this is not the africa you’re thinking about…
there are three grocery stores in okahandja. there is an “as seen on tv” store in windhoek. my host family has a flat screen tv. i drink water from the tap. i have a flushing toilet, tiles floors, and a comfortable bed. i pack a pb&j every day for my tea time snack and i’ve hiked rides with air conditioning.
this is not the africa you’re thinking about…
i tell you this because it’s not the africa that i was anticipating either. from my preliminary youtube and wikipedia research of namibia previous to my departure, i read about millet, Himba women, and mud huts. these realities are here; however, they are simply beautiful and are unique insights to the Namibian histories that contribute to the incredible diversity in this nation. these past two months, every time i discover that namibia has something that i had anticipated being without for twenty-seven months, i am forced to re-evaluate my thinking. who was i to think they wouldn’t have peanut butter, mercedes, and 3G networks? perhaps, before i left, at home, surrounded by these conveniences daily, i didn’t think anywhere else could be like the states: the land of plenty, home of phones without buttons and invisible fences. the country that invented reality television and has the ability to make soybeans taste like chicken nuggets. i’ve been thinking alot back to what i was expecting, what i was anticipating, coming to realize i had been completely wrong.
not to say that namibia doesn’t have its problems because like any nation, it does. namibia has the largest wealth discrepancy in the world, with a gini index of almost 1. something like four percent of the population possesses seventy percent of the nation’s money. one in six namibians are hiv positive. tribalism fuels discrimination and hatred. but all in all this was not the africa i was thinking about.
but,
so so so much has changed in the past month. for one, i’m not in okahandja anymore. that’s right PST is over. our swearing-in ceremony was on october 15. the last few weeks of PST were bittersweet. the day to day monotony of 4 hours of language training and afternoon sessions was getting very old. but, the people weren’t. i loved all of our trainers. i became very close with an Otjiherero language trainer, Richard (as featured in “day in the life”) as well as my Khoekhoe language trainer, Auntie Martha (as featured in “eat”). i rode in the combi to and from training every day with Richard and he definitely made my mornings. it was hard to get up that early only to face the same exact thing everyday, and chatting with Richard waiting to be picked up every morning definitely made it worth it. Auntie Martha. what can i say about auntie martha? her mannerisms are so precious and she has an amazing heart. she is like the crazy little grandma on “golden girls.” you know, the one who says inappropriate things not knowing exactly how funny she’s being. except with auntie martha, she say these things in khoekhoe. like, we’d be in the middle of a lesson say learning the vocabulary for different types of clothing. each of us would make up a sentence with a new word saying elementary things like “i bought a shirt” or “she’s wearing black shoes.” then, with a sly smile on her face, looking down at her twiddling thumbs in her lap, auntie martha would say something. so we’d ask, “what did you just say? what does that mean?” still looking down, as innocent as can be, she’d translate her utterance. “lho!khoa…naked.” from these side notes, i learned some very important phrases for my next two years. phrases such as “!kha !anhe, stabbed to death” and “ham #aidi, stinky feet.” towards the end of training when we all started to realize our time together was ending, i would find myself spending my lunch breaks sitting with her on a bench asking her about her family, her past, and her plans for after PST. one sunday, myself and two other people from my language class (Michael and Nikki) decided to stop by Auntie Martha’s homestay because seeing her everyday during the week was not enough. we spent the whole day over there, just visiting. she really felt like a grandma to me. the last week, whenever we’d ask her “what are you going to be doing this time next week when you’re not here with us?” and her eyes would fill with tears. cocking her head to the side and looking pensively in her lap, she paused before she spoke. “i don’t know.” and that would be it. that’s all she would like to elaborate on the matter. so we’d stop there, not wanting to upset her anymore. but the height of our relationship came weeks earlier at our host family appreciation lunch. it was on a saturday and a representative from each language group gave a thank you speech to all of the host families in the specific target language. i gave the speech for the khoekhoe class. i was slated to be the second person to speak, but when they started i was in the back of the complex busy frying up namion rings (onion rings namibia-style…aka not as good as outback steakhouse but good enough). so another volunteer ran back to where i was and said, “hurry, the speeches started and they’re looking