This morning around 4 am, as I was fast asleep under my mosquito net, a single train engine careened backwards into its detached passenger cars, derailing two of the cars and stopping halfway into the third car. The wreck happened in my town less than a kilometer from my house. I didn’t hear anything and had no idea about the accident until I saw a text from another PCV asking me if I had heard about it (he’s a teacher and gets up much earlier than I do for work). Since the train tracks are less than 300 meters behind my house, I immediately walked out to take a look. Up ahead I could see the usual people that cross the tracks on their way to work looking left. When I finally got up to the tracks I could see the train up ahead about 500 meters. It was stopped in the middle of town blocking the street that divides the two parts of town. When I followed the tracks to scene, I could see many people gathered around, but there was no sense of urgency and I didn’t see any ambulances, police or medical officers. I didn’t see any passengers either. There was some yellow tape around the scene, but no one paid any mind to it (this is Africa –there are no hard boundaries) and we all stood right up next to the train. I found my friend there and he informed me that the passengers had already been taken to the hospital. He wasn’t sure if anyone had been killed, but judging by the crumpled cars that were hanging over half into the ditch, it seemed likely.
Apparently the passenger cars detached from the engine somewhere in town and the conductor continued down the track without noticing for about 500 meters. Finally realizing his mistake, he puts the engine in reverse and, at a high speed, crashed into the waiting passenger cars. Four boys were in the first car as the engine hit. Only three of them survived after being pulled from the wreckage. Thirty other passengers were taken to Mariental hospital for injuries.
My heart sank when I heard this information. I imagined the scene and wondered if it could’ve possibly gone differently had I been there. The all too familiar feeling of guilt was starting to creep up inside me. What if I had been there to help? What if I had woken up and been able to put my EMT training into action and assist at the scene? We even did a train wreck scenario in my EMT class but I never thought I’d be so close in proximity to an actual accident like this. But I might as well have been back in California because I slept through the whole thing and by the time I arrived 4 hours later, the boy and the other passengers were no longer there. But this “what if” game could go on forever if I let it so I just have to trust that if I were meant to be there, then I would have been.
Shocking and disturbing things happen here on a regular basis and it’s hard not to be affected by what we see. I am finding new ways to deal with these emotions in a way that is not ignoring them nor letting them overrun me and I know that skill will serve me well throughout my life.
This tragedy has brought back to my mind the desire to teach basic first aid to some of the youth I'm working with as well as the staff at our centre. It will certainly be a challenge with the language barriers, but it's something I'd really like to do and I think will give everyone a little more peace of mind.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Friday, November 27, 2009
Happy Thanksgiving!
Thanks for the phone calls last night. I didn't not get organized intime to put on my best version of NamThanksgiving, but I was thinking of you all and spent some quiet time reflecting on the many blessings I have in my life.
I have been workin'! A lot of what I do is on the computer (typing grant applications, sending emails, planning lessons for my life skills club) but lately, I've been "out in the field." A few weeks ago I was in Luderitz, a coastal town that was the first German settlment in Namibia. It still has it's funky old German style with bright colored buildings and big churches. I was asked to come by another PCV to do the same employment/entrepeneurship workshop I did for my youth in Mariental. The workshop went very smoothly (the first day we invited and entrepeneur to come and teach them about how to start a small business and the second day we taught the youth how to make resume, look for jobs and ace their interviews). The youth walked away seeming much more motivated to go make something of themselves. It's hard not to get discourage when unemployment is a staggering 60%. After the workshop was over, we got to hang out with the PCV's and explore the town a bit. I even talked Beata into going out on her first sailboat where we sailed around the harbor and saw dolphins, penguins, seals and orcha whales. It was a great trip and worth all 7 hours it took to get out there.
I am still working away on our garden project. I can't remember if I mentioned it in a previous blog, but Beata and I are trying to start a community demonstration garden at our centre. We will train youth volunteers to be leaders in the community and help initiate home gardens around our community. We will have a demonstration plot on the grounds of the centre to hold trainings. It all part of an initiative to increase food security in the community. Proper nutrition is especially important for people living with HIV because it can prolong their life and without it, their medicine can make them very sick (which in turn discourages them from taking their meds altogether). We have hooved it all over town talking to local business, regional council and all the regional branches of government in our town. Only recently did we secure a donation of seeds and fruit trees. We've written a few grants but are waiting to hear from the ones we haven't yet been rejected by. As things slow down towards the holidays and the end of the year, our patience really comes into play. In reality, we might not see anything popping up out of that ground until early next year.
