 hours.

The air starts to get cooler the closer we get and I know we have arrived at the coast. We get dropped off at some open air bus station looking place, but can't really tell as its night time. A friend of my host mom(named Alvee) comes to pick us up. He takes us to where we will be staying to drop off our stuff. The houses are pretty nice inside. They have obviously been built by the inhabitants, but nice nonetheless. It's Alvee's aunt's house. She cleans the houses of the rich people, her husband is a firefighter and there are a questionable number of kids that live there. They sleep where ever there is space, hallway, kitchen floor, couch. They gave us their master bedroom for the weekend. We sat a talked for about 10mins then we left to see some of the city. Benja, the friend and now official driver, takes us directly to the coast. We drive through the wealthiest communities in Namibia. These beach homes are definitely comparable to ours. Huge, beautiful, modern. Then we drive to a local Shell gas station thats known for the best chips (fries) because they season them with vinegar and some special mix of saltiness, they were BOMB! Fries out here are not crisp at all, I don't think they would like McD's fries at all. They are very soggy and oily, guaranteed to give you a stomach ache every time. You know like a McDonalds breakfast, its hella good, but you always feel like shit afterwards. They drop me off at the house and they leave to get beers at a local shebeen (sketchy ass bar made of whatever materials they can find during its construction.). So I'm like, damn, why can't I have a beer? To myself of course.

The next morning I get breakfast in bed, ramen noodles. Then we get dressed and head out for the day. When Benja arrives he introduces me to his niece Beverly (Bev), and there's another lady with her son with us. He has a little hatch back vw that is super small. They give me the front seat to be nice, but by the time we arrive at the gas station the lady says she's too fat to sit in the back seat. She's dying laughing about it so I don't feel so bad chuckling as I get out the front seat and cram into the back. We go to a grocery store but since no one is telling me what is going on I'm not sure why we're there. We just end up getting 2 big things of juice and a large cup of yogurt. Then we start driving for at least an hour. I see that we are at the sand dunes, but instead of climbing any sand dune we go to climb dune7, the highest in Namibia. We arrive and it is huge. They tell me to roll up my pants and take off my outer shrt cuz i'll get hot. I just roll up my pants. We attempt the dune. It was so difficult. I would take 3 of 4 good strides and stop and rest. Unless you have quads of steel, you're gonnna catch hell climbing this. Benja has already made his way to the top. That lady is probably about 8 feet from the ground, too big to get any higher. Me, Bev and Alvee are about half way before we decide this is entirely too hard and we go down. We sit at the picnic tables and open the juice. We all drink directly out the carton with our own straws. Then after about 30mins we decide to give it another go, this time at an angle, only slightly easier to climb. We finally reach the top. I was so exhausted I don't think I actually got to enjoy the view. We sat for a while, drank more juice, took pictures, went down. Going down is pretty fun because with every stride your leg falls 2-3 feet into the sand, but somehow your still floating all the way down.

We drive back into town and I inform them that I am hungry. Instead of pulling into a restaurant or a quick sandwich spot, we go to a grocery store where there is a take away filled with greasy fried meats, breads, and chips. They all look at me and ask what I want to get. “I'm confused,” I tell them. They ask again what do you want? My stomach can't take anymore greasy bull shit, I need a fruit or vegetable in my system or I'm seriously going to die. So I leave the bunch and grab a salad, 2 tomatoes, yogurt, cheese, and a large water.

We take the food to the beach and lay out picnic style. I have my bag that I'm eating out of. They pull out a large brown bag of chips that is completely now transparent from the grease, another bag of brochens(bread rolls) and one large juice. Now I'm thinkin what the hell can you do with that? They each grab a bochen and poke holes in it with their fingers, then stuff the fries into the holes and violla, lunch. Hella dry, no condiments, that is not lunch! Now I realize they asked me because they expected me to pay on everyone's behalf, since ya know, I was the hungry one after all. Ha, smash that plan.

Me and Bev decide to walk down the beach and since she grew up there she was able to give me all the history about the place. Swakop looks like a little Germany. Its architecture, street design, store themes, overwhelming love for Jagermeiter among other things. Bev is a 19 year old college student who was educated with all the rich white kids in German speaking schools. She speaks 7 languages and is a pretty sharp girl. Her mom works for the rich so she's always had access to their lifestyle by default. It was refreshing to be with a peer who spoke perfect English, understood the value of education, especially in a place like Namibia, and who has hopes that exceed this country. (Please understand, most the women I meet are very traditional and fully accept their place as 'women' in this society.) Bev is Herero, but a very progressive one. Its obvious she was raised in an urban area, she's been exposed and influenced by western culture and its totally working in her favor. She wants to be a lawyer. (She told me her uncle brought her cuz he was tired of having to speak English so much.) Thank god for Bev.

By the time we get back to the rest of the group they've decided to do other stuff so me and Bev decide to hang for the night. We get dropped off at her house(the name of her street is: Hella, lol that is so Gangsta) where I meet her older sister and brother. The sister doesn't speak much so I spend most of that time talking to her brother Simon, another forward thinking Herero. Not sure of his education background, but obviously very smart. He starts asking me questions about Americans and how we're not interested in the rest of the world. I confirmed that there are many people not concerned about anything beyond their circles, but that I was a perfect example of an American that clearly cares beyond the boarders. We then sat in silence when Lorenzo's Wife came on.

By about 8 o'clock Bev and I walked over to her friends house, Scooby. Then the three of us went to a semi-sketchy bar. You can hear the music from her house its so loud. As we approach I see a gang of people standing outside beers and/or cups in hand. Its mostly men. We walk in, Buy beer and sit. There are huge burglar bars all the way to the ceiling protecting the bartender from the people. And when I say bar, I mean a place where you can purchase alcohol, but they don't make cocktails or anything. You can buy hard liquor and the stuff to mix it with, but thats pretty much it. You can also get phone minutes, looseys, and the occasional Knorrs soup packet. There are bar stools bolted to the ground, there's only about 10 of them. There are two slot machines by the door, and 1 music jukebox. And by jukebox I mean a small electronic box that you feed with dollars to play your favs. Guess that explains why we heard the same 8 songs all night. It still early and kinda lame, but the music is slappin and the beer is flowin, its all good. Within a few hours a billion more people show up. Its crackin. People are anxiously trying to talk to me, Bev and Scooby are acting as bodyguards for the ones too drunk to get near me. Benja shows up to check on me and see if I'm ok. I tell him I am and send him on his way. It was a blast. The rest of the night is a complete blur so lets move on.

Next morning I am again blessed with ramen noodles in bed, ya know, the cornerstone of any nutritious breakfast. Alvee tells me that Benja is dropping Bev off so we can go to town. Me, Bev and Alvee take a taxi to the Snake Park, why we went there I'm not sure. Apparently since we went there for my entertainment I was expected to pay. WTF? Whatever. So we go in its just three little rooms with snakes, scorpians, and turtles. I really didn't have to come here. I did, however, get awesome video of a snake eating a rat. We left and walked to the grocery store for food, of course. I get my usual and they get theirs, I also picked up about 15 post cards with pics of Swakop. (Some random Namibian now has these. I don't have a single clue what they're gonna do with them.) Then we walk to KFC. I'm pretty sure I have voiced my opinion about how awful the KFC is here. A real joke. So we go in, its jam packed like its the Grand Opening or some shit. We wait in this long ass line and all they got was 2 street wise meals (2 wings and small portion of fries.) Mind you, they alredy got fries from the grocery store. Really doe?! Ya'll had me in this lonnng ass line for 2 raggedy ass wings? Then had the nerve to sit down there and eat it with the brochen and fries from the other joint! I'm so embarrassed and there's not much I can do at this point. A serious OM(F)G moment. (My brother however, he would've just left, pretended not to know them until well after this incident.)

Then we leave Bev there to apparently fin for herself as we are whisked off by a taxi to take us to the next town over, Walvis Bay. It was about a half hour drive. We get dropped off at Alvee's sisters boyfriends house. Its pretty nice. Its in a newer community where it seems as though all the houses are both inhabited and under construction. I walk in the house, greet the sister, meet the 5 year old son, and greet the friend. I walk pass the kitchen over to the next room and what do I see: a flat screen tv, atleast 50in WITH SATTILITE!!!! I damn near fainted. I haven't seen more than 2 channels since August. They had it on the style channel and I simply didn't want to move. Alvee called me into the kitchen, I assume because she didn't want me to feel left out or lonely, but little did she know I had a slice of heaven in the other room. After 10mins of awkwardly sitting in the kitchen while they DON'T speak English I ask to go back to the tv. I sit back on the nice leather couch and fall into the trance (If I gotta go blind I'mma do it for the love of all television kind, and thats fine.--Aesop Rock).

Let talk about the television for a moment. I see that even people with tv's don't necessarily watch them that much. Back at Alvee's I was basically the only one to watch the tv. Funny enough, at Bev's the family gathers in front of the tv, just as we do it in America. Its like the tv is so secondary here. It seems as if they'd rather sit on the porch and stare into the yonder, then watch tv. I find this completely insane. I freakin LOVE tv. I would say its pretty much the best thing mankind has contributed to this world. And while I'm at, I really hate people that say, “I don't really watch tv.” BullShit. That sounds good and perhaps you think it makes you look smarter, but it doesn't. In fact, it make you look like a closet tv fiend just waiting to get your next fix. You're not fooling anyone.

K, back to the story. Some other guy with a car shows up to get us and take us around town. First we go to the shore. Beach front houses are amazing then there's a grassy area, perfect for a lovers picnic. There's a pile of rocks, then the water. There was a huge amount of jelly fish all over the place so naturally I was snappin away. We took a few pics here, got back into the bakkie (truck) and went to the other side of the bay. There were a lot of people surfing and parasailing. Then we go to this huge restaurant over the water. The first thing I see is this big Jagermeiter sign on top, totally awesome. And I'm thinkin like, finally we are going to eat at a nice restaurant. We walk in, circle around the bar and ask to go to the back room. I'm confused, yet again. The back room had some nice African art there, it seems as though it was like a gallery during certain times of the day. I take pics of the ocean view from here. I'm wondering why we aren't sitting down with menus but I assume they know something I don't. We then go back to the main dining area, circle around the bar again and gracefully leave the restaurant. You have got to be effing kidding me?! Did we really just walk in and OUT of this place without ordering a damn thing?! (Upon noticing that we were leaving, my brother would have quietly walked back in, ordered a cocktail, and dare them to say ANYthing about it.) So damn Embarrassing.

