I need, like, 5 more hours every day!

God I’m tired.

 

 I know I said that all the time back home, before I had ever had a real job.  But that was nothing!!!  I get to work around 6am, do some last minute preparations, and then go to our daily staff meeting.  This is followed by classes and marking all day.  School usually ends around 1pm to 1:40pm, depending on the day.  From 2pm to 5pm  I’m in the library.  Some days I’m free after that.  Wednesday’s I watch the grade 10’s study from 7 -9pm.  The other days I’m either teaching computer classes or going on my evening run.  Overall, I rarely have any time to just sit and relax.  Weekends aren’t even my own!  I usually have to mark 120 essays during that time.

 

Despite my lack of time, I’ve decided to make myself even more busy!  During 2 of those library hour, every day, my library prefects will take over so that I can have afternoon remedial classes with about 60 of my Grade 8’s.  And boy do they need it!  I now understand why teaching is the second most stressful job!  It’s never done!!!  But despite that, I want to do more.  I want to give everything I have to these kids.

 

So my days are completely full, yet there always seems to be more to do.  I’ll randomly find out that I’ve been put in charge of something without my knowledge.  Or that there’s an important meeting in 2 days that I have to leave school for.  So many things!  My principal, bless her heart, warned me that I would burn myself out and that she was worried I was doing too much.  I've been asked to extend my computer classes.

 

I can tell that I’ve got to keep more aware, though, despite my constant state of fatigue.  I’ve gotten a bit angry at my classes for not behaving nicely.  Granted, I think any teacher would be angry about that, but I should still try to understand  that my teaching method is different (aka I don’t have a stick in my hand.  I need to preface that with the fact that my teachers don’t use it on the kids, but it’s still there as a threat).  I also need to watch the things I say.  I was talking to my kids about they need to solve their problems differently instead of beating each other.  American learners don’t do that (ha!).  As soon as that came out of my mouth, I felt horrible.  And thankfully a kid called me on it.  She turned to me and said, “But Miss, we’re not American learners.”  And they’re not. 

 

Overall, despite my inability to keep my eyes open past 9pm, I’m having the time of my life.  I love my village, my school, my community and especially my kids.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world (or even a Starbucks!).  I guess that’s why Peace Corps motto is, “The hardest job you’ll ever love.”

Planes, Trains, and Broken Bakis

 

After travelling around the country, I was more than ready to return back to my village home.  Living out of a suitcase was not easy at all, especially when things randomly became missing.  I had been living in the city for about a week, doing nothing but planning for the school year. 

After texting my principal repeatedly about transport back home, I came to the conclusion that it would be up to me to figure out how to get a backpack, suitcase, bags of food, and a dog the 100 km.  I was thankful that there was another volunteer living in my shopping town, so I was able to relax the night before attempting the journey.

At around noon, I attempted to cart all of my things the 2 km to the hike spot. Within ten steps I was stopped by some church-going youth, who insisted on helping me find a taxi.  I was sure that not only were they incredibly nice people, but that they probably felt a bit sorry for me.  After thanking them profusely, I was driven to the hike spot.  Within half an hour, a baki had come to drive me and a few others to the nearest village 60 km away.  From there I would wait some more to find another hike.

Now, the back of a baki is what we in America would call the bed of a truck.  It is covered, so I didn’t need to worry about sunburns.  Since I had Eddie, my new dog, I wanted to get in last, so that I could get out quickly if something happened with him.  He was still very nervous, but cautiously exploring his surroundings.  More and more people seemed to appear out of thin air as the baki was loaded.  This particular car had a trailer, so we didn’t have to attempt to sit with all of our things.  Nine adults, three youth, one baby and a dog later, we were on our way. 

Eddie was sitting on my lap for two reasons.  One was that I could hold him if he freaked out (which he did), and also because there was no other room.  Within minutes my feet were falling asleep.  I was used to being squished, though, so this was no big deal for me.  I attempted conversation, but like most baki rides, silence falls pretty quickly.

Everything was going well until the road became gravel (which took, say, one minute).  As soon as that happened, I felt warmth all along my legs.  Yes, Eddie had decided that he was so frightened he’d let me know by peeing on me.  Not much I could do about it though.

Every few bumps he would try to wriggle out of my grasp, which became tighter and tighter. 

All of a sudden, about twenty minutes later, dust was flying through the cracks in the window, covering all of us.  Eddie, not liking this one bit, decided to pee once more.  My almost dry pants were now soaking, again.  The dust was the result of the rusty metal of the trailer bending, leaving the trailer itself dragging on the road. 