The other thing I've kind of fallen into is this life skills/kids club. I originally formed the club to serve out of school/unemployed youth between the ages of 15-30, but turns out they don't think I'm as cool as the 11 and 12 year olds. I struggled to get much attendance at my first life skills club meetings, but one day this group of kids just started showing up. Most of them had met me because I came to teach them about HIV in their drama club. At the meeting, I mentioned that I worked at the Youth Centre and that my door is always open if they have any questions (like I always do) and these kids actually took me up on it. For the past few weeks they come every Monday and Wednesday and we play games and talk about how to communicate, make good decisions and how to avoid risky behavior. They have their exams this week and will be going on holiday soon so I may not see them again until next year.
Otherwise, all is well. It's summer and very, very hot. It's probably been around 95 outside and 115 inside my house. Now, I just come home, wet a rag and pull a chair outside in the shade of our front porch. There's really no reason to go inside that oven! I taped up some pictures of snowmen and christmas trees that I got from a previous volunteer, but the Christmas spirit is somehow elusive in the heat of summer.
I have been workin'! A lot of what I do is on the computer (typing grant applications, sending emails, planning lessons for my life skills club) but lately, I've been "out in the field." A few weeks ago I was in Luderitz, a coastal town that was the first German settlment in Namibia. It still has it's funky old German style with bright colored buildings and big churches. I was asked to come by another PCV to do the same employment/entrepeneurship workshop I did for my youth in Mariental. The workshop went very smoothly (the first day we invited and entrepeneur to come and teach them about how to start a small business and the second day we taught the youth how to make resume, look for jobs and ace their interviews). The youth walked away seeming much more motivated to go make something of themselves. It's hard not to get discourage when unemployment is a staggering 60%. After the workshop was over, we got to hang out with the PCV's and explore the town a bit. I even talked Beata into going out on her first sailboat where we sailed around the harbor and saw dolphins, penguins, seals and orcha whales. It was a great trip and worth all 7 hours it took to get out there.
I am still working away on our garden project. I can't remember if I mentioned it in a previous blog, but Beata and I are trying to start a community demonstration garden at our centre. We will train youth volunteers to be leaders in the community and help initiate home gardens around our community. We will have a demonstration plot on the grounds of the centre to hold trainings. It all part of an initiative to increase food security in the community. Proper nutrition is especially important for people living with HIV because it can prolong their life and without it, their medicine can make them very sick (which in turn discourages them from taking their meds altogether). We have hooved it all over town talking to local business, regional council and all the regional branches of government in our town. Only recently did we secure a donation of seeds and fruit trees. We've written a few grants but are waiting to hear from the ones we haven't yet been rejected by. As things slow down towards the holidays and the end of the year, our patience really comes into play. In reality, we might not see anything popping up out of that ground until early next year.
The other thing I've kind of fallen into is this life skills/kids club. I originally formed the club to serve out of school/unemployed youth between the ages of 15-30, but turns out they don't think I'm as cool as the 11 and 12 year olds. I struggled to get much attendance at my first life skills club meetings, but one day this group of kids just started showing up. Most of them had met me because I came to teach them about HIV in their drama club. At the meeting, I mentioned that I worked at the Youth Centre and that my door is always open if they have any questions (like I always do) and these kids actually took me up on it. For the past few weeks they come every Monday and Wednesday and we play games and talk about how to communicate, make good decisions and how to avoid risky behavior. They have their exams this week and will be going on holiday soon so I may not see them again until next year.
Otherwise, all is well. It's summer and very, very hot. It's probably been around 95 outside and 115 inside my house. Now, I just come home, wet a rag and pull a chair outside in the shade of our front porch. There's really no reason to go inside that oven! I taped up some pictures of snowmen and christmas trees that I got from a previous volunteer, but the Christmas spirit is somehow elusive in the heat of summer.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
I'm Back!
After receiving the fifth hand-written letter ending with a very commanding "UPDATE YOUR BLOG!" I've decided I better deliver (you can all thank Amanda Corbyn for being the straw that broke this camel's back). I really am sorry I've been such a bum about writing. It's a daunting task to write about my life here because there is just so much background to explain before any of my stories will really make sense. But here's my best attempt at a general update.
Lately, I've been on the road traveling all over this country (one of the perks of working for the Ministry of Youth) mainly to attend or to facilitate at workshops. We also get to travel to other PCV's sites to collaborate on projects and I also had a vacation in there somewhere. It's nice to have a home to come back to where everyone noticed you were gone and really missed you. So though I feel like an old hobo and I've sworn to quit these rambeling ways one of these days (did you catch that, Cathie?) I quite enjoy packing up my backpack every other week to explore more of the unknown. Sometimes when I'm crammed in the back of a backie sharing the ride with some goats, I look out over the scenary and think, "this is the best job in the world!"
I've been working on a couple of projects lately. Beata and I just finished doing an employment and entrepeneurship workshop for the youth. With unemployment at a staggering 70% in this community, you could tell they were starving for it. It took a lot of work and planning to put on this two-day workshop but it was definitly worth it to see the participants motivated and with a brighter outlook on their future.
