Settling In and a Slight Delay

Hello again!

I have spent the last few days settling into a nice routine at the hostel and trying to get the details of my placement figured out. Secondary schools here do not normally take volunteers, as most of the volunteers have no teaching experience or background in the subjects. My placement was arranged specially for me by the former volunteer coordinater who has since left Tanzania. It also happpens that it was arranged when the owners of the program were back in Germany having their baby, so neither they nor the currrent volunteer coordinater really knew much about my placement. I was told Sunday night that the school I was supposed to be at was no longer accepting volunteers. Oh ok. So they said I could go to a different project with some other volunteers on Monday while they worked on finding an alternative placement for me, likely in a primary school. 

On Monday, I went with two other volunteers, Jamie and Liselot, to Pippi House - a shelter

The entrance to Pippi House

for women fleeing trafficking and domestic abuse. There we played with some of the children and taught them some card games. Jamie had raised money to send one of the women to college, so she left to help Glory pay the fees and register for classes. Liselot and I stayed with the kids. When we returned home, Tini and Tizia, the couple that runs Viva-Tanzania, told me that I could start Tuesday at St. Pius Primary school, which was a 5 minute walk from the hostel.

Tuesday morning Tini, Rosie (the volunteer corrdinater) and I departed for the short walk to St. Pius. The school was much smaller than I imagined, with the upper grades (6 and 7) only having about 5 students each. While the teachers were kind and welcoming, I wasn’t sure what my role would be there given the small class size and the fact that this was not the level or content I am used to teaching. Apparently on their walk home, Rosie was thinking the same thing and asked if there was at least a larger primary school I could go to and Tini confirmed that there was. He would spend the next day coordinating it, so Wednesday I stayed at the hostel. Jamie and Liselot were also there in the morning, as they were going to Pippi House later in the evening. We were going to check out a pool in town but the weather was cool and cloudy, so we decided against it. They worked on their presentation for the evening and I managed to get some school work done, which was nice. In the afternoon Tini and Tizia came to talk to me again and said that they had made the arrangements for me to go to the original secondary school that I was supposed to be at! 

This morning I left with Didi (another Tanzanian who works at the hostel) and we walked

Walking to the school

about a half hour to the school. I met with the headmistress and explained who I was and what I wanted to do at the school. She introduced me to some of the teachers and each of the classes. It’s a pretty small private school, so there was only one class of each grade. Not all of the students had returned from holidays yet, but it seems that there will be between 20-30 students in each class. They didn’t have a syllabus with them to give me so they told me to come back tomorrow and they would arrange a schedule for me and I could start working with some of the students. Though I am not entirely clear yet on what my role will be there, it seems that I might be working with students to help them prepare for their National Examinations. I guess I’ll find out more tomorrow. Even though things didn’t get entirely sorted today, I feel much more comfortable at this school and I am confident I will be able to carve out a niche for myself while I am here. When we entered one of the classrooms, I saw a big algebraic expression on the board for the students to simplify and I couldn’t help but smile—this I knew. (Yes, I know I’m a huge nerd). 

On the walk back (were were only there for less than an hour), Didi asked if we could stop to see his family. We took a short detour and he took me to his house where his wife and infant son were. He introduced me to them and showed me the bigger house that he was

Didi’s house in the process of being built

 in the process of building. Houses here get built very slowly, one step at a time as they can afford it. He had been working on his house for three years and the brick walls were all up inside and out. He walked me through the layout and I could tell he was proud of his work (and he should have been-the house looked great!) He said the next step would be the roof, and then the windows and doors, followed by the floor. After showing me where his mother and brother lived (in houses very close by to his) we continued back to the hostel.

I am excited to go back to the school tomorrow and figure out the details of what I will be doing there on a daily basis. The students and teachers seem very excited to have me there as well, so I hope that I will be able to do some good and help them in any way that I can. 

That’s all the updates I have for now. I’ll end with some pictures of the hostel in case any of you are curious as to my current living situation. Also, if you want to look it up on Google Maps, it’s Nyumbani Hostel in Mianzini, Arusha, Tanzania.

The dinning room/card table

Kitchen

My bunk

The shower even has (a little bit of) hot water!

Nala and Kimba (two of Rosie’s dogs who stay at the hostel)
Aren’t they the cutest? I’m also convinced Nala is an Australian Shepard like our old dog.
I had always wondered what Gretchen would look like as a puppy and I think I found out!

Educational Ramblings

A few days ago I had to say goodbye to one of my best friends whom I won't see for another 4.5 months. As hard as it was, I am so incredibly grateful that Kelly dropped the dough and came halfway across the world to visit me for a few weeks. Having her here was incredibly helpful in so many ways (mostly it was the cooking though, I'm just being honest  :p ).