But unfortunately, it didn't stop there. We began to walk inland to a hotel. As usual I am confused, but give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that we are going to this hotel for some good god damn reason. Its the Protea hotel, Walvis Bay. This is a pretty good hotel chain throughout Namibia and I believe its in South Africa as well. Its very nice, modern, elegant. As we approach what looks like their restaurant Alvee attempts to open the door thats locked. I tell her that I believe you have to enter from the front. Duh. We then walk around to the front. There are limo's and nice cars parked in the circular valet area. (Before I proceed, let me recap who I'm with: Me, wearing a brown flower print dress, Alvee, looking decent, her sister, wearing a shirt 2 sizes too small and tights, her friend, wearing an oversized shirt with tights but cute, the guy, wearing a polo and cargo shorts, and the kid, looking like a kid.) We approach the lobby area and all I see is white people dressed elegantly, probably for a wedding in another part of the hotel. Then here we come. Hella deep and clearly out of our element. Yes we are black and they are white, shouldn't define whose 'element' but in this case it does, loudly. Everyone in there looked like they were supposed to be there. We didn't. Alvee walks to the concierge and asks for a nightly quote. Yep thats all, a quote. Five adults and a kid walk into a hotel and ask for a quote. I almost died. This whole day I just kept thinking about what my brother would do in these awful situatons. Honestly, I don't think he would have even walked in this place. He could blend well, but thats not the point. Guilty by association ya know. Then the lady tells her that she can get info about other locations to our left on the wall. I stay at the desk area waiting for the shenanigans to stop. The wall has pamphlets for each Namibian branch of this hotel. The three women all went to the wall like there were food stamps hangin out for free. I mean they were snatching every single pamphlet for every location in the country. Then, it happened. She called my name to come over and get a pamphlet off the wall with her. There it is. I died. I mean, by the time they were done there were empty slots all over the wall. We walked out like it was nothing. Words can't begin to express my embarrassment. I felt cheap, like a peasant scratches the fence that divided me from the rich. Like we were so desperate to be a part of their world, we were bold enough to walk into their place just because we could. The nerve.

Subsequently, however, Kish I think you would approve and they are relatively reasonable (N$900-1100=$120-150USD/night)

We piled back in the truck a went to another beach. It was a popular beach area with a boardwalk. We're standing in the water for a while when Alvee walks up and tells me that she heard ocean water was good for the skin, she was asking me for confirmation. Never hearing anything about this theory I blurt out that maybe it is because the sand can act as an exfoliant. They freakin ran with that and immediately started to wash themselves in the water. They rubbed the water on their faces, arms, legs. WTF?! I had to take pictures of this, it was too funny. I can't stand how I feel after being at the beach with sand sticking to you and feeling all salty, and here they are rubbing it like a St. Ives body scrub. SMH

The next stop is in the location. A location is simply what we would call a ghetto. Literally, here it means the community that lives outside of town, but almost always these communities are made up of make-shift homes used with scrap materials. In the location we go to the infamous “Herero Mall” in every town that has a community of Ovahereros there will always be a Herero mall. This is simply a bar where all the Hereros in the area hang out. By the bar there are usually outdoor food vendors cooking meat. They all tell me that if you can't find a Herero, just come to the Herero mall and they'll be there. We park and put down the truck latch thingie and sit on the edge. They go in and buy some beer. We're just hangin on this narrow street with all these other people, half of which are drunk. People keep coming up to the truck talking to me in Herero. The people I'm with always inform them to speak English to me. They know as much English and I know Herero so it becomes difficult to communicate past the basic greeting and 'where are you from.'We stay here for about an hour, just sitting, they are thoroughly entertained by the men trying to talk to me, I'm not bothered by it as much as I am annoyed. How many more lame attempts at English are you going to make? No I will not marry you. No I do not love you. And No, I would not like to stay in Namibia longer than my contract reads.

As we are leaving the location we pass by the “Get Rich or Die Tryn Car Wash.” Totally hilarious, I tried to catch it on camera but its really blurrry. Its basically an open space with buckets and people wanting to make a little money. These types of car washes are all over Namibia. Most of them say 24hours under their signs. I've rarely seen cars in these places.

We head back tot he community where the sister lives. We 'make a turn' (this means we stop somewhere first) at this lady's house that supposedly sells lotions and stuff. All she has at her house is a catalog. So we make another turn to her shop in this super sketchy strip mall that is basically all bars with tons of outdoor meat vendors. Her shop is decent. I ended up buying a foot scrub and lotion (that I never actually got to use). We get dropped off at the sisters house and Alvee starts cooking fish. I ask if its ok to go watch tv. I'm in heaven for at least 3 hours. Then a taxi comes for us. The taxi's here refuse to just drive you, they want to fill the car before they start dropping people off. So we are in this taxi, late at night, in some sketchy ass location waiting for more people to pile in. They never come. About 11pm we finally leave for Swakop. When we get home we're exhausted so we go straight to sleep.

The next morning I have my staple breakfast and get ready to go. That big lady from before, her boyfriend has a taxi and they have agreed to take me around for the day. For a fee, of course, and of course I am only told this when we are at the gas station. So its the lady, her man, and their baby, me and Bev. The first place we go is the salt factory for some god forsaken reason. Its this place miles out of town that is completely closed to the public. We get there, its in the middle of no where, literally. Its just this mountain of salt and these huge rocks of salt. We climb through the side gate, since the main gate is closed and locked. After being there for about 15mins some people drive up and simply tell us not to go pass a certain point in the factory. We take a few pics and leave. They then take me to Swakop's worst location/ghetto. I mean, this place is the bottom of the bottom. It was so poor. Its a pretty large location and as we're driving through Bev is explaining to me that the government has these grants for people living in these locations to build their own houses, but that the people here are simply too lazy to do it and that they try to get the money but not build with it. We stop at this community center donated by Miss Angelina Jolie-Pitt. Its pretty nice, not sure what its actually for, but nice nonetheless. They take me to the water source and show me how the people here get water. So there are a few faucets throughout the locaton. You put in a dollar and it will release a certain amount of water at a time. So people just bring a bucket, put the money in and carry it back to their homes.

Then we go to this guys house. He's like some well known artist in the location. His house is pretty big, made completely of scrap materials, but decorated nicely. He has painted his house all kinds of colors. It was pretty cool. I have pics of it ill try to upload. We go in and talk to him for a while. By the looks of his house I expected him to be a little weird, but I wasn't expecting what I got. I greeted him and put my hand out to be shaken. He had meat in his hands. I dropped my hand because his were occupied. I think he thought I was offended so he puts his meat down and sucks on each and every finger. Not just the tip, he puts his entire finger in his mouth until there is nothing left to suck on and with those same fingers he extends his arm for a hand shake. Fuck me. He was saying all kind of random shit to me about being in Namibia and taking things but not giving anything. It was really pissing me off and I didn't have the patience to explain to him why I was in Namibia in the first place. Turns out on top of his obnoxiousness, he was drunk. His speech was English and Herero back and forth, in and out. I kept looking at Bev expecting her to translate and she couldn't even make out what he was saying. I was noticeably uncomfortable and motioned to leave this effing place. As I got up he tells me to go in the next room and greet his wife. I walk into the room and she's completely passed out on the bed. What the hell am I supposed to do with this?

Then we walk across th street to the shebeen. Its day time so there isn't anyone there. Wait, that doesn't mean a damn thing here. I don't know why there weren't more people there. That lady and her dude were drinking beer. They offered us some, but it was a little too early for me. We get in the car and drive back to town to go to the aquarium. It was ok. I don't ever need to go back. Me and Bev decide to stay in town and the rest of them left. Thank GOD. Now I can go to a restaurant. I ask Bev where there is some good food. She tells me the Lighthouse on the beach is pretty good. Let's go. I was so noticeably happy to be at a restaurant. I explain to Bev that in the states, at least with my family, when you are on vacation eating out is a huge part of the experience. We even design our days around when and where we are eating. We know to plan ahead and find the best places to eat. I told her I couldn't keep eating greasy take-away food every time I'm hungry. It was a nice place. We sat on the top deck and had direct view of the beach, the weather was nice, overcast and breezy. I ordered a seafood pasta and she got spaghetti. She drank a Southern Comfort while I had Jager and Red Bull. I felt like the vacation was now complete.

We went back to where I was staying to find out what was going on for that evening. My host mom had plans so I would be with Bev again for the night. Sweet. I got my clothes together to do some laundry when the aunt asked if she could help me. (Help here means, I can do it for you.) Ab-so-lutely. I then took a taxi to Bev's house. This evening we go back to that same bar for another night of amazingness. It closed at 1am so we walked over to the other bar that closed at 2am. At that point we were about 8 deep walking me home. We had a freakin blast!

Monday morning, departure day. This sucks. I've had so much fun hangin out with Bev and her people, I'm sad to have to leave. Her and her friends are texting their good-byes. Something tells me to go hang out til we absolutely have to leave. I ask my host mom whats going on and she says just to be back by 1pm. So me Bev and Simon go into town to run some errands and see Scooby at work. It getting closer to 1pm and my host mom tells me to grocery shop here for the food I will eat at the farm, where we would be going for the rest of the week. I replied ok and when are we leaving? She ever responds. So we hang out for a while, go back and eat at the Lighthouse again. Chill on the beach for a few hours and head back to her house. We're all tired so I go in the room and take a nap. Still haven't heard from Alvee. I wake up in time to watch the soapies. Simon brings me a Black Label that I apparently didn't drink the night before. Awkward. Everyone is in here chillin and here I am with a Black Label, but it was all good. I tell them I want to go out again since it appears we aren't leaving today. They're down, Scooby is completely burnt out from the previous nights. We go back to my place to drop off the groceries and all my important belongings. We head out for the third night. This time Bev wants to take me to the clubs that are in town. I'm skeptical about it on a Monday night, but I go with it. We get there and it is wiz-eak! It was lame, hardly no one there, drinks were overpriced, and they were playing wack shit like Ashlee Simpson, not cool. So we leave to head back to the location and do the usual: Bar #1 crackin, bar #2 same people from #1, still crackin, then we were going to hang on the beach but the guy with the car wanted us to buy more beer so we were like, never mind.

We were just hangin in front of some random persons house(one of them knew the person, but they weren't hangn with us or anything) for hours. There was about 10 of us there. Everyone spoke Herero so I was speaking it alot throughout the night. It was me, Bev, Simon, their friends Blondie and Kevin, Hafeni about 4 or 5 other people that didn't speak much. The conversation was crazy this night. Hafeni is a 20 something, black, hates white people, hates Americans, hates south Africans, hates Mandela, hates Bush, loves 2pac, loves 2pac's mom, loves the taliban, and is strongly opinionated. We spent most the night going back and forth about all these topics. It was hilarious. I'm pretty sure after talking to me for hours he has a new found love for Americans, some anyway. After explaining to him what I was doing there, along with 7,000 of my American counterparts serving as Peace Corps Volunteers around the world, he appreciated what we were doing, especially for Namibia. However, he claims PC made a mistake in sending me here because of my love for Black Label, a South African beer and because my personality and ability to challenge him and put him in his place, didn't make me look like a 'teacher.' It was so much fun. Now this is integration. Goals 2 and 3 of the PC mission, check.

About 4am or so we were about to wrap it up and go, but none of us really wanted to leave so we decided to stay. About 6 that morning I was starving. I told Hafeni to make me something to eat. To which he replied, “Oh, now who's the Red Cross? I'm the African and I gotta feed this hungry American?” Yes, this is how he talks. So he sent someone to his house around the corner to get food. They come back with cold ox and macaroni salad. We ate out of a communal bowl, we tore it up. But I was still hungry. So I went to his house and was given words to say in Herero to whomever was there. It ended up being someone I was dancing with one of those nights, he was totally caught off guard by me entering his home hella early asking for food. He fixed me the bowl and walked me back to the spot. By about 730am Benja comes in this garbage truck looking thing. I go over to him and he tells me to get in the truck cuz I will be leaving soon. I go over to the gang and hug everyone, thank them for a good time and assure them I'll be back next holiday. When we get back to the house I start to pack up, my clothes are clean and folded for me.