Next week, I am going to Windhoek to be trained on micro-gardening (otherwise known as table-top gardens). Our hope is to open a demonstration garden at our centre so that we can train youth how to make these easy, affortable gardens at their own homes. It's part of a world-wide Peace Corps initiative to increase food security. With so many malnurished people in our community, this seems to be a great solution --however, the reality is that it's not easy to get people stoked about gardening, especially if it requires them to put down their beer-bottle for a few minutes (I'm not trying to be harsh, but when I walk through the informal settlements and see people stumbeling drunk out of the shebeens at 6am, I've become a little jaded). We've got nothing to lose by trying here, but the odds are stacked against us. The Nama tribe (the majority in Mariental) was historically nomadic and though they have westernized over the past few decades, it is not in their culture to garden like it is for the Oshiwambo tribe in the North. Anyway, I remain hopeful and will keep you updated with the progress.
I've lost count of how long I've been here, I believe it's been over 6 months. I'm really starting to settle in nicely. I often find myself saying or doing things in a very Namibian way. I don't notice I'm doing it until I'm called out by another PCV. All in all, life is good. I definity miss home and think of all of you frequently. I can't tell you how many times I've had a really rough day and when I find a package, postcard, or letter in my mailbox, my mood is instantly turned around. Thanks to everyone who has made an effort to stay connected.
Lately, I've been on the road traveling all over this country (one of the perks of working for the Ministry of Youth) mainly to attend or to facilitate at workshops. We also get to travel to other PCV's sites to collaborate on projects and I also had a vacation in there somewhere. It's nice to have a home to come back to where everyone noticed you were gone and really missed you. So though I feel like an old hobo and I've sworn to quit these rambeling ways one of these days (did you catch that, Cathie?) I quite enjoy packing up my backpack every other week to explore more of the unknown. Sometimes when I'm crammed in the back of a backie sharing the ride with some goats, I look out over the scenary and think, "this is the best job in the world!"
I've been working on a couple of projects lately. Beata and I just finished doing an employment and entrepeneurship workshop for the youth. With unemployment at a staggering 70% in this community, you could tell they were starving for it. It took a lot of work and planning to put on this two-day workshop but it was definitly worth it to see the participants motivated and with a brighter outlook on their future.
Next week, I am going to Windhoek to be trained on micro-gardening (otherwise known as table-top gardens). Our hope is to open a demonstration garden at our centre so that we can train youth how to make these easy, affortable gardens at their own homes. It's part of a world-wide Peace Corps initiative to increase food security. With so many malnurished people in our community, this seems to be a great solution --however, the reality is that it's not easy to get people stoked about gardening, especially if it requires them to put down their beer-bottle for a few minutes (I'm not trying to be harsh, but when I walk through the informal settlements and see people stumbeling drunk out of the shebeens at 6am, I've become a little jaded). We've got nothing to lose by trying here, but the odds are stacked against us. The Nama tribe (the majority in Mariental) was historically nomadic and though they have westernized over the past few decades, it is not in their culture to garden like it is for the Oshiwambo tribe in the North. Anyway, I remain hopeful and will keep you updated with the progress.
I've lost count of how long I've been here, I believe it's been over 6 months. I'm really starting to settle in nicely. I often find myself saying or doing things in a very Namibian way. I don't notice I'm doing it until I'm called out by another PCV. All in all, life is good. I definity miss home and think of all of you frequently. I can't tell you how many times I've had a really rough day and when I find a package, postcard, or letter in my mailbox, my mood is instantly turned around. Thanks to everyone who has made an effort to stay connected.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
24/7
I don’t think I’ve done a good job of explaining what it is I do here –that’s because it can’t easily be categorized. I am a health volunteer, but since health is so much more than the mere absence of disease, my scope is quite broad.
Last week, my Peace Corps supervisor came to visit me at site and to see what I’ve been up to lately. I was VERY nervous that morning. I think I brushed my teeth 3 times and I kept rearranging the spices on the top of the fridge. I guess Beata absorbed some of my nervousness because she spent the night before meticulously cleaning the house as if my supervisor was going to walk in, run her fingers along the baseboard, look at her dusty finger and say, “unsuitable living conditions. We must remove this volunteer immediately.” It turns out we were both nervous unnecessarily. Not only did my supervisor love my "cute little house" and Beata, when I finally sat down to talk to her, I realized I am actually doing a fine job. I have been integrating really well and have already made many of the contacts I need to for future success when both my community and I are ready to take on bigger projects.
When people call or write from home, I tend to brush off the,“how’s work going?" question with a simple, “you know. Same ol’ same ol’…I mostly just sit at the office…” but that’s not really accurate.