for you!” so i grabbed my copy of the speech and hurried to the main room. i came in the back and was told that i’ll just go at the end instead. so, when it was finally my turn i walked to the front and before beginning the actual appreciation speech, i said “lUba te re. Tita ge goro sâi,” which means “sorry. i was cooking.” the room full of Namibians, not to mention the peace corps staff, were not expecting something not scripted. so i continued my speech, full of nasalized vowels, unnatural consonant pairings, and many, many clicks. after each sentence, everyone was clapping, laughing, and expressing their approval by raising an arm and shaking their hand in the air. it was the most immediate positive feedback i had ever received. when it was over, as i was walking back to my seat, one of the pc coordinators stood up and did one of those high pitched “lalalala” song and dance numbers in approval, so i decided to join in with her. the clicking and the “lalala”-ing were enough to earn me a high five from the country director. i had been sitting in the back next to auntie martha when i was waiting for my turn and when i sat down after my speech, in her grandmotherly way she just patted my knee and nodded. she left her hand there for a minute until she finally turned to me. she had tears in her eyes and down her cheeks. “i’m proud of you.” she nodded her head, “yeah, i’m glad you went at the end. you were having the best.” language training had been so difficult and so frustrating that i felt like i didn’t even learn anything in those two months. but after that, it really made the headaches and painfully boring sessions so worth it.
from that weekend, we only had a week of pst left before swearing-in. language training ended in a cumulative LPI, which was basically a one-on-one conversation with a tester from your target language. the more you could talk about, the higher score you received. since english is technically the official language of namibia, the LPI really didn’t have any bearing on your status within the Peace Corps (as it has more influence in other nations where English is not as widely spoken), it acted as an indication of what you actually learned the past two months. the levels begin with novice and continue to intermediate, advanced, and superior with three sub-levels (low, mid, high) at each benchmark. for my final LPI, i received a score of intermediate low! so, i felt like i learned something and that solidified the fact that i did actually learn something. that last week felt like the final days of school where you don’t really do anything except clean out your lockers, scrape sticky tape from the walls, and turn in your textbooks. then there’s that weird feeling where like you are so excited for the summer so that’s all you talk about even though you’re actually feeling really sad that the school year is over and you’re getting older. that’s never something you talked during the last days of school because you had spent the entire rest of the year complaining about homework, projects, unfair grades, and how much you couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there. so, expressing an inkling of wanting to stay would be hypocritical and you’d probably be subjected to prepubescent ridicule as well. yeah, that’s how it was during the last week. the normal four hours of language training were over and we spent the majority of our time in exit interviews and pcV (not “T” for trainee but “V” for volunteer) administration sessions. i’ll admit that i did my fair share of complaining and eye rolling, but i was definitely not ready to leave. pc/nam group 30 is a collection of some truly amazing individuals whose company i definitely miss. if i haven’t explicitly stated my love for the training staff enough, i want to explain how integral they were to my initial adjustment and positive attitude toward the rest of the country. at training, i never felt helpless or neglected. if i was having a bad morning or even if i was just tired, someone always noticed when something was wrong. not only did they just notice but they wanted to do all they could to fix it and make sure whatever the was, that it would be taken care of. needless to say that when the swearing-in ceremony rolled around, i was pretty bummed.
before i get to that, i have to describe the most amazing farewell with my host family. i had brought some gifts from Indiana along with me: a calendar of indianapolis, richard fields photography book of indiana, a PINK stuffed dog, a couple coloring books and crayons, an indiana t-shirt from an I-65 flying-J, an Indiana snow globe—with a scene that encompassed everything Hoosier: the state flag, a race car, a cardinal, and monument circle—and a stack of high school senior pictures of myself. yes, senior pictures…of myself…courtesy of Craig Ryan photography…circa 2005. but i had read on some other pc/nam blog before i left that namibians love pictures so my mom had found a stack so i decided to bring them along. anyway, i had wrapped everything in newspaper so between bold and the beautiful and lorenzo’s wife, i brought them out in the family room to my family.
