T.I.A. (This Is Africa)

Pretty sure I've seen this truck
in my neighbor's yard in NH...

While teaching a Namibian class for the first time was certainly an exciting aspect of our week up north, for me the memorable highlights happened outside of school while exploring Omungwelume (ohm-gway-loom-ay) and getting a taste for Namibian culture.

Because it had been getting dark when we arrived, Monday morning offered my first real look at the village of Omungwelume. Jessie and I sat on the back steps planning our lesson, and I snapped the following picture of the farm across the street. Not entirely unlike NH, actually.



That afternoon, after our sessions, a group of us took a walk around the village and enjoy the peacefulness of that beautiful afternoon. We found a massive fig tree that was fun to take pictures under (the shade circle was probably about 100 feet in diameter), got to see the traditional homesteads a bit closer, and encountered the biggest bug we had yet seen in Namibia: a millipede that was about 10 inches long and about 3 inches around.

How's that for a bug?

 After wandering around a bit, we started to make our way back to the school, but right outside the gate, we were stopped by a couple in a bakki (a pickup truck) named Ruben and Monica. They asked about us, where we were from and what we were doing in Omungwelume. They invited us to one of the local bars in town to meet some people, and then offered to drive us there. With a few glances at each other, we figured 'why not?' and hopped into the back for our first bakki ride- a major milestone. We picked up a couple more people on the way, and a few minutes later, we arrived at the village center and got out. We had been taken to a restaurant that Ruben and Monica's friend had just opened, and they invited us in for dinner, but we had to turn them down because some of our group mates were cooking for us back at the house. We decided to explore 'down town' a little before heading back though, and let me tell you- I have never felt like such an outsider. Because it was just before dinner time, it seemed like the entire village was sitting outside all the various bars, shops, and houses along the main road, and here we were, a group of ten white people walking down the street like some sort of parade. People stared and whispered  but it wasn't malicious. Most seemed excited and curious, and nearly everyone said hello. I started getting really excited about meeting the people in my own village. 

One of the side streets in Omungwelume.

The hospitality continued throughout the week; on another afternoon stroll later in the week, we saw many of our learners eagerly waving at us as we passed them cultivating in their fields. Several ran up to us and invited us back to their house to try cultivating for ourselves. We followed and got a mini lesson before trying for ourselves. Essentially cultivating entails going at the land with a hoe, pulling up all the weeds and getting the dirt ready for planting. While it wasn't extremely strenuous, it is definitely not something I would want to be doing for hours in the sun before going to school, which is what many of our learners must do. We stayed and chatted with our learner, her sisters, and her mother for a bit and they introduced to a local treat: frozen custard. These were not only delicious (vanilla custard frozen in plastic baggie), but were also the first frozen thing we had seen our whole time here- we were very thankful for them!

Another amazing treat that is readily available in Namibia are mangoes. They have juicy, fresh mangoes in every store, and we were even able to buy some that our learners were selling one afternoon, fresh from being picked that day! Not only are mangoes cheap and available, but every kind of mango juice one could ever want as well! I am going to be in mango heaven all year. =)

Angelina's homestead. You can see one of the
huts, and one of the concrete rooms in the
 background. Also, a murala tree.

Thursday was our last night in Omgumwelume, and we went to Bret's, girlfriend's parent's house for a traditional Oshiwambo meal. We drove to their homestead and had to wade through some ankle deep water that had accumulated due to the rain in order to reach their gate. Homesteads are pretty cool. Basically there's a big square fenced area, this is considered the "house". Inside the fence are a bunch of smaller building, some concrete, some traditional wooden/clay huts. Each of these is considered a room in the house. While traditionally all of the rooms were huts, most people have cement buildings for the various living quarters, and the huts are used for food storage, beverage storage, cooking, pounding grain, etc. Also inside the fence are various gardens for growing herbs and spices. Outside the fence are the fields where they grow maize, sorghum, and mahangu (pearl millet), and/or raise cattle or pigs.

Mahangu porridge and chicken.

After getting a tour of the homestead, we sat down outside to try the oshikudu, which is a weak fermented beverage made from millet flour and sorghum. It tasted like liquid bread, carbonated with a hint of lemon- definitely an acquired taste. Pretty soon, dinner was ready. Out came clay pots with chicken cooked in a stew with murala oil, and plates with mahangu porridge. This porridge is like bread dough, but made with mahangu. In this meal, there no plates or silverware, everyone eats from the communal pots with their hands- pretty cool if you ask me! The food was delicious. The porridge had a texture like bread dough but with a little sand in it (I later found out this is exactly the case, hey, T.I.A. right?) so that took some time to get used to, but it tasted good. After we ate, we talked with Angelina's family for a bit and then headed back to the school (Bret wanted to get us back before dark because the roads are dangerous at night with all the animals on the roads). We settled back into the hostel for our last night, preparing for the long trek back to Windhoek the next day.

