Holiday in Namibia

So after several phone calls that amounted to what can only be called “mom pressure”, I'm going to recount for all you out there my holiday travels and tribulations.

Back in early December, we wrapped up “Phase 2” of training. For me, the last two weeks of that consisted mainly of “invigilating”, which is an ostensibly made-up word for proctoring exams. All in all, it was pretty boring so I'll spare y'all too many details about that. But, its worth mentioning a few things. The little nuggets are not always taking exams, rather sometimes they are supposed to be just studying. Obviously, a bunch of 10-13 year olds just love being forced to sit with pretty much nothing to do since they've never been instructed how to properly study. On one special day, a boy slammed another kid's face into a desk, causing his nose to bleed profusely all over his desk. Like a lot of freaking blood. But my favorite moment occurred when I had a particularly unruly class and I went to get another teacher to help me calm them down. My host mom, a teacher at my school, happened to intervene before the other teacher did. When I got back to the room, she was speaking to them in stern Afrikaans through the window. After she finished, they were dead silent. “What'd you tell them?” I asked. “I told them that everyday they can go home to their parents but Mr. Kelly left his family in America to come teach them but they are making you want to go home.”

After Phase 2, we headed to a conference center outside Windhoek for “Reconnect Training”, a week long catch-all, wrap-up of Pre-Service Training. We discussed our issues at site, ideas for the future, etc. Also, there were some non-sanctioned social events such as a “doppelganger party” and a toga party. I was fortunate enough to draw one of my good friends, Kirby, for the doppelganger party. Unlike some people who had tougher draws, I had all the ammunition I needed. Long story short, I so brutalized some his frequent sayings that he can no longer say “that's fair” without sighing or cursing afterwards. Also, props to Alex for successfully pulling of a Sam Kelly impression. I'm told she had ample help from a couple of my loyal friends on such arts as my now established signature “walk”, dancing, dip-snapping, table-topping people, and wearing V-neck undershirts (note: I never, NEVER, wore those until I came to Namibia). All in all, touche Alex Levy. Other highlights of Reconnect include the humongous millipedes that were everywhere, the Group 34 superlatives (I was dubbed “Most Likely to be Adopted by Waldo”, who is the APCD for the south - pretty much my Peace Corps boss), playing Dungeons and Dragons with Mike Jones, and helping to facilitate a session on racism and apartheid.

After Reconnect, almost our entire Group headed to the coastal town of Swakopmund. I should mention now to those of you who are not aware, the mode of transportation for PCVs in Namibia is hitchhiking, or free-hiking or simply “hiking”. The hike to Swakop was uneventful other than the fact that you drive through Tatooine several kilometers outside of the town. Plants disappear and you're surrounded by rock formations and sand. I think there was also a uranium mine? Then, you see a reddish-orange haze over to the left and eventually a huge desert of sand dunes appears to the south of town. As far as accommodations, we crammed 37 people into two bungalows meant for probably 6-8 people. Not surprisingly, our numbers thinned everyday as some people got fed up with the close quarters and left. For the week we were there, we mostly cruised around the town and admired its German architecture and general neatness and order, ate at restaurants that served pizza, Mexican, Chinese, and other “American cuisines”, hung out on the beach (when it was warm, every other day was cloudy, windy and cold), and toured the local bar scene. Some of us also went sandboarding on the aforementioned dunes. It was surprisingly similar to snowboarding, minus the ski-lifts replaced with exhausting hikes back up the dune. Other highlights from Swakop include a karaoke night with nearly all of our Group, the follow-up night at the same bar where six of us stopped the live band with a rendition of Garth Brooks “Friends in Low Places”, White Elephant Christmas present exchange, a certain contraption Neil and I made to facilitate the consumption of beverages, double table-topping Chelsea and Jess, and last but not least – losing a bet with Chelsea wherein she gave me a lovely haircut, Marist Football Camp style. For kicks, I threw in a handlebar mustache.

After an expensive, exhausting, but generally awesome stay in Swakopmund, I headed back to Okahandja for a night. From there, Kirby and I headed north to the town Ondangawa – a shopping town for a good amount of volunteers – to meet up with our friends up there. That hike was a little more interesting. We waited for almost two hours for a ride out of Okahandja until we finally got a lift in an open bakkie (pick-up truck). It was a gorgeous day and I managed my first nap in the back of an open bakkie. I fell asleep for the two hour ride to Otjiwarongo with one arm over my eyes and my shirt flapping up in the wind a little. Do I really need to say what happened? Suffice to say, I now have a charming tan on the lower part of my belly and one underarm. From Otjiwarango, we got a hike in an air conditioned Mercedes-Benz with a dude whose name was, wait for it, Jason Owen. He wasn't nearly as excited as I was that he had the first two thirds of my brother's name.

