In Namibia, resources seem to come in windfalls. A goat is slaughtered and must be cooked, dried or sold before the meat spoils. Ripe eembe (berries) drop from the tree in the strong winds that precede thunderstorms and must be gathered before the rain arrives. Paychecks are issued at the end of the month and spent within a week or two. Ombidi (wild spinach-like greens) sprout in the fields and must be collected and dried into cow pie-looking patties before disappearing from the earth as quickly as it arrived. Rain falls in torrents that cause temporary floods, and then not a drop falls from the cloudless sky for the remaining nine months. When it floods, the fish “run” and must be caught and dried before the ephemeral oshanas evaporate. These cycles of abundance and drought create periods of intense work, like the kind I stumbled across last week. Upon entering the homestead, I walked into a group of memes sitting under a tree with a massive pile of marula fruits making omagongo (marula juice). Like everything else in Namibia, I immediately decided that I needed to try it, at least once, so I joined them in the shade. After some confused laughter and quick observations I got to work on a small pyramid of marulas, using a cow horn to pierce the fruit and loosen the skin, letting the juice drip down onto a plastic plate and all over my hands. An hour later, the plate was only beginning to look full. Clearly, I forgot to mention one very small, very important detail: marulas are 10% skin, 10% juice and 80% stone. As auto-pilot took over (puncture, loosen, squeeze; puncture, loosen, squeeze), my mind began to contemplate the process occurring under the tree. PHOTO: Marulas ready to be juice and cow horn to help with the job.
For some unfortunate reason, clichés are always at the forefront of my mind, so I couldn’t help pondering the “drop in the bucket” theory that was unfolding in front of me. As overused as it is, it’s true: we may feel that our action is only a drop in the bucket, but over time these drops add up ounces, ounces to pints, pints to gallons. And location matters naught – a drop is a drop; a drop in Africa is a drop in America is a drop in Asia. Just a few days before, I’d listened to NPR’s broadcast of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s “I Have a Dream” speech. I’d heard it many times before, but this time it was different; I didn’t just listen to the speech, the speech spoke to me. It reminded me that we all have rights – and along with those rights come equally important responsibilities. Among those responsibilities is public service; to serve our communities, wherever they may be, in whatever way we can. By some convoluted logic, people seem to think that drop in rural Africa is somehow bigger than a drop in urban America or in one’s hometown. But it’s not. A drop is a drop. So let’s keep Dr. King’s dream alive by serving our communities and speaking out for human rights, wherever we are, however we can. Drop by drop. 
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Water's receding, school grinds on. Nothing interesting to blog about, but I've added two new pages LIBRARY and CAMP GLOW for your reading pleasure.
And, of course, a new post wouldn't be complete without a picture of my favourite little Namibian making a sandcastle. 
In addition to a Playskool kitchen and Barbie dolls, an Easy Bake Oven is one of the classic toys for little girls. Despite often making cookies with my mom, I still looked forward to using my Easy Bake Oven because I felt like I was baking on my own. It is, I believe, that sense of independence and personal accomplishment that that makes an Easy Bake Oven so special to a little girl. Even today, the “Easy Bake Oven Theory” still applies. After a tiring day at school, the simple act of making the family’s oshithima all by myself, from start to finish – no easy task when neither the flour is measured nor the boiling timed – brightens my day and sends me to bed physically tired but mentally satisfied. Despite the tortures of inhaling smoke for an hour while my eyes burn and my nose runs, the sense of accomplishment that I get from contributing to the family’s chores makes it more than worthwhile. But learning new things should always be a two-way street, so I’ve started teaching the girls on my homestead how to bake. After the last lesson, with the desire for independent oshithima-making on my mind, I suggested that Justina try making a chocolate cake by herself sometime. She eagerly agreed, and a few days later I set her free in my kitchen while I took over the oshithima. I must admit, I was nervous; a year ago, she’d never even read a recipe, not to mention used measuring cups involving fractions, the boogey-monster of the math world. In the end, I had no reason to worry. On her first solo baking attempt, she passed with flying colours. The texture and consistency were correct, all the ingredients included and the batter well mixed. The only hangup was the cocoa powder – 3 t instead of 3 T, but this is a mistake many American adults, would make, not to mention a novice, ESL baker! And the cupcakes still tasted great, which is really what counts in the end. As she was taking them out of the pan, I realized that I needed to capture this momentous occasion, so I tucked one cupcake into the fridge. The next day, armed with my camera, I asked Justy if she wanted a picture. Again, she eagerly agreed – but first needed to bathe and change clothes. So now it is preserved forever: Justy’s first cupcake – the first of many baking accomplishments.
[Afterword: Last night Justy asked me if she could make cupcakes again. There was still some sour milk stinking up my fridge so I consented and she got to work while I stirred the oshithima. After the porridge was finished and I was thoroughly smoky and sweaty, I went into the kitchen to check on her cupcakes. It was a sad but familiar sight: flat, greasy-looking cupcakes. I summoned her in and we discussed what might’ve gone wrong. Just as I suspected - not enough flour. After this, I quoted an important English phrase and life lesson: Live and learn. Next time, I said, she’d get it right.] 
We’re asked to do, use or consume in moderation all the time – sugars, oils and fats; alcohol; watching TV and playing computer games. So if humans have to keep urges in check, isn’t it fair that Mother Nature should also practice moderation?
Photo: Just leaving the homestead can be challenging! The moderation I’m looking for is in the rains – we’d like the thirst-quenching, life-giving amount, please; not the crop-drowning, knee-deep type. After the skies opened up and rain fell for several days straight the oshanas filled up with cool, crisp rainwater. Too bad north-central Namibia is just a long series of oshanas strung together, all ultimately heading south to the Etosha Pan. Photo: Aipinge plays in a puddle on the homestead The rain has its perks – cool weather for bearable days and sleep-able nights, free water for drinking, cooking, bathing and washing, great puddles for children to splash in, and abundant fish and frogs. But too much rain causes a flood, which is exactly what we have on our hands right now. And crossing long stretches of deep water can be time consuming and dangerous – most people don’t know how to swim, and even for those that do, the bottom is often obscured by the murky water making every step a guessing game (how deep? a plant? a fish? a stick? a rock? a slimy creature?) Photo: Even the goats are refugees! For the safety of the learners, classes were suspended last week, and the school will remain closed for the remainder of this week. It was rather anticlimactic – having two days of school and then shutting down. But hope is on the horizon: it hasn’t rained in 6 days and the water has been steadily, but slowly, flowing downstream. Photo: Free water! A precious gift in a country as dry as Namibia If you’re getting a feeling a déjà vu, you’re absolutely correct. This same thing happened last year – only in April, and school was closed for an entire month. The fact that it’s only January is slightly worrying; there’s still a long rainy season ahead and potential floodwaters from Angola on the horizon. But, for now, we’ll march forward optimistically – and hope that Mother Nature can keep it in moderation. 
Although overnight temperatures in the upper 80s usually don’t signify Thanksgiving, the holiday hasn’t passed by unnoticed. School-wise, we’re in the home stretch – only 2.5 weeks until the year is over. Due to this, and the fact that I’m belatedly attempting to save for vacation, I decided to stay put this Thanksgiving weekend. But, perhaps, being stationery is most appropriate because, by staying in the village, I’m surrounded by the people and things I’m most thankful for. Here’s my top 5: My Namibian family – There’s nothing like a family to make you feel at home in a foreign land. With this said, I’m extremely thankful for my Namibian host family, the Pendukenis, and especially Meekulu. I’ve learned so much about Owambo culture from them that I wouldn’t have learned if I’d ended up in a city or at the teachers’ housing. Plus, they put up with my crazy American-ness, like forgetting to shut the doors during snake season (oops!) and locking myself in my room with a book after a frustrating day at school. Yesterday I was feeling especially festive so I decided to bake a pumpkin pie for them so that they could learn about and taste a bit of American culture. I could only find butternut squash (but it turned out to be a great substitute for pumpkin – you should try it!), and I think my attempted expression of gratitude got a bit lost in translation, but I tried nonetheless.My colleagues – They make me laugh every day. In addition to the laughter and good food that we share, they’re always there to answer my questions and listen to my frustrations. To an American, the Namibian school system can sometimes be incomprehensible. Thanks to my colleagues, however, I’ve been able to navigate it somewhat successfully (I made it through the first year, didn’t I?).
The rain – In Namibia we discuss the weather, especially the rain, not as small talk, but as a serious point of conversation – and rightly so: after nearly 6 months without a drop of rain, grey skies and a shower can seem like a miracle. My fixation with the rain may border on obsessive; I watch the skies like a hawk, pray for rain at the first sight of a thundercloud and text other volunteers to get a heads up on the coming weather. I even have my own humidity indicator – my bedroom door, which latches when it’s humid but refuses to catch when it’s dry. Unlike me, these goats try to avoid the rain! My quiet place – I don’t get to escape to my quiet place nearly enough, but I’m thankful to have it regardless. On the occasional weekend where there isn’t a soccer game at school or grade 10 camping, I’m able to put up my hammock chair and spend blissful hours reading in the shade. Books have an unrivaled power to immerse the reader in a different world, and in this past year I’ve gained an even deeper appreciation for the power of literature. Cadbury bars – That’s right, I’m thankful for chocolate. Specifically the Cadbury Delectable Trio – a milk chocolate bar with toffee pieces, almonds and mini chocolate cookies buried within. I’m so thankful for this delicious chocolate bar that I usually can’t restrain myself and end up eating the entire thing on the day I buy it. Cadbury really needs to expand its American distribution beyond their Easter cream eggs! 