The ride home was interesting. Because I knew what to expect, I was able to see past the initial looks of the towns. Driving through Oshakati a second time, I saw some larger stores and modern strip malls that I had missed on the way up. I could see dirt roads extending deeper into villages, I could look at a homestead and have an idea of what it was like on the inside. A few hours outside of Windhoek, we stopped to get fuel, food and to stretch our legs. We had stopped in the same town on the way up and I remember thinking it was small and not nearly as nice as Windhoek. Driving into town on the way back however, everything seemed so big, and really nice. The supermarket we stopped at seemed massive, and the selection incredible. It's amazing what a little perspective can do.

Well I think that's as much as I can write for now. I'll try to post again when I get up to my village on Friday (let's home my Netman works!)

Till then,
Jamie

My Week as Miss Jamie

Hello there!

When I last left you, I had just finished a mentally and physically exhausting trek north. We awoke early the next morning to begin our very first day in a Namibian classroom, with no one having any idea what to expect. After a nice breakfast and lesson planning session with my teaching partner for the week, Jessie, we were ready to teach our first lesson! We decided to do a lesson on comparing Namibian and American culture, and were hoping it would be a hit.We walked over to the school to wait for the learners, and got our first glimpse of Namibian classrooms. For all my fellow teachers out there, let me just say, we are spoiled in the States. These classrooms were a disaster. The first think I noticed was the trash. It seemed as if the bell rang on the last day and everyone just walked out and closed the door behind them (I later found out that this is exactly the case). Paper, wrappers  notebooks, backpacks, ripped books, and trash were piled on the floor, on the desks, and on the shelves. Once I looked past that, there was really nothing left- a rectangle room with cement walls and cement floors, old, broken, graffiti-ed desks and chairs, a ripped and drawn-on bulletin  board on the back wall flanked by two wooden shelves, and an old chalkboard at the front. (I'm pumped for the chalkboards though, I've missed those.) Teachers here typically are the ones that rotate, so there were no decorations on the wall. They were so barren compared to even the most bare-bones classroom in the US. One thing that we discovered immediately was that the sound of metal desk/chair legs on the cement floor is the most loud and obnoxious sound we had ever heard. Any time someone moves their chair or desk even the slightest bit, the sound drowns out any other sound in the room. Hurdle number one. 

A typical Namibian classroom.

After getting our materials ready for our lessons, we went outside to greet the first learners. We had no idea of how many to expect- this was there summer vacation after all- but Bret had assured us that plenty of kids would show up. We were supposed to start at 9:30, and at 9:20 we only had about 4 kids. We waited around for a bit and once we had accumulated about 15, we started. All throughout the lessons, kids kept trickling in. This is apparently extremely common here, punctuality is not as important as it is in the States, and students have a difficultly with the concept of time, so tardiness is rampant. Hurdle number two. 

Our first lesson went really well, and we were pleasantly surprised at how bright these kids were. Although there is obviously a language barrier, their spoken English was impressive for the most part, and we could tell  that they were all smart thinkers, even if they couldn't always articulate precisely what they wanted to say. They were also so much more respectful and eager to learn than most students in the States. I didn't once have to stop and ask students to stop talking! This may be due in large part to our role as "guest teachers" but I got the feeling that this is what they are like the majority of the time, so that will be nice. They seemed to really like our lesson on culture, and we received some very insightful thoughts from them about American culture. During one exercise, we asked them to think of foods that Americans like that Namibians don't. They three answers they came up with were sushi, crabs, and soy sauce (which explains why we couldn't find it in the store!). After the lessons were through and we said goodbye to the kids (we had about 50 by the end!) and then had our first debriefing session where we got to talk about our initial reactions to our own lessons and those of our colleagues. Our lesson received a good deal of praise from our fellow volunteers, and one of the other career teachers in the group complimented me on my cold calling technique, which was very nice to hear.

Because of the success of our lesson and Jessie and I decided to continue with that theme for the remainder of the week. We had students talk about their dream jobs and make their own business cards, plan how to save for a vacation, and create skits in which they have to interact with people from other cultures. The learners continued to get into our lessons and Jessie and I were pleased to be getting such good feedback. It was also fun to watch everyone discover their own teacher personalities and to gain comfort in front of the classroom. I am part of such a great group, and I know we will all have a great deal of success in our classrooms.  