The baki pulled over after the Herero women in the back started banging on the window.  It took a while for them to move all of the luggage to the roof of the car.  Some things could not go on top, such as blankets and grocery bags of food.   Therefore, they ended up in our sardine can of a baki.  I was fine with that.  But when the two jugs of petrol were shoved in as well, I was a bit angry.  Of course, since I was nearest the back door, they had to be placed right next to me and my freaked out dog. 

We continued our journey.  Every time the baki went over a bump, Eddie would freak out and the roof of the cover would bend close to our heads.  I was just waiting for the moment it decided to break and drop all of our heavy things on our heads.  Thankfully it didn’t.  

More knocking on the window ensued as soon as some of the women noticed one of the bags falling off.  Car stopped.  Bags repositioned and tied.  Our journey continued.  This happened maybe three times.  We still had many km to go when Eddie decided to show me some more ‘love’.  By this time I had resigned myself to the fact that I was covered in dog pee and that there was nothing I could do about it.  I just held him tight and hoped that no one would notice. 

The petrol container by my knee wasn’t able to properly seal, ensuring that my leg was soaked in the flammable liquid.  By this time Eddie had calmed down, most likely from the fumes exuding from the leak.  I was covered in four different types of liquid by the time we reached the next hike point: my own sweat, Eddie’s urine and saliva (that dog drips  the stuff!) and petrol. 

I got out, and to my relief, no one could tell that my jeans were soaking wet.  I was fed up and tired by that time.  I sat down and started reading one of my books while Eddie explored around me. 

Not long after, another baki showed up to take us the rest of the journey home.  Unlike the last ride, the driver of this car was incredibly nice and let Eddie and me sit in the front.  Thank God!  Eddie laid down on the floor and was content.  The two gentlemen I sat with worked at a nearby farm and were willing to drive us back to my village (at a price, of course.  Thankfully this price happened to be whatever I could pay to help with petrol.  I should have just wrung out my pants!) 

I decided to talk to them in as much Otjiherero as I could during the half an hour journey.  They seemed very excited that I wanted to practice.  Every once in a while one of the men would point to an animal outside and ask what it was.  Usually it was a cow (ongombe)  or a goat (ongombo).  He once tried to test me by saying ozongombe ovengi, to which I responded, ‘many cows’.  He laughed. 

Our conversation lulled as the school came into sight.  I thanked them and brought Eddie and myself to our house.  Finally, with probably a hundred pounds of stuff with me, I had finally returned home! 

By the way, I have never been so thankful for a shower as I was at that point!

Comin' Back to Kansas

Well, my vacation has finally come to an end.  I have spent the last weeks travelling around the southern part of the country, seeing the sights and meeting new people.  There have been ups and downs along the way, but it was an incredible journey so far.  I can't wait to continue it in May!

After leaving Swakopmund, some friends and I rented a car and drove tedious hours through desolate (though beautiful) land to arrive at our camp sight in the Naukluft Mountains.  Now, when I say mountains, I don't mean those beautiful ones full of trees and lakes.  No, these mountains are comprised of rocks.  We camped there for three nights.  It was amazing to see the stars with absolutely no lights to pollute the skies.  During the day it was incredibly hot, and due to the lack of trees, we had no respite from the sun's rays.  So, we snuck into the lodge part of the resort and relaxed in the shade there.  Thankfully there was no one else there, so the owners were content with our presence there.  He did seem confused that we would be content camping without electricity or hot water.  We had flashlights, so we were fine on the light aspect, and the heat during the day heated the pipes so that our afternoon showers were pleasantly warm. 

 

Lovin' the cheap tent.  Good thing it didn't rain!

 

One of the plethora of amazing sunsets in the country.

 

Feeling like Indiana Jones with the bumpy road.  Almost wish I were in Disneyland.

 

Deadvlei

While we were enjoying our desert camping experience, we took a day trip to Sossusvlei, which has some of the most amazing red dunes!  We arrived at the entrance to the park around 6:30 in the morning, and drove the 65 km to the dunes.  From there, we trekked our way up some of the largest dunes in the world.  The path was difficult and tiring, but thankfully the sun hadn't turned the sand hot yet.  At the bottom of the dune was a pan full of dead trees.  A pan is a lake bed, who's salt stays on the surface.  This gives the ground a whitish look to it, which amplified the beauty of the landscape.  While the going was tough, I would definitely go back and climb more of those magnificant piles of sand!