We leave and get dropped off at the open air bus station where people get combi's. I'm on no sleep and little food, I'm so drained. After a quick 3 hour drive to Windhoek my host mom decides she has errands to run. We are all over town stopping at every hardware store, every grocery store, ugh it was ridiculous. Then we squeeze into a venture that will take us to the town in our region. There isn't any room in the back so for some reason I have to sit in the front. In the front in the middle. I'm between this old ass driver and this old ass drunk man that has a bottle of Tassenberg (like the cheapest wine) between his legs. In a combi, there isn't technically a middle seat so my legs are straddled “African Style”, one leg on the passenger side, one leg on the driver side, which means, yes, the stick is between my legs, soooo uncomfortable. Then the drunk guy keeps falling asleep and putting his head on me. The driver was horrible at passing so we would be behind a big rig for like 45mins before he attempt to pass and even then his predictions were way off. We came close to head on collisions several times. After the third time I just laughed cuz all the people behind me were cussing him out in Herero each time. Somehow we arrived safe and sound. I stayed at the volunteer house overnight. The next day we would leave for the farm.

Off to the Farm:

Alvee calls me about 3pm and tells me to get my stuff ready cuz our hike is on his way. They arrive in a truck with a jam packed bakkie (the back part with the shell top) and somehow me, a little girl, and an adult man are supposed to fit here. We manage. We stop at a grocery store to get some last minute things. Out front I am approached by someone who recognizes me from Okahandja. Alvee tells him that I am going to the farm, they are impressed. They also seem a little worried about me being there with the lack of amenities and all. I start texting Bev and Simon for tips about farm life as they are also on their way to the farm for a few weeks. Simon tells me to adapt as quickly as possible and not let the people see me uncomfortable and that if I look like I'm doing ok, it will put them at ease. Next stop, bottle shop (liquor store). Everybody riding with us has already gotten their alcohol for the trip, this was just for me. I decide to get 2 six packs of Black Label. I bring them to the counter and Alvee takes me down the isle with all the hard liquor. I tell her I don't need it. Then I decide i'll get Jack and Coke too. I just want to get a little of bottle of Jack, I mean I'm not tryin to get blasted or anything, just something to sip on and take the edge off. They tell me its not enough. So then I say i'll get the bigger bottle of Jack. The lady at the counter tries to get me to buy 2, I say no one is fine. But then I decide another 6 pack of Black Label won't hurt considering I usually drink 750s. So here I am with 3 six packs, a bottle of Jack Daniels and a 2l coke. The damn lady behind the counter argues with me telling me that this is not enough alcohol for the farm, my host mom and the guy with us agree with her. Who does this? You are not getting commission for selling alcohol, why are you arguing with me? Amazing. I told them no, bought my stuff, we were on our way.

So me and the guy in the bakkie are exchanging 'getting to know you' information to both break the uncomfortable silence and to pass the time. He tells me that he already has 2 kids but that he wants the next ones to be by someone white, he says, “you know a woman from Sweden or Australia or any type of white girl, like you.” Wait, What?! So I replied that I wasn't white. He says yes you are, your color. So apparently here, light skinned is just lumped into white also. Weird. Already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear him say it I ask why his next kids need to come from a white person? To which he replied, “yo cala is much betta.” I am consistently challenging people with their light skin/dark skin complexes. By default I'm empowered and a voice of influence being American and light skinned so I try to use that to inform people about the ridiculousness of that way of thought. I can't disprove the realities that lighter skinned people have more access to white privilege, but I can try to change the way of thought amongst the people themselves. I mean, he's trying to have babies with someone hoping they'll be better looking than the previous ones, and seriously how do you think he will treat them compared to their darker skinned siblings. I spent a good hour explaining the beauty and dominance of darker skinned people. Yes, yes I know, just reversing the theory. But seriously, in a post-apartheid nation going to extremes is necessary.

Probably feeling uncomfortable or annoyed, or both he changed topics. Then I have this long conversation about my ring tattoo and its symbolism for the commitment of Max and I. No one here considers that to be marriage or anything close to it so I am therefore single as far as they are concerned. Then comes the next predictable question about finding a husband in Namibia and since I was single I should let him “come inside.” Yes, exact words. I calmly replied that NO ONE would be coming inside of anything because I am spoken for. He chuckled and let it go.

Irritated and uncomfortable, literally and figuratively, I nod off to sleep for the duration of the ride. The whole trip was about 5 hours crammed into a bakkie filled to the top with alcohol and 3 bodies. It was about 10pm when we reached our destination. When we arrived it was pitch black, the only lights were coming from the truck. Apparently we had the generator so they were pretty happy to see us. I check my phone, no service. We unpack the car, by we I mean teenage boys in the vicinity, and take our stuff to Alvee's house. The house is dark so I can't really see anything. Alvee takes me over to see the brides and greet the elderly of the village. And I do:

Huenda—Good Evening

Ii, Huenda—Yes good evening.

Wa tokerwa nawa?--Is your night ok?

Mba tokerwa nawa. Na ove?-- My night is well. And yours?

Wina mba tokerwa nawa.--My night is also well.

Okuhepa Tjinene—Thank you very much.

Pe ri nawa—Its ok. (Take leave, its like saying bye)

So I say this like a billion times, then go inside the house to greet the brides. (Background: There is to be a wedding this weekend. Hereros combine their weddings often. The women must stay inside the house for usually about three weeks leading up to the wedding. They must wear the traditional Herero dress everyday while they are in the house. They are not to move. If they talk people in the next room should not hear them. If someone enters the room they must cover their faces with a veil, not to be seen. All three women are in one room. Each has their own bed and belongings.) We enter their rooms and Alvee introduces me to them, then tells me to sit on the bed of the middle one, I'm assuming because she spoke petty good English. It was kinda awkward to just sit there and figure out what to say. So I started asking her about sitting in this room and how long and why, blah, blah, blah. Btw, the why questions were usually answered with a frown and the explanation that “its the tradition.” We left them and sat outside with the other women.

(Background: this farm belongs to the family of Alvee's husband. When you marry you leave your family's farm and are now a part of your husbands farm. As a wife you are responsible for cooking, cleaning, looking after the cattle, the children, and hosting events like this one. So the three women getting married were raised on this farm and after saturday they will officially be a part of their husband's farm. They won't get to see their family again until she has a baby and her father is required to name the child. So she(they) may go years without seeing her family or hearing from them.)

When we sit outside I am given a little cup of water and told to drink and spit. It part of the tradition for 1st timers at the farm. I just thought it was weird, they were all laughing. We soon went in for the night. Their house was just 2 big rooms. There was a gas stove and shelves and a bunch of other crap in the first room, then the second was the bedroom. Alvee and her daughter slept on the bed and they fixed me a cot. It was so freakin hot and mosquitoes were in full force, but there was no place for me to hang the mosquito net and my repellent was not working at all. The night was miserable. Still, no service.

For some reason my host dad walks into the room around 630am of so and starts calling my name saying, “Esly, wa rara?...Esly, wa rara?” In case you were wondering, wa rara? Means are you sleeping? WTF?! You see me on this cot, sleeping. Are you really gonna ask me that shit?! Seriously, something Pam would do. And like I do to her, I laid there not budging hoping he would get the point and leave. Then at 7am some teenage girls walk into the room and tell me I need to go with them. Here I am again, confused. I ask why I'm supposed to go with them and where, ad their English is so bad its not worth the interrogation. I tell her i'll be ready in a half hour. She says ok and stands there like I'm about to change in front of her or something. I tell her in the nicest way possible that she can go and when I'm ready I'll be out in the front. Once I'm dressed I'm at the mirror applying make-up. Host dad comes in again, greets me then does the same shit to his daughter who s still sleeping that he did to me. I tell him to be quiet because she's still sleeping. I am about ready to go with them but am puzzled about where to use the bathroom. No there aren't any bathrooms or toilets anywhere, there is no running water inside the houses. Its just the bush. I'm sorry I don't like just squatting in the bush while its daytime and all these people are waking around. So, I hold it.

I go with the girls only to find out that we are going to milk cows. Fawwwwwk. You woke me up at 7am for this shit? So as we go into the area where the cows were they are all just staring at me. I guess they were waiting for me to jump for joy. I asked them to show me how to do it first. Then I was ready to start, but there was a calf on every cow. They told me not to worry about it. I'm like, okay, I am not about to get my hand bit off cuz some calf sees me stealin his food! They think it hilarious. Then they started to kick and hit the calfs so that they would move out the way. Then I yell at them about abusing the animals, which apparently I'm crazy for doing. Eventually there was a cow and they were able to move the calf in a calm way and I milked it. It felt disgusting cuz it was all slimy from the calfs mouth being on it. It was too much concentration to milk 2 nipples so I just did one. I made sure there were pics for proof and went back to the house. I made myself noodles for breakfast and sat on the porch to eat.

It was a slow day, not much really going on. I got a book and started to read it on the porch. It was getting really hot and I began to feel sick. My host dad and brother set up a tent for me inside the first room, for privacy i suppose. It was easily 110 degrees, no breeze, no shade relief, just hot ass Africa. The girls kept coming up to the house to talk to me, but I wasn't interested. I think my host mom thought I would be ok like I was in Swakop if she hooked me up with girls my age, which they weren't. You can't compare the 19 year old progressive college student to these teenage farm girls. I call them farm girls cuz they grew up on the farm. All they know is Herero tradition, they don't know what life is like beyond the farm. A teaching moment, I know, but I wasn't in the mood. My feeling of misery got continuously worse throughout the day and I decided to go inside and sleep.

I woke up around 5pm drenched in my own sweat. I realized the tent became an oven and it was much cooler outside. Plus now I was feeling a little better about being there. All the girls were sitting under the tree right outside my house peeling potatoes. I cooked more noodles, pulled up a chair and started to talk to them. We had basic conversation. I started to ask why they were doing all the work while the boys were doing nothing under another tree. The tradition. I asked why they didn't speak up for just tell the boys to help? The tradition. I asked when they can get a break from all this work? I got looks of confusion. Then the following two hours were basically complaints about how hard the Herero women have it and how the men never have to do anything. I asked them why they chose to follow something that belittled them, didn't respect them, or recognize them as valuable additions to the family? The tradition. Some of the girls said they would be disowned if they chose not to follow the tradition. I started to get frustrated. I didn't know what to tell them. I can't disrespect their culture and tell them to abandon what they've been taught since birth, but how can I feel like I was doing anything to help if I just sat there shaking my head and saying nothing? I still don't know what to say to women like that. They're just stuck. Most of them don't know life beyond the farm so this is it.

Two of the girls there were raised in Windhoek with their grandparents and they make it well known that they don't agree with Herero tradition. They tell me that they most likely won't marry a Herero man, they definitely won't marry their cousins, and they don't plan on staying on a farm. We immediately click for a number of reasons. 1. I appreciate their ability to reject whats expected of them. 2. They speak good English. And 3. They just made sense. Its like they had explanations for why they would or wouldn't do something. The farm girls, its like a cult chanting “the tradition” without any knowledge as to why it was that way or why they are following it. Because these two girls grew up in the city they've had western influence. They see how the rest of the world lives, acts, communicates, and reasons and they are responding accordingly. We exchange numbers and now every few weeks I text them to see if they are ok.