School holidays in Namibia mean only one thing…weddings. This August, I saw signs of weddings everywhere – parades of cars, couples’ names taped over license plates and white flags in trees (note to all cynics: this is not a sign of surrender but a sign of celebration). And, fortunately, I had the opportunity to experience a few weddings myself! In America, weddings are often referred to as “the big day.” In Namibia, they’d be more appropriately called “the big week.” The process begins when the future spouse becomes “known” to the family. I’m not sure what this all entails, because I wasn’t actually there, but the gist is that you don’t meet your future in-laws until you’re engaged (about 6 months before the wedding). Then, the wedding plans begin. “Wedding week” begins on Sunday when the couple is announced in church. Again, I can’t be sure what is said (it was all in Oshiwambo), but all of the couples stand up in front of the church. Once church is over, the fun begins. At this point, each couple is followed out of church, surrounded by their posse. This posse consists most of celebrating women, but men are not excluded. The group proceeds toward their vehicle, but moves rather slowly because there is singing and dancing around the couple, as well as congratulations, whistling, harmonica playing, cow tail waving and ululating. For those of you not up-to-date on your Nam-lingo, the term ululating means making a wavering, high-pitched sound. It kind of reminds of a stereotyped Indian war cry. In addition to all of this auditory stimulation, there are the bright pink traditional dresses and beads to see.From there, preparations begin in earnest. When you’re hosting hundreds of people without a wedding planner or catering company, there’s a lot to be done. Since weddings are held on the homestead, a tent (or two) is rented and erected outside the fence. Food must be cooked for all of the guests, so these means hours and hours of peeling potatoes, grating beets, boiling rice and butchering chickens, goats and cows. Plus, all of the logistical problems that you’d never consider in America, like bringing in huge blocks of ice to cool the drinks (no fridge), finding a generator so there can be lights after dark (no electricity) and hauling in water for cooking, cleaning and drinking (no running water).When the big day arrives, it begins at a familiar place: church. A religious ceremony is held, and includes many of the familiar aspects – vows, rings and a bridal party. After church, photos are taken (the lodges in town are very popular locations) and then the celebration moves to the bride’s homestead. The main features of the homestead celebration are the gift-giving, the toast and the meal. During the gift-giving ceremony, the bride and groom sit at a table outside and all the women line up. Most of the women balance their gift (a basket) on their head, but a few also give wrapped presents. The singing, harmonica playing and dancing continues as the move through the queue to present their gift to the couple. Next, the couple moves into the tent for the toast. Following a few words, the champagne is popped and shared with everyone in the room. Finally, it’s time to eat – the buffet servers are opened, the big basins are unwrapped and people dig in. As my Namibian BFF Henni likes to say, the food is destroyed. After day one of the wedding celebration, the hoopla begins all over again the next day at the groom’s house!
I just wanted to say hi to my World Wise Schools class at Lincoln Elementary! This is some of the 7th graders at my school. We hope you have a great school year.
Ignorance is bliss. I’ve heard it before. I’m living it now. And like most things, I don’t think you can truly understand it until you experience it firsthand. On Monday I discovered that the school’s internet was hooked up again (after a 9 month hiatus) and I’ve been on it for 10 hours a day (nearly sunrise to sunset) for the past three days. I wish I was joking about that, but I’m not. As you probably know, the internet is very powerful (quick access to any type of information imaginable) but also very addicting (par exemple, the surge of anger and frustration you felt when the windstorm knocked out your internet for 12 hours and you couldn’t check your gmail and facebook every 10 minutes and google the origins of “Turkey” [the country’s] to end a dispute with your colleague). In America, ubiquitous internet is just part of life, maybe an annoying part or maybe an essential part, but it’s there regardless. Now, imagine that you are an internet-deprived Namibian née American; the effect of restored internet prowess is magnified! If I don’t check into rehab on my own, you may need to stage an intervention. You probably think that my rediscovered surfing powering is a good thing – so did I...until I walked home from school on Monday in a weird funk. I should’ve been overjoyed – I’d answered emails, downloaded important documents and skyped with my parents and friends, all for free – but I was closer to despondency. Throughout the day I was able to update myself on all the wonderful happenings at home – vacations, good food, family gatherings, new jobs, marriages, new houses and cars, new babies – but it left me feeling half homesick, half jealous. As I walked home, my mind raced. I’m happy here, I thought, why would using the internet throw me through such a loop? Then a lightbulb went on. Of course....I’m only hearing about the exciting, momentous occasions in people’s lives, not the drab everyday occurrences (being stuck in traffic, cleaning the house, going to work)and frustrating moments (filling out ANOTHER job application, worrying about money, longing for adventure outside the suburbs). Just because somebody doesn’t email or facebook about it doesn’t mean it isn’t part of life. This revelation led me into a careful consideration of the relationship between the West and the world (as does nearly every other deep thought-conversation I have with myself). It is with this same skewed viewpoint that young people around the world learn about America – they watch television, follow celebrities, see magnificent cities and learn about new technologies – without realizing what they’re seeing is an over-simplification skimmed from the top. America is not like the movies – we don’t have big houses, drive BMWs and hire nannies. There’s crime, poverty, debt and divorce. But seeing is believing...and if that’s all you’d ever heard about America, you’d believe it too. Then imagine transitioning immediately from the “incredible” world of America into your reality – 50% unemployment, corrupt government officials, lack of electricity and running water. You’d probably be jealous, and this jealously could easily turn into resentment. So, in this way, ignorance IS bliss. While the internet, technology and globalization bring many benefits, they’re not without drawbacks. While they close divides, they can also deepen them. With this said, don’t be surprise if I disappear into the darkness of a self-imposed internet moratorium. After all, it is important to live in the present, and we all know how quickly the internet can transport you several worlds away. I usually crave and easily digest a steady trickle of information from home, but right now, I’m drowning in a self-made tsunami. It’s not easy - nay, impossible - to live with your body in one world and your mind in another.
Oh, grade 6. This is the class that has given me the most trouble and stress throughout the first two terms. How is it that they look so angelic in pictures? Haha.
Me and some of the 6th grade class Grade 6 (there are 40 total so missing a few, but this is most of them) Ester & Maila Petrus (pron: pet-ruhs), Erikson and Shongola (pron: shown-goal-ah) with Gustav popping out from underneath. Onesmus A (pron: own-ehs-moose), Sebron and Onesmus S. Ndapewa (pron: ndah-pay-wah), Maria and Johanna. 
The boy's soccer team with coach (right) and Head of Department (Vice Principal, left) after getting 2nd place (out of 11 teams) at the DAPP Private School Sports Tournament. DAPP is one of the schools nearest to Omahila. The school itself is a unique situation because it is made up of a school (grades 1-10), a plant nursery, and a vocational school. It is funded by an international organization (Development Aid People to People), the Namibian government and the parents who pay for their kids to go to school there (N$250 per month!) To give you some perspective, the school fees for our school are N$40 per YEAR.
Book Club members with the principal (middle). It took us six months but we finally finished reading The Chocolate Touch. At the end, all participants received a certificate and a chocolate bar. Another book club in the works? Not likely. The fact that it took six months to finish a mid-length 4th grade-level chapter book is an indicator of how difficult it is to have a regularly meeting after school program. There are always disruptions - cleaning days, sport days, parent meetings, netball & soccer practice, floods! Winners of the 1st Omahila CS Spelling Bee: Aurelia (2nd place) and Emilia (1st place). The Spelling Bee was open to all learners in grade 8-10. Both winners were from grade 9. Kasia "reading" a book in the kitchen at home. My favourite photo subject, Kasia, sitting in the vessel where mahangu seeds are pounded into flour.
Being thousands of miles from home has caused me to rely more on writing than I ever have before. This unique situation has helped me realize the power of the written word and the significance of individual words when trying to convey a SPECIFIC message. So, a big thanks to all my English teachers, both formal and informal.
One of the biggest frustrations of living in country and culture so unlike your own is the fact that many things don’t translate (both literally and figuratively). And in reality, that’s exactly what this blog is doing – translating events in Namibia to people in America and vice versa. It often seems impossible to explain situations, both joyful and stressful, because the listener doesn’t understand the context. What might seem like a simple solution is not, and vice versa. To make matters even more complicated, I often feel like an inept translator – both unable to understand something because of its Namibian context and also unable to explain it effectively within the American context. This experience has certainly made me more feel more compassion for the children of immigrants who are constantly straddling two contexts and two cultures and trying to succeed in them both.
I thought I’d purged all my thoughts about adaptation and the human condition in the last post, but it’s still been on my mind a lot lately, so I guess that’s not the case. In particular, the point that I haven’t been able to shake is the image of that destitute African child that you often see on infomercials attempting to play on your sympathies to extract money. I see something similar to this every day, which made the infomercial seem inaccurate. This inconsistency plagued my mind until I recognized that the picture of poverty was incomplete. It’s probable, I’ve come to realize, that there are two types of poverty, and maybe even more. For the moment, however, it’s been easiest to wrap my head around two – poverty of the tangible and poverty of the intangible. Poverty of the tangible would include a lack of materials – living in a hut or hovel or shack; fetching your water from a pond several miles away; having only two sets of clothes and no shoes; playing without toys; eating the same bland rice or millet or cassava every day. But if all you’ve known for your whole life is a hut with plain rice and ratty t-shirt, are you any worse off? The second, and more extreme, kind of poverty is poverty of the intangible – lacking knowledge of the importance of education; lacking the ability to speak your mind or make your own decisions; coping with the mental anguish of losing a parent. After all, you can give a child a book, but if he doesn’t understand the benefits of reading, it’ll end up as fuel for a cooking fire; you can give a girl a condom, but if gender equality doesn’t exist, she can’t even suggest its use; you can give an orphan a mansion, but if he doesn’t have adults to guide him, he’ll soon end up on the streets and the house in disrepair. So, then, the logical conclusion seems to be that the seeds to overcome intangible poverty must first be planted before the war against tangible poverty can be waged. But the question remains: Are the right type of seeds being planted? Is the message getting across? After all, what flourishes in India may wither in Canada. At the moment, it seems to me that the only answer is perseverance and luck; that through one of our relationships the right seed might fall on the right type of soil (and avoid the birds – parable of the mustard seed...anyone?). And now let’s bring this full circle: translation of the message. While I can’t explain to you the details of the poverty I live amongst, I know you understand the message, because intangible poverty exists everywhere – in our country, in our community, in our backyard, in ourselves. So...wherever we are, let’s go ahead, let’s plant those seeds and see if something springs up.
As I was walking to school one day, I met Kasia (by herself) halfway down the driveway. I asked her (in Oshiwambo) where she was going and she said Omahila. It's a 15 minute walk through the bush to get there so I decided I'd better escort her since we were going the same way. On the way, we stopped on the path, sat down and took this little video. She always makes me smile....so I wanted to spread the love!
