Kadiko Yuva (I DONT UNDERSTAND!)

        Nine months in and I just bought a second pillow! This is a really lame thing to blog about. But to me the pillow shows actual investment in living here, making my life comfortable and really doing this. If the year long application/waiting process, saying goodbye to everyone I know for 2 years, the 27 hour plane ride, the 2 month training and tackling language barriers to form friendships wasn’t enough commitment, this did it in. Also, my bed it terribly uncomfortable—ever since the one time I got food poisoning and literally spend 24 straight hours not moving in bed (only shifting to puke) it left a very distinct and irreversible dip in my cheap thin mattress. I call it my taco bed.

          At 9 months in I assumed I would be fluent in Thimbukushu, or at least close to it. This was a stupid expectation since I was pretty bad at languages in high school. I have certainly progressed from when I first arrived…all the embarrassing mix-ups I had that I am sure people laughed about behind my back…in a loving way. For example; announcing I had ‘diarrhea’ instead of a simple ‘stomach ache’ to a group of giggly teenagers is cringe worthy, or how for a whole week I yelled at the pre-primary kids to ‘SPINACH SPINACH’ instead of the more appropriate, ‘LISTEN LISTEN’. (traditional spinach is mutete/listen is muterere). I do alright now with the language, just alright. I am used to not knowing what is going on with conversations, but when I feel most left out is when I am around girls my own age. The opportunity for friendship is there, but I am only able to just brush the surface of topics. Someone who has been in a situation similar to mine put it nicely with language barriers, you miss being able to have fun and be spontaneous when speaking and conversing (shout out Mrs. McNamera!). I don’t understand jokes made, I can’t make my own jokes or discuss complex thoughts/observations. It is why when I meet up with other volunteers and I get overwhelmed by how much I want to say so it all comes out in very jumbled thoughts.

Instead of talking with the girls my age, I join them for netball. Netball is played a little like basketball, without the dribbling and you can only take three steps at a time. You may think that this would be great way to bond with people, similar to my dance group where no language needed when playing. But netball is weird and I don’t really understand the rules. When they yell instructions at me in Thimbukushu (and they yell) I would almost just rather watch. They won't let me just watch though, which is good and bad. I want to tell them that I used to be good at sports, but I don’t think they would believe me because even I know I look very awkward out there. However, I will persevere and I will continue to embarrass myself! Last week I made a basket and both teams cheered, but only because the previous 45 minutes I kept messing up.

Here are the people in Namibia I can rely on to understand me when I talk at warp speed, no translators needed...

dancin' fools

I have totally not given enough attention to the kids in my dance group. This is the group my friend, Peggy, and I started in my village. Peggy lives 15 km away and gets a ride in once a week to help teach the class. We have a big performance coming up for World AIDS Day on December 3rd and I don’t know who is more nervous, me or the kids! Even though dancing is supposed to be a free-spirited, stress reliever activity, it was still difficult getting them out of their shell. There was a period  when week after week Peggy and I would wonder "how have we been practicing this for months and they still look uncomfortable with it?!" I guess even though they can move their shoulders and hips like lil African Shakiras to the beat of the drum, it’s different when it’s choreographed group dance steps. Below is the church that the priest let's us practice in sometimes. 

A performance of my dance kids using the shetenge clothes as dancing prompts!

But as of last week I was so proud! They are ready for the big performance and I think Peggy and I are performing with them for one of the dances ...I am counting on looking like a fool. It’s really fun seeing the kids excited about something, all eyes will be on them doing something they have worked hard on. The event will include multiple groups performing: a drama; songs; and dances. I am even having the lil youngsters from the kindergarten sing both Thimbukushu songs and English songs. The only English song they know without any prompting from me is "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star", which of course has no relevance to AIDS but is precious none-the-less. I never want those kids to leave me and go to grade 1! There is a lot of pressure for the event because the headman in attending along with the majority of the village. The cow we are slaughtering should feed hundreds, so I hope the event will be legitimate. We will also be having HIV testing going on all day on site, the first time ever testing will be brought to the village. We hope this will increase testing numbers since it is a very far walk to get tested at the hospital. I am nervous and forgot what this type of pressure felt like...its been a while. Will post pics after the event!

Gobble Gobble

It's hard to pinpoint what I want to write about this time because there are always so many different directions to go. Let's start with Thanksgiving, First major holiday I have had to spend alone (sorry 4th of July, I totally forgot about you). The weekend before the actual day I had some pretty stellar replacements to keep me company, but certainly missed the usual crowd back home. We bought an expensive turkey (apparently shipped from Brazil?) that made it's way into our shopping town's grocery store, stuffing from America, and other goodies in between. But, just to remind us that it was definitely not a American thanksgiving, below is a picture from the a herd of hippos out in the river.