I have compiled a list of some of the “mini- projects” that I have been busy with for the last two and a half months in Mariental:
1. Gave a motivational speech on “why we volunteer” to a group of 4H Namibia volunteers (yeah it’s based on the 4H from the USA: Hearts, Hope, Hands, Health) whose enthusiasm has been waning since the launch of their program in Mariental about a month ago.
2. Revised and edited countless speeches, letters and notices for proper English –though I always argue that if people here communicate with this so called “Namblish” who am I to say that my English is the best one?
3. Photographed and printed photos of all the staff in my office, including the cleaners who were so grateful I wonder if it’s the first picture they’ve had of themselves.
4. Was a group leader (or more like a camp councilor) at the Southern Girl’s Conference – a four-day female empowerment camp for 7th and 8th grade girls.
5. Made friends with the security guard at my office (who happens to be from the same tribe as Beata and likes to teach me Oshiwambo phrases that I bust out at opportune times to make Beata laugh. My favorite: “you smell like onions!”)
6. Continue to help Brooke, an education PCV in Mariental, run her Girl’s Club and Reading Club which I will take over when she leaves in December
7. “Fixed” my co-workers laptop (twice) –thank you help menu!
8. Revised and edited my co-worker/friend’s business plan to begin his own life-coaching program for young people. This guy is pretty amazing! He saw it on Oprah and has gone great lengths to achieve his vision in a place where meets so many obstacles.
9. Organized a movie night for the youth as a fundraiser to buy a new printer for our youth resource center.
10. Let the NGO’s and Ministries know about each other and how they can possibly work together.
11. LISTENED! Most of the time this is all I can do, but it is still important. There are a lot of problems in this country and I’ve noticed that people really appreciate having a fresh and interested pair of ears listening to them.
12. Stood in at a CORD (Coalition on Responsible Drinking) executive committee meeting for my boss and left the meeting as the newest executive member.
13. Photographed CORD’s event on National Drug Abuse Day and organized a drama group to perform for the event.
14. Started teaching my Afrikaans Language Tutor to play the guitar
15. Taught Beata how to bake “Washington Cookies” and make pizza
16. Learned how to gracefully rebuff the daily marriage proposals from both strangers and colleagues –awkward!
17. Presented an HIV presentation to a group of 8th, 9th, and 10th graders (who, by the way ALL look like they are about 12 or younger) and, for the most part, kept a straight face when fielding questions about sexual health.
“Miss Lindsay, what is masturbation?”
–cough, cough….well girls…
18. Helped my friend with her laundry when she had a very stressful day and smiled at her little brothers and sisters who laughed at the "oshilumbu"(white person) trying to hand wash with the Africans.
I float around and help people where I can -which is the best job ever! At times, what I do seems small and insignificant, but one thing really does lead to another and I am slowly gaining trust in the community. I'm not sure what project I will get involved in next or what will be my biggest challenge in the next two years, but I ready to take it on whatever it is.
Last week, my Peace Corps supervisor came to visit me at site and to see what I’ve been up to lately. I was VERY nervous that morning. I think I brushed my teeth 3 times and I kept rearranging the spices on the top of the fridge. I guess Beata absorbed some of my nervousness because she spent the night before meticulously cleaning the house as if my supervisor was going to walk in, run her fingers along the baseboard, look at her dusty finger and say, “unsuitable living conditions. We must remove this volunteer immediately.” It turns out we were both nervous unnecessarily. Not only did my supervisor love my "cute little house" and Beata, when I finally sat down to talk to her, I realized I am actually doing a fine job. I have been integrating really well and have already made many of the contacts I need to for future success when both my community and I are ready to take on bigger projects.
When people call or write from home, I tend to brush off the,“how’s work going?" question with a simple, “you know. Same ol’ same ol’…I mostly just sit at the office…” but that’s not really accurate.
I have compiled a list of some of the “mini- projects” that I have been busy with for the last two and a half months in Mariental:
1. Gave a motivational speech on “why we volunteer” to a group of 4H Namibia volunteers (yeah it’s based on the 4H from the USA: Hearts, Hope, Hands, Health) whose enthusiasm has been waning since the launch of their program in Mariental about a month ago.
2. Revised and edited countless speeches, letters and notices for proper English –though I always argue that if people here communicate with this so called “Namblish” who am I to say that my English is the best one?
3. Photographed and printed photos of all the staff in my office, including the cleaners who were so grateful I wonder if it’s the first picture they’ve had of themselves.
4. Was a group leader (or more like a camp councilor) at the Southern Girl’s Conference – a four-day female empowerment camp for 7th and 8th grade girls.
5. Made friends with the security guard at my office (who happens to be from the same tribe as Beata and likes to teach me Oshiwambo phrases that I bust out at opportune times to make Beata laugh. My favorite: “you smell like onions!”)