One of my host brothers walks up and tells me that he wants to show me around. The farm girls are trying to make it out to the bar and they want me to come. I'm not really up to it. Then they tell me that Alvee says I'm staying with them tonight so they can get to know me better. I'm like, no can do. I realize Alvee is trying to set me up with peers like with Bev, but this is in no way the same. So I am all the more happy to go off with my brother to wherever the hell he was trying to take me. (The brother(s): Alvee has a daughter (8), son (16) and twin boys that are in college in Zambia, they are here at the farm for the holiday) He takes me around the houses and introduces me to everyone. He's clearly drunk, but since I'm his 'sister' I'm off limits and thus have nothing to worry about. (Hereros can sleep with their cousins. They learn all too early the power that a male cousin has over the female. He can tell her what to do, where to go, and how high to jump. They flirt with them and flex their power at a very young age. Subsequently, when I meet Herero men I make sure they identify me as their sister so there's no confusion as to where we stand and what he's 'allowed' to do in my presence.) Its starting to get dark and everyone is drinking. I find it the appropriate to break out my cup. (Everyone in Namibia has a damn cup. You rarely see people drinking out of bottles. I don't know if its a discretion thing, or respect, I have no idea I just caught on early to purchase a cup. :)

Its thursday night so I decide to just chill with Black Label. There is a truck playing music and a few of the older drunk men are dancing. Everyone else is standing separately, by gender. I absolutely hate that. I know its because at the schools here they always separate by gender and blending is not encouraged. This is awkward for me because all of the men, at least the ones my age, that are at the farm are very modern, progressive (relatively), and obviously influenced by western popular culture. Yea, I know I came out here to meet with a different culture, but I can't help when I fnd people similar to me, to gravitate toward them. Isn't that human nature? Peace Corps warned us about this in training. They said we would always have better relationships with the men because they tend to le

Hello there,

Here are my addresses if you are planning to send me mail:

School Address (someone picks this up like once a month, if its big, just send it here)

Sister Ashley Brown

Peace Corps Volunteer

Private Bag 2142

Gobabis, Namibia

Africa

My shopping town address (I will check this when I go to town, about once a month)

Sister Ashley Brown

P.O. Box 1022

Gobabis, Namibia

Africa

Hey there, sorry its been so long since my last post. Things have been hectic here and I've been lazy. Here goes...

I speak Namlish also.

Lingo: Namlish is what Namibians speak, its English but not proper, if you came here you can understand it, but they may not understand you. Usually the sentences are in the present progressive tense. Here are some examples:

• I am having a question.

• Are you having class now?

• Is your day fine?

• You don’t say ‘my stomach hurts’ you say My stomach is paining.

• ‘Don’t Say’ and ‘Is it’ this means like ‘really’ or ’is that so’

• Neh? Means right? (You are going to the shop, neh?)

• Ii (ee) in Otjiherero means yes, you can respond to anything by saying ii, its freakin awesome, and according to the Hereros me and SarahG got it down, lol.

• Nawa, in Otjiherero means good, or everything is everthing.

I refuse to proofread 9 single-spaced pages, so If something is wrong(spelling, grammatical), GET OVER IT!

So I went to my site a few weeks ago for a week. I will be in a small rural village about 80miles from the large town Gobabis. My village basically consists of the school with the hostel, which is where the learners (students) live, the houses, a shibeen (bar), and a shop. That’s it! I live a short walk across the field from school. There are about 8 cement block houses and the rest are shacks(bout 15-20). These shacks are like what you see on tv, they are very small and made from metal scraps or cow dung. Entire families live in these homes. Don’t get me wrong, they can be nice inside. For example, I went inside and the lady had hard wood floors (which was a wallpaper, but very nice), a 50 somethin inch tv, a large stereo system, a bed and a wardrobe (closet). Ghetto Fabulous, Namibian style, lol, I love it!

I will be living with a host family up to December, and then I will be living in my own place. The host families house and mine are identical. It’s a three bedroom house with indoor plumbing (HOT and cold water) and electricity! I will have to share this house with a Namibian teacher who will inevitably have children, but its all good.

Friday Sept 11, 2009: Meet my Principal/Supervisor in Okahandja for a workshop.

The other principals in my region decided that we needed to leave that night, so we did. Six of us piled into this little tiny truck for an uncomfortable 2 ½ hour drive. We got to Gobabis (my shopping town) dropped a trainee off at the post office where her principal was waiting, then went to the volunteer house which is a like 4 bedroom house for PC Volunteers, its pretty sweet (this is where ill be staying for weekends when I go shopping once or twice a month.)

Sat Sept 12, 2009: Off to my site!!!

Wake up hella early for some reason, only to find out that our supervisor is coming like two hours earlier than he said, so I had to just get ready real quick, no shower, just brush my teeth and wash my face, reapply make-up (theres always time for that in my world!!!) then go. We went to Spar to grocery shop before going to the villiage. I spend N$335 on a jug of water, 2 bags of salad, dressing, mushrooms, 2 yogurts, 3 bags of pasta, 3 bags of sauce (yes bags), frosted flakes, soy milk, 2 rolls of toilet paper, 1 face towel, small thing of lotion, peanut butter, jelly, loaf of bread. That shit cost a grip!!! This was to feed me for the week, btw (by the way, for you old people who don’t know, you’re welcome btw).

Then we get on this bumpy ass dirt road all the way there, scrunched in this old ass truck, super uncomfortable, hungry, hot, and dusty as hell. After about two hours of this we arrived at my site Okovimburu or known as Post 10. We puled up to the school and waited about 10mins for someone to open up the gate. The kids started marching and singing for my arrival. We pulled up to the administrative offices and the learners were still singing, it was pretty cool. We walked back to the teachers lounge at sat down. There were snacks and drinks on all the tables. The principal introduced me using a piece of paper with my information that we wrote in the car on the way. It was kinda weird because he wanted info about my parents’ names and professions and the name and age of my brother. Then he starts talking about my major, which is Urban Studies, and says that they placed me in a rural area because I studied urban areas, lol, it was super lost in translation!

We got back in the truck to drive across the field to my house. Some of the female teachers went to my room a quickly got it ready for me while the learners were unloading my groceries. Then we sat for some uncomfortable conversation for about 15mins or so, then everybody left. My host mom at site wasn’t home so I was just there with her daughter who’s like 8. Brianne, the current volunteer, helped me unload my groceries and made sure my room was up to par. This woman’s house is awesome, she literally has every modern appliance (excluding washer/dryer). I can tell she takes pride in her home. There are just the cutest decorations that are not expensive, but a reflection of her style. Like, in the kitchen theres a large picture of a thanksgiving dinner and a bunch of food stickers and cut-outs all over the wall. There is cloth to cover shelves and doilies on everything.

Then Brianne and I walked across the field to the school where I saw what will hopefully be my future classroom, the library which is pretty much closed, and where all the campus offices are. Then we walked to our principals house, which is next to the school. I met his wife who was wearing the traditional Herero dress. We went inside and talked for a bit. I was asked about Obama while talking to his brother who is into politics. He has to be in his 80s, he told me he toured the states in the 70s. Everyone here is extremely excited about Obama.

Then we walked across the way to watch the learners receive dinner. The food was piled high in these large metal buckets, One had large pieces of “brown bread” with jelly and butter on them, one with very pink pieces of bologna, and the other was filled with warm FRESH milk, like fresh, like Cow fresh. The learners enter with their plates and cup get their bread, bologna, then the staff dips the cup into the bucket for their milk. They file into the next room, sit on the floor in some sort of strategic order.

We went outside to greet some learners after dinner, they were way excited to meet me. I introduced myself as Miss Brown and they said “like Chris Brown? Are you family with him?” And I kindly reply, “Yea, that’s my cousin!” they started screaming and cheering, lol it was hilarious. Many came up to me just wanting to touch me, then I would smile and say hello and they would smile and run away, very shy. It’s like I’m famous, kinda cool, for now any way. Then I see two groups of learners dacing, somehow they were able to color coordinate their crews, blue and pink. The blue crew began to do cultural dances for me. After a few dances I asked if I could join, i thought it would be a good way to click with them. We were dancing in a line and I was just modeling what they were doing, too funny, I looked pretty similar to them and they started cheering and screaming in amazement I suppose. When I was done many of them came up to me and thanked me for doing that. I think I earned some respect for dancing with them. Brianne told me I rocked their world by dancing with them.

Then we went back to the principals house for dinner. We had ohowhow, which is a jerky textured meat, very dry, but then they add sugar and cow fat spread and warm it up, potato salad mixed with fruit cocktail (imagine), and a banana. My first meal at site.

Teachers must be at school by 6:30am for the daily meeting, then school starts around 7:15 or so, its flexible. They have 8 periods, 40min each. At 10:20 theres a 40min break, they we go until 1pm and school is out. They are supposed to return for study time at 3, this too is flexible. The first two days I walked around and observed classes and the second two days I taught. There was a teacher out of town and I requested to have his class. It was grades 5 and 7 English and Agriculture. English, I got this. Agriculture, whats that?! LOL, so I got a book and taught the life cycle of a chicken and did a lesson on poultry, this was all to exciting for me, and the fact that the kids are extremely respectful and helpful with me makes it easier. We left on Friday morning because that’s when theres a venture(like a taxi). We went to my shopping town which is 130km(80mi) from me. It’s a decent sized town, everything is on one street. Theres a library, bout 5 grocery stores, 3 china shops (that’s what they call them, I swear) these contain the most miscellaneous merchandise, cell phone store, 4 clothing stores, bout 5 take-aways(fast food), some stationary stores, internet cafes, a marketplace with a series of hair shops (hopefully one of them does nice locs).

Then back to Okahandja we went.

My permanent housing (I move in early December)

I will have a hot shower, stove, fridge, it’s a 3 bedroom house that I will share with a teacher that will inevitable have children.

Random about my site:

• Sometimes they turn off the water at night for the whole village. Usually between 7pm-6am

• So yea, animals walk aimlessly all over! In the school, by the hostel, in my yard, in the bush which os just past my back yard. So far its just been cows, donkeys, and goats.

So now I will organize this blog a little differently. Its so much to organize day-by-day, so the duration will be categorized by ‘Things important to me’ and ‘Incidents’ Thanx

Please keep in mind this list will change after I have been at my site for a while. The things important to me is in reference to my life in training, so sad its over.

Things Important to me (in training Aug 22-Oct 16):

• The Crew: Me, SarahG, Shannon (the trio kicks it way hard), without detail, we had so much fun with each other. It was a pretty sweet setup cuz we lived so close to each other. I love these girls, life long no doubt!