Andrea and Kasia
Andrea and Meme Rosa Andrea and some of the kids (Moses, Haango, Justina, Petrus & Tangi)
Holiday time is over...which means back to the village and back to reality. There are benefits – I can finally stop living out of a suitcase and the strain on my pocketbook has somewhat lessened – but there are also drawbacks – the loss of my cherished solitude and diminished dining choices, as well as dealing with bad cell phone reception. After my initial delight to be back home, I went through a bit of a mourning period. During this time of reflection, I became acutely aware of the amazing human ability to adapt. Maybe I’m going a bit far by attributing this quality only to humans, but it really is amazing. What was once shocking and abnormal quickly becomes regular and expected. There’s a long list of things that I once thought of as scary or strange; now that list is simply titled “The Way Things Are Done.” In most cases, this ability to adapt is a good thing. For example, if I didn’t get used to everyday things – like taking cold showers, being stared at in the street, finding a random ride into to town or scheduling my day around the movement of the sun – my body would be under so much stress it would simply stop functioning. With the good comes the bad, however. There are now things – like a lack of accountability for teachers, working in a school with insufficient materials, or watching people living in unsanitary conditions - that don’t surprise me anymore. I should be extremely concerned when learners are beating up on each other in the schoolyard, but it happens so often that I’ve simply become desensitized to the issue. In the end, whether it is positive or negative, the ability to adapt is a necessary part of life. The world around us is always changing and we must change with it or risk being left behind. I can only hope that the majority of the adjustments I’ve made (conserving water, growing some of my own food, being patient and flexible) will benefit me in the future.
Before coming to Namibia, the thought of Africa conjured two images: HOT and DRY. These days, there’re only two words on my mind: WATER and FLOODS. Northern Namibia is currently experiencing the worst floods ever recorded. According to an article I read, the water levels are 8 cm higher than the previous record floods in 2008. Just as most other things, it isn’t exactly as you’d imagine it. “Flood” makes me think of rivers overflowing their banks and sweeping away cars and houses, but this kind of flood is different. Since there are no dams, levees or river re-routing, this is a “natural” flood. On one hand, this flooding is expected – north central Namibia is essentially a floodplain. But on the other hand, flooding isn’t a yearly event. From what I’ve read, 2 to 3 major floods occur in each 20 year period (data from the last century). But this is exceptional - in the last few years, we’ve already met this quota with floods in 2008, 2009 and 2011. This makes me fear that global warming will cause years of terrible flooding and terrible drought, therefore terrible suffering, in this area in coming decades. Climate change truly is a global issue. The progress of the floods has been slow, not dramatic: an entire weekend of rain caused the oshanas (shallow, ephemeral lakes) to grow larger and larger and eventually link together. But the main culprit is not the localized rainfall, it is the water from Angola. All of this water slowly moves southward and settles into the Etosha Pan, and Owamboland just happens to be in the path. So, for the past week, we’ve been walking through the flood waters. At times it reminds me of canoeing the Crystal River in central Wisconsin. As I walk through the water, I often catch a glimpse of little silver fish darting in and out of weeds that are bending under the gentle current. But then there are moments that I’m knee-deep in murky, mucky water wondering what type of animals (snakes) or parasites (schisto) might be living in the water. I’m lucky, though – I only live 1 kilometre from the main road and the school, so I’ve had it easy. The majority of my students have to walk for an hour or more, sometimes through waist-high water. Not only is it inconvenient (walking through water takes twice as long), but it’s dangerous. According to an article, 21 students (throughout Namibia) have already drowned. Because of this, many schools (including mine) have temporarily closed until the water recedes. As it became apparent that more and more PCVs were under water, PC decided to move us to a nearby city before the water got so high that it would be impossible to evacuate us in an emergency. So now we wait in limbo – water refugees. (Though I’m not complaining – it’s great to have electricity, a hot shower and TV. Plus, I can watch movies on my computer and read books without being watched! Though I'm sure this won't last for long.)
A year and a half ago, as I began my final semester at Point, I worried about loneliness. All of my close friends had graduated, as had the majority of my acquaintances. I was no longer president of my college’s chapter of the American Cancer Society, meaning I would be much less involved and, in fact, my schedule didn’t even allow me to make the meetings. And I was moving into a two-bedroom apartment with a random roommate, a mile from campus. As it turned out, however, loneliness was not at all a problem; between school (with its cursed undergrad thesis) and work (coaching levels 4-8 at the Y) I stayed completely occupied.
The year 2011 has again brought of thoughts of loneliness...or the lack thereof. I’ve always heard that Americans are strangely solitary and independent, but I’d never thought anything of it. How can you when you’ve lived your entire life in a culture that embraces those characteristics? Now I’m beginning to grasp a better understanding. Each day, I search for ways to be alone but invisible. It’s more challenging that you’d think. During the school day, there’s a steady stream of distractions: lessons to teach, students with questions, copies to be made, teachers to chat with, library books to be checked out, make-up tests to be administered, re-teaching and pre-teaching and, my biggest frustration, a near-constant group of teacherless students running about the school yard, playing, fighting and generally making a ruckus. I’m also keenly aware that I’m being observed all the time. Even at school, where I’ve been a constant figure for 14 weeks, I often still feel like a zoo animal. It’s usually the primary school children that camp outside my door, staring in or lingering for an unnatural amount of time as they walk by. But even the older students are watching. Yesterday I was told by my host sister that one of the girls from her class reported back that I was eating eembe (berries) and drinking tea in my office. I can only imagine how quickly word would spread if I was eating a pizza and Skyping with friends in America! The interest in my every movement is not just confined to the schoolyard. At home, as I’m preparing rice for the next day’s lunch, baking banana bread or washing my dishes, I often have an audience. The little girls from my house sit in the chairs and watch me work, even though they’ve seen me cook and clean many times before. One Saturday I was helping cultivate mahangu, and the next day another teacher told me she’s seen me out in the fields. Twice now, I’ve taken five or ten minutes in the morning to pick eembe from the tree to take for lunch and later come home to find a bowl of them in the sitting room, a gift to me from mekulu. How she knew that I was picking berries in the morning, I have no idea. I’m usually the first up and the first to leave, so no more than one or two people could have seen me. Even my Namibian colleagues take note. If I go for a whole day without stopping by their office, they joke about my antisocial behaviour. I once tried to explain the American need for solitude to one of my younger but very opinionated colleagues. Our conversation ended with her declaring that the overabundance of alone time is why Americans spend so much time with psychiatrists. My natural introvertedness has further compounded this issue. By the time I get home from school each day, I’m exhausted. It’s already 6 or 7 o’clock, I have a bit of cleaning and cooking to do, and then I just want to read or write and go to bed. Even THIS gets noticed. I’ve had people tell me that it’s not healthy or natural for one to sit alone in their room (maybe they think I’m just sitting there?). When I read outside, however, it’s internally more stressful than being inside: instead of relaxing, I’m worried about what the others think (I’m sitting and reading while they’re working) or I’m trying to figure out what’s going on (as they chatter away in Oshiwambo). In an effort to cope, I attempt to find less conspicuous ways to be alone. One is staying after school. Once 4:01 hits and the schoolyard has emptied out, I can finally clear my mind enough to think, reflect and plan. A dark, cramped office with little air circulation and a hard wooden chair are hardly conducive to divine inspiration, but it works. I even spend many of my weekend hours at school. Another cherished ritual is my walk to and from school each day. It’s 20 minutes of near-solitude. Just me and my iPod. I’ve actually turned down free rides home in order to preserve my time alone. Although I cherish sleep more than nearly anything else, I purposely choose to wake up early in order to enjoy the cool morning air in peace and quiet. The other only other escape I’ve (begrudgingly) agreed to is a workshop for Life Skills teachers next week. I hate missing school but it’ll probably be good to get away, if only for a bit. In the end, however, I wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. Despite my occasional (though sometimes urgent) longing for an apartment of my own or an isolated hut in a field, life on a homestead has offered me so many experiences and opportunities I wouldn’t have had otherwise. It’s given me a Namibian family and clearer picture of everyday Vambo life, both a big part of the reason I came here in the first place. Now if only I could remind myself of that the next time I feel like a living museum exhibit.
For four months now, I’ve lived without a fridge. That means no cold water, no leftovers, no milk, no meat and no ice cream. Given this, I was pretty excited when a beautiful new gas fridge showed up at my house a week ago. In celebration, I even went to the grocery store and bought a box of (long life) milk and a box of Kellogg’s bran flakes (though I didn’t notice until I started snacking on them that they expired last month – always, ALWAYS check the expiration date before you buy food in Nam). Having never even lit a gas stove before coming to Nam, I didn’t feel qualified to connect the fridge myself so I put off the set up for nearly a week because there never an older, adult male around to do it (just me, the memes and the kids). Finally, under pressure to report back to the ministry about whether it was working or not, I asked my 18 year-old brother to set it up last night. As he worked with another younger boy to connect it to the gas and get it lit, I tidied up the kitchen, fetched water, brought some dirty dishes from my room and generally watched from the sidelines. After it was going, I checked a few times to see if it was feeling cooler (it wasn’t) and decided I’d have to be patient and wait til morning to reach a real conclusion. Due to the fact that there’s no electricity (therefore not a lot to do after the sun sets) and I’m one of those people that NEEDS at least eight hours of sleep to function properly, I usually head to bed around 9 or 9:30, read for a bit and then fall asleep. As I was reading in my bed around 9:30, I heard a bit of commotion and the word “omeya” (water) outside but I didn’t think anything of it – there’s often commotions happening outside my window. A few minutes later, there was a knock at my door and the message, “Miss, you must come see this.” I walked outside to find the fridge on fire. Eventually, the burning fridge was dragged outside, tipped on its side and sand used to extinguish the fire. Thankfully, the only other damage was a scorch mark or two on the painted cement-block wall. After the flames had ceased, we spent a time standing around marvelling in disbelief (at least I was) and investigating the charred backside to figure out what had caused the fire. As most everything was said in Oshiwambo, I’m still not exactly sure what started the blaze, but from what I gathered, I think the hose connecting the gas tank and the fridge had been too close to the heating element and had melted. Having had nothing to do with the set up, I did not have to endure the horrible pangs of guilt that I doubtlessly would’ve felt had I been the one who put it together. Instead I stood there in disbelief, alternating between feelings of amusement and amazement. Obviously, it is worthless to become upset over something that is completely out of your control. The excitement over and the damage already done, I decided to go to bed. Apparently, however, my acceptance of the situation was only conscious, not subconscious. That night I slept horribly! A few hours after falling asleep, I awoke to find myself at the end of my bed, sitting on my mosquito net (luckily I did not pull it out of the ceiling), putting on my flip flops and attempting to unlock my door (now I realize that locking the door is more of a precautionary measure to protect me from myself than to protect me from others). After the sleep walking incident, I tossed and turned to bad dreams, including a bad substitute teaching incident and my computer being stolen. What will become of the fridge situation, I’m really not sure. Obviously, it will be returned to the ministry because it won’t function anymore, at least not safely – and we don’t need ANOTHER fire! I’m not sure how kindly the ministry will look upon me after I destroyed their brand new fridge. I’d be shocked if they willingly offered up another one. A nearby volunteer has offered me her unused electric fridge, but we have to go through the ministry to get approval for that. Perhaps I was just not meant to have cold water or perishable food in Namibia. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise...After all, how many people can say they lived two years without a fridge?