6. Continue to help Brooke, an education PCV in Mariental, run her Girl’s Club and Reading Club which I will take over when she leaves in December
7. “Fixed” my co-workers laptop (twice) –thank you help menu!
8. Revised and edited my co-worker/friend’s business plan to begin his own life-coaching program for young people. This guy is pretty amazing! He saw it on Oprah and has gone great lengths to achieve his vision in a place where meets so many obstacles.
9. Organized a movie night for the youth as a fundraiser to buy a new printer for our youth resource center.
10. Let the NGO’s and Ministries know about each other and how they can possibly work together.
11. LISTENED! Most of the time this is all I can do, but it is still important. There are a lot of problems in this country and I’ve noticed that people really appreciate having a fresh and interested pair of ears listening to them.
12. Stood in at a CORD (Coalition on Responsible Drinking) executive committee meeting for my boss and left the meeting as the newest executive member.
13. Photographed CORD’s event on National Drug Abuse Day and organized a drama group to perform for the event.
14. Started teaching my Afrikaans Language Tutor to play the guitar
15. Taught Beata how to bake “Washington Cookies” and make pizza
16. Learned how to gracefully rebuff the daily marriage proposals from both strangers and colleagues –awkward!
17. Presented an HIV presentation to a group of 8th, 9th, and 10th graders (who, by the way ALL look like they are about 12 or younger) and, for the most part, kept a straight face when fielding questions about sexual health.
“Miss Lindsay, what is masturbation?”
–cough, cough….well girls…
18. Helped my friend with her laundry when she had a very stressful day and smiled at her little brothers and sisters who laughed at the "oshilumbu"(white person) trying to hand wash with the Africans.
I float around and help people where I can -which is the best job ever! At times, what I do seems small and insignificant, but one thing really does lead to another and I am slowly gaining trust in the community. I'm not sure what project I will get involved in next or what will be my biggest challenge in the next two years, but I ready to take it on whatever it is.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
I am in way over my head...
Note to future PCV's following this blog: there will undoubtedly be times in the beginning of your service when thoughts like these enter your mind –sometimes they are just a whisper in the back of your mind and other times you might just want to scream, “what the heck am I doing here?” Just hang on because one of those mind-blowing, awe-inspiring moments is right around the corner –Peace Corps life is chalk full of them!
I had a few days this week where I lost my confidence and found myself stuck in a slump of doubt. I forgot about all of the life experiences that got me here and fixated on the fact that I am “just” a recent college-grad whose first full-time job experience only lasted for the 3 months before departure and was at a sport company’s internet warehouse (www.porterstahoe.com --check it). Don't follow this doubt when it's calling you. It's a trap.
I'm still not exactly sure what my role is here. They say that health volunteers don't really have one, they have to create it. For the first few weeks I literally sat in the office doing nothing. I chatted with co-workers and read everything I could get my hands on in hopes for some small clue. Now, 2 months in Mariental, I spend most of my time meeting an interviewing important people/ heads of organizations and local leaders to let them know I am here and to offer my assistance. It’s like going fishing. I throw out my line and a lot of fish nibble but only a few bite. Sometimes the ones that bite are too large for me to handle and I am struggling to not get throw overboard!
For example, last week I heard about a man who has started a small health-related NGO in my community. I called him up for a meeting requesting to learn a little bit more about his org. When he stepped into the volunteer’s office and saw that I am American, he looked at me with dollar sign in his eyes (this happens a lot)! He emphasized the organization’s needs for funding and only a few minutes into our meeting was suggesting that I get involved in some messy dispute between his org and a funding source. I did my best to be supportive but told him I simply couldn’t do that because I didn’t understand the context of the situation. I figured that was it, he was no longer going to come to me for help, but he kept showing up at my office. We’d have meetings where he’d come to me for advice as if I was an expert on running NGO’s!
Situations like these are odd enough but add in the language barrier (though we are usually technically speaking English, Namibians tend to speak it's own version everyone calls "Namblish") and I know many things are getting lost in translation. Since I’ve been in Namibia, I can’t think of a time when I’ve felt like I know 100% what is going on.
It’s funny how life can sometimes supply you with exactly what you need during days or weeks like these. At the end of a long day, I really enjoy the simple pleasure of cooking dinner. The kitchen has become my outlet. If I feel like I haven’t done anything productive that day, I can at least be creative in the kitchen –or, if I can't handle anything else, I can hypnotically stare into the boiling pot of macaroni noodles and for a moment forget where I am.
One night, Beata was standing in the kitchen with me and we were chatting about the usual: the differences and similarities between our cultures. She brought up the other night when we were at dinner at another volunteer’s house. It was a fun night that turned into an impromptu karaoke session. We all took our turn at some of the songs (we thought) we knew best.
“I was surprised to see you guys didn’t know the words. I just thought you people heard a song once and could sing it perfectly.”