So my first experience in the north of Namibia showed how diverse this country really is. The towns are laid out completely differently from the south. Whereas my town of Rehoboth has a center with shops and one traffic light, the northern towns are laid out like the beachfront strip of Panama City Beach. The “town” is a several miles long stretch of shops and stores with people everywhere. Also, in the south they are definitely more accustomed to seeing white people. When we were in Ondangawa, after about the sixth time someone honked and waved at us, the girls told us that this was completely normal. After a night in Ondangawa, four of us hiked north to the village of Ruacana to see Ruacana Falls. We camped at a hotel lodge but it was quite far from the actual Falls. It was going to cost us each N$80 to get a ride from the lodge, but we decided to try our luck and get a taxi at the petrol station. We ended up getting a ride with a local teacher for $150 for all of us. It couldn't have worked out better since he showed us views of the waterfall we definitely would not have found on our own. On the way back, the guy told us it was his birthday and he had been bored and looking for something to do. Obviously, the girls cooed, asked why he didn't tell us, and proceeded to launch into “Happy Birthday”. I prevented disaster by stopping the singing and asking the gentleman to remind us of his name. Crisis averted. The Falls were incredibly impressive (at full strength Ruacana Falls supposedly rivals Victoria Falls) and definitely worth the journey from Ondangawa and a rainy night in the tent.

Since I returned to Rehoboth, I hosted a late Christmas celebration and New Years Eve. We cooked some pretty damn good food: chicken parm, Texas chili (which I ate Hard Times style with spaghetti, shout out to Wynne Kelly and Charlie), potato wedges, omelettes, crepes, cheesecake, and the list goes on. We also made “Springbok shots” - which are a Namibia/South African specialty shot with Amarula (liqueur similar to Kahlua) and mint schnapps – for New Years. “Deyicious,” as my nephews would say.

I'm settling in very well to my flat. The week after my friends left was a little lonely but luckily I had Wicket to keep me company. If you don't know about Wicket, he is my roommate Rob and I's puppy. He's a “pavement special” - an amazing Namibia euphemism for a street mutt – but absolutely adorable. The girls say he belongs in a commercial. He chews the shit out of most everything but all in all is a pretty good dog and is almost completely house-trained. On the subject of my flat, I've used cards and pictures people have sent me to decorate the walls: shout-outs to my nephews Owen, William, and Henry, cousin Catharine, Kalene, Annie, Sydney (for the poem about my death), Debby, and oddly enough, Mike Curtin (my mom sent me a postcard from Eastern Standard). 

Ten Nam Dollars Worth of Fun

Even though I’ve read and heard previously that European league soccer, especially the English Premier League, trumps local soccer in Africa, I’ve come to find that in Rehoboth there exists a balance: you have your Premier League team (usually one of the “Big 3,” and the majority claim Manchester United) and you have your local team. In the time I’ve been in Rehoboth, my family has exposed me to the Riverside United Tournament, which is a local, amateur soccer league with a unique format of 18 teams and 20 weekend tournaments with a cash purse for the winning team. Each game draws 50 fans at the most. The team my host family supports – and that I subsequently “am” (for any sort of team you are a fan of, people say “I am Manchester,” “I am Bokke,” “I am All Blacks,” etc.) is Hellenic FC. One of the many charming things about the league is the diversity in team names e.g. Happy Hearts, Spiders, Flamingos, and Dream Team. My host dad played for Hellenic back in the 90’s and my host mom’s brother now plays for the “Greek Gods” as well.

I’ve been to half a dozen games now but a particular one bears mentioning. Two of my Peace Corps friends were in town for the weekend and I thought I’d expose them to some Rehoboth soccer. After we paid for our tickets, we walked around to the usual friendly (and sometimes not so friendly) jeers of “boere!” and “Mr. White Man!” along with a little boy who walked by, touched each of our heads and said “beautiful hair” in Afrikaans. We watched a little bit of one game before my host dad rolled up in his bakkie and told us that Hellenic was playing in a few minutes on the other field. We walked over and I introduced my friends Neil and Kirby to the other Hellenic supporters I had met previously. We settled in behind the goal on tailgates and foldable chairs – there are no spectator stands.