From Sossusvlei, we travelled to yet another coastal town.  (I'm not sure if you have come to the understanding of the intensity of the heat during summer, but the coast is definitely the place to be during December!)  Luderitz is a southern town with a huge German influence.  Upon arrival, I felt as if I had been transported to a small coastal town somewhere in Europe, not southern Africa.  I spent almost two weeks there, which gave me plenty of time to relax. 

I was afraid that Christmas away from my family would be difficult, but with so many friends surrounding me, it was amazing.  There were no Christmas trees to be found, so we made due and took a palm frond and decorated it with plastic bag ornaments and popcorn chains.  A cardboard star completed the picture.  We had a white elephant gift exchange from the local China Shop.  I received colored pens (which I was stoked about) and a bar of chocolate. 

 

We also made our own Namibian versions of Christmas songs!

We went rock diving (ok, it was only about a meter above the water, but still fun) many times, into the frigid water.  Let me tell you,  the Atlantic Ocean in southern Africa is some of the coldest water I have ever been in!  I thought the Pacific was cold in California, but this took the cake.  It didn't matter though, because it was something to swim in, which is rare in this country.  After swimming for many days, we received a rather large wake-up call.  All of a sudden multiple red blobs could be seen around us.  Those jellyfish were reasonably easy to avoid, but the small clear ones were not.  Thankfully I was not stung, though one of my friends was.  From then on, we stayed in one of the coves.

Finally, things had to come to an end, as they always do.  I had decided to join a committee with the Peace Corps, and the meeting for it was a day after I was supposed to be back at my site.  So, I floated around volunteers houses for a few days, until the meeting.  I am now currently staying at one of the flats the Peace Corps has for volunteers, waiting until I can go to the meeting.

I will also be purchasing a Christmas present to myself while I am here.   As both protection and companionship, I will be adopting a dog from the SPCA.  While I know that having a dog is a huge responsibility, I also know that I will be incredibly happy with it.  I'm just not quite sure how hitchhiking with a dog (and all of my things) will be.  We'll see!

Geronimo!

The holidays have arrived.  The school year ends early December, and all of us volunteers have the next month to travel.  Some of us are spending some time at our sites, while others will be hiking constantly.  For me, I'll be in the later group.  My village clears out when school breaks happen.  If I wanted to stay, I'd have the cows and goats to talk to.  It'll be nice to be able to see the country, though.

We've already started our Namibian adventures.  Last week we spent time at a conference center for Reconnect.  There we talked about what had happened over the last few months at our sites.   We had some sessions about serious issues like white privilege and funded projects.  There was one on libraries in the country and getting books for our schools.  The person in charge was a previous volunteer who decided to come back to the country after service.  He assured me that while they usually don't like  books from out of country, I was fine because they are getting checked before they are sent.

Spending the week in the big city was a nice change to being in such a small village.  This week we have been chillin' on the beach. On Wednesday some of us decided to go skydiving.  It was one of the most amazing things I've done.  After about a 30 second instruction pre-jump, Sara and I loaded into the tiny plane with our jump buddies.

'

Roughin' it Peace Corps style!

 

Poor girl had slept on a desk the night before.  Don't ask my why!

 

We got to spend the next half hour flying over Swakopmund and the dunes.  The weather was perfect.  The guy I was connected to thought it would be a great idea to pretend to push me out a few times.  Our plane didn't have a door, so the possibility of falling out was a real one.




I was the first to jump out.  I didn't have time to think as my legs were dangling over the edge of the plane.  Next thing I knew I was falling in the air.  I don't remember much of the free fall, but the view was amazing after the  chute was pulled.  He let me take charge of guiding the parachute for a while, which was amazing.  We spun in circles and dived.  By the time we landed I was ready to go again.  We tried to see if we could go again for free, but unfortunately they had almost gone bankrupt from giving jumps to people.

Now the week is almost over.  Tomorrow a few of us head to go camping.  We decided to rent a car which will make getting there soo much easier.  We'll camp for a few days in the Naucluft mountains, with a day trip to Soussusvlei.  Google it and see the pictures.  It's absolutely beautiful.  We will go to Luderitz, another seaside town, for Christmas, then back up to Windhoek for me to get my Christmas dog.

Stereotypes

It saddens me how quickly I have come to accept stereotypes in the country as fact.  Since stepping foot off the plane in Namibia, I have been constantly told that many of the men in the country are players.  They will try to sleep with you.  They have many girlfriends, and cheat on the ones they do have.  This was told to me constantly.  I admit, they did it for my safety.  They wanted all of us female volunteers to be prepared for the onslaught of attention we would receive from the men.