I laughed, “No, I’m always forgetting the words to my favorite songs.”
"So you're just like us."
“Ya, we’re all only human and we all have our fears and weaknesses.” We were both quiet and I could see she was thinking.
“Now don’t be offended, I’ve just never been so close to a white person before and I used to think we were so different –but really we’re just the same.I used to think that white people don’t care about us at all. So… you have proved me wrong.”
In that one sentence, the last four months of doubt and confusion were completely erased. Even if every one of my projects in the next two years fails, my time here has been worth all of it.
I had a few days this week where I lost my confidence and found myself stuck in a slump of doubt. I forgot about all of the life experiences that got me here and fixated on the fact that I am “just” a recent college-grad whose first full-time job experience only lasted for the 3 months before departure and was at a sport company’s internet warehouse (www.porterstahoe.com --check it). Don't follow this doubt when it's calling you. It's a trap.
I'm still not exactly sure what my role is here. They say that health volunteers don't really have one, they have to create it. For the first few weeks I literally sat in the office doing nothing. I chatted with co-workers and read everything I could get my hands on in hopes for some small clue. Now, 2 months in Mariental, I spend most of my time meeting an interviewing important people/ heads of organizations and local leaders to let them know I am here and to offer my assistance. It’s like going fishing. I throw out my line and a lot of fish nibble but only a few bite. Sometimes the ones that bite are too large for me to handle and I am struggling to not get throw overboard!
For example, last week I heard about a man who has started a small health-related NGO in my community. I called him up for a meeting requesting to learn a little bit more about his org. When he stepped into the volunteer’s office and saw that I am American, he looked at me with dollar sign in his eyes (this happens a lot)! He emphasized the organization’s needs for funding and only a few minutes into our meeting was suggesting that I get involved in some messy dispute between his org and a funding source. I did my best to be supportive but told him I simply couldn’t do that because I didn’t understand the context of the situation. I figured that was it, he was no longer going to come to me for help, but he kept showing up at my office. We’d have meetings where he’d come to me for advice as if I was an expert on running NGO’s!
Situations like these are odd enough but add in the language barrier (though we are usually technically speaking English, Namibians tend to speak it's own version everyone calls "Namblish") and I know many things are getting lost in translation. Since I’ve been in Namibia, I can’t think of a time when I’ve felt like I know 100% what is going on.
It’s funny how life can sometimes supply you with exactly what you need during days or weeks like these. At the end of a long day, I really enjoy the simple pleasure of cooking dinner. The kitchen has become my outlet. If I feel like I haven’t done anything productive that day, I can at least be creative in the kitchen –or, if I can't handle anything else, I can hypnotically stare into the boiling pot of macaroni noodles and for a moment forget where I am.
One night, Beata was standing in the kitchen with me and we were chatting about the usual: the differences and similarities between our cultures. She brought up the other night when we were at dinner at another volunteer’s house. It was a fun night that turned into an impromptu karaoke session. We all took our turn at some of the songs (we thought) we knew best.
“I was surprised to see you guys didn’t know the words. I just thought you people heard a song once and could sing it perfectly.”
I laughed, “No, I’m always forgetting the words to my favorite songs.”
"So you're just like us."
“Ya, we’re all only human and we all have our fears and weaknesses.” We were both quiet and I could see she was thinking.
“Now don’t be offended, I’ve just never been so close to a white person before and I used to think we were so different –but really we’re just the same.I used to think that white people don’t care about us at all. So… you have proved me wrong.”
In that one sentence, the last four months of doubt and confusion were completely erased. Even if every one of my projects in the next two years fails, my time here has been worth all of it.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Another Saturday at “the Chicken”
So I live in a bright yellow, two-bedroom house nicknamed “the Chicken” with my 31 year-old Namibian house-mate/coworker/ invaluable friend, Beata. We named it that because 1) it’s bright yellow 2) we are down the street from a take-away place called “Jenny’s Chicken” and 3) I have been telling Beata since we decided to move in together that I want to raise some chickens. We’ve lived here for less than a month and it shows because we have no table or chairs, countertops, or cabinets for our food or even a coach to sit on. Our sitting room is full of piles of tiles and buckets of paint (the house is still in the process of renovation). However, I really think I have the ideal living situation. I don’t have to live with an entire host family, which can be a little trying for those of us who have been independent for quite some years, but I am also glad I don’t live alone. I still get the cultural experience of living with a Namibian who can show me the ropes, so to speak. Plus, she is someone I admire and get along with very well (which is fortunate since we both live and work together).
I wake up to heat and brightness of the African sunshine on my face despite the fact my curtains are drawn tightly shut. It’s about 6am and regardless of the suns rays, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep because the neighbors are blasting their funky Herero music (I don’t know how to describe it –it’s heavy on the accordion, though). They are up cleaning or who knows what, but they are clearly making a party of it.