In terms of the game itself, the opposition, Happy Hearts, took the lead with a laser of a shot after about 20 minutes of even play – I can’t be definitely sure of the time because is no scoreboard. But, it was tied going into halftime when Hellenic found the back of the net after a medley of shots in the penalty area. After the half, Happy Hearts regained the lead with a pretty impressive header off a corner kick. The non-existent clock winded down and it felt quite late in the game when Hellenic rattled a shot off the crossbar that bounced straight down. The team and the fans went wild. The official and linesman indicated a goal, much to the protest of the red-clad Happy Hearts. With the score at 2-2, it looked as if we would be heading straight to penalty kicks in a few minutes. Eventually though, the goal was overturned, leaving the score 2-1 with very little time left. Hellenic players swarmed the referee, yelling and pointing, some even going so far as to shove him. Meanwhile, Hellenic fans ran up to the fence and were similarly yelling and cursing the ref – who eventually escaped the players and blew the whistle to continue the game. In the chaos, Happy Hearts took possession and dribbled down the field while the Hellenic players rushed to their goal and tore it down, ostensibly to protest the decision as much as keep them from scoring.

Following that segment of confusion and the official conclusion of the game, a fan from Happy Hearts and the coach of Hellenic somehow got into an altercation where the latter angrily chased the former around for a few minutes. When the fan stumbled and fell, the coach stood over him, told him to get up and fight like a man and when he wouldn’t, he simply walked away. Seconds later we saw the same fan, who had newly found courage, doing the universal “hold-me-back” dance with his friends. Obviously, the commotion attracted quite a crowd that consisted of people previously just loitering around and fans watching another game on the next field. The Hellenic players, to show their disapproval for the officiating, remained on the field, sitting, to prevent the next game from taking place. Apparently, this very same form of activism happened the week before when Hellenic’s opponent scored the winning goal after a neglected offside call. We left remarking how that was certainly N$10 worth of fun while the players continued their sit-in.

Later that day, my buddies and I were walking around in town when I saw a fellow Hellenic supporter. “Did you like the game?” he asked. I laughed and told him yes except for the end result and ensuing bedlam. “You must come to the game tomorrow,” he said, “maybe there will be a boxing match.”

"NamBoer...more like NamEK"

So I’m now a little over three weeks deep into “Phase 2” of Peace Corps i.e. the introductory stages at site. During this time, I’ve been getting acquainted with Rehoboth and the people who I’ll work closely with over the next two years. At school, I’ve still been observing and teaching a lesson occasionally or helping out my counterpart.

I went to a fellow RPS teacher’s farm this past weekend.  A lot of Namibian families own and operate cattle farms like the one I went to. The farm was only about an hour outside of Rehoboth and about 5000 acres I believe. But we did have to drive through several other farms on gravel roads. The landscape was untouched savanna grassland for miles and miles. This farm in particular had cattle, goats, and sheep along with springbok and wild horses. Several times we drove around the property and once saw the herd of springbok. I’m told there will be plenty other opportunities for me to go back to the farm. It’s definitely a very authentic experience and restful at the same time. I played dominoes for the first time i

I witnessed my second fresh slaughtering as we killed a sheep – which I thought would be our Sunday lunch. I wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t say I was right either. We didn’t necessarily eat the more desirable cuts. We ended up eating the heart, liver, kidneys, and certain parts of the intestine and stomach and brought back the rest of the carcass for another family in Rehoboth. After several adventures with liver, I can confidently state it is not my cup of tea. But I ate most of what was offered to me and smiled as I ate. Oh, did I mention I cut the sheep’s head off?

While I’ve had a few rough days where I’ve had to take care of classes while a teacher was out – rough because the learners misbehave and know I won’t beat them, I’ve had some pretty awesome moments as well. Today, my counterpart and I gave out a writing assignment for the learners to write about heroes or people they admire. In both classes, a learner raised their hand and asked if they could write about Mr. Kelly.

We’re now in the end of year exam period, which entails “invigilating” exams (a seemingly made-up word for proctoring) and also trying to get learners to be quiet and study when they aren’t taking exams. Yesterday, there was an essay question about Batman. I don't even know what to say about that so I'll leave it to y'all for the witty comments. That’s all for now, more to come soon.