The 18th of February marked the 6 month anniversary of my arrival in Namibia so I decided it was a good time to stop and reflect. The first thing I thought of was how different my life is today than it was just six months ago. I have very fond memories of my 4.5 years in Stevens Point and for some reason the memory of late-night trips to County Market and Walmart popped into my mind. That was always my favourite – doing my grocery shopping in peace and quiet at 11 PM on a Saturday when the isles were deserted. Some of you might recall how I could spend hours at the grocery store, wandering the isles, walking back and forth across the store to collect ingredients I’d forgotten or suddenly realized I wanted. This mini-daydream also reminded me that sometimes I’d drive from my apartment to the grocery store which was just a five minute walk away (but, in my defence, I did walk sometimes and I also often rode my bike). Still, I don’t think I realized how lucky I was at the time. Now I walk 20 minutes just to get to school or to the road to find a ride into town. I’d also hop in my car when I wanted to go to Walmart or if I needed to get to the YMCA and it was raining. Which brings me to another topic – things I miss. With that introduction, I’d like to present to you my “Most-Missed List” (just rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?) Preface: Obviously, the thing I miss the most is all of you – my friends and family – but I think that goes without saying so I’m not including it on the list. 4. My car – after a particularly rough day with grade 6 a few weeks ago, I was sitting in my office at school trying to reflect on the lesson and understand where things had gone wrong. For some reason, however, I just couldn’t find the motivation and concentration necessary to do the reflection. I tried to think of how I could get the job done and I realized that, in America, I did most of my reflecting in my car on the drive to/from work or school. At that moment, I really wanted to hop in my car and go for a drive so I could figure things out. I never realized that a drive has three elements necessary for a good reflection – solitude, beautiful scenery and good music. And cars also offer another wonderful benefit: independence – you can go wherever you want whenever you want. Craving ice cream? Coldstone’s not far away. Had a morning that’s dragged on? Starbucks at lunch. Feeling bored? Why not road trip to Florida! 3. Coaching gymnastics – I’m not sure what sparks the memories of my coaching days, but I think of my gymnasts often. I miss them dearly and since I haven’t heard from any of them (insert sad face here) I’m not sure how their season is going but I’m sure they’re doing well. I may have been thinking of gymnastics because it was an example of a time when I was able to clearly see (and even measure) my student’s progress. Whether it was a back handspring on beam, proper form on tap swings or a round-off back handspring without a spot it was incredibly rewarding to see the girls learn and master a new skill. And in Namibia, thus far, it’s been difficult to tell how much progress my students have been making in English. 2. The selection of food – returning to the tales of the grocery store, I fondly remember days when my college friend Kristen and I would go to County Market and enjoy a baked good (usually a muffin) at the secret tables upstairs overlooking the produce section while discussing the events of the weekend. While the muffins were delicious, it is the beautiful array of produce that I miss even more. At almost any grocery store in America you can find an incredible selection of fresh produce and, generally, this produce is offered at a fairly reasonable price. The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of Namibia. I often find myself craving fruits and vegetables – lettuce, oranges, spinach, pineapples, radishes, bing cherries, peaches, nectarines, celery, cherry tomatoes, grapefruit, olives. And don’t even get me started on dairy products! 1. Snow – alright, I know everyone in Wisconsin is probably rolling their eyes in disgust, but I really, REALLY miss the snow. By the time March rolled around I was looking forward to spring as much as the next person, but while the snow was around I really enjoyed it. Sometimes I just close my eyes and remember what it was like – walking down a carless, tree-lined street at night, the stillness and silence surrounding me, the snow crunching under my feet, the peace and solitude of watching the snow gently fall down and feeling like I was walking in a snowglobe. Or ice skating at dusk on the little skating rink Chris had cleared on the lake, just far enough from shore that the sounds of traffic on the highway were absent, gliding on the ice in complete, utter silence. In the process of reflecting on these past six months, I also realized how much I’ve learned. The long list of things I’ve learned makes me marvel at the human ability to adapt. Things I couldn’t even have fathomed six months ago now seem normal to me. So here’s a little sampling of the new things I’ve learned to do: - Wash laundry by hand (you’d be AMAZED how much dirt and dye comes out of clothes) - Wash dishes without a cloth (that’s right, it’s completely possible!) - Hitchhike (please, don’t panic, this is Namibia, not America – it’s the way people get around here) - Sow, cultivate and pound mahangu (I can pound for an hour now without getting blisters – quite the improvement!) - Light a gas oven (not a burner, the oven – at first it was rather scary) - Collect rainwater (an essential survival skill when water isn’t running at the tap and the water in the oshanas nearby is a mucky grey and quite possibly infected with schisto) - Live without a refrigerator (although I’m pretty positive my nutrition has suffered) - Pluck a chicken (and not wince when its head is chopped off – tho I have yet to wield the machete myself or hold the twitching chicken’s body) All in all, the first six months have been great – a wonderful learning experience, everything I wanted and nothing I expected!
I don’t have a lot to say today, I just really wanted to add some pictures. Things at school are still up and down, especially with grade 6. Some days I feel ready to declare victory while others I feel defeated...but the days continue on. I’ve done some crosswords with the kids and they’re really seemed to like those so I’m going to keep on going with that and hopefully find a few more things that work well. Some good news: there’s free wireless internet at the library in Outapi! This is wonderful news. The only down side is that the library is only open M-F until 5 PM. This means that if I scoot out of school right away at 2 I can get a solid 2.5 hours in before the library closes. And...our school got 50 new chairs! This is great news! Now almost all of the kids have a place to sit. However, this one has a down side, too. The quality of the chairs is very low so they won’t last long. Some of them are already breaking. But, at least, we have chairs, if only for the moment. And now...some pictures (they really are worth a thousand words, aren’t they?)
PHOTO: The Oshiwambo traditional spinach, called ombidi. It is a combination of a few different green plants that grow wildly in the area. Reminds me a little of collard greens. Ombidi is eaten with the oshithima instead of meat. PHOTO: Eembe, berries, that grow on big trees in the homestead. Some might say they are an acquired taste but I've acquired that taste. They can be eaten fresh off the tree or dried and are used to make a drink. PHOTO: A closer look at the berries. Unfortunately they are 1/2 fruit, 1/2 pit so you really have to work to get the most out of them. But it's worth it.
I’m writing this entry to let you know that although I love Nam, every day isn’t just a walk in the park. Some days are extremely challenging, especially those when I’m not getting anywhere in the classroom (and in grade 6, let me tell you, that happens a lot). On those days, I have to fill my head with positive messages just so I can make it through the school day. It goes something like this... They’re not ignoring you, they just don’t understand. It’s not a constant undercurrent of chattering, they’re just translating for each other. Don’t worry, they’re just as frustrated as you are. They’re not trying to drive you crazy. It doesn’t mean they don’t like you. They’re not trying to annoy you or be disrespectful, they’re just floundering in a new situation. They’re still young and they’re not sure how to handle themselves when they’re confused or lost. They also don’t understand what you’re going through: that you left your friends and family thousands of miles away and gave up many comforts of home to come here and teach them. They’re adolescents, they haven’t yet developed the ability to empathize with others. They’re not trying to frustrate you so much that you leave, they’re just expressing their own frustration in the only way they know how. They want to understand you and they want to learn, they’re just scared of making mistakes. They’re not used to an environment where learning from your mistakes and others is encouraged and accepted. They have a lot on their plate; maybe they were cultivating in the fields all day yesterday or they didn’t eat anything this morning. You can do this, you are not wasting your time, it will work out. Every job comes with its challenges and this is certainly no exception.
The first week of school is over...and, let me tell you, the first week of school in Namibia is much different than the first week of school in America. In the States, students walk into classrooms decked out with posters and signs. They also already have an assigned seat and maybe even a name tag. They know who their teacher is and where their classroom is and they probably arrived at school early, just in case. Basically, students and teachers hit the ground running.
PHOTO: The walk to school looks a bit different these days, especially after an overnight rainfall. In Namibia, the first week is more of an organizational period. During this time, students are transferring in or out of different schools. Teachers are meeting to figure out the time table (translation: class schedule). The school is waiting on supplies from the ministry (notebooks, chalk, crayons, copy paper) and from the school board (toner for the printer). Some of the supplies haven’t arrived yet...and never will. PHOTO: A bit of water near my homestead (these are just baby oshanas!) I didn’t actually teach a class until Thursday and ended up playing hangman on Friday because only 13 out of 35 grade 7s were present for English class (the last period of the day). Grade 5 didn’t have class all week because the teacher with their room key was away at a workshop. Thankfully, however, all the organization is now behind us; it’s now week two and the ball has started rolling... The school’s newly formed library committee has also started meeting. We have many big tasks ahead of us (getting more books in both English and Oshindonga, rearranging the library’s space, cataloguing and organizing the books and teaching students how and why to use the library) but I am excited to get the project started. PHOTO: Baby piglets on the homestead, born just a few weeks ago. Aren't they adorable!? And, of course, a weather report. The rains have arrived and are hopefully here to stay. Although the rain creates big puddles everywhere and fills seasonal lakes called oshanas, I’m a fan of rainy days. It keeps things cooler and reminds me of a rainy (or snowy) day at home – the perfect time to dress in layers (which, to a Namibian-extent, I’ve done) and watch a movie in bed (check that off the list, too). Having to hike up my skirt or take off my shoes to walk to school is just a price I’ll have to pay in order to enjoy the benefits of the rain. 
Alright I know it seems like I’ve completely dropped out of the blogosphere, but – don’t worry – I haven’t! I’ve just been on holiday, and it’s hard to keep a computer safe when you are traversing thousands of kilometres and camping in a tent so I just left it at home.