I got into the kitchen to boil some water for tea and then I just stare out the kitchen windows to see what my neighbors are up to. I know Beata won’t be up for another 4 or 5 hours so I try to move about the house quietly. Finally at around 8 or 9, I can’t help myself any longer and I pull out my guitar to just pluck some strings ever so quietly so that it might not be heard through the thin wall that separates our bedrooms.
My only real plan for the day is to cook dinner and to hand wash my clothes in time to lay them out on the fence for drying while the sun is overhead. Cooking has become my new hobbie –kind of accidentally. Before we moved in together, Beata mentioned that she liked cleaning and the sentence that followed was, “okay so you cook and I’ll clean.” She made this decision not knowing that I have a history of subsisting merely on microwaved quesadillas that one semester in college I tried to go without a meal plan. She sounded so excited, “I want to eat American food!” Somehow I fooled my Namibian roommate into thinking that eating the can of beans I dumped into a pot of spaghetti is a cultural experience. Don’t get me wrong, occasionally I go out on a limb and make things like calzones from scratch and peanut soup creole –God bless the Peace Corps for issuing us cookbooks!
Last Saturday was my first real hand-washing laundry experience. You may be thinking, how hard can it be? I was thinking the same thing but there is definitely a “right” and “wrong” way to do it. You’ll know you’ve done it right when your inexperienced hands and wrists bleed because they haven’t been toughened by a lifetime without a washing machine. First, we put one article in a soapy bucket at a time and scrub it -every inch of it! There is a certain sound produced when she rubs the clothing together against her hands that I just cannot seem to emulate. It took something like 3 hours (lengthened by the laughing at my attempts) to get through all of our laundry because we rinsed it multiple times, each time scrubbing and wring out each item. As we carried the heavy bucket of wet clothing out to the line to dry, I was so worried that I’d drop it. If it spilled across the Mariental red dust that surrounds our house and we’d have to start it all over again. Go kiss your washers and dryer because it was 6 hours from the time we threw the first jeans in the bucket to the time we pulled our dry clothes off the line.
I wake up to heat and brightness of the African sunshine on my face despite the fact my curtains are drawn tightly shut. It’s about 6am and regardless of the suns rays, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep because the neighbors are blasting their funky Herero music (I don’t know how to describe it –it’s heavy on the accordion, though). They are up cleaning or who knows what, but they are clearly making a party of it.
I got into the kitchen to boil some water for tea and then I just stare out the kitchen windows to see what my neighbors are up to. I know Beata won’t be up for another 4 or 5 hours so I try to move about the house quietly. Finally at around 8 or 9, I can’t help myself any longer and I pull out my guitar to just pluck some strings ever so quietly so that it might not be heard through the thin wall that separates our bedrooms.
My only real plan for the day is to cook dinner and to hand wash my clothes in time to lay them out on the fence for drying while the sun is overhead. Cooking has become my new hobbie –kind of accidentally. Before we moved in together, Beata mentioned that she liked cleaning and the sentence that followed was, “okay so you cook and I’ll clean.” She made this decision not knowing that I have a history of subsisting merely on microwaved quesadillas that one semester in college I tried to go without a meal plan. She sounded so excited, “I want to eat American food!” Somehow I fooled my Namibian roommate into thinking that eating the can of beans I dumped into a pot of spaghetti is a cultural experience. Don’t get me wrong, occasionally I go out on a limb and make things like calzones from scratch and peanut soup creole –God bless the Peace Corps for issuing us cookbooks!
Last Saturday was my first real hand-washing laundry experience. You may be thinking, how hard can it be? I was thinking the same thing but there is definitely a “right” and “wrong” way to do it. You’ll know you’ve done it right when your inexperienced hands and wrists bleed because they haven’t been toughened by a lifetime without a washing machine. First, we put one article in a soapy bucket at a time and scrub it -every inch of it! There is a certain sound produced when she rubs the clothing together against her hands that I just cannot seem to emulate. It took something like 3 hours (lengthened by the laughing at my attempts) to get through all of our laundry because we rinsed it multiple times, each time scrubbing and wring out each item. As we carried the heavy bucket of wet clothing out to the line to dry, I was so worried that I’d drop it. If it spilled across the Mariental red dust that surrounds our house and we’d have to start it all over again. Go kiss your washers and dryer because it was 6 hours from the time we threw the first jeans in the bucket to the time we pulled our dry clothes off the line.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Swakopmund
This past week I spent in Swakopmund, the famous coastal town because it is the birthplace of Brad and Angelina’s baby. Sadly I wasn’t on holiday, but rather on duty as a delegate for the Mariental Ministry of Youth at the National Youth Week Expo. The conference was terribly disorganized. It actually took us 3 days and 12 hours in the cue to even get registered! I couldn’t believe that people put up with it.