All The Way Swornt In

Finally, I can truly say I am a Peace Corps Volunteer! After eight weeks of training on language, technical lessons on education, health, security issues, cross cultural discussions, Namibia Group 34 was sworn in on Thursday, October 20^th.

The last few weeks of Pre-Service Training (PST) seemed to be the first time here in Namibia that time went by at its true pace. As I may have said in previous updates, the first few days of my Peace Corps experience seemed like months. I think the comments you would get from anyone in Group 34 about the end of PST concern the excitement of officially becoming a PCV along with the reality check that will be on our own and without the social comfort of our new American friends.

One of the final obstacles of PST was a final Language Proficiency Interview. Because I am so awesome, I had already passed an LPI earlier in PST with a score of Intermediate Low. I ended up scoring an Intermediate High, one of 8 out of the 38 in our group that scored in this bracket, which was the highest for the group. That said, I must admit that Afrikaans is the easiest of the 7 languages groups taught in our PST group. The most difficult, I’m told, is Khoekhoe Goewab, which is a “click” language. I’m happy with how I scored on the PST but I’m barely conversant in Afrikaans and still have a tough time understanding people. Hopefully I’ll start becoming more conversational as time goes on here in Rehoboth.

The actual Swearing In Ceremony was a fairly formal event. In terms of preparing for the event itself, we had practiced our swearing in oath several times before along with a Namibian song that was dubbed our “PST Anthem”. The song, “M’sombia Kamule”, ended up sounding god-awful compared to the performances from the incredibly talented Okahandja Youth Choir. The formality I referred to earlier pertains to the minutes long greeting each speaker would make before they delved into their speeches: “Greetings and welcome to Her Excellency Wanda Nesbitt (U.S. Ambassador to Nam), Country Director Gilbert Collins, Police Chief of Okahandja...in absentia, His Worship the Mayor of Okahandja, colleagues from the fraternity of education and development organizations…” and so on and so on (ed. note: this is apparently the norm in Namibia at any event). From there, our Training Manager made some remarks about us and then presented us to the Country Director who also made some comments. The highlight of Gilbert’s remarks for me was when he was mentioning the diverse educational and professional backgrounds we all came from and after saying a couple jobs people in my group had held, he finished with the heavy hitter, “Congressional Intern”. Amazingly, I’m the only PCV among my group who had worked on the Hill. My buddy Kirby nudged me and I had a big old Georgia Democrat grin on my face. From there, we said our oath, read by the Ambassador, to serve the communities and people of Namibia to the best of our abilities, officially making us Peace Corps Volunteers. The Ambassador had some nice remarks about the importance of the PC in Namibia and how we are the ambassadors representing the U.S. in our respective communities. Our keynote speaker was a Regional Education Director. Her comments echoed most of what Gilbert and Ambassador Nesbitt had already said but also spoke about how in our service we should not expect to change things overnight and that we should relish the small achievements and not dwell on the roadblocks we will face. Most of y’all had probably considered me officially in the Peace Corps for quite awhile now (or not, if you have a low opinion of me), but that was the moment we went from PC Trainee to PC Volunteer. And in a move reminiscent of Will Davis and Jamie Germano standing up at our Marist graduation when family is supposed to rise when their student walks across the stage and my BU friends inserting my name into nearly every song, a couple of my PC buddies instead of saying their own name at the beginning of the oath said “I, Sam Kelly...” Therefore, I’m triply sworn in as a PCV.

Afterwards there was a small reception for all those in attendance. I said goodbye to my host mom in Okahandja who told me the house will be quiet without me and that she will miss me. She sent me off with some biltong, which is delicious African jerky. Ceteris paribus, I’ll be spending Christmas with them in Windhoek (ed. note: apparently not. I talked to my host mom who said that the engagement we were going to celebrate along with Christmas has been postponed). I said goodbye to my new PC friends and headed off in my principal’s bakkie to Rehoboth. The next time Group 34 will all be together will be for our weeklong “Reconnect Training” at the beginning of December. I’m told this is not only a helpful final training event but also a rowdy get together for the PCVs as we haven’t seen each other in almost two months. Don’t worry Debby, we’re safely tucked away in a conference center outside Windhoek where we can’t get into too much trouble.

That’s all for the end of PST and Swearing In. I’ve got more reliable internet access now in Rehoboth and I’ll try to get up pictures and send out another update at the end of the week. Lastly, if anyone wants to just go ahead and set up a blog for me, you’d be really cool and the handful of inquiring minds would thank you (ed. note: Wynne Kelly put da team on his back duuu!)