• The Ved: this was the location we lived in (like a suburb, separated from town) The ved is awesome for its safety, I never felt scared of unsafe no matter what time I was walking around, oops. The people were real chill. Its funny, my host moms only advice to me about the neighborhood was to stay away from the guys in this particular house, but of course I met them when they weren’t in this house and they were totally cool. I understood why she didn’t want me by them, they were a little rough around the edges to say the least, but they loved me. RThey were even protective, like they wouldn’t kick the ball when I walked by and they cussed out a taxi for driving too fast by me, that was hilarious. Don’t get me wrong, they were the type to break in a take all my shit, but around the location it was all good. There was a tuck shop nearby also. A tuck shop is a little shop, usually out of someones house. In this case, it was their garage. These are very convenient, they sell everything: eggs, bread, cool drinks (soda), candy, hot food, cell phone air time, cooking oil, soup packets, seasoning, and the like. The purple shop, which contained like a convenient store and a bottle shop(liquor store).

• How I look: So yes I am in Africa and am a Peace Corps Volunteer, however that does not mean that I have a license to look like I don’t give a damn anymore. I still wear full make-up everyday, still matching my jewelry with my outfits, and keep a nice rotation of nail polish colors. This may contribute to the overwhelming attraction that Namibians have toward me, but whatever. I’m not changing. The attention has not been negative so its all good.

• Spar: I may have mentioned this store before. It’s the grocery store that is closest to the training center and the one closely resembling an American grocery store. Most of us make several trips to Spar throughout the day for various unnecessary reasons, I love It!!!

• Black Label 750ml: This is the beer I have been drinking frequently. Lol, they call it the poor mans beer cuz its like N$3 cheaper than the better beer. Fuck that, I love it! It has the highest level of alcohol content at 5.5%, but remains the cheapest beer. I’m a loyal customer, that’s all I’m sayin.

• Being Dirty: This is so funny, I am always dirty here! Don’t worry I still (and will always) bathe daily. But I’m just dirty, its so dusty here, when the wind blows the sand sticks to my face and I ccan feel the particles on my face. In some weird way, I kinda like being dirty, or maybe I’m just more comfortable with it. For example, when I first got here I washed my feet everytime I got back from town, but now I just dust them off by rubbing the bottoms together before I get into bed. True Story: I was eating an apple during language class, which is outside under a thatched hut. It was about half eaten when somehow I loss control and it flew out of my hand and rolled a good 10ft through the dirt/sand. So what did I do? I picked it up and said to myself TIA(this is Africa, a common phrase used amongst volunteers) went to the bathroom and rinsed off all the sand that was stuck to the moist parts, and I finished it. This is huge for me cuz I would never do this in the states. I wear clothes that are clearly dirty without any attempt to spot clean. My shower/bath water is always dark brown, its really disgusting. I often smash bugs with my hands and the attempt to wash my hands is minimal at best, I mean they get washed eventually . There are so many dirt particles in my bed, when I dust my sheets off you can hear the particles hitting the ground as if I’m pouring salt on the ground.

• Shannon’s House: This was a house that we would frequent in the Ved. It has an awesome patio area with a pretty sweet pool, most of our Friday/Saturday nights were spent here. And Jeffery, black lab, I hate dogs but he was pretty cool.

• White Meat Sundays: So most Namibians like sucking any meat to the bone, then chew on the bone for hours as if it’s a snack. After a few weeks at my host families’ house they discovered that in the states I only ate white meat and I avoid bones at all costs. So for my last three weeks my mom made me white meat chicken and gave me pieces without the bone, it was pretty fuckin sweet. The funny part is they feel like that’s the worst part, they say it lacks flavor and its dry. I am glad to report that because of me, my host mom has decided to do red meat about once a week and is working in more vegetables to every meal and will frequently substitute meat with fish. My job is done here. This is huge for a Herero family because they don’t feel like it’s a meal without meat.

• Dancing: So on my Friday/Saturday night ventures with the trio I often found myself dancing a lot, always with natives Namibians and Zambians. I assume they don’t get to see very many Americans who can actually dance like them so when I get on the dance floor they’re like “wow! You dance just like us!” Its awesome, I will tell them to dance and I will follow, I catch on pretty quick especially after a black label or two. They love it, its definitely a party trick and an accelerated form of integration. Their dances are not too different from what we do, its a lot of hips, eye contact, get low, and if you do it right, your bodies should be locked at the ground (this is in the Zambian dances). The nice thing is that the guys do just as much as the women, whereas in the states the roles are pretty clear and distinct. The men definitely know how to move, we’re both in unison, vibin’ to a mellow Zambian beat, haha, nutin like it. I love it!

• Washing Clothes: So my host family had a washer and dryer, sorta. The washers here only do the wash cycle, which you must roll into the bathroom to use. You get a tube and fill the washer with sink water, put your clothes in, let it do the wash cycle. In the meantine, fill the bath about a quarter high and add fabric softener. When the clothes are done with the wash cycle, ring them out and put them into the tub. Swoosh them around to make sure they are clean, ring them out again, then put them in a bucket. The dryer is much like the spin cycle in our washers in the states. These you can only put about 4 items in at a time(at 15min a cycle) and it will spin dry the clothes, which means they are damp, then you hang them out on the line. But wait, what do you do with all that water? Oh I’ll tell you…use it for the next load...but wait isn’t it dirty?....yep, so I hope you washed whites first! Damn, I’m exhausted just writing that!

• The Dirty Thirty: We are the 30th group of volunteers in Namibia so we have named ourselves the Dirty Thirty. We started out with 33, now we have 32 sworn-in volunteers. One girl left (ET’d) about a month ago. Demographics: 21 female, 11 male, 1 married couple, 1 Black beauty, 3 Asian, that’s it!

Now I will talk about some “Incidents”

• Summers Eve: So somewhere between LA and DC my shampoo burst and I never got around to buying more. After about three weeks in Namibia I asked my sister if she could braid my hair, I was in the bathroom all ready to wash it and oh shit, I don’t have any shampoo! What do I do? Duh, text Kishaun and ask if I could use Summers Eve (oh men, that’s feminine wash). And her response was more or less “you’re in Africa” So I DID, now it took about 3 washes for it to get noticeable clean, but whatev. It worked!

• Guy at Shebeen: At my site I have to walk by the bar in order to get to the shop. Brianne and I were walking and this really drunk guy started following us, she knew him so I wasn’t to afraid. He claimed to be related to a teacher at our school. He followed us into the shop and started talking what seemed like a bunch of nonsense. Trying to teach me Otjiherero, but forgetting that I spoke English and somehow trying to say that I already knew the language, proposing to Brianne saying that they can get married and live between here and the states. It was pure hilarious entertainment, he was so out of it. We walked inside to return our bottles and another, much larger, drunk man came really close to me asking why someone so beautiful was in the establishment, and surprisingly the original drunk man got in between me and him and told him to back off, not too drunk I guess. It was very nice and he walked back with us, or at least to the shebeen.

• Towel at Site: So when I was packing for my site visit, which was one week, I didn’t have enough space for my really big towel so I bought a face towel from Spar thinking that would be sufficient, NO Ashley, you cannot use a small face towel to dry off for 7 days. It was awful, like it didn’t even absorb the water , it just smeared it. So imagine my travel back to my room where I could at least air dry, I had to put on my clothes, which were sticking to me cuz I was still wet, yea I did this all week. Disaster.

• Free Hiking: …Is not allowed. In Namibia free hiking (hitch-hiking) is a somewhat acceptable means of transportation. People feel like if they are going the same direction and have room in their car, then its ok to pick people up free of charge. Many volunteers do this, but it is not allowed  thank you very much.

• The Goat: So one my trio homies texts me that her family just brought a goat back from the farm. So I’m like cool when are you gonna eat it? I mean, that’s normal. She says, its running around my house right now, it got loose!!! WTF! I’m like, wait, its still alive? YES, and the kids are so scared they are hiding under their covers and screaming. The kids(5 yr old twins) thought they could be quiet and hide, then they thought it was all good when they peeked their heads out, only to find the goat right in their room staring at them, then of course they started screaming again, hysterically. She came over my house cuz the smell was too much to handle and showed me pics of the blood all over the place. Later that night they ate the tail.

• The Cow Hoof: So for those of you who don’t know, I fell in my front yard a few weeks ago and messed up my ankle. I haven’t been able to rest with our busy schedule so its healing really slow. On a staurday night after a long day of walking around Windhoek, I go into the freezer to get the ice pack for my ankle and a whole damn cow hoof (bottom portion of the leg, including foot) comes flying out toward me! W.T.F? No it wasn’t skinned, No it wasn’t wrapped…just a random ass cow leg stuffed in the freezer. My sisters thought that was the funniest shit in the world, they catchin a muthafucka off guard wit this kinda shit, mann.

• The Marriage Conversation: So one of the teachers at my site was asking me about marriage practices in the states because in the Herero community its different. I already talked about this but briefly: Herero men can have multiple wives and/or frequently have multiple girlfriends. Depending on the couple these extracurricular relationships are known or a secret. In any case, they all can sleep with their cousins. He explained that many of these relationships are a secret, but culturally it’s a well known secret. I attempted to explain that in the states people are in monogamous relationships, but wait, they don’t. I tried every angle to somehow show that our cultures are different, but they’re not. I explained that its not as accepted as it is here, but at the end of the day, we’re not that different. People frequently cheat, have multiple relationships, have children with different women at the same time, sneak into random hotels, lol. This was very interesting to talk about.

• The Underwear: So right before I left my sister did my laundry, I came into her room on Thursday morning to get them and asked me how many pairs of underwear I had, I said like 30 and she seemed so shocked to hear that. I asked her how many she had and she said 2. I asked how she manages that and she said that she just washed one each day when she bathed. So when I was distributing my host family gifts I gave her a three pack of underwear, so was so thankful. She told me the last time she bought underwear was when she got married in 2007.

• Trips to Windhoek(the Capital): We took two Saturday trips to Windhoek, both were a lot of fun. The first time we went Taal, an Indian restaurant. I had chicken curry with butter naan, it was amazing. Also I discovered a pretty sweet drink, even slightly hung over it was nice…try this sometime: Ginger Ale, Lime Juice, Vodka, served chilled, but no ice. Probably helped settle my stomach if anything ;). While we were talking a married couple came up and asked if we were group 30, we were like yea. They were from group 27 and since they heard a table full of English speakers, they assumed we were Peace Corps, yes Namibia is very small. Then we attempted to walk to the mall which was really far so we decided to take a taxi, we didn’t want to split up so 7 of us piled into this little hatch-back, Catie was on my lap, Julie and SarahG were pretty much hangin outside, too funny. Whats worse, the mall was only like 3km down the street around the bin. N$15 for nothing! Their mall is pretty sweet, it has all the banks, 2 grocery stores, 2 tech stores, movie theatre, a nam version of sephora, department stores, its really nice. On our 2nd trip we went to this Italian food restaurant connected tot eh mall, it was very nice, very trendy, and authentic Italian. I had a Salmon fettuccini with a marinara and cheese sauce, too awesome for words. On our way back we stopped at KFC, what a joke! Ok, so they don’t have white meat AT ALL, they don’t have macaroni and cheese (which is what I wanted to order), I didn’t see biscuits, and they have Coke products not pepsi. I was quite disappointed to say the least.

• Tupac V Biggie: So I’m out hangin in the Ved and a Tupac song comes on. Someone, a Namibian, says “oooh that’s my shit I love tupac! I love the westcoast!” In the same conversation another Namibian mentions how much they hate Biggie. I quickly intervened and tried to inform them that its ok to like them both cuz 1, their both dead and 2, it was like 13 or so years ago! But to no avail. They were set on loving Pac and not Biggie. I couldn’t have pictured having this conversation in 2009 in Namibia, Africa.