 

We would get approached on the streets.  Strangers would come up and ask to marry us.  Introduce us to their friends as their girlfriends or wives.  It was easy to believe the stereotypes;  it happened so often to me and my friends.  I learned early on to never go out at night without a male friend around.  It just wasn’t safe.  My host mom even thought it was funny when  a strange man started being very forward with me.  He told me that his car was across the street and he had a house in town.  I didn’t know him.

 

So, after months of hearing these stereotypes, and even worse, seeing them and experiencing them with my own eyes, I started to believe that all men were pigs.  I was at a wedding, which was an affair that lasted all weekend.  I had met this amazing family: a girl my age, her longtime boyfriend, son, father, and mother.  I had spent the weekend with them, and had been thrilled and awed to hear about how the parents had been together for almost twenty years and were planning a giant anniversary party around Christmas.  It made me happy to see an honest man willing to love one woman.

 

I had exchanged numbers with the daughter, excited to make a local friend.  The next night I received a text from the father, asking if we could get to know each other better.  My happiness was shattered.  This man wasn’t what I had hoped he had been.  He was just like all the rest.

 

So, I started to believe that every man I saw was a cheater willing to sleep with anyone.  That they left their wives and children to move to ‘greener pastures’.  Until I was hiking back to my home one afternoon.  I was sitting in the back of a baki (truck), when this family joined me.  It was a father, mother, and their two young children.  They all looked nice, so it seemed they had spent the afternoon in town.  The father sat down, and his children climbed in his lap to take a nap.  For the next hour, he was making sure the sun wasn’t on them and that they were comfortable.  He was so concerned about them.  He would stroke his daughters hair absentmindedly as well. 

 

I realized then that I had given in to the stereotypes of the country.  I had believed upon first sight that this man was like the rest.  But spending an hour with him, watching him interact with his children made me realize that not all men were like I had been told.  Not all of them were like I had seen.  It made me both ashamed of myself and ecstatic that there were exceptions to the stereotype.

 

I can’t wait to see what other horrible stereotypes are false as well!

Letters for the Library

After spending so much time getting the library in working order, I came to the realization that getting donations is going to be a bit more difficult than I had hoped.  We have the books ready to go, but the funding to send it over is being elusive.  People are more than happy to help when they get some sort of recognition, like a tax break, but without that they are much more wary about giving their hard-earned money.  I cannot blame them. 

 

I had written a letter, which I gave to my mother to forward on to potential donors.  In this letter I wrote about how the books we have at this school are ridiculously old, and above the reading level of the learners.  All of the good books have already been read by them, and they either don’t read or read the same book over and over.  I included pictures showing the potential of our fantastic library space, and how sad it is that the shelves are all but empty.

 

One of our teachers has been gone for the last week and a half, and I have taken advantage of his now teacher-less class to practice various teaching methods and lessons.  It occurred to me that many of these learners have no motivation to do any work.  There are about 8 different assignments which are graded, and it is those which constitute their overall grade for the class.  Everything else is done purely as practice.  To make their assignment more real, along with helping out the school, I informed the kids that I was working on getting more books for the library.  I told them that I had written a letter, but it would be much better if their wrote to the potential donors.  They were very excited.

 

English, especially writing it, is especially difficult for these kids.  Yes, they do write, but their grammar, punctuation, spelling, and creative thinking are lacking tremendously.  They have been brought up in a learning environment where no one speaks English natively.  Their home language is the language of instruction until Grade 5, at which point they are expected to be able to learn in a foreign language.  Unfortunately many of their teachers are not qualified to teach English, and often feel uncomfortable., Which often results in their returning to their home tongue.

 

So, by the time they get to secondary school, they have the ability level of someone much younger than they are.  A solution that the kids, the teachers, the ministry, and everyone in any education field agrees to is that if the kids develop a culture of reading, they will be able to unintentionally absorb grammar, punctuation, and spelling.  They will be able to see different writing styles, genres, and, I hope, a passion for reading and writing.

 

So, I informed the kids that they would all be writing a letter explaining why they need good books to read.  I left it open for their ideas and creativity, and told them that the top 10 letters would be typed up and e-mailed to America.  I have never seen such devotion to their work.  I made sure to stress that I would not be looking at grammar, or anything but the message they put.  Many came up with good, but obvious answers.  It will help our spelling and grammar.  But some kids were very surprising.  I was unable to reduce the list to 10, so with the potential winners I went to my fellow teachers and asked them to help me choose learners who are struggling behaviorally and academically, but could use some success.