Photo: Trekking up Dune 7. Huge, isn't it?? First off, greetings: Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all! Also thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday and especially those that were forward-thinking enough to send a card in November (Grandma, Mom and Aunt Cheryl). Photo: Our campsite in Swakop As many of you may know, this is the first holiday season that I’ve ever spent away from home. And, honestly, I couldn’t be farther away from home (which turned out to be a good thing). It’s really hard to get homesick when it doesn’t feel like Christmas. And for me, there needs to be snow for it to feel like Christmas, so...Guess where I spent my Christmas? THE BEACH! It was great. Photo: Cape Fur Seals - thousands of them. Oh the noises and the smells! From the 24th of December to the 2nd of January, I camped with 20+ other volunteers in Swakopmund on the shores of the Atlantic Ocean. While everyone else at the campground had several cars, a few large tents, a braai (grill) and sometimes even a fridge, we had over 20 one- or two-person tents, laundry hanging everywhere and empty bottles and backpacks littering the ground. But who needs fancy camping equipment to have a good vacation? Photo: Our Swakop group on the beach on the last day of 2010! Swakop is one of Namibia’s biggest tourist destinations, especially during the holiday season. To be honest, it felt more like little Deutschland than Africa. I spent a lot of time on the beach – walking, reading, splashing around in the icy cold water (the Benguela Current pulls up chilly Antarctic water). And what time wasn’t spent at the beach was spent walking around the city and eating at its many delicious restaurants. After realizing that I’d be eating oshithima almost exclusively for the next three months, I decided I wanted to eat as much good food as possible. That meant sushi (x3), fish and chips (x2), carrot cake (x2), chocolate cake, milkshakes (x2), oysters (ick), pizza (x2), Chinese, gelato, and too many coffees and pastries to count. The damage to my wallet and my love handles is bound to be immense but frankly I don’t care. It was completely worth it. Photo: Our Nam Christmas tree Another highlight of the holiday was a trip up the Skeleton Coast (so named for the many whale and ship skeletons occupying its shores). With a group of 20 and two rented pickups, we visited Cape Cross, home to a huge Cape Fur Seal colony and Walvis Bay where we climbed Dune 7 (one of the largest in the world). We also camped on the beach next to a shipwreck (pretty sweet, right?). Photo: Camping on the beach next to a shipwreck Now, (fortunately or unfortunately – I’m not sure) it is time to return to reality, i.e. the village, and start the term. Time to speak Oshiwambo again...and eat oshithima...and mark papers...and measure time by looking at the sun. Generally, to do what I came here to do... Photo: The view from Dune 7 Video: Dancing to Waka Waka on the beach...is this Africa? 
Inside of the Grade 8 classroom
My homestead (from a distance) The Grade 9 and Grade 10 classrooms Inside the principal's office (which is really the principal's office/library/media center/food storage area). There are 6 computers that don't work (to the right) and the white bags are maize meal supplied by the government so that they students can eat after school (a great program!) The school's library The office/storage closet that I share with 2 other teachers (yes, my desk is the one with nothing on it!) Inside the Grade 6 classroom (yes, that is a goat that wandered inside the room) The bush - this is what I see every day on my walk to and from school (and, I guess any time I want to go anywhere because this is the road that leads from the paved road deeper into the bush where the village is). You'll notice that it is quite green right now, which is something that has changed in the month that I've been here. It has only rained once but somehow things are getting greener! A soccer goal (and you can see my homestead waaay in the background if you look hard) A termite mound...and many goats The Grade 7 classroom
Alright, I really don't have an update for you...other than the fact that I'm connected to the internet at my school! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO HOOOOOOOOOO! This is probably the biggest technologically development in my Namibian life thus far. It's fast, free and I don't have to wake up in the middle of the night to use it!
I don't have anything particularly ground-breaking to report, but I thought I'd share these NamScopes (translation: Namibian Horoscopes) with you. I originally wrote them as a joke for a PCV friend, but I thought you all might enjoy them as well (thanks Dr. Roloff for introducing me to the multi-genre narrative. Nam will never be the same thanks to you!) And, yes, I know there are 14 horoscopes even though there are only 12 signs. The ideas were just flowing and I couldn't say "no" in order to fit within the confines of astrology. I hope this gives you a bit of comical insight into life in Nam: 1 MTC’s spotty network will be down for 72 straight hours leaving you feeling lonely and isolated, but no worries, a surprise visitor will appear on the 15th. Much to your consternation, however, it’s your PC supervisor and not your long-lost PCV best friend. Hold out hope, however, as a more pleasant reunion will occur at the end of the month. 2 Although your recent affair with Netman has been quite productive and quite the adrenaline rush, he will give you two viruses, which is more than you bargained for. Having learned your lesson, invest in some good anti-virus software and stop at the post office for some free condoms. 3 Stephanie will accidentally send you extra money this month. Don’t go off and buy cool drinks for the whole town, though, because the Universe will take back your money as quickly as it arrived (P.S. Don’t forget to check your pockets before you handwash those khakis, Nollars don’t hold up well to vigorous scrubbing). 4 After your aggressive colleague asks you out on a date for the seventh time, reply with a firm NO and take the opportunity for some cultural exchange by explaining what no, in the American sense, means. Use this awkward situation as an excuse for some much-needed, stress-relieving personal time. 5 Although mahangu pounding has left you feeling blistered and abused, don’t give up hope. Your search around town for Epsom salts (who knew they’d be so hard to find!) will lead you to a chance encounter with an oft-forgotten but reliable old friend. Take some time to catch up over a Tafel and, if you’re lucky, pizza. 6 On the 7th you’ll have to work hard to contain your excitement as you discover the fresh produce you’ve been craving (but have never been able to find in Nam) has recently arrived at Shoprite. Enjoy it while it lasts, however, because a midnight visitor will munch through more of it than you do. (The top suspect: your now ex-best bud, Toby the rat) 7 Fear and a weak stomach have thus far prevented you from trying some of Nam’s most prized delicacies, but this is your month of exploration. Cow’s bladder, sheep’s tongue, lake slug, you’ll do it all! Your newfound no-holds-barred attitude will pay off in the end, however, as you’ll meet your future life partner while braaing a blue-tailed Namibian grouse. 8 Like a bird escaping its cage, you rediscover a sense of freedom after purchasing a bike at the beginning of the month. But don’t be too quick to test out your new wings; if do, you might run into a brick wall (or in this case, a donkey, goat or other grazing animal) around the 22nd. 9 The middle of the month will bring a lull in activity and the perfect opportunity to test out your new Nam kitchen. Exercise self-control, however; eating too many fat cakes will make you sick and ruin your appetite for this Nam-specialty for the rest of the year. 10 When opportunity knocks on the 19th, in the form of a jackpot of Black Cat crunchy peanut butter, answer. If you don’t, you’ll subsist on bread and margarine (not even real butter!) for the remainder of the month. After all, being prepared isn’t just for Boy Scouts. 11 A gathering of friends, both new and old, on the 10th will present an opportunity to relieve your S.F. Choose wisely, however, because a rash decision and resulting burnt bridges will come back to haunt you at the end of the month as you struggle to plan a holiday vacation with friends. 12 With many big decisions on the horizon this month, trust your instincts to lead you in the right direction. If you let the Universe guide you, you’ll choose the right paint colour, the right book for your grade seven class, the fastest hike to Windhoek and the best flavour of Knorr soup mix, all with minimal effort. 13 As your colleagues continue to drag their feet on a joint project, resolve to fight fire with fire, despite the extremely dry climate (sorry Smokey!). Draw strength from the new moon to avoid your pushover tendencies. After all, you can play hardball, too. 14 With Jupiter moving into Neptune’s orbit, the cosmos have aligned to make this month your month. Take advantage of this celestial opportunity to make progress here on planet Earth. Begin new projects, such as building a pit latrine, and revive old projects, like personal hygiene, that may have fallen to the wayside. And don’t forget to encourage others – just like a smile or a yawn, your success will be contagious.
This one will be quick because I only have two things to say. First, I’m sorry for not getting these posts up in a timely manner. The network (translation: cell phone signal) is terrible here so I can’t even load my blog page at school. And (probably from a combination of the heat and the [internal] stress of living in another completely new environment) I’ve been really tired lately, meaning that I crash at about 9 PM and wake up for school at about 6:30. My motivation (and desire for that matter) to get up at 1 AM and stay up for a few hours during internet happy hour to wait ages for pages that may or may not load, is very minimal. Second, I got my first blisters from pounding mahangu. Before I started pounding, one of the girls relayed to me the message from my meme that I shouldn’t pound because I might hurt myself. We all had a good laugh at this one. What was I going to do? Drop the pounding stick on my foot? Ironically, this warning turned out to be quite prophetic. In a matter of 15 minutes I acquired 6 blisters, two of which opened up and are still stinging 12 hours later. I could have avoided getting so many blisters if I’d stopped after the first one appeared, but, in my stubbornness, I wanted to see the mahangu through to its flour-form finish. It’s quite amusing to show these blisters to my Namibian colleagues because they all squawk and tsk and shake their heads (quite literally, even the men). It was definitely worth it, though...and my hands will be much tougher for next time!