“i have some gifts as a thank you for everything.”
tears. immediate tears. both annelize and tamite couldn’t hold it in. i guess it kind of goes back to the last days of school thing. even though you never wanted to admit how sad you were, once someone did or said even the smallest something, “dude, guys…we’re going to be eighth-graders/seniors/in college next year,” once that first person puts it out there and makes it a reality, is when the real emotions come out. i guess my Indiana gifts had that effect…because i started crying too. oh, i also bought my mom a spatula. completely unrelated but i had broken hers making french toast one morning so i found it necessary to provide a replacement. i know, how do you break a spatula? i don’t know, but I managed to do it somehow. after the gift exchange and mini-sobfest, we ventured over to auma’s. had been meaning to bring my camera to auma’s house every time i went over there, but of course i always forgot. so the night before i left, i really had not other choice but to remember. like i said, namibians love pictures and the only thing they love more than physical pictures is having their picture taken. all of the pictures and movies from the nau-aib movie from auma’s was from this photo shoot. in some of the pictures, you might see them holding what looks like little business cards or something. those are my senior pictures. every kid took at least one and auma and the other ladies took the rest. so there are probably thirty wallet-size pictures of me floating around that house. i had made the mistake of dancing with the kids the very first time i went over there. so every single time i stopped by, that is all they wanted me to do. a shabeen (small bar) is directly behind their house, so there is always music bumping through the house. normally it is American hip-hop with the occasional Gazza, Mr. Makoya, or Gal Level (Namibian artists) jam thrown in. see, these kids can dance. i mean, they know how to get down. they’re five and they’ve got $killz i ain’t never seeeeen! ok you get it. even though i can do a lot of things, dancing is not one of them. those of you who have the pleasure of socializing with me in the past know i’ve got about three moves i like bust. the first is like a modified box step. i put my hands in the air, look down, and basically run in place with my feet, jabbing my right foot forward, then back, then repeating that with the left and so on. it actually more so resembles some sort of born-again channeling a spirit than a box step. the second way i like to dance is my shaking my money maker. though my version is a bit more rigid than you may see on mtv. i definitely got the junk in the trunk, but with julie-style booty bouncing, i keep your feet planted, extend my bows (elbows who don’t know the slang) up and out to the sides (think blocking out in basketball), and sway to and fro with my shoulders while twisting my hips in the opposite direction as my shoulders. it probably looks like a scene out of a bowling alley birthday party, like i’m frantically trying not to loose a hula hoop contest. and the last way i mash potato is new actually. i picked up this jig from one of the afrikaans language trainers, magnus. i just pretend that i am winding up my hips. i put my fist down to one side and shake my bum a little bit while turn my arm in a counter-clockwise fashion. all my shimmies are pretty attractive and all of them make Namibians crack up. so after dance party number one at auma’s, annelize, tamite, and i went to a braai (cookout) at caroline and jakes’ house (caroline is annelize’s sister), where another volunteer from my group, nathan, was staying for his homestay. let me bring to your attention that at this point, it was about nine o’clock at night and i have not even begun packing. considering i was leaving immediately after the swearing-in ceremony the next day and was getting picked up at eight o’clock that next morning, i probably should have started packing prior to the night before. but if you you know, this comes as no surprise. in Namibia, dinner is sometimes at seven, sometimes at eleven. so when we arrived at nine, the meat was just being put on the fire. to pass the time, tamite, who is seven, put in a cd. it was an eclectic mix of khoekhoe traditional music, afrikaans gospel tunes, akon, all saints, and beyonce. one minute annelize would be holding my hands trying to lead me in the ways of dancing Damara and the next, tamite would be trying to get me to pop, lock, and drop it. we danced before dinner and after we ate well into the night. we didn’t end up walking home until about midnight and like i said, i still had to pack. sure, i didn’t get much sleep that night, but i didn’t mind. there had been times during pst where i would kind of forget i was in Namibia. i got into my routine and logistically not much changed from day to day. i got used to okahandja and made real friends who i was comfortable telling anything in my group. but the prayer before dinner was one of the moments that brought me back to reality. brought me back to what i’m here for. by the time it was time to eat family from all over nau-aib had come over, so there were about twelve of us standing around the table, heads lowered, reflecting on the past two months. caroline spoke in khoekhoe while annelize translated, “nes ge sa du oms…this is your home.” they told nathan and i with tears in their eyes that if we ever needed anything, to call them. they wished we weren’t going so soon, but they knew we were needed elsewhere. the time had gone by quickly but its impact will not be so short-lived.