 

I have to say, it worked.  So far we have only spent one afternoon painstakingly typing one letter, one word at a time.  But boy do they work!  Their spelling, and grammar, and punctuation are atrocious!  But isn’t that the point?  These are children aged 15 to 20!  Supposedly they have been learning and speaking English since they were 6.  But their writing still resembles that of an American 8 year old!  I know that their message will come through much better than mine, because really, the books aren’t for me.  They are for these unfortunate kids who live an hour and a half drive from the nearest shop, with absolutely no way to get reading material.  If they do not improve their English, they will be the ones who can’t find jobs, not me. 

 

As an avid reader myself, I would be perfectly happy reading the books in the library.  Even the ones written in the 1920’s.  But I am a proficient reader.  It would make sense to me.  To these kids, it's daunting and gibberish.  So, here I am, hoping that there are people in the world who are more interested in helping children succeed in the world than to get a tax write-off.

 

Here is one of the kid’s letters.  He has spent hours trying to type it.  I dare you to read it and not feel your heart strings pull.

 

Dear madam,

First of all I want to say good after noon or morning at the library.

I have to tell you the problems about the library book   to read and understanding what is going in the book so that I can take and read those thing that is inside the book please. 

I have to talk about myself how I can take this book to read them in the library because the teacher they not allow us to go and read the book in the library so that we can read good story

At the school also we need good book to read easily for myself only  because  me I like to read story book and magazine also about the HIV and AIDS to know what  we going allow  to do when we can doing sex  you cannot get HIV and AID in the school or on my w ay  if I thing about the school book here . I thing I am in the school where I am teaching every day until school out .I like to pray to god so I can be good reading in the school except in the class only because I like  to try  my spelling word to write  again  in the same so that I

Can writ easily and I can become reading learner in the class .so that I  want to tell you about the book that is here in the library now the teacher or secratery now give us to read it is ok but just bring us at the library or give us book to read that was my good news for all teacher and secretary and myself.

 

Sincerely

With many thanks

Theodor

 

My poor library!  No wonder the kids don't read. They can't!

 

Knock, Knock, Nobody's Home

Well, I think I updated the blog a few days too early.  My boring old life here in the village isn’t so boring anymore!

 

This morning my house got broken into and all my money and some electronics were stolen.  Yay for me!  The sad part is that I didn’t take the broken lock as a sign of a burglary until hours later. 

 

Upon entering my house during break time I noticed that some of my things had been moved on my trunk.  Freaked out, I checked and saw that all of my expensive things were still here.  So, of course that meant I was crazy and nothing was stolen.  Hours later I come home from a computer class to hear that one of my neighbors saw one of the learners leave the yard.  So, upon closer inspection of my things, I noticed that all of my money (both Namibian and American) was gone, as well as my iPod, speakers, and a memory stick.

 

As you do when you are robbed, we called the police, and I was able to spend the next few hours freaking out about the security of my home as well as my missing things.  The door to the house wouldn’t lock, and it was getting late.  I could honestly care less about the money.  Yes it was a lot of money, but I have enough to survive.  But now I didn’t feel safe in my own home.

 

Thankfully the learner who my neighbor saw wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.  He had only gone a few kilometers away in the hours it had been since he had broken in and we had reported it.  The police quickly caught him, and in an act of even greater stupidity he had (almost) all of my things on his person.

 

Que scene where I spent the next few hours of filling out a statement with the police, and trying to fix the door.  Door problem solved temporarily and ridiculously long statement finished.  Unfortunately I will probably have to court to give my statement and testify against the kid.

 

The saddest part is that this was a learner at my school.  He was a repeater in Grade 10, and had finished his exams 2 days prior.  He left to go home, like all of the other Grade 10s, but decided to stay a few extra days for some ‘extra-curricular activities’.  It makes me so sad that kids are doing these things, especially to their own teachers.  It really shows how few opportunities these kids think they have in life.

 

If there’s one good thing that came out of this, is that the Peace Corps understands the limitations of my village and what we can fix so that this does not happen again.  I am looking forward to seeing the improvements and now I am extra positive that getting a dog is a good idea.  If he is sitting at my door, people are much less likely to try to break in.  I was tempted to have a moat built around the house, and fill it with hippos.  But, I’m too lazy to dig that trench and don’t think it’d be a good detention for the kids.  Also, the hippos would probably not get along very well with the dog.  Too bad. 

 

It seems that as soon as I say life is boring here, something comes along to spice up my life a bit.  I hope that next time instead of someone robbing me, it’s something really cool like winning the lottery or seeing all my kids get A’s on their essays.  One can wish!