I had a request (though my response is long overdue...sorry!) to talk a little bit about the schools in Namibia. Now, some of this might be a repeat from earlier, but please bear with me... And one more disclaimer, this is just based on my experience in the past 10 weeks. I’ve only seen a few different schools in a few different towns so I can’t speak for all of Namibia. First, the school year. The school year begins in January and is split up into trimesters. Next school year, for example, the first term will begin January 13 and end April 21, the second will be May 16 through August 25 and the final term will begin September 5 and end on December 9. (For those you planning on visiting, COUGH CMEJLA NOEL ANITA COUGH, please take note). If a child is 6 years old by January 1, he/she can begin grade 1. For most purposes, the grades are split into four different levels: lower primary (grades 1-4), upper primary (grades 5-7), junior secondary (grades 8-10) and senior secondary (grades 11-12). The language of instruction in the lower primary phase varies from region to region within the country, depending on what that region’s mothertongue is. For example, in Okahandja, where I stayed for the first two months, the children were taught in Afrikaans because it was an urban environment with a mix of different home languages. The language makeup where I am now is much more homogeneous, however, so Oshindonga (a dialect of Oshiwambo) is taught in primary school. Once students enter the upper primary grades, the mode of instruction changes to English. This means that although students still take a class in their mothertongue (similar to how English is taught in American schools all the way from kindergarten to high school), the rest of their subjects (math, science, life skills, phy ed, etc) are taught in English. As you can imagine, it is quite a change to switch from being taught (and tested) almost exclusively in Oshindonga one year to almost exclusively in English the next. Okay, next topic: the daily school schedule. I’ll give you my school’s schedule, but I should also let you know that from what I’ve seen, my school is an exception to the general rule. Most schools start around 7 AM, with a staff meet that begins anywhere from 6:40 to 6:50. My school, on the other hand, doesn’t have a staff meeting in the morning and classes begin at 8 AM. If there is morning assembly (which there occasionally is on Mondays and Fridays although I haven’t yet figured out the method behind the madness as to when exactly an assembly is required and when it isn’t), it begins around 7:45 (though the bell for the assembly begins ringing a good 15 minutes before it actually begins, which is another story in itself...). Basically, morning assembly means that the kids line up by grade in the school yard, sing the national anthem and the school anthem, listen to a scripture reading, a prayer and any announcements the principal or other teachers might have. Once the assembly is done, the students are dismissed to first period, which is probably already “technically” in progress. Okay, so now back to the original topic: the schedule. Classes begin at 8 AM and are 40 minutes long. There are four periods before the tea break, which begins at 10:40 and ends at 11:10, and four periods after the break. This means that classes end at 1:50. From 1:50 to 2:30 (approximately, again, I’m a bit unsure on the actual times) there is another break and then afternoon study begins and continues until 4 PM when the school day is officially over. Alright, now that the technical stuff is out of the way, the more practical items. Time, as you know, is much more flexible in Nam than it is in the US. For example, although tea break ends at 11:10, kids (and teachers) generally don’t start going back into their classrooms until 11:20, 11:30, maybe 11:40, depending on the day. Ah, yes, another very important thing to understand...upper primary/junior secondary students are often (meaning, on average, once a day) left unattended here. In the US, leaving your class (even to go to the bathroom) is basically a capital offense. Not so much in Nam. If a teacher is sick, talking to the principal or a parent, marking (translation: grading) papers, planning lessons, invigilating (translation: proctoring) a nation-wide standardized exam or (yes, it has happened) in town at the bank because it’s pay day, the students are left to fend for themselves. Yes, I must admit, as an American-trained teacher (and student) I was very shocked by this at first. But, before you go and start passing judgment, let me tell you some of the amazing things that I’ve observed about these unattended classes: the students stick around and (generally) they manage to make it through the period without injuring each other or breaking school property. Imagine if a group of American 9th graders were left alone...after about 20 minutes, something would be vandalized and after about 30 minutes, half class would be walking around town, maybe headed to the nearest gas station to buy snacks. Am I completely off here? This is getting quite long so I’ll cap this off with the system of promotion. Although I believe changes may be in the works (or things might have already been changed but have not yet filtered down?), students are only “allowed” to fail once per section. So, for example, Susie Student enters school and fails first grade. Susie then repeats grade one the next year but fails again. Since, however, a student can only fail once in grades 1-4, Susie is pushed on to grade 2 and then on to grade 3 (even if she fails grade 2). This same thing happens in the next section (grades 5-8). Once a student is in grade 10, this is where things really begin to count. In grade 10, if Susie gets enough “points” (based on grades in certain classes), she earns her Junior Secondary Certificate. After passing grade 10, Susie can apply begin grades 11-12 and, if her grades are good enough, she will be accepted. From grade 12 (after completion of the Senior Secondary Certificate), Susie can apply to attend a University. If Susie fails, she cannot retake grade 10 and does not earn her certificate. Her only choices, then, are to being working (usually on the family’s farm) or enroll in NamColl to begin work on what is basically a Nam equivalent of a GED. One last thing before I sign off (I swear, this really is the last one), this system of passing/failing and other factors also leads to students of a wide range of ages being in the same grade. In grade 7, for example, the students might range in age from 12 to 19. Seriously! This also was quite a shock for me, coming from a school environment where student ages were very homogeneous.
I’m dedicating this blog post to my Namibian colleagues…cuz they are AWESOME! After talking with other volunteers and stopping to reflect on the situation, I realized that I have amazing colleagues. I am so lucky to be where I am. I look forward to going to school each day and my weeks seem to fly by. My colleagues have been so helpful – letting me sit in on their classes; answering my questions about the school, about the Namibian education system and about the Namibian culture in general; introducing me to people in the community and other volunteers; showing me around town; helping me find hikes (rides) back home; introducing me to Namibian food (Oshiwambo chicken most recently); and coaxing me out my sometimes-reserved American shell. And now, just a few comments on the weather. Lordy, it is hot! Although I must say, I think I’m adjusting. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will sweat every day (and not from exercising, either). I have a near-constant glow from the heat radiating off my face, and I have more freckles than I ever knew I had! Oh, and I have a farmer’s tan. Yikes, time to break out the sun screen! My most interesting Namibian experience recently…a parents’ meeting. The meeting was scheduled for 2:00 on a Thursday afternoon but it didn’t actually begin until 3:15 (a perfect example of the flexibility I like to call “Namtime”). The meeting venue: underneath the shade of a big tree just outside the school fence, on chairs borrowed from the grade 1 classroom. Total parent attendance: 22. Quick quiz, how many students are at the school? That’s right: 350. Now, Namibian families are much bigger than American families so let’s say that the average household size is 5 school-aged kids. That would mean that there are (at a minimum) 70 households that send kids to school. Some quick math shows us that only 31% of the households sent a representative to the meeting. I think this may be indicative of the parental involvement in education in Namibia generally. Many colleagues have told me that getting parents involved is one of the biggest challenges they face. And to make things worse, several factors compound the problem of parental involvement in rural areas. First, Namibia is no exception to the worldwide trend: educated people tend to move to the cities, therefore those who are left in the villages are those that may not be able to help their children with schoolwork even if they wanted to. Secondly, because of the strong tradition of extended families and also because of the HIV/AIDS epidemic, many children from rural areas are raised by grandparents who may not understand the value of education. So, in company with teachers worldwide, in urban and rural settings, I face the age old problem of trying to get people (both old and young) to understand the value of education. Wish me luck. . . And talk about dedication, I’m at school on a SUNDAY. That’s right, a Sunday. I have several very selfish reasons for being here, however, so don’t go thinking I’m an overachiever. Foremost, I needed to charge my cell phone. I’m also enjoying some well-earned all-American solitude. It’s quite nice to have a little TRUE alone time sitting in the “office” (a storage closet lined with shelves and three teachers’ tables) and listening to music and, if I get motivated, working on a year plan for grade 6 English. I have a key for my “office” but not for the school fence, so I simply hiked up my shitenge (a beautifully patterned 2m piece of cloth that I use as a wrap skirt) and hopped the fence. Don’t worry, I’m not completely alone…there are half a dozen goats grazing in the school yard! And before I forget…Happy Halloween! BOO! (Send me pics of all your sweet costumes, please!)
Well, this concludes week two at site. At first the time went by rather slowly (and sometimes painfully) but lately, things have been flying. I think that’s a good sign – time flies when you’re having fun, right? Although I’ve had to make quite a few adjustments, I feel like things are falling into place quite well. I’ve already had a few moments that made me think Wow, you’ve been in Nam too long! For example, a few days ago I saw a chicken get its head chopped off and I even helped pluck the feathers, all without really batting an eye. I also look forward to eating oshithima (the mahangu-maize meal porridge) each day. And, yesterday, I willingly took seconds of oshikundu (a drink that is made from ferment mahangu and can be a little bitter). Yes, oh yes, I am enjoying it here… But that doesn’t mean I don’t sometimes have moments of blue. I must admit, I had my first feelings of homesickness. Now, I knew the moment was coming and I’d been preparing, almost waiting for it. I was just kind of hoping that maybe it would never appear, that maybe I’d somehow become immune to homesickness. I mean, I’ve lived away from home for five years now, I’ve studied abroad, lived with host families, traveled a lot and found myself in many strange and unfamiliar situations…and through all that, I can’t remember the last time I was homesick. But the moment did strike, for about two hours in total. Happily, though, I can report that I quickly returned to my regular sunny disposition. But, hey, I made it 65 days in Africa without questioning the sanity of my decision to come….and I think that’s pretty darn good! So…what’s on the docket for this weekend you ask? Some much needed baking! Last weekend my stove was hooked up to the gas tank and now I have a fully operational stove/oven (at least I think the oven works – I haven’t used it yet). What’s on the menu? First, some homemade tortillas with peanut butter and Nutella melted on top – a Namibian version of Breton crepes. Next, some fat cakes – a Namibian food, similar to fry bread or fritters. Delicious! Then some type of baked goods to celebrate Halloween (and share with my Namibian colleagues & family). My first choice would be pumpkin chocolate chip cookies, but I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to find pumpkin (and for all you spoiled American bakers out there, when I say pumpkin, I mean pumpkin – like the whole fruit that must be cut and cooked and smushed to make what we normally buy in a can). Sometimes finding good apples in Outapi can be challenging so pumpkin might just be wishful thinking. If there’s no pumpkin to be found, then I’d like to make some caramel corn…if I can find popcorn. If no popcorn can be found, then a classic but delicious fall back: oatmeal cookies. After my baking extravaganza is complete, I think I’m going to make some lentil soup. As much as I enjoy apples and peanut butter for lunch, two weeks of the same is getting rather monotonous. And sorry I haven’t put any pictures up. I have so many great ones that I want to post but my internet connection is so slow they won’t even load. So…you’ll have to wait about a month til I’m in a place with better network (Namlish for signal).
Well, this concludes my third full day at the homestead. On Saturday, after a long day of travel (10+ hours) I arrived at my permanent site. Since then, I’ve spent the majority of my time either at school or in the outdoor kitchen.