The view of hippos from the window

The actual night of Thanksgiving was much different. I went to bed without dinner because of more pressing matters. I have already done a snake entry so I won't be too long on this but this time it was way scarier! The mamba (it was a mamba this time!!) in my room and it came out from under my bed WHILE I was sitting on my floor making friendship bracelets. I was a straight damsel in distress, screaming and I even flailed my arms a little. A group of men came and took over the situation while I texted all my volunteer friends describing my very un-American Thanksgiving night.

The long anticipated rainy season is what is bringing out all the snakes. They seek shelter in my hut to escape the rain, while I seek shelter under my mosquito net. The net has been my savior, along with my rain-turned-snake-boots my mom bought me from Marshalls right before I left. Mom, they have been useful in a way we didn't quite predict. Every night from 7:30 pm onward, I literally cocoon myself under the net to prevent getting attacked by 8 different species of scary insects. The one positive thing the change in season has brought is the urgent need for the men to finish my classroom. As of this post, it's done! No more teaching under a tree with school attendance dependent on the weather. Only 5 months late, but considering the construction man was only working for a bowl of soft porridge a day I say its OK and pretty amazing the work it took.

Cultural Differences

A recent conversation between me and Dongo, my counterpart...

Dongo: What did you eat for dinner?

   Me: I had eggs.

Dongo: Just eggs?? But how are you getting fat with just eggs?

   Me: Are you saying I am getting fat?

Dongo: Yes.

   Me: Dongo, how many times have I told you I find that insulting??

Dongo: Well what am I supposed to say??

   Me: You say nothing!!!!!You can just not comment on my weight!

Dongo: Oh... ok.

Luckily I like Dongo and we were able to laugh about it, and he has the funniest laugh ever so that helps as well. Seriously though, all the other female volunteers here can relate to me on this one—it's a weekly thing that I get called fat, so much so I expect it and don’t let it get to me. Twice I have been asked if I was pregnant and that one is harder to brush off. I think its the bluntness of it all, if I were not directed towards me I know I would find it comical. When I got my drastic haircut everyone told me to my face that they did not like it and I did not look as good. Also, there is one old lady here that whenever I talk with her she always tries to scratch/pop the mole I have on my forehead. I don’t know how to say "uh no lady that's not coming off" in thimbukushu, so I just mumble 'ka, ka, tjitchu' (no, no, pain). I guess I sort of like that people feel comfortable enough with me to get all up in my buznisss, with all the polite formalities gone.

For some reason I am still super super sensitive about people calling my feet dirty, I am obsessive about them and scrub them raw on the rock I keep in my bathing station twice a day, religiously. It's a natural exfoliation as my friend Christina says. I get so embarrassed when I am caught in town out of the village with dirty feet...just ask my fellow Kavango PCV's they know its a sore subject!

A pretty bad dirty feet day, after walking around doing chores and in the field for the day

Thinyoka

I knew this day would come, I was warned time and again and even given specific training on what to do if the worst happened. Thinyoka-Snake. In my room. I was on my bed watching a movie with my friend Peggy on my laptop and I saw it slither in through the pretty much ginormous cracks that are on both sides of my door. I froze and felt paralyzed with fear. My immediate thought was "I am NOT meant for this life". How would I get rid of it??? If it bit me how would I get to the hospital when it's 10 pm and no one in the village has a car. I screamed for Dongo, my closest neighbor, and I think the noise scared it away so it slithered out on its own. When Dongo came over the three of us tried to find it to kill it, and it was sort of thrilling to be on a snake hunt. Now the excitement is gone and I live in fear the second the sun goes down of any weird noise (peeing at night is extra terrifying.) I am sort of being dramatic because I looked up the snake in the snake/scorpion book Peace Corps provided and it says it was not venomous. But still...I made eye contact with a potentially poisonous African snake creeping into the room I sleep in alone and that image won't ever fade. Good news is that snakes eat mice so that may eliminate that problem. I realize that by posting this entry I run the risk of having no one come visit me but...I wanted to share my fear :)

A different snake found later that week. Green Mamba I believe!

It may appear that my biggest troubles are reptiles and rodents, but that is not true. Trying to see life through the eyes of my kids and really trying to get on their level has been hard pretty much everyday. I feel like I am a fellow Mbukushu, I have even been adopted into the 'Lion' family heritage (sooo much better than being in the Hyena lineage) but no one can ignore that I have more. Even if I have nothing I still have more... That sentence makes sense if you think about it....The differences hit me at random times, like when I throw away a few really, really moldy tomatoes (they go bad in 1.5 days in 100 degree weather and no fridge) and I see kids go in after them to eat. Or it hits me when I ask one of my kids where she could go if she could travel anywhere in the world and she replies 'Andara' which is a slightly bigger village 20 km east of here. My upbringing was just so drastically different and I find it overwhelming and even depressing at times how privileged I was... am. This blog entry is sort of all over the place but that is probably the best way to think of my life here right now-emotions alllll over the place.

