Let's Hope...

Every month I go into town to do my bulk food shopping trip. As I am waiting on the side of the road with my shopping bags and big backpack, someone tries to sell me a live chicken while the men from the bar across the street yell for the 'white girl' to come over. I end up waiting over three hours until a car stops that is going the 175 km to my village. No control over my transportation...

this is what hiking looks like....(my friend Peggy)

and what our rides usually turn out like...

After lasting through the night during an insane rain storm with the sheet covering my head to prevent raindrops running my face, due to an old grass roof, I wake up to find my bathing station ripped apart. The reed fence is becoming more and more sparse so any given person passing can't miss more of my white skin whenever I bath. No control over my hut's stability...

There were two memorials and two burials last week, so no one showed up to work at my center. I didn't go to work for four days in a row. No control when no one works for a paycheck.... 

Kayanga's sheben (with my mom!)

I go to the local sheeben (bar) with my friend Selma to relax and treat ourselves to a Saturday afternoon drink. There is a car full of men from town that had stopped. They all want to greet me and take individual photos with me. I spend 25 minutes with 12 pairs of eyes solely on me, so I leave, because after a year and a half it still makes me feel so uncomfortable. No control or chance of ever blending in...

While walking into my center's storage room, the cook yells something in Thimbukushu. I don’t understand and continue entering, I walk right into a bee's nest. (There was some sense of control over this but I didn't know the word for bees...)

I have four different people ask me, “kupi wa kuyenda Jackie?” (where are you going?) every time I make the walk to my pit latrine. No control over my personal space...

Every volunteer has to deal with the lack of control in our Namibian lives one way or another. Whether it be waiting for over an hour in an ATM line only to find that it, along with the entire town, has run out of money, or having to hitch hike 11 hours to get a cavity filled, we all are living it. Some volunteers handle it like pros. I, on the other hand, have monthly breakdowns.

My Namibian counterpart takes flexibility to a whole new level. I used to laugh at his ability to brush off any incident with his bizarre laugh, “the roof blew off? OK, we will fix it later”, “someone stole my phone but ah, life is just like that”. Recently I have more pent up anger to the time frame of my projects, and when he contributes with his overly laid back personality I unfairly take the anger out on him. The last two months I have had to shell out a lot more apologies than usual.

His motto in life is “Let's Hope”.

This phrase can apply to ANY situation he likes. If I try to set up a meeting time, and ask him if he is free at that time, “Let's hope”. When fixing my netting in the space around my hut cracks and I ask him if this will keep the snakes out, “Let's hope”. If I press him for more information, because I don't find that answer is satisfactory, he will follow it up with “if God will allow it”. He lives life so in the moment that he cannot predict if something else will come up.

Instead of trying to get to his level, which is know is impossible, I really try to think before I react to a situation. I ask myself “am I reacting to this in an American way?” When the answer is yes, I go take a walk to the river, go fetch water, go buy a cool drink, wherever, and talk to myself. I literally talk out loud to myself and pretend I am venting to someone that gets me. I look like the crazy, drunk guy that lives around here but it actually helps. It also saves my friends an earful from me, I know they are all going through the same cultural obstacles all over the country.

Also, I learned how to say “Let's Hope” in Thimbukushu so if he ever asks me anything I just glibly reply with “Na Kurupera”. It's liberating!