the next morning was very interesting. so for the swearing-in ceremony myself and some other volunteers decided to ask our host families if we could borrow traditional clothing to wear. so i was borrowing a dress from my host aunt. it was a big to-do. auma is the only lady in the family who knows how to properly tie the traditional Damara head wrap so i had to go over there at 6:30am to get ready. for damara women, the fuller the better. so, under my dress i had on four extra layers. since i was at auma’s so early, all of the kids had not gone to school yet. so after i put on all five layers and auma tied the head wrap, i said goodbye to all the kids as they were leaving for school, since i wouldn’t see them before i left to my permanent site. many of them were carrying a senior picture of me in their school uniform shirt pocket or in their knee sock. tamite has such a sensitive soul and wouldn’t stop crying all morning. so when i said goodbye for real, i watched her walk to school blowing her nose in a hankerchief and wiping her eyes on her sleeve. heart-breaking. so in my full Damara garb, i walked the two blocks back home to wait for uncle joe to pick up me and my luggage in the combi. now, i’ve been the only white person to ever live on that street let alone the only white person to live on that street, speak khoekhoe, and wear a Damara dress. i got some stares and some people laughed because they were in such disbelief that was the only reaction they could utter.
the swearing-in ceremony was a great culmination of the two months of pst. the country director, Namibian minister of education, as well as other predominant figure were in attendance. not to mention, the room full of our host families, staff members, language trainers and community members. before the ceremony even started, we were sworn in by a representative from the U.S. Embassy, so we took the foreign service oath which was pretty intense and made us all feel pretty important. each gave speeches challenging us and encouraging to make the most of the next two years. the minister of education made us understand that Namibia needs us, so what are we going to do to fulfill this need. our training manager, linda, gave a pretty powerful speech that touched each volunteer. she was the first sign of Namibia we ever received. she sent us a letter describing pc/namibia and apart from logistics, welcomed us to the country. so when we met her august 21 at the airport she became our literal caretaker. if we ever had a problem at homestay, with language, or if we were ever having doubts, she was there to sort through the issue and resolve it in the most positive way. oh, and she is absolutely precious. at the ceremony, when she spoke, she told a story about a flower in the desert whose only wish in life was to bring beauty to that single corner of the desert. then a hunter stepped on it. but because it had lived its entire life prior to being squashed always thinking and acting on behalf of others, it was saved by the great spirit. she asked us what do we want to beautify? what are we here to do? who are we here for? it was a simple story that conjured provocative thoughts. but the speech that most affected me was given by Matt Harrington, Deputy Chief of Mission for the U.S. Embassy in Namibia. a previous peace corps volunteer himself, he discussed what he gained from his two years. he reminded us that despite facing poverty so real, that we can make a real difference. he advised that we will take away much more than we leave behind. finally, he knows that what we learn during our time here will help strengthen americans perceptions of the rest of the world. in particular, he talked about his own experience prior to leaving. like most pcvs, he received mixed reactions about his decision to join from family and friends. but, one college friend in particular told him two weeks before he left, “just don’t come back all weird.” while i have been lucky enough to receive overwhelming support from my own family and friends, someone did say this exact statement to me. to Mr. Harrington, he was surprised to see the ignorance in his friend thinking that being exposed to another culture would in turn change him for the worse instead of the better. to him, it was an insight to how many americans live their daily lives always categorizing people as “us” and “them.” however, i know for a fact the individual that said the same thing to me does not practice this mentality, rather was simply concerned that the julie leaving might not end up being the julie that comes back. after being here only a couple months, i know that i’m not. that would be impossible to be the same after living here. i will change, but i’ll try my hardest not to become weird. after the guest speakers, certain volunteers gave speeches in the target languages and we performed our pst anthem one last time as a group in front of everyone. and yes, that means i got to publicly exhibit my “lalalala”-ing abilities yet again. after the ceremony was very hectic. there was a short reception then i was hustled off into a combi en route to my permanent site. i’m still not sure if i was thankful for leaving in such a rush or angry for having to leave so hurriedly. i was thankful because as soon as i did start crying from saying goodbye to a fellow volunteer or my host family, someone was there tactfully yet forcefully encouraging me to hurry up. but because i didn’t have the proper time to say my goodbyes, i feel like i shortchanged my family by giving them a quick hug and a “see you later, don’t know when, but definitely later.” either way, it was six hours to erwee and here i am.