Fortunately, we found time in every day to get to the beach. There is something comforting about being at the sea because it looks just about the same from whatever side of the world you are looking at it. It’s a home in some ways because it’s always there and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
We stayed in beach bungalows, four to a room for six nights. I learned so much from my roommates, all women around my age, during those days. Over the course of the week I found myself feeling either totally thrilled or utterly discouraged about what my future here holds. I was so lucky to have one of my closest friends from training, Peggy, in town. One night I even went with her to her host families house for a “braai”(basically a BBQ) and they were so kind they welcomed me back anytime. Their daughter lives in Mariental so I may have just found myself an easy ride between Mariental and Swakop.
Our journey back to Mariental was not an easy one. In ideal conditions, the trip between Mariental and Swakop should be about 10-11 hours by bus. Our last night, we went to bed early and planned to wake up and be at the bus at 8am, the time we had been informed by my supervisor. Sometime between when I went to bed and 3am, that time changed to 4am. So next thing I knew, the light was switched on in my bedroom and my roommate was yelling, “come on, pack your things the bus is leaving!” The whole week has been like this so at this point I’ve surrendered. I don’t even question or complain, I just do it, knowing that on African time, there’s no way we are leaving before 6am. I was wrong. We pulled out at about 7am. One hour into the journey, our bus pulled over and it was translated to me that we have broken down. We were on the side of the road in the Namib desert. Rumor had it that a bus would arrive for us, at 11am, one did, but it was full. At this point, some were walking the 5km back to the nearest service station, while others were just trying to get a hike on the side of the road. We were fortunate enough to get a hike from some people working for and NGO we work with. They took us about 20k when were were stopped at a police checkpoint. They said we were overloaded in the car and one of us had to get out. Beata (my roommate –remember) volunteered and I went with her for safety and we caught a ride with a nice fisherman and his wife in the back of their covered pick-up truck with his poles and smelly coolers. We were just laughing the whole way because it was such a ridiculous situation. We were dropped at a gas station in Windhoek to try and catch another hike to Mariental. After buying some water and stepping outside the mini-mart, we were so fortunate to see a bus we recognized from the conference that was heading in our direction. After a little pleading, they agreed to take us on board free of charge. It was truly a miracle that we rolled into town that evening. Even though I’d only been in this house for a day before leaving for Swakop, I was so happy to be home! What a day.
Fortunately, we found time in every day to get to the beach. There is something comforting about being at the sea because it looks just about the same from whatever side of the world you are looking at it. It’s a home in some ways because it’s always there and it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
We stayed in beach bungalows, four to a room for six nights. I learned so much from my roommates, all women around my age, during those days. Over the course of the week I found myself feeling either totally thrilled or utterly discouraged about what my future here holds. I was so lucky to have one of my closest friends from training, Peggy, in town. One night I even went with her to her host families house for a “braai”(basically a BBQ) and they were so kind they welcomed me back anytime. Their daughter lives in Mariental so I may have just found myself an easy ride between Mariental and Swakop.
Our journey back to Mariental was not an easy one. In ideal conditions, the trip between Mariental and Swakop should be about 10-11 hours by bus. Our last night, we went to bed early and planned to wake up and be at the bus at 8am, the time we had been informed by my supervisor. Sometime between when I went to bed and 3am, that time changed to 4am. So next thing I knew, the light was switched on in my bedroom and my roommate was yelling, “come on, pack your things the bus is leaving!” The whole week has been like this so at this point I’ve surrendered. I don’t even question or complain, I just do it, knowing that on African time, there’s no way we are leaving before 6am. I was wrong. We pulled out at about 7am. One hour into the journey, our bus pulled over and it was translated to me that we have broken down. We were on the side of the road in the Namib desert. Rumor had it that a bus would arrive for us, at 11am, one did, but it was full. At this point, some were walking the 5km back to the nearest service station, while others were just trying to get a hike on the side of the road. We were fortunate enough to get a hike from some people working for and NGO we work with. They took us about 20k when were were stopped at a police checkpoint. They said we were overloaded in the car and one of us had to get out. Beata (my roommate –remember) volunteered and I went with her for safety and we caught a ride with a nice fisherman and his wife in the back of their covered pick-up truck with his poles and smelly coolers. We were just laughing the whole way because it was such a ridiculous situation. We were dropped at a gas station in Windhoek to try and catch another hike to Mariental. After buying some water and stepping outside the mini-mart, we were so fortunate to see a bus we recognized from the conference that was heading in our direction. After a little pleading, they agreed to take us on board free of charge. It was truly a miracle that we rolled into town that evening. Even though I’d only been in this house for a day before leaving for Swakop, I was so happy to be home! What a day.
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