For those of you who don't know, Kelly is a teacher too, so it goes without saying that there was quite a bit of teacher-talk going on. It was great to have her see and experience my school environment first hand so that I could process everything that I've been doing these past six months. I've said on multiple occasions how I am often surprised at the similarities between the Namibian and American education, and Kelly saw it too. At one point, we were discussing job interviews back home and I mentioned I was nervous because I knew people would be expecting me to have some sort of profound statement about my time teaching in Namibia, and I didn't feel like I had one. She looked at me and said "You don't think 'I went half way around the world and encountered all the same problems that we have here.' is a profound statement?" This is why I love her-- she can read my mind and make my thoughts sound much more intelligent than I think they are.

It's true though. The number of times each day that I think "just like America" is almost funny. Between syllabi that are too long for the time frame, a lack of critical thinking skills, lack of motivation, learners that are way behind their grade level, kids who are chronically absent, classes who'd rather chatter with each other than learn about equations, and exams breathing down everyone's necks, almost every conversation I have at school could be taken verbatim from conversations with colleagues back home. It's not only the bad that's shared though, all the things that I love about teaching are still here too. The light-bulb moments, coming up with a really good example that clicks and makes them laugh, sharing ideas with other teachers, those moments in class where you can't help but laugh, the friendly "good morning, miss" greetings (these are much more frequent and polite here!), marking exams and seeing that a learner who was struggling got a good grade, and waking up every morning knowing that it doesn't matter if yesterday's lesson bombed, it's a new day and maybe, just maybe, today will be the day you finally reach them.

The more I think about it, the more I see Kelly is absolutely right. That I am having nearly identical experiences here as my fellow first-year teachers back home is something that would surprise many people, myself included. I don't really know what my expectations for here were, but I can tell you that I certainly didn't expect that my life here would routinely feel so normal. (I am defining normal here as 'akin to my life at home', not as 'the opposite of strange'). It's not just school things either. Most of the time I spend here is spent doing things I would do at home. Sometimes I feel like I'm somehow cheating because my daily access to internet, electricity, and running water makes this not 'real Africa' but then I stop and think about how ridiculous that sounds. My housemates have the same access to utilities that I do, are they not 'real Africans'? What the hell is 'real Africa' anyway?

Americans tend to have this idea of what 'Africa' is, how it's so different from America, and somehow needs to be 'fixed'. In reality, Africa is a huge, diverse continent filled with people that are living the same basic human experience as the rest of us. Sure, there are some major differences, but there are fewer of them than people might think. I can't tell you what life in Africa is like, because I've only seen about 1% of it. I can tell you a little bit about what life in Namibia is like though. The majority of people go to work, care for their families, fix their houses, have friends, own cell phones, go shopping, drink, eat, enjoy movies and music, and go to school. Some (and the number is ever increasing) have internet, drive cars, and live in nice houses. Others are subsistence farmers who live without electricity or running water on traditional homesteads. In short, the lifestyles of Namibians are as diverse as the lifestyles of Americans.  Every stereotype I had about 'Africa' (and I like to think I had fewer than most) has been challenged. I have come to see Namibia for what it is: a young, proud, beautiful, capable country trying to put behind it's troubled, racist history, move forward, and improve. That doesn't sound to me like something that needs to be fixed- in fact, it sounds eerily familiar...

So next time I see you, please don't ask me how Africa was, because I won't be able to answer that. Instead, ask me about my learners, my school, my friends, my village, my new country. I'd be more than happy to share my stories.

I guess I have a profound statement after all. (But it might be a bit long for an interview...)

Swakop-- aka "Is this still Africa?"

Because Namibia is a very religious country, Good Friday and Easter Monday are official holidays, which for us meant no school! We decided this would be a perfect time to visit Swakopmund, a cute little city on the coast. We had heard it can be a bit of a money pit, so by giving ourselves three days there, we would limit the amount of money we could spend. We met up after school on Thursday in Ondangwa and after a bit of confusion, managed to get a combi that would take us all the way to Swakop that night. It was supposed to leave at 3:30, and given an 8 hour drive, we figured we'd be in around midnight. A little late, but at least we would have all of Friday to spend in Swakop and not on the road. Well as with most things here, things did not go exactly as planned. We didn't leave Ondangwa until about 6:30, and with all the pit stops we made along the way, we didn't get in until about four in the morning. Yup. You did that math right, nine and a half hours in a combi. Woof. The seats were about 3/4 as wide as a normal seat should be which made for a very tight squeeze. Add to this the Oshiwambo hip hop that was playing at ear splitting volume the whole ride, and what you have is pretty akin to torture. Oh well- all part of the adventure. We made it to Swakop at 4 AM and someone said, "well at least we made it here!" We shushed her, saying that we weren't done yet, we still had to find two taxis to take us to the hostel, and at 4 in the morning, Swakop wasn't exactly bustling. We managed to find two taxis to take us pretty quickly, but moments after pulling out of the petrol station, our drivers announced that although they had just told us they knew where the hostel was, they in fact didn't. We had an address, but knowing nothing about the city, we were all pretty lost. After an eventful cab ride which almost included a roadside baby delivery, we made it to the Skeleton Coast Backpakers. The woman there was extremely sweet and met us at the door despite the fact that we woke her up in the middle of the night. We were let into our room where we climbed into our beds and snuggled under the down comforters. Yes, in Swakop, it was actually cold enough for a comforter. My New England heart was happy!