i’ve been here for two weeks and it has felt like another two months have passed. drastic change came very quickly and i’ve hardly adjusted. i’m not teaching yet, simply observing the current pcv in her classes as i’m going to be taking them over come january. she leaves the middle of december, so until then i’m working on integrating in the community, practicing my khoekhoe, and observing teaching. i have much more to say about erwee, about living in a village, and my thoughts on teaching but that will come later.
in the mean time, i figure i’d answer some pressing questions that i have received from some of you…
first, the weather. ok so when i first got here in august it was the end of winter. so, at night and in the early mornings it was freezing. back then, the remainder of the day was pretty mild, tolerable i would say. now, however, it is beginning to show signs of that excrutiating heat i have heard so much about. the mornings and evenings are still cool, but at 1:00pm when school is out and i’m on my way home for lunch, it is very very warm. we had the mini-rainy season already which was two weeks of rain every night, but the main big-time rainy season will come in january and february. i’m definitely looking forward to that. but, here in erwee, i’m lucky. we’re in the mountains (ok they’re nam-mountains, so more like glorified hills) so there is always a breeze. the constant wind makes everything very dusty, but at least we’re not baking.
running…i wasn’t really able to run in okahandja because nau-aib was dangerous and there were so many dogs it made it impossible to really run anywhere. so, i stuck to the track (as featured in “nau-aib”). but, our days at pst were long. generally, it was too dark to run in the morning and by the time i got home i was too tired from the long day that the last thing i could do would be to muster up the energy to run. but here, the “trails” are amazing. there is a seldom traveled gravel road that takes me to some of the most beautiful scenery i’ve ever seen. behind my permanent house there is this insane network of dirt roads that to the non-resident seemingly lead to nowhere. but, they’re actually a complex system of byways that lead to the various farms that only donkey carts drive on. so, yeah…i’m back on the fitness train and loving it. i’m planning to run the lucky star marathon next october. it takes place on the coast from walvis bay to swakopmund. i’ll keep you posted on the training.
internet…alright so i get the internet on my phone. which is an extremely nice convenience and something i never had in the states. so, i check my e-mail (jtheib@gmail.com) about thirty or forty times a day and facebook just as much. i also have the twitter, depauwtrack.com, and the new york times bookmarked. needless to say, if you want to get a hold of me send me an email or post on my wall and i’ll certainly receive it in a timely fashion. responding is a bit more challenging. even though i have the internet on my namcelly doesn’t mean it is an iphone. nope, it is just a simply nokia boy so when i type i use t9. predictive text is not only incredibly frustrating, but typing on my little keypad proves to be tiresome. so for now, know that your messages are being received, that i am very grateful for them, and that i’m working on my response. oh…and…um…i LOVE hearing from you. ahem, i capitalized that word in particular for a reason. if my subtly is not digitally registering with you, i’ll just say it: hit me up.
keep the questions coming. i’ll definitely answer them in time.
for now, i’m out.
happy birthday to someone!
-julie