My daily routine goes something like this: Wake up at 6 to wash, dress, eat breakfast, etc. Then at 7, I leave with the children from the homestead to walk to school. It’s about a kilometer to the school, through the bush on a sandy road. At school I observe a few classes, entertain the students by teaching them a game (Heads Up 7up) or song (the Iggle Wiggle) if a teacher doesn’t show up (proctoring exams, at a meeting, marking papers or absent for some other reason). After the tea(less) break I stay in the office (large supply closet with shelves for books and three tables for three teachers) and work on plowing through the mounds of paperwork and other recreational reading that I’ve received in the past 8 weeks from Peace Corps. At some point during this time, one of my colleagues walks in and we have a chat, attempting to pass the time until 4 when afternoon study concludes and we can all go home. At four, I begin the hike back with the kids, feeling like the Pied Piper because I have a crowd of uniformed students trailing behind. At home, I relax in my room for a few moments and then move to the sitting room for oshikundu (traditional drink made of fermented mahangu) with the elder girls. Soon after, we eat the afternoon meal, consisting of rice, pasta or oshithima (mahangu-maize meal porridge) flavored by ketchup and the broth left from cooking the meat. Once the meal is done and the dishes are cleaned (no running water so dishes are done in a basin on the floor), the fire is started for the evening meal. The evening meal is nearly always oshithima, sometimes with a piece of beef. By the time the meal actually begins it is past 8 PM and already dark so the table is lit by a small lantern. Once I’m done eating I head straight for bed because, let’s face it, I’m exhausted. After brushing my teeth (taking my nalgene along for rinse water), I read for a bit or write a letter and finally drift off. Thankfully, I’ve now moved into a room with a window so I’m able to keep it open during the night and it gets cool enough so that I can sleep without sweating excessively and tossing around fitfully. I can foresee many challenges ahead (which I may delve into during a later post), but right now I’m simply thankful for the big family that I live with. There are always kids running around and they keep me entertained. I’ve learned so much from them already and, simply said, they make me smile! I hope you enjoy the pictures of some of them! Until next time… 
I know what you're thinking: "Farewell America? I thought you left two months ago!"
And, you're right, I did (physically) leave America two months ago. But just because we physically leave somewhere (or someone), it doesn't mean we've necessarily mentally or behaviorally left them behind. With that in mind, on Friday, I will be swearing in as an official U.S. Peace Corps Volunteer and leaving the protective American bubble of pre-service training. This event will probably be the single biggest change since I got on the plane two months ago. And since I don't have electricity at my home (although I have it at school), I can't be sure how much blogging I'll be doing while I'm there. So, I would like to share some photos with you while I have the chance. I can't take credit for these photos, though; they were all taken by my amazing groups 32 colleagues. Thanks! Photo: Nice, Western-style block houses (painted a variety of delightful colors) Photo: Traditional mud hut that is commonly found in the North. Photo: Fat cakes cooking in an outdoor kitchen. Namlish to American English Translation: Slightly sweetened dough deep frying in a dutch oven. Delicious and filling little treat, easy to make, just not so great on the health front. Photo: A baboon. It's quite common to see these mischievous little guys wander around (usually in troops). Just like any other wild animals, however, it is wise to keep your distance. Photo: A springbok. Antelope/deer-looking creature. Photo: Wildebeest, with the correct pluralization being wildebeest(s)? Photo: A giraffe, looking amazingly graceful and elegant as usual. Photo: An elephant, blending in quite well with its surroundings. Photo: Part of the Owamboland group (this is only about 1/3 of us!) in Etosha National Park. 
Home, sweet home! Forty-eight hours ago, I returned from a six day visit to my future permanent site (near Outapi, in northcentral Namibia). What a whirlwind few days it has been. I’ll just share a few highlights of the trip:
Photo: The outdoor kitchen on the homestead. In the background, you see part of the fence that surrounds the entire compound. THE TRAVELING ITSELF. When you look on the map of Namibia, you might think, “Hmm. Windhoek to Outapi, not far.” WRONG. Including breaks (one each for petrol, bathroom, munchies and two breaks for vehicle transfers) it took nearly 10 hours to make the journey. And I have a feeling this might be near record time. I will definitely be leaving Namibia with a new definition of a “long” roadtrip (I used to think my house to Chicago was a long trip). ETOSHA NATIONAL PARK. On the way to O-land (side note: there are four provinces in northern Namibia populated predominately by Owambo-speaking people therefore Owamboland), we drove through Etosha National Park. It was my first real safari and it was a-mazing! Words cannot accurately describe how it feels to see a giraffe eating lunch 20 feet away or drive past an elephant chilling just 100 yards from you. Namibia is so blessed to have this kind of amazing wildlife and is doing itself (and the world) such a favor by protecting it! Photo: Huts on the homestead where mahangu (the staple food) is stored. MEETING MY FUTURE FAMILY. Although I stayed in Outapi town, I was able to make a trip out to the village, which is about 15 kilometers away (or for you crazy Americans, 9 miles). I will be living on a homestead with an awesomely large and welcoming family, but I’ll have my own bedroom. There are many children living at the house so I’ll have plenty of entertainment and many informal Oshindonga tutors, as well. The most amusing moment of the trip was probably the first thing my meme said to me (through translation) after exchanging the greeting (for more on greetings, see below). It can be paraphrased as follows: We are glad you are here and that you are a girl because you can help pound mahangu (otherwise known as millet) and cook. Photo: One of the three brick school buildings. SEEING A DIRT DEVIL. On the ride back from the village, someone mentioned that there was a dirt devil outside so I took a gander out the window…and nearly peed my pants. My next reaction was to attempt to take cover because it looked exactly like a small tornado. You can take the girl out of Wisconsin, but you can’t take the Wisconsin out of the girl. GOING TO SCHOOL. During my stay, I also spent two days at school. I’m sure most of my future posts will revolve around this topic so I won’t go into too much detail, but...my first impression: the students (or to use Namlish, learners) are well-behaved but very shy. I am definitely looking forward to getting to know my colleagues and learners much better and begin teaching! Photo: The school's non- permanent classroom. GREETING. In Namibia, greeting is a very important part of the culture. Even if you have known someone for years and see them on a daily basis, it is expected that you greet them each and every time you see them (at least at the beginning of each day, but as you will see, the more the merrier). In Oshindonga, greeting is very important as well. Because language reflects culture, there is a large variety of questions that can be asked when greeting someone and set procedure (or “rhythm and flow”) for asking them. So, for comic relief, I will translate this (as-long-as-possibly-possible) amalgamation of greeting questions into English: A: How did you sleep? B: Good. A: Really? B: Yes, good. How did you sleep? A: Good. B: Really? A: Yes. B: Are you there [as in paying attention]? A: Yes, I’m there. Are you there? B: Yes, I’m there. A: How are your mother and father? B: They’re fine. A: How are your siblings? B: They’re good. A: How are your neighbors? B: Good A: How are your animals? B: Good A: Any news? B: No, no news. Do you have any news? A: No news. B: Any problems? A: No problems. You? B: No problems. And, finally, for anyone who is keeping track: IT RAINED! It may have been one of the best moments I've had in the last month: seeing the lightning; hearing the thunder; tasting, feeling, smelling the rain. Nothing says summer better than an awesome (and in this case, I was very much in awe) thunderstorm! 
(Photo: My host mom Juliana, PCV Chris, me, Chris's host mom, my host auntie)
The winds of change are blowing in Namibia…literally, rainy season is approaching. It is getting warmer and there are clouds in the sky nearly every day now. Soon water droplets will fall from the sky in the tiny miracle we call “rain” for the first time in several months. I may actually go dance in the rain when it happens (someone please cue “Africa” by Toto). First, I should begin with the big news: electricity and water. Last week, NamPower shut off the electricity for half a day because the municipality owes some millions of Nollars (an easy way to distinguish Namibian Dollars from US Dollars). Needless to say, the constituents of the municipality were not too pleased and could be found demonstrating outside the town hall. Something must have been done to smooth things over because the electricity has been working since, but the threat to cut the power continues to loom (and the same situation exists for water). (Photo: Women in traditional Otjiherero clothing. Yes, those are horns on their heads. Yes, you can see a dozen or so outfits like this walking around town on any given day) Thankfully, no power was needed for cultural food day, just fire wood. I have to say, it was quite a feat: over 60 people (including PCVs and trainers) cooking for three times that many. The most interesting food item was caterpillars, an Owambo food. They were black and chewy, about the circumference of a finger and half the length. Another highlight (or lowlight) of the day was watching live chickens face their demise. Needless to say, I didn’t eat any chicken that day. In other news, site announcements were made on Friday (9/17). I will be going to…(drum roll, please)… a village near Outapi. Outapi is a town in northern Namibia, northwest of Ondongwa. According to the paperwork I received, the village population is about 500 and the combined school (grades 1-10) population is about 350. Site visits begin the end of this week and continue over the weekend and into the next week so more info about my village will follow. (Photo: My mosquito-netted bed) I received my first piece of mail on Wednesday (9/15). The excitement level was comparable to that of Christmas for a 10 year old – and I am not exaggerating. So…I would like to thank Ms. Noel Meyers for sending me mail and publicly shame the rest of you for not sending anything! Don’t worry, though, you still have over 24 months to make up for it. Be forewarned, however, that mail takes a MINIMUM of two weeks to reach me…and a more realistic estimate is 3-4 weeks. I’d like to conclude with an American Moment (cue patriotic music here). Please close your eyes and imagine: a ragtag group of Peace Corps volunteers, some still dressed in business causal, playing fastpitch softball against a group of uniformed 8th and 9th grade Namibian boys on a soccer field. It was pretty wonderful and altogether indescribable. (Photo: my house while I'm staying with a host family for training) Before you go, scroll down to my first post from Nam (way back in August) because I added some sweet pics from a hike).
What a weekend! First, Windhoek, then church, dinner and laundry. I know this doesn’t SOUND like an interesting day in the States, but it makes for an interesting weekend in Nam.
Windhoek was quite an experience for several reasons. First, the cell phone buying debacle. Without boring you with the details, I felt like I was lost in a corn maze (hasn’t actually happened but I can imagine how it would go). Thankfully I finally made it out of the maze with a cell phone and I’m now happily discovering the fabulosity of T9 - which reminds me of the fact that I had to move to Africa in order to get texting and email (maybe even internet) on my phone – somebody please explain to me how that works! Unfortunately, the only places we were able to see in Windhoek were the mall (Western culture at its finest) and the Old Location/Katatura (yet again, Westernism in its prime). Quick history lesson for those lacking in Nam historical knowledge: in the late 50s, during apartheid (South Africa ruled Nam for about 7 decades following WWI), non-whites were forced to move from the Old Location to new racially segregated neighborhoods outside of Windhoek (one of which was Katatura). Does this ring any bells? Indian Removal Act of 1830 and Andrew Jackson? Anyone? Sunday morning began with church. My family was planning on going to church (in another neighborhood) but the transportation arrangements broke down. So…I somehow ended up going with a neighbor hosting another PCV. Again, I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say: I’ve done WI churches, clapped along in Honduran churches and hallelujahed in Baptist Mississippi churches, but nothing prepared me for an experience like this. From praise to anguish, this service (of 15 people including the accordion-playing pastor) topped them all. After church (which lasted from 9 until about 11), the neighbor PCV (Chris) and I continued our Sunday experience by starting our joint dinner (Wisconsinese: supper) meal - tacos. Easy, right? Not if you’ve never made homemade tortillas. Needless to say, after nearly 4 hours of cooking, we are seasoned tortilla makers (no pun intended, really). It was worth all the effort, however, because the tacos (and cottage cheese crescent rolls for dessert) were well received. Finally, laundry. Handwashing an item of clothing is one thing; handwashing an entire load of laundry is another. I just hope that all my clothes will survive two years of serious scrubbing and color-leeching laundry soap. Thankfully, I had a wonderful Namibian teacher (auntie) and translator (sister). After that experience (take-home prize: two blisters), my definition of “dirty” has radically changed. 