Wait, is this Maine?

State house

We awoke the next morning after only 5 hours of sleep excited to explore the new city. After a nice breakfast, we headed out to walk around and enjoy the gorgeous weather. Swakopmund is a small city on the coast where the German influence is still very strong.
The architecture is a fascinating juxtaposition of modern, geometric homes, and old Bavarian style architecture. The coastline is pretty rocky, and very reminiscent of the Maine coastline I am so accustomed to, but then the streets are lined with cement brick pathways and palm trees that looks much more like what I would expect to see in Venice Beach. Our eyes were constantly beholding new sights and I greatly enjoyed all the juxtapositions. We could hardly believe that this surreal little town was located in the same country as our homes in the north. There were some times when I would have to stop and consciously remind myself that I was still in Africa and had not Apparated to a seaside European village.

...no, it's Germany!

Looking down the pier

We walked along the beach to the center of town and enjoyed the smell of the ocean air-- I had forgotten how much I missed that smell. It was amazing to put my feet in the water and know that it was the same body of water that I swim in back home, except this time, instead of knowing that the Spanish shore lay far over the horizon, it was the Brazilian shore that was on the other side.

Market

Could have come from Maine

After getting our beach fix, we made our way to the Swakopmund Museum, which had lots of cool artifacts showcasing the history of the city. Once again, the German influence was extremely evident. Most of the exhibits featured the history of the German colonists, and any mention of the "native peoples" were in separate exhibits. We checked out the gift shop and purchased a few postcards to send back home (I even managed to find one single postcard of Ovamboland-- two palm trees next to an oshana. We got a kick out of this, so I of course bought it.) We left the museum and after a bit more exploring, found a cute little cafe to eat lunch in where I had a Hawaiian Quesadilla. Mmmm, Mexican, how I've missed you. Downtown Swakop was exactly like a little German village complete with shops and cafes (even a Starbucks impostor) but at the end of the street, you could see out to the sand dunes in the desert beyond.

You're not fooling us, fake Starbucks!

We walked to the end of long pier to get a clearer view of the sand dunes and go into full tourist mode and take more pictures. We were stopped by a bunch of random people who wanted to take their picture with us. We almost expect this in Oshakati where we are pretty much the only white people, but it was a surprise to get it here too where not only are there a lot of white Afrikaners, but a lot of tourists too.

Dunes from the pier.

After stopping in a restaurant to make dinner reservations, we headed back to the hostel and grabbed a blanket and some speakers to go lay out on the beach for a while. It was the perfect temperature in the sun and none of us wanted to get up, but we had a reservation to make.

Oh wait, no, it's Venice Beach.

We got a little dressed up and headed to dinner, where I had the largest plate of BBQ ribs I have ever seen (I needed quite a bit of help to finish it!) and then we did a little bar hopping. I think the strangest part of the whole evening was the sheer amount of white people we were surrounded by. We're used to being the only white people around in the north, but here, we were back in the majority again. It was nice going out in the city, and we met up with a few of the other volunteers from the Kunene Region that we hadn't seen since our Epupa trip. We headed back around midnight to once again snuggle in our beds and get a good night's sleep before our early morning harbor cruise the next morning!

Taming the Beast

Yesterday Kristy and I went into town and she bought a new weave at a store. When we had finished shopping, we went to her cousin's salon to get it put in. I was pretty excited to watch since I had never seen it done before. After wincing in pain on her behalf for a little while (glad I don't have to do that!), one of the stylists asked if she could wash and blow out my hair. I asked how much for a a trim too, and she said a trim was free with a $65 wash/blow-out (about USD$8), so I said sure. I was a bit nervous about the blowout, because I normally don't let a dryer within ten feet of my hair (as most of you know, I end up looking like I just stepped off the set of The Lion King). I needen't have worried, however, because it turned out awesome! I have NEVER been able to get my hair this straight without using a flat iron. I only wish it would last past the next wash! Oh, well.

Who knew Africa was the place to tame my wild, Irish hair?