Some kids doing chores and pounding the maize for their porridge

Trial and Error

The previous blog entry was perhaps a little too emotional judging by the influx of emails I received (thank you to everyone by the way) but I was just trying to keep it real, ya know!?!?!? My last two weeks were better and more productive, and I know I have to cut myself a little slack. I have to take failures less personally, be more accepting of the laid back culture here. I am sort of starting to get the hang of things...like it is a rule of thumb that no two things can happen simultaneously between any two groups of people, no matter the gender, demographic or if they are spaced 8 hours apart. My woman's group, geared for young mothers, I am especially excited about. This group, however, took a 3 week hiatus because I kept scheduling it on days that would never work. In the last two weeks there were two funerals, and since this is the only activity I have seen thus far that gives out food (usually a goat or cow is sacrificed) a lot of people show up for them and they can last up to 3 days.

funeral procession line through the village on the way to the river

The contrast of the pace of life between Namibia and America is very apparent when I read emails from my sister. She gets to work by 8 am at the latest, will have two big meetings and a conference call to Brazil before lunch then stays late to finish up. Yesterday my organization committee told me they could not meet at 3:30 due to a school parents meeting that was scheduled for 10:30 that morning and would maybe take 45 minutes. The concept that time is money is not practiced here, because in the village no money comes from work. For a population of 900 the only source of employment is the school, which has 10 teachers and one cleaner on payroll. If I ever get completely adjusted to the speed of life here I have no clue how I will survive back in the US, I will probably get hit by a bus from walking too slow. Another example to show the time difference; every Sunday by sunrise a bell is rung to let the village know that it is the day for church, is that the main telltale sign to let people know what day it is??

When I did meet with the woman's group it was great. We discussed what positive changes could be made in the village, ways we can we target the in-school youth to reduce teenage pregnancy, threw out the idea of a community garden to improve their children's nutrition, but then the rest of the time we just chit chatted about boy troubles. If it wasn’t for us sitting on mats made out of straw, the gossip only in Thimbukushu and sweating in 100+ degree weather it felt like it could have been my with my friends in America, almost.

some of the women from our new group!

6 Month Slump

I have to confess that I have been a total Peace Corps snob, a cocky, naive newbie. This whole time I have silently commended myself on how strong and resilient I have been with the ability to bounce back from all the set-backs thrown my way. It was only a matter of time before I came crashing down to the reality of where I am. It hit me yesterday as I started crying over my morning oatmeal, the day hadn’t even started yet! I was sitting in my kitchen, surrounded with termites slowly gnawing away at the sticks holding up my hut with the humming noise so loud I felt like they were in my ear, going over my chores and general worries for the day— how I need to wash my dishes, but it's so hot to fetch water, how many kids will show up for my program that afternoon, when will I have the time to hitch hike to the nearest fax machine 40 km away to send my urgent fax? Also, the mouse poop I found on my bed that morning was a concern, but not enough to tip me over the edge.

All it took was a text from my counterpart and translator saying she could not attend either of my programs that day. Since this has happened many times before, it should not have affected me so drastically. However, after a whole month of working completely alone and feeling as I was failing completely alone, I was fed up with another bail out. At that moment I realized how lonely I felt and how nothing in my new life could comfort me like back home could. My culture clashed so much with those of my co-workers and even those I consider my friends were not able to relate to what I am going through. My older friend, Rebeka, stopped by and saw me upset. She asked in Thimbukushu, “you are sad?” and I responded “yes I am sad." Then neither of us could communicate anything else in the other's language, so all she could do offer me a hug. That was the extend of my comforting and it helped, but it was only a quick fix.

This blog entry is not going to end with a heroic tale where I turned my bad day into a day full of productivity and enthusiasm like a super star volunteer. Instead, I bought a liter sized cool drink before 11 am and hung around with the meme's all afternoon. The day was a rude awakening reminding me that this job is not meant to be easy, there will be little fails and there will be big epic fails but then maybe the small successes in between will be more rewarding.

These are pictures of my friend, Rebeka and Felicia, who offer me hugs if they see I am upset. They are grown women who like to dress like twins! 

Every time I see them it makes me smile and I have to snap a pic because they are grown woman that dress like twins!

twins--alllll the time, sort of weird but adorable as well!

Mmmm...Carbs

I am in Africa with limited internet and I am sorry for posting multiple entries at once like a blog junkie.