(Photo: Namibian thorn tree - beautiful but painful)
Today we traveled to the capital city, Windhoek. Unfortunately, I spent most of the day stressing over the abundance of choices for cell phones (and an equally unmanageable list of prices, specials, etc). Despite the debacle, I am relieved to have a cell phone again - and I have texting, something I didn't even have back in the States. The most interesting part of the trip may have been the drive - on the way I saw all kinds of Namibian animals: giraffes, baboons, kudu (large deer-like animals with curly horns) and even an ostrich. At first, the animal-watching was rather frustrating (I can spot a turkey or a deer - no problem - but how do you go about finding giraffes or baboons?) but eventually I caught on. Today was also a day of contrasts. We moved from a winding two-story Western-style mall to neighborhoods of tin shacks and sheebeens (bars). Although a middle class does exist, differences like those I experienced today are a reminder of Namibia's large income gap - one of the largest in the world, actually.
The newest chapter of my Namibian experience has officially begun. On August 25 I moved in with my host family. I'll be staying here for the next six weeks. Although some great Peace Corps Volunteer (hereafter known as PCV) group bonding time is being sacrificed, I couldn't be happier to move in with my family. I live in a mini convent (with mami, auntie and sister), which I absolutely love. I couldn't ask for a nicer house either - there's a big kitchen, bathroom with hot, running water, a refrigerator and stove/oven, a sitting room with TV and four bedrooms (one of which is mine). There's also a tiny but energetic black "guard dog" that I call "Are-eeb," which means dog in Khoekhoegowab, because I can't rememeber its real name.
Speaking of Khoekhoegowab...yes, that's right. I'm talking about one of those languages that you might have heard about with the clicks. While my teenaged sister speaks beautiful English (and understands my very fast paced Wisconsinese), Auntie speaks Khoekhoe and Afrikaans but not much English. Therefore, I'm learning some Khoekhoe and Afrikaans to communicate with her around the house. Right now I just click a lot and we laugh frequently about my inadequate clicking - there are several different tones and types of clicks but I somehow only manage to make one, and sometimes if I'm lucky, two. Although Khoekhoe is fun (and certainly sweet sounding), I think I am going to focus more on Afrikaans (A) because it is easier and (B) because it's more widely spoken around the country. I'm also learning Oshidonga at training which means I'll end up gaining basic knowledge but not fluency in all the language (story of my language-learning life). Before I sign off, I'd like to share with you the top three things that amuse me about Nam: 3) Ne? - English sentences often end in "ne?" (pron: nay) which is Canadian/Minnesotan/sometimes Wisconsin equivalent of "eh?" 2) Namibian jokes - I often laugh simply because of their anticlimactic ending. I'd post one for you but you'd be left more confused than anything. 1) Shades of Sin - a Nam soapie. Oh but wait, it gets better: it's really a Spanish soap opera set (and maybe even produced) in Brazil dubbed in English by Americans with varying degrees of talent in acting/general vocal expression. I'm not sure if you can find it on Youtube or not, but if you get a chance, look it up! Finally, I'll be making my first trip to the post office tomorrow and several of you will be receiving letters (within a time span that may range from several weeks to a month or two). Please don't hesitate to write me. P.S. - ATTN PILGRIM CENTER STAFF: Just wanted to let you all know that I went on a hike up a nearby hill/small mountain (at least by WI standards) and was nature shanked several times on the way by thorn trees. I have several small puncture wounds and bruises on my legs to prove it. Also, thanks for the beautiful card...your encouragement is greatly appreciated! 
Ah...my first blog post. WELCOME...and thanks for reading. I'll try to keep it brief, light and interesting (okay, I only said TRY). So, I'd like to begin with a joke about the British brought to you by my dear friend Chris (who reminds me of Reid BTW) (and I would also like to add the disclaimer that I love my British friends, the Queen and the Brits in general, but this joke was too good to pass up!):
Q: How come the sun never sets on the British Empire? A: Because God doesn't trust them in the dark. Good one, right? I know all the historians out there are secretly cracking up inside. Okay, all jokes aside, a little bit about Namibia (furthermore abbreviated Nam). First, I'm loving it here so far. It is very different from home, especially the weather, but I think I'll adjust. It is very chilly here in the evening, over night and in the morning (sweatshirt, jeans and socks needed) and warm during the day (tshirt and shorts - or here, a skirt). I don't think the landscape can quite be described as desert but I'd definitely call it arid. It hasn't rained since May, but to be fair, it is also winter at the moment and we're just moving into the rainy season (please note: rainy seasons does not equal monsoon season). There are 44 (soon to be 45) people in our group. Although we come from many different education backgrounds we'll all be teaching (English, science, math or IT) or helping with small business. The group is great - we have a lot of fun and a lot of laughs. Since we don't have TV or internet and are busy during the daylight hours, we spend a lot of evenings playing cards. We're still in training, in central Nam. Tomorrow we will be moving in with our host families. I met the family today and am very excited to move in. I will be living with a mom, auntie and little sister (16), who will be leaving in two weeks for boarding school about an hour from home. We will be staying with our host families for 6 weeks, learning language, culture and life skills (i.e. how to [hand] wash clothes, how to make Nam dishes). I've been put in the group that will be learning Oshindonga, but my host family speaks a Khoesan (click) language (as well as English) so I, unfortunately, will not be able to practice with them. Hopefully I'll be able to impress you all with my clicks, though! The internet is hard to come by, especially since we are in session all day and the internet cafe is closed in the evenings and on the weekends. So if I don't write, I'm not neglecting you, I'm just "disconnected." And finally, if you write me I promise to write back (as long as it is successfully delivered - the mail is generally reliable but not completely perfect) and if you are in the area, please come visit: Nam is gorgeous! My address can be found on my Facebook or email me at kjbeckman AT gmail. And since I haven't quite figured out how best to post pictures, I'm just going to narrate what these are of...these are part of an album called Conquering Pride Rock. During the first week of training we decided to take a little hike through the bush up that (below) hill. Despite the thorn bushes, it was a wonderful time and the views were fantastic. Thanks bunches to Matt (our official photographer) for taking all these wonderful pictures.
It is amazing that I have been in Japan for a month and a half already and haven't been able to post anything online. Maybe that has to do with Japan's extreme lack of WiFi! I was expecting WiFi networks to be everywhere - but they're definitely not. We have spent most of our time at Global Arena, a facility on the outskirts of a small town. GA only has three computers with Windows 98 and very slow internet. Additionally, the "library" is only open from 11-7 each day. To give you and idea of the boredom we feel at Global Arena, here is a little story: The highlight of our day yesterday was a 2km walk (in between rice paddys) to the convenience store 7-11. We bought some snacks and then began the 2km hike back.
We are currently in the middle of our 8th camp. Only one more to go. Each camp consists of 3 days - about 72 straight hours with the kids. We do different English activities, play lots of different games (like frogger, zoomie zoomie, bang bang, screaming feet and others) and do some fun activities like American Carnival. The second day is definitely the most difficult. We begin the day at 630 AM, sometimes with wake up music played over the sound system. We have radio exercies at 7 AM (everyone in Japan knows this 3 minutes of exercises!). After that is clean up and then breakfast at 8. Throughout the day we work on My Story and Camp Skit (junior high groups) and Activity Stations (elementary groups). At night we have a campfire with s'mores and campfire songs (like baby shark, the frog song, boom chica boom and la tush). There are 20 ACs (American counselors - I am one of them), 4 JCs (Japanese counselors), 1 AD (American Director - Ben) and 1 JD (Japanese Director - Tomo) on each team. We were all together for the first six camps but have recently been split up into two groups (sometimes at different locations). We were 26 very different people throw into one crazy situation and we've all become quite good friends. We are an extroverted but low drama (stable) team that works very well together. We are one of two teams in the running for the Jim Healy award (given to the best team every summer). I think we deserve the award but we will have to wait until the end of the summer to find out. After talking with many ACs, I have decided that this camp really isn't about teaching English. Most kids don't dramatically increase their vocabulary or suddenly correct their grammar or pronunciation. It is about teaching them that English is fun. The kids' favorite times are game time, My Town, American Carnival, dance party and campfire. The ACs serve more as entertainers/babysitters than what we would think of in America as "teachers". Japan in general has been great. It is a gorgeous, mountainous country. Our group (Team 2) has been able to go to the beach twice and went to the Atomic Bomb Museum in Nagasaki. As a team we've traveled to several different locations outside of Global Arena (Fukuoka) including Obama and Isahaya (Nagasaki prefecture) and Oita (Oita prefecture). Cole and I spent three days in Nagasaki and had a great time. We spent a whole day at the beach on the island Ioujima, went to the Nagasaki History & Culture Museum and the Dejima Museum, and rode a cable car to the top of Mt. Inasa for a beautiful view of the city at night. It is already August 24th and crazy to think that I'll be home in exactly one week. Although it's been an amazing experience, "camp" has become very tiring and I'm excited to see my family and Stevens Point friends and begin a great semester of school and work! Until then....
So tomorrow I leave Pilgrim Center for a week at home before I take off on July 9. I have to read a few books and write a paper plus pack for Japan and for the move back to Stevens Point. But my real point is that I really don't want to leave. I never imagined that I'd be having such a great time and that, if given a choice, I would probably stay here instead of going on an international adventure. I guess it must be all the fantabulous people at PC that make me want to stay! I will miss you all - and I promise to send a postcard or two. Enjoy the rest of your summer!!!
Hi...and welcome to my travel blog. I'm not even out of the United States yet but I'm excited to get this semester over with, work at Pilgrim Center for a few weeks and then head off to Japan to teach English. Check this site weekly and, hopefully, I'll have access to a computer so I can add to my blog and keep you update on what I'm doing. I'll try to add some pictures once I get back.
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