• Stankie Leg: In the same night the song Stankie Leg came on a few times, lol, we were all on our ‘leg’ doin it, too funny. My students at Locke taught me how to do this, not I’m doin it way over here. Hilarious cuz they had it down, especially the 16 year old boy that did it for our entertainment, lol.

• Brown: So one of the language trainers asks me if Whitney Houston’s husband is my uncle? Hell to the nah, hell to the nah! I refuse to claim that one. I can get away with Chris Brown cuz the kids don’t know he beat the shit out of Rihanna, but seriously I will pass on Bobby Brown. The significance this is that in Namibia if you have the same surname as someone else, you are definitely related, one way or the other, which is why its not a stretch for me to be related to every Brown.

• You live in LA right?: So the other night I was having a conversation with this guy who was asking me all these questions about LA, ok that’s fine, until he asked me if I knew 50 cent, in which case I said no. He asked me if I knew how many kids 50 has, when I said 50. He actually became mildly angry that I could live in the same city as 50, but not know him or anything about him, he became even more furious when I told him that I don’t even like 50! On an unrelated note, this person’s other favorite rapper is Fat Joe, wtf?

• Appreciation Lunch Committee: I’m pretty much venting on this, disclaimer. So at the end of training the trainees put on a lunch for host families that is supposed to feature American meals. I originally wasn’t on the committee, but I knew they would try to jerk us, so I joined. And of course, they claimed that in the past families refused to eat the American dishes for whatever reason, probably due to the lack of meat. So they suggested putting a few Namibian dishes on the menu, like a Sheep. Whe we said, that’s not American, we don’t eat that. They continues to say there needed to be an animal, whatever ok. We finalized the menu with mac n cheese, hamburgers, hot dogs, chili, salad, rice krispie treats, potato/macaroni salad, and a damn sheep. By the time we got to budget the finalized menu was mac n cheese, hamburgers, and rice krispie treats, on the Namibian side potato salad and sheep. I put the potato salad on their side cuz they put loads of sugar and mayo in it, nothing like how we would make it. We couldn’t understand why the whole menu couldn’t be American, I mean, we eat Namibian meals 3 tines a day for 8 weeks straight, and you can’t have 1 American meal? And if they don’t eat it, don’t worry, we will.

Swearing in Ceremony: October 16, 2009

We are official Peace Corps Volunteers, Namibia Group 30, 2009-2011

I wore a traditional Herero Dress to the ceremony, everyone loved it, I felt so respected wearing it, especially when I would approach another Herero woman in the native language.

Welcome back!!!

I hope you are enjoying this blog, I hope it is somewhat entertaining for your reading pleasure. Feel free to leave comments just beneath the post.

Interesting things:

• I am officially hooked on 4 Soapies

• Namibia is freakin’ awesome, I am trying to tell you why, but I think I’m failing miserably

• The mall in Windhoek (the capital) was just like ours, it had everything we have.

• When you walk into the American Cultural Center there is a life size cut out of Obama, hell yea

• They don’t have mail boxes or mail men, they only have PO Boxes which they check like once a month

• Most homes around me have pre-paid electricity, so no money no lights—yo, that’s some cold shit right?

• When you take a taxi they will drive around and fill up the car(with other people) before they start dropping to your destination, then they will drop off the most convenient stops first, not necessarily when you were picked up. One positive: taxis are flat rate, very reasonable.

• I saw a Rayon shirt today (9/7)

• One of our language trainers has the eye glass/sunglass combo, yea the ones from the 90s, lol

• I have received my first proposal from a married man who is older than my parents.

Homesickness: just listening to Pac, To Live and Die in LA, big mistake.

Its really interesting, I tell people I’m from California and they’ve heard of it, but when I say I’m from LA, they’re like oohhh ok, lol, I’m not frontin on Sac, but really no one knows where that is.

Host Family

For those who are interested in my current situation: I live in what’s considered a second-class community, mainly where the Coloured and Bastard ethnic groups live. These groups are the mixed group (African/German). I see a lot of very light skinned people, interesting mix. Various hair textures, different color eyes, an interesting looking community (in a good way that is). In my house we have a tv, fridge, oven, stove, phone, indoor bathroom, washer/dryer (which they won’t use to preserve electricity), and an iron. I am without a microwave (which I don’t need, who woulda thought ), internet (which I will soon get through a reliable phone), and hot water (no longer a necessity, see I’m adapting).

It has just been me, Mama, and my host sister (with a 2mo old). I spend most of my time with my host sister, she’s 24 and like I said in the previous post, she is both traditional and influenced by western lifestyles. When I get home I take a bath and watch the soapies. 1. Generations (a South African soap, they speak several languages including English, they put subtitles up when its not English. 2. 7de Laan, also a South African soap. 3. Lorenzo’s Wife (La Mujer de Lorenzo) a Spanish soap, dubbed in English. 4. Storm over Paradise (Spanish soap also) this is my favorite, its very juicy, horrible acting, but extremely entertaining. This is my night, I am usually eating dinner during Generations, and they go until 8:45, yea the time is really off. They do like 4 min of news every other hour so it throws everything off.

As of this Sunday (9/6) there are now 5 kids (age 6-11) in the house and another host sister. These kids are amazing they all speak Otjiherero, Afrikanns, and English. Their traditional language is Otjiherero, their schools are Afrikanns, and its considered cool to speak English (this is what they will speak amongst each other, its trendy).

Training:

Still 4 hours of language every morning, you’d think we’d know so much more! Then in the afternoon we usually talk about our feelings, yea like therapy. They are committed to informing us of what’s to come, cool I get it, but really we write our feelings on a billion flip charts (because some genius thought large post-its are better than dry-erase boards!!!). All of this could go in a booklet, but whatev, I get N$20/day(that’s $2.67) Rollin in dough Son!

On a serious note, Peace Corps really goes all out to make sure that only the best are training us. For example, one of the lead trainers was the Education Inspector for the entire country before she retired. She is well known and extremely respected, even feared. Lucky for me she speaks the language I am learning. Also she has put herself in charge of creating/perfecting this language. For example: There are many words in the Otjiherero (O-she-hed-edo) language that are called ‘loan-words’ because they come from some other language. She removes these loan words and creates new ones that properly fit into the language, based on grammatical rules and such. She goes on the Herero radio station and will denounce a loan word, followed by the announcement of the new/official word. One of her latest was: otaxi, is now okasaru, which means someone who is rushing you. When I said this to a taxi driver, he didn’t know because the word was so new. How awesome is that to work with someone who is so important and influential in this community. When I get to my site, I am definitely name droppin, lol. Its weird because when she works with us, shes just another elderly woman helping us adapt, but when we’re in public, she’s like an icon of sorts. My host mom is scared to use the language in front of her for fear of being corrected. Oh, did I mention she is also creating a curriculum for Herero learners, this woman is absolutely amazing.

Germany’s 1st genocide of the 20th Century: A History Lesson

In 1884 Germans arrived with Protection Treaties with local chiefs, which was basically to trick them into signing over their land. Like any colonizer, the plan was to divide and conquer, and they did. In 1904, there was an Extermination Order for all Herero people in Namibia. They were put in Concentration Camps on what was called Shark Island. The German enterprises would rent Herero workers. Women became sex slaves, hence the mixed cultures. Hitler used these concentration camps as a blueprint. Dr Eugene Fischer (who was half German, half Herero) felt as though Germans were the superior race and that Hereros were animals. He wrote the Principles of Human Heredity and Racial Hygiene (Hitler directly references this book in Mein Kampf). In 1905, they issued another extermination order for the Namas. By 1907, The Hereos were reduced by 80% and the Namas by 50%.

What the fuck is up with half Germans acting like they are not mixed. Fischer was half Herero, Hitler was half Jewish!

When it was all said and done, 70% of land was owned by the colonizers (7% of pop.)

According to the Genie Index, Namibia has the largest disparity of wealth IN THE WORLD.

When Germany loss WW1 South Africa took over Namibia. The best land was given to White South Africans. Whites had free compulsory education, while Blacks had to pay for poor low-grade education. The first 3 schools opened under S.A. were for whites only. Sound similar anyone???

In 1949, there were a series of racist laws passed: needing a pass for work, Blacks can’t be in white areas after 5pm (I think that’s still relevant in LA), no mixed relationships. Bantu Education act 1953: Europeans went to regular schools, Ethnic groups (tribal) went to tribal schools that were in no way regulated. In 1948, Apartheid Education Spending: 90% whites, 10% Blacks.

After independence (1990) they decided that learners will be taught in their mother tongue up to 4th grade. However, posh Blacks learn English from 1st grade. We got a name for them in the states, ya’ll know what it is!!!

This November marks the 4th election since independence, still a very young country. There are a heap of political parties, many have similar interests, but they can’t agree on who to vote for. The guy giving us this history lesson says, “Its still a process!” meaning we won’t always vote for each other.

There are clearly still racial divisions in this country. The effects of colonization and apartheid are fresh. For example, Swakopmund is a tourist part of Namibia (notably where Brangelina had their twins) is where Shark Island is, and many of the people there will deny that there ever was a genocide or concentration camp on that land. In recent years, Germany sent a representative to Namibia to apologize for what they did, but they won’t officially call it Genocide. Natives have been seeking reparations since independence with no such luck.

Education:

1/3 of the Country’s budget goes to education (damn! They have the right idea) Problem is, 80% of that is on salaries!!! WTF So that’s 1/3 of the budget, divide by 8 regions and subtract 80%, then the kids are taken care of, yea right. That’s why I’m here.

I hope you found this history lesson interesting. I liked learning about it because is mirrors the experience of Black American in so many ways, even the timelines are similar. Apartheid-Jim Crow… We still very much see the effects of colonization/slavery amongst the people in education, economically and otherwise.

A volunteer from 2005 came and spoke to us about the effects of colonization and presented a web diagram explaining it. I’ll try to present it:

Homeland~~>Colonist~~>Create 1 sided laws on Colonized People which removes power and resources

System of Separation: Elevates culture of colonizers, legitimizes their actions, supports one sided laws. It devalues colonized culture, dehumanized them, has them believing myths about colonists.

Colonized people: cheap labor that supports the privileged, are in poverty which removes hope, health and resources, has few employment opportunities.

This same volunteer analyzed how thing are now for people, here is what he came up with:

White people: amassed wealth, privileged, provides hope, health and resources.

Non white: legacy of low skills, poverty, low salary labor, few employment opportunities.

Tradition of separation: maintains the cycle.

He says “Its difficult to get out of this cycle because the system is still running.” This has to be one of the best quotes I’ve heard in a long time. People often criticize oppressed people as if the system is no longer in place! He said it better than I‘ve ever heard.

I hope you learned a little something from this. The difference between us is geography.