When I first arrived in Kayanga in April, I was only just adjusting to a diet full of strictly non-perishable foods. At that time, I craved the rare stuff I was never going to get - peanut butter m&m's, coffee oreo ice cream, homemade chocolate chip cookies, etc. Now after I have been here 6 months, I go crazy over very unexpected stuff, like.. bread. Butter? Forget it, I go crazy. I have to stop buying bread in Rundu, my shopping town that's about 3-5 hours ride hitch hiking. I get so excited when I return to my village that I end up finishing the whole loaf in two days. I go food shopping once a month, so I should be partitioning my food items out but instead I find myself rationalizing, "yeah... its OK if I have 3 slices with every meal" or "if I just finish the loaf off now I wont crave it anymore". Other things are happening that illustrate I have been in the village a long time. For example, when a car drives into the village it is a little mix up in my day and really exciting. It's such a rarity that and I, along with all my kids, stop everything we are doing to stare at the visitor. The younger kids even chant in Thimbukushu “Car! Car! Car!” (I don’t think I will ever get to that level of excitement though.) One time it was a white person and everyone asked me that day if my family was visiting.

So with some things I am adapting to the life of the Mbukushu people, but after all this time other things still shock me. At the center I work at there is a storage room for the chairs and...that's actually the only materials we own... and anyway, the other day I was more frustrated than usual when the little kids were having trouble opening the door to put their chairs away.  Finally I exclaimed "why do they have so much trouble with this?!?" My co worker nonchalantly replied 'because they have never had to open a door with a handle before.' It makes sense, all the doors at their homes are made out of the reeds and the only other building with a door handle in the whole village is the school, but none of them are of school age yet. I have not been able to get them to correctly pronounce the word “Thursday”, but after that day's tutorial now all 47 children between the ages of 3-6 in Kayanga know how to operate a door handle. Look at this work I am doing!

the kids with their chairs!

I swear I do have a job here

I skipped the introduction part of the blog where I describe work I am here to do! I work at an all volunteer based organization called Thabita. It supports the orphans and vulnerable children in Kayanga. In the morning, I work with the lil youngsters (3-6 years) - teaching English, playing games, reading books, practice writing, and singing songs. It's a kindergarten and I am not sure how it happened, but from 8-12 Monday through Friday I am a full on kindergarten teacher. When we have funding, we are able to provide them with feedings of soft porridge, and I know that for some of them that's the only food they receive that day. About once a week I want to ripe my hair out because they won't listen, but it's hard to be mad at them when every morning they greet me the second they see me walk out of my yard yelling, “Jack-ie, Jack-ie” (like it's a chant).

In the afternoon, I devote my time and energy to the older kids. They have proven to be a lot more challenging, for different reasons, due to their insane shyness and the huge language barrier. For the past few months I have been trying and trying to get them to open up and gain some confidence speaking English. The concept of nurturing children (in the American sense) is not really practiced here. So through educational games, life skills lessons, awareness on HIV/AIDS, goal setting, good decision making, etc I am hoping to help them find their voice.

Me with the older group

What has been getting progressively better has been the dance group my friend, Peggy, and I started here. Thanks to the incredibly loud speakers that blow up the village, we stir up a ruckus every Friday at 12:30 pm. It's been a lot of fun so far and sort of essential for me to connect with the kids without having to use language. We are all able to bust out our best moves during the warm up/free style portion and I take that opportunity to dance out all my stress from that week.

As a health volunteer, I have been dibble dabbling in health sessions under the gathering tree, which I sort of love! My sister would say it's because I am a middle child and love the attention, and during the health sessions all eyes are on me, the only white person. It's a nice change of pace from working with the kids, and has been really interesting seeing people's reactions when I tell them that, for example, tying red string bracelets around the baby's arms, legs and neck is in fact not the only way to treat diarrhea.

the poster to aid in my diarrhea/nutrition session

and again the poster for malaria

malaria health session under the tree

Tula, Tula, Tula Pele

Newest updates. I recently acquired not 1, not 2 but 3 pets! The first (and the only one I like), is my dog, Tuku. Tuku is short for Tukupakerere, which means "we are one" in Thimbukushu. He is about one month old and now that he is worm and tick free he is also super cute. He follows me when I fetch water and has become my little side kick. I guess I am old news in the village, because when people see me they only yell for Tuku.

The other pets are less lovable, one rooster and one chicken named Tula and Pele (named after a song we used to sing all the time in Pre Service Training). My friend Peggy and I want to get them nice and fat then kill them for a special/any occasion. I painted their toe nails to brand them as mine. Last Saturday I lost them and had to go around asking people in Thimbukushu, “where are the chickens with the red feet??”  I feel like an idiot chasing them around and fake chirping, which is why I hate them. The other update is I started a small garden behind my hut and if it actually grows crops I will be shocked, SHOCKED. It requires me to do a whole extra trip daily to fetch water so we will see how it goes. My neighbor taught me how to make the reed fences, so I made the garden fence all by myself  in order to keep the annoying chickens out. Lastly, I chopped all my hair off. The village barber cut it in two quick snips and well under 5 minutes. It looks good?