Thursday came all too soon and we had to say goodbye to our learners, who we had quickly become attached to. All of the volunteers had their cameras out and the learners were having a great time hamming up for us. We finished the sessions by taking group photos and jamming out to the Cupid Shuffle and Waka Waka. While we will all miss these kids, we left feeling very excited to meet our own students and start in our own classrooms. 

Jessie and me with two of our learners, Monica and Maggie.

This post is starting to get long, so I think I'll write a separate one about my out-of-school experiences of the week. Hopefully I'll get it up soon!

Till then,

Jamie

First Impressions

Last Saturday we packed up our teaching clothes, put our extra bags in storage and piled into two vans for the near 10 hour trek north. It was hot and cramped, but the scenery was gorgeous and the sky was brilliant blue. After a few pit stops, we crossed the Red Line. Officially, this is a veterinary disease control mechanism and protects southern commercial cattle farmers by prohibiting northern farmers from selling their meat south of the line. Unofficially, this servers as a separation from more affluent  Afrikaans  southern Namibia from poor, native, black northern Namibia. Crossing the line, the striking difference is apparent immediately. Driving through the north was a continuous check of my privilege, as each squalid village we passed through left me thinking "what have I gotten myself into". Going into this experience, I of course was expecting to see extreme poverty, but nothing can quite prepare you for seeing it first hand, especially when you know it is your home for the next year. The cement and aluminum buildings seemed hardly big enough for people to fit in, never mind to be homes, bars, or markets (essentially the only three types of buildings I have seen in the villages). I started to get really nervous about my coming year, and wondered if I was cut out for this after all. I was afraid that I was the only one thinking this, and hated myself for being so judgmental.

About an hour away from our destination, we stopped in the largest city in the north to pick up supplies for the week. This is the city that I will be going to to buy groceries, clothes, school supplies, and anything else I need to buy while I am here. Once again, I was shocked at how underdeveloped it was, considering it's the second largest city in the country. Everything seemed so run down. Another privilege check. We got out at the local grocery store to do our shopping. We had been broken into groups of four to do the cooking for the week. Each group was in charge of one dinner and my group decided to do a stir-fry. After adjusting to the smaller size, I was pleasantly surprised by the selection at Spar. Although I did not have 10 brands of orange juice to choose from, the shelves were well stocked with familiar food items, and I breathed a sigh of relief to know that I would still be able to make some of my favorite foods. (No dill though, this may be an issue...) We managed to locate almost everything we wanted for the stir-fry, with the exception of soy sauce, so we settled for curry and were on our way. 

We drove on for another hour on a dirt road to the village of Omungwelume, where we would be doing our teaching practicum. We would be staying in the dorms of the Eengadjo Secondary School and cooking in the on campus house where two of the volunteers who are placed in this village would be living. As we drove away from the city, the scenery changed a bit from the more barren desert landscape to one that was much more reminiscent of NH/VT farm lands. Trees lined the road and behind them, traditional homesteads sat like islands among the vast fields of wheat, sorgum, and murala. The vans slowed periodically to allow herds of cattle and goats to cross the roads and before long, we pulled into Omgwemlume. The town was a larger version of the villages we had seen on the drive up, but as we drover further off the main road, the houses seemed a little bit bigger and more sturdy. When we got to the school, we first went to Jessie and Ted's house to drop off the groceries. After a sentimental moment of our Field Director (Bret) handing his old keys over the Ted and Jessie, we opened the door and stepped inside. The house was an absolute MESS, to the horror of the new occupants, but after an hour or so of 15 person teamwork, we managed to throw out all the trash and dirty underwear (yup, yup) and had scrubbed the kitchen so it at least resembled a place where food could safely be cooked. I started attacking the oven, which was covered in about five layers of grime, and that became my project for the week. It actually became a bit of a joke amongst the volunteers- whenever we had some free time, I could always be found scouring away. It looked pretty good by the end if I do say so myself. 

When dinner had been cooked, my group cleaned up by candlelight and then we made our way back to the dorms to get ready for bed. We would be arising early the next day to begin our teaching, so I took a quick (cold) shower and climbed into my homemade sleeping bag (thanks mom) and fell asleep. 

Coming soon: our week teaching in Omungwelume, a traditional Oshiwambo meal, and the trip back. Stay tuned!

Peace,

Jamie