Cultural Day 2009 (9/5)

On this day we went ot the center at like 7am and began to prepare our traditional foods by tribe. We had KKG (the click language), Otjiherero, Oshiwambo, Ruhangali, Silozi (that strip north) and Afrikanns. My group made a Goat and sheep. I got to shave the hair off a goat leg (oh Gradma Polly would be so proud ). Everything was done outside in those black tripod pots over wood with flames. There is a recording of me shaving the goat leg, don’t worry. I made our signature drink Omuhere, which is spoiled milk. No I didn’t drink it, but I had to place it in a traditional bottle and add regular milk, let it sit in the sun, shake it a little, and serve. My language trainer had some, he loved it!!! I recorded some lovely trainees cutting the head of 4 chickens. This was so cool because the chickens still move for a few minutes after the head is severed. On the recording you will hear me request that we let the chicken run to its death, which got few laughs until someone said “then you will be making a mockery of it” this is the same person that literally just cut the head off the last chicken, So I kindly replied “Probably no more than the fact that you just cut its head off to stuff your face!!”

My host mom made Herero bread right outside. We dug a hole and loaded it with wood for a fire, put the pot down there and the bread rose beautifully. We had two goat heads in the pots cooking for a while. It takes like 2-3 hours for them to cook. The weird thing is the ears are still there and the teeth are also, and they’re yellow!!! Hereros have a traditional bread called fat cakes. These are strikingly similar(in color, size, taste) to Goufongs, the Portuguese bread. They are amazing, my host mom made some the other night and I damn-near died. Back to the cultural day…we ate at about 1 o’clock. I decided to try a little of everything. Honestly can’t tell you what I was eating. I know there was 2 types of porridge, one on which was from the Herero table (porridge is like cream of wheat, they mixed it with goat juice and fat for saltiness), there were greens (very good), black eyed peas ….hey this is sounding very soul food right, I ate goat from our table, I have no idea which part tho’, there was potato salad which was good. I had bread with milk fat on it, some sort of refried beans, 2 kinds of fish, some type of meat in a pea soup (when I asked the lady what it was she said “MEAT!” oooh-k, I have to get used to this, lol. It wasn’t as bad as I thought it was. There was some fish stuff that basically has mini fish, like smaller than gold fish with the eyes still there, I tried it, but never again.

Herero Background:

So this is the language I am learning and the community I will be living in for the next two years. I guess this isn’t really background, more like interesting things:

• Staple meats (ones I am often eating) Oryx, Goat, Sheep, Lamb…why waste time on chicken? I really like Oryx, its very lean, it really tastes like beef to me tho

• Polygamy is tradition, but the younger generation is veering away from that.

• When a man/boy gets a girl pregnant he has to go tell his parents, then his parents contact her parents to break the news by using a metaphorical story (ie. One of your cows is not like the rest) If the boy doesn’t tell his parents, they(his family) will never claim that child.

• If he wants to get married he has to call her dad to ask. Dad thinks about it, trying to figure out how this marriage can be beneficial to his farm (its usually cattle). Dad calls the boyfriends’ parent with his money and cattle request. Its usually N$7,000-10,000 + 2 cattle.(Prices vary based on looks, education, and other qualities) Then both families begin planning a huge wedding at the farm. The brides’ family stays in the front houses, grooms stay in the back. In order for him to see her during the wedding time he has to sneak into her room in the middle of the night and not be seen by anyone. On the day of the wedding his family presents the cattle to her family, by tradition they will criticize the cattle by saying that its too skinny, not healthy. If they decide that the cattle is not worthy, they will reject them and the wedding is cancelled! Yes, all the food, guests, dresses, plans, money, all for nothing, lol cold right.

• If a girl is engaged when her father dies, she is forced to marry her fiancé the day after the funeral. (usually at no cost) This is seen as a blessed marriage by the dead.

• It is common for men to marry and have children with other women at the same time. Like 10 kids with several other women. In some cases the first wife takes care of all the kids.

• They eat the WHOLE animal, no parts are thrown out. From the roota-2-da-tooda 4real!

• It is common for cousins(including 1st) to marry. It is extremely beneficial to keep the cattle in the family.

• It is common for the father to be away at the farm permanently, not in the city with the family.

The Timeline:

Sept 12-19: Next week I will be away at my permanent site for a week (observations).

Sept 19-0ct 15: Complete Training

October 16: Sworn-In as an official Peace Corps Volunteer; leave for my permanent site

Oct 17-Mid January: Live with a host family at permanent site.

January 2010: Become an official English teacher (their school year starts in January)

My apologies for not posting my address, please keep in mind that

packages can take 3 weeks plus to reach me. For safety reasons please

write bible scriptures on the package, its a deterrent for thieves.

Here it is, in number line order: 1.Sister Ashley Brown 2. US PEACE

CORPS 3. PO BOX 6862 4. WINDHOEK, NAMIBIA. Thank you, smooches.

Wish list:

Disclaimer: I don’t have to have these things, but if you were looking to send me a package, here’s an idea of what I want/need. Also, some are brand specific, please understand my standards. (even in my situation, lol)

• Powdered Drink mix (Gatorade-orange, propel, special k lemonade, please NO CRYSTAL LITE)

• Dove original scent deodorant

• Movies(or shows) on USB STICK ONLY, really anything

o Dexter, The Office, Fresh Prince, Seinfeld, Jerry Bruckheimer anything…

• Camping Towel(s)

I’ll start from when we went to the airport for Namibia. After getting our tickets we realized that the first 10 people in alphabetical order have been automatically bumped to the next flight. We all got together and figured this out, this means that, of course, I was one of them. THEN one of the volunteers comes up and says “I saw that smelly guy from the plane!” I’m like, damn really!?! It was about 9:30am when the first group started boarding and here I was in this cold ass terminal (yes, South Africa was like 45f that day, all morning). I sat there for a while wondering where the other people in my group had gone, but whatev. We boarded our plane at 12:45p. They put us on a tram(that was probably like 100 over capacity!) and drove us to the plane. This plane was jam packed. Who knew this many people needed to go to Namibia. We get on and I end up sitting next to the Crypt-Keeper, he even smelled like I would imagine, he was old and gross, the kind that still have food on their lips after they eat.

Soon as we got on the plane I went straight to sleep. I woke up and the lady with the food cart had just passed me, WTF! I kindly said, “Excuse me, I would like the chicken, thank you.” She was very sweet and told me that she wasn’t sure if I was to be bothered while sleeping.

Howzit from South Af!

If you saw my post on blogtv.com/people/brownhandside, this post picks up from there. I started getting dressed to go to orientation. It started at 1:30pm. We checked in and sat down with each other and talked about random stuff, mainly getting to know you things. The rest of the Staging included discussions and our fears and anxieties along with our aspirations. This felt really good because I found that there were many other people that have the same fears as I. I am at a slight disadvantage because I am one of only 4 that haven’t left the country yet. Most of the others have studied abroad or volunteered in other countries before. Its cool though, I am utilizing their knowledge of the outdoors and general travel information that you would only know if you left the country before.

The next morning we had to get up at like 6:30am to prepare for check out, that sucked because I went to sleep at like 3am the previous night. Anyhow, we checked out and waited for the charter bus, loaded up, and went to the Department of Health and Human Services. We got the yellow fever shot only then got back on the bus at like 10am. Our Staging Director grabbed her stuff from the bus and told us that we were on our own, WTF! We made it to Dulles Airport Int’l at about 11am. One of the group leaders went to the South African Airways counter to see if there was a specific way they wanted us to check in and they were closed until 1:30pm!!!WTF So here we are, 33 volunteers, each with 4 pieces of luggage and no place to go. So we waited, and waited…and waited. About 1:30 they opened and we begin the check-in process. Going through security wasn’t so bad either, they took the overloaded people downstairs to the basement and there was hardly anybody there. The strike to the terminal, however, was the absolute worse. Several walking escalators, it was like three miles + 2 carry-ons on my damn back!!!

We finally get to our terminal and WOW, amazing, it was very grand, very larger than life. It was like one very long mall with terminals 9-79 and each one is very big. You wanna know the thing that actually got me lovin that airport…the Chipotle, heck yes!!! I got a big chicken burrito bowl with extra rice and chips and guac. I walked all the way to the other side where my terminal was. Everyone was sitting around playing some taboo-like game. Another person our age joined in the game, he was a white South African. As we were boarding he made a point to tell me that all the black people in South Africa are not smart people. I said, “all of them?” and he said “yes, pretty much…they can’t read, write, speak well.” I asked why (I was expecting him to give me some explanation about how they have been oppressed and not had access to good education etc, but no) he said that they were probably all dropped on their head when they were born. I was at a loss for words. I have been going over that in my head this whole time, trying to figure out what I should have said to him, I suppose in the moment I figured he was a loss cause and was probably raised to believe that. Whatev, I’ll pick my battles.

We boarded the plane like an hour early, probably because it was so big. This was a plane with two isles, two outside seats on each side and four middle seats. It had a first-class (which looked like the future, by the way) and two economy sections. I was sitting on the 2-seater outside on the isle. They had tv’s that played everything on-demand: movies(old stuff, I watched half of Duciplicity and 12 rounds), tv shows(hella knightrider and csi), music, kid stuff, and flight outside cameras. We got three meals: the first(dinner)-chicken with pasta, pasta salad, cake, roll, butter, drink. The second(breakfast)—eggs, potatoes, ham, croissant, cream cheese, fruit, orange juice. The third (lunch)—beef, vegetables, potatoes, salad, cake, drink. ALSO, the flight attendant guy gave us wine and a fruit liquor, it was very good and helped us sleep. The flight was 18 hours total, including an hour layover in Senegal(which they didn’t let us get off of AND we couldn’t use the bathroom while the plane was on the ground.

We arrived in Johannesburg and their airport was very nice also. The main section was like a three story mall and there are posters of the World Cup with CocaCola everywhere! We met a Namibian that flew to JoBurg to meet us. He told us to exchange about $20 for Rand so that we could buy dinner. I exchanged $26 for 145 Rand with a $6 commission. It wasn’t bad. We then walked out to the hotel vans (it took 3 vans). It had to be about 50F, very cold (especially for what you’d expect in Africa) We pulled up to the hotel and it was very nice, small and quaint. I would assume it was at least a 4 star hotel. I’ll upload pics when I can. We split up, 2 to a room, my roomie and I took showers and headed down to eat. Everyone was already there and had ordered. We sat down and ordered the same beer everyone else was drinking called Windhoek (Namibia’s capital, how appropriate right?) We ordered and waited at least an hour to get our food; I ended up bringing the rest to my room so that I could write this.

We have to get up tomorrow at like 6am, b-fast is 6:30am and we’re out at 7:15 to check in for the flight that leaves at around 9 something in the morning. It’s a 2 hr flight to Namibia. I don’t know what we’re doing when we get there, so I will update when I can.

Interesting things so far:

• The safety video on the airline was an old school cartoon. There were two main people: a short white guy in a business suit, and a very big and tall black guy with a flat-top and obnoxiously big lips. I suppose I have to get use to things like this…

• The flight attendants that were white or light-skinned served first-class, all others were serving economy.

• The signs for the bathroom at the airport read: Toilets

• We were driving to the hotel and I saw a billboard that was an advertisement for diamonds, the company was called American Swiss, hmmmm…

• There is a McD’s, KFC and Shell gas right outside our hotel.

• Peace Corps is really trying to schmoose us with this hotel, then BAM—bucket baths, squatting…

• Their light switches go the opposite direction (down for on…)

• The hotel does not offer wash cloths

• My meal was about $10 very cheap American…70rand-I got a chicken and cheese flatbread sandwich with a salad and 2 beers.

• My electrical converter listed for Africa doesn’t work, but the Europe one does.

• Children under 2 should be banned from 18hr flights!!!!! (they have some serious lungs)

• There were these two guys that got on at Dankar, Senegal, they smelled awful, like a tub of piss somebody farted in, or a bag of funky armpits, either way, it was some repugnant shit. So, the airline made an announcement over the loud speaker claiming that they need to spray the entire plane, so cover your eyes and mouth if it bothers you. They literally started from the back of the plane and went all the way to the front with two bottles each, a continuous spray along both isles. They threw the bottles away laughing. That’s what I’m talkin bout, they would never do that in the states!!!

• The dinner dessert menu had chocolate muffins with 3 special sauces, when it was ordered it was 2 types of marmalades and the third was shredded cheese (mozzarella, cheddar).

• Namibia interesting facts:

o It’s the size of two California’s

o It’s the population of Houston

o It is the 2nd most sparsely occupied country, next to Mongolia (meaning everyone is very scattered)

o They switch time zones depending on the season.

 Currently they are 8hours ahead of West Coast Time

Well that’s all for now. It is about 10:45pm here and 1:45pm on the west coast.

Thursday August 20, 2009

Clothes:

5 bras, 3 sports bras

1 regular khaki

2 pr jeans

10 pr of socks, 2 nylon

4 sarongs

5 long sleeve shirts (their winter is our summer, it will be cold when we arrive)

2 plain tops (fitted t shirts)

5 regular t shirts, to lounge, sleep or wear with jeans

8 tank tops (i usually put 1 under everything)

2 pr sweats

2 pj pants

3 dresses

3 sweaters

2 nice work khakis

3 pr of slacks

3 long skirts

1 button up blouse

1 dressy capri

1 dressy capri w/matching jacket (short sleeve)

3 dressy tops, 2 shoulder cover things

4 pr of tights (so my thighs won't stick together everyday!!!)

30 pr of underwear

**(Need a few more formal tops, then its complete)

Shoes:

New Balance Tennis shoes (MT875)

Work shoes (Easy Spirit boat shoes, Aerosol loafers)

Flip flops (Keen Bree and Old Navy)

Personal Hygiene:

*sun block

regular lotion

olay moisturizer w/spf

olay face wash

16 razor cartridges

4 bars of caress

2 sticks of dove deodorant

shower gloves

*shampoo/cond (travel size)

toothpaste/pack of toothbrushes

*kinky curly hair products

*brown gel

johnson's baby powder

hand sanitizer

HELLA tampons (100)

Miscellaneous:

LED flashlight

tide sticks (for stain spots)

powder drink mixes (propel, ocean spray)

carabiner

*2twin flat sheets

1 towel

acer netboook

ipod

camera + 2memory cards

*watch

school supplies

swiss army kinfe

220 volt converter

host family gifts

scissors

Nalgene water bottles (2)

2 USB Sticks

rechargeable batteries

Sewing kit

*shortwave radio

nail clippers

nail polish

polish remover

money belt

sleeping bag

tweezers

* indicates what i still have to get OR may not want to bring at all

make-up

October 2007-Interest

I became interested in the idea behind Peace Corps, it seemed adventurous. I met my recruiter Shane Mathias at a

career fair on-campus at LMU. After that, I started going to a bunch of information sessions that he did on campus. I

was pretty set on doing it.

November 2007-Initial Commitment

I attended a Non-Profit Speed Date dinner on campus. Yes, speed date, it allowed all these different groups about 10min

with a group of students to do their schpeel about who they were and what they did. I realized that ALL the faith-based

organizations were not for me, narrowed it to Teach for America and Peace Corps. Easy Choice.

December 2007-Started Application, and finished

Took forever because I was preparing for finals and writing hella papers.

Told my dad what I wanted to do, he was not happy.

January 2008-Interview

El Segundo office with my recruiter, it went well.

January 20, 2008-Nomination

Tori from the LA office calls and asks if I was still interested because my file was untouched for a while! What the hell

happened there? I told her that I purposely avoided a back-up plan because I knew this is what I wanted to do.

I am nominated to be an English teacher for Sub-Saharan Africa, departure NOVEMBER 2008

Welcome to my blog! Don't worry, I won't do some long welcome speech.

This is where I will be documenting my experience as a Peace Corps volunteer. I have been invited to be a Secondary English Teacher in Namibia (nah-mib-ee-yah).

Here is some quick FAQ:

What is the Peace Corps?

The Peace Corps traces its roots and mission to 1960, when then Senator John F. Kennedy challenged students at the University of Michigan to serve their country in the cause of peace by living and working in developing countries. From that inspiration grew an agency of the federal government devoted to world peace and friendship. Since that time, more than 195,000 Peace Corps Volunteers have served in 139 host countries to work on issues ranging from AIDS education to information technology and environmental preservation.

Today's Peace Corps is more vital than ever, working in emerging and essential areas such as information technology and business development, and committing more than 1,000 new Volunteers as a part of the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief. Peace Corps Volunteers continue to help countless individuals who want to build a better life for themselves, their children, and their communities.

Where are you going?

Namibia, Africa

Its just above South Africa on the western border.

-Training will be in the capital, Windhoek

How long will you be gone?

27 months, August 17 2009-December 15, 2011

Will you get paid?

I will live on the salary of a teacher in Namibia, its supposed to be their middle-class.

How will you live?

I don't know yet, the living situation varies per volunteer. Some live in very rural areas where they might have to walk miles to work, while others live in urban areas and may live next door to the school. There is no guarantee of electricity, running water, a toilet (as we know it), or many of the other amenities that we take for granite, like the washing machine.

Who will you live with?

The first three months of training I will be staying with a host family. when training is complete, I will move to my permanent site. Some teachers live alone, while others have roommates with native teachers.

What language do they currently speak?

Their national language is English, but they have over 11 local languages. I am not sure how much English my students know, I won't know until I get there, about two weeks into training.

What will you ability to communicate be like?

Over 95% of current volunteers have cell phones with internet access, a lot of them are able to be on Facebook frequently, so its probably not too bad. Hopefully the school I work at has internet. Other than that, its case by case. I've read that some volunteers have satellite t.v., while others literally have to live by the sun's schedule.

What language do they currently speak?

Their national language is English, but they have over 11 native tougue languages.

Why did you decide to join the Peace Corps?

I was seeking a post-grad experience that included travel and service, something that was not educational in the academic setting. After researching all of the opportunities I realized that most of them were faith(religion)-based programs where you would have to include that in your service. Those of you that know me, know that's not my cup of tea. At the end I was left with Peace Corps or Teach for America. The more practical choice was TFA because I would get my teaching credential, masters, and full teacher salary, but I wanted something more, something bigger. The decision was simple.

How are you feeling now, sad? excited? anxious?

All of the above! I am sad to leave so many people, my parents, Max, the family. It will be hard, but the people I am closest to are planning to visit so that's exciting.

I am excited because I have never left the country before and never lived completely on my own. I ready to just go already, I started the PC application in December 07 and I'm just now leaving!

So, what stage are you in now?

Packing, shopping, Packing!!! There are so many things that I need. Most of which is basic stuff, but I am very picky about certain things so I have to get what I want here.

Who is this blog for?

1. Family and friends to be able to track my experience. (saving hours of international calls)

2. Future applicants, to get a glimpse into what its like. (They have so many questions, I'm kinda still one of them, some volunteers get there and forget what it was like before they left. That being said, I will try to not only post profound experiences, but the practical stuff that you wonder before you get an invitation. :) I'm looking out for you!!!)

3. Me, to create a time capsule for this chapter of my life.

Enjoy!

Ashley

Aspiration Statement Ashley N. Brown Namibia August 17, 2009 A: The professional attributes that you plan to use, and what aspirations you hope to fulfill, during your Peace Corps service. I plan on using the bulk of my education experiences to help establish a sustainable blueprint for English language education in Namibia. My experiences have guided me to ensure that each and every child, with even a slight desire to learn, should never be forgotten or overlooked. They deserve the opportunity to grow beyond every expectation and achieve the goals they set for themselves. I expect that the opportunity to gather an enhanced understanding of the English language will improve the prospect for advancement amongst Namibian youth. As a teaching assistant/tutor/mentor in the inner city I have learned how to create a meaningful learning experience with the least of resources and supplies. My aspiration as a Peace Corps volunteer is to make an impact in the community in which I serve. While teaching English will have its own rewards, I am eager to discover my secondary project whereby I will, as best I can, fulfill the requested needs of the community. I aim to remain patient, open-minded, and aware of my responsibilities. Coming in with the understanding that Namibia is a fairly young country, I hope to encounter a generation of people processing their decolonized minds and in pursuit of developing the skeleton for the future of their nation. B: Your strategies for working effectively with host country partners to meet expressed needs. My strategy for working effectively with host country partners to meet expressed needs is to tackle their requests. My grasp on the language will help the ability to successfully communicate and have a thorough understanding of what their community will best benefit from. Listening to their concerns and using Peace Corps resources can result in a long lasting relationship between the volunteers and the community. Developing a partnership between myself and community leaders is a very important element in my aptitude for successful assignment completion. The most effective concept I can use is to maintain transparency between myself and the community. C: Your strategies for adapting to a new culture with respect to your own cultural background. I understand that as a Peace Corps volunteer adaptation is one of the most important aspects of service. I expect the in-country training to be a crucial aspect of my adaptation experience. I tend to be liberal in my beliefs which leaves me open to traditions and life practices that are different from mine. I am eager to immerse myself into another culture whose values differ from American way of life. There are only so many anthropology classes that will get my attention and raise excitement under the idea that I could live by their principles. I understand that it will be a challenge to fully adapt for anyone, but I am excited about the opportunity to live the reality of another culture. I hope to absorb all I can from my host family to help me achieve accurate adaptation. D. The skills and knowledge you hope to gain during pre-service training to best serve your future community and project. I believe that one of the most important aspects of training is language development. The faster I have a grasp of the language the easier it will be to understand and adapt to the culture. I expect that training will introduce me to practical customs that will enable behavior more closely associated with the natives. I am eager to learn the history of the specific community in which I serve and their customs. The exciting characteristic of pre-service training is with the natives sharing the ‘secrets’ of their culture; giving us the insiders track. On a more personal note, I realize that as a volunteer of color, I will automatically be subject to higher standards and/or expected to acculturate more rapidly than others. Not a daunting task, but perhaps one that will force me to develop my skills faster and possibly create the opportunity to better connect with the citizens. E. How you think Peace Corps service will influenced your personal and professional aspirations after your service ends. As I was approaching my senior year in college I decided that upon completion I would take a constructive break from school. I began to research my options and the Peace Corps experience incorporated all of the elements that I was seeking for my post-graduate venture. I already decided that I want to go into education with a particular focus on inner city youth and anything I do until becoming a formal teacher will be with the same focus and direction. I knew that I wanted to travel and be able to view a different way of life; this would allow me to grow as a student, teacher, and person. I couldn’t ask for a more exciting experience that I will always have with me and be able to instill in my future students. I realize this doesn’t really answer the question, however, I can’t predict the total influence that Peace Corps will have on my post-service life. I expect that I will have a life-changing experience that will forever influence my life and decisions.