Site Visit

Goeiemore, goeiemiddag, or goeienaand! (depending on what time of day you are reading this)

This update begins in the sprawling metropolis of Rehoboth, Namibia. Actually, despite my sarcasm, Rehoboth is not all that small and is probably the 15^th or so biggest town in Namibia. As I said in a previous update, Rehoboth is the historical home of the Baster ethnicity, which is a specific group of Namibian coloureds. I’ll tell more about the Basters as I learn.

I’m actually wrapping up my visit at my homestay, sick. Other than picking up a Namibian flu, I had a very enjoyable and productive site visit in Rehoboth. From the PC supervisor workshop in Okahandja where we all met our principals, we drove down through Windhoek to Rehoboth. I met and ate with my host family on Friday, who I will stay with for the first 6 weeks of my service. On Saturday, I watched the All Blacks beat France in the Rugby World Cup with my future PC roommate and principal at his home. That evening, I went to a fundraising event where students were recognized for raising money for the school. There were also dance performances and skits from student groups. My principal introduced me to the whole school community and asked me to say a few words as well. The crowd applauded when I greeted them in Afrikaans and later in the event I had the honor of putting medals on the top three fundraising students. On Sunday, my host dad took me to a local soccer game, which provided a good chance to relax with some Namibians. The soccer was obviously not incredibly high quality but I found that wearing a Chelsea shirt was a good conversation piece as it seems most Namibians follow Premier League and Champions League avidly. My host family also took me by a lake resort about 7 kms outside of Rehoboth. It’s set up on a beautiful lake created by a damn surrounded by rolling savannas. Apparently there is also some wildlife on the grounds like giraffe and kudus, which I look forward to checking out.

My school (Rehoboth Primary School) is very nice and seemingly well run and organized. The grounds are kept very clean and there are several new buildings that were funded by donations from German, Namibian, and American companies. Included in these new facilities is a basketball court. So far my duties will be teaching upper primary (grades 5-7) and a couple of computer classes. I think I’ll also help set up a basketball team/town league and hopefully help with other sports (like rugby) as well. As I learn more about my school when we actually get to site, I’ll report more then.

To get back to Okahandja, a volunteer from a nearby town and I caught a ride with one the teachers from my school to Windhoek. In Windhoek, we fortuitously met up with 2 other volunteers also traveling from the south and got a ride for the 4 of us back to Okahandja in a taxi. Back in Okahandja, we all met up at bar in town and regaled each other with stories from our respective sites. What I’ve learned thus far is that the Peace Corps experience can vary incredibly, even within one country. My experience will be extremely different from volunteers who will be in northern Namibia. The north, I’m told, is much more densely populated, holding about at least half the population in a quarter of the country’s land. But, volunteers will tend to be in rural areas, possibly without electricity. I, on the other hand, will live in reasonably accommodated government teacher housing with a shower, refrigerator and freezer and work at a school with free, uncapped wifi. I believe I will also buy, with a Peace Corps stipend, a bike to ride to school. Many of you probably think I’ll be living the life but there are still hardships such as no Waffle Houses within thousands of miles.

The following week after site visit, we observed and then taught lessons at local schools. I went to a different school than I had gone to for the initial observations. I’m glad for that, as now I’ve seen three very different Namibian schools. Five Rand Primary is a much smaller school than Nau Aib Primary or Rehoboth Primary. There is only one class per grade and only seven or eight teachers on staff. I taught four lessons total, two of which were double periods. Overall, I think I did pretty well. The learners (I believe I have already told y’all how we are supposed to call students “learners”) are pretty well behaved even though we were told they didn’t practice corporal punishment at Five Rand. The lessons I taught ended up being review grammar lessons for the students but I still think I did well to elaborate on concepts like passive voice, conjunctions, and adverbs. I was anxious to teach but now that they are out of the way, I am excited (and more comfortable) for the prospect of teaching everyday. New challenges await in Rehoboth me aside from just giving lessons: learning names, giving marks, and coaching.

Wedding, Schooling, etc.

9/6 – 9/19

Since my last update I’ve pretty much completely settled in at my home stay house and continued with PC training and Afrikaans lessons. This past week went by relatively quickly which I hope is an indication of time to come as the first few days in Namibia seemed like months. The sessions are still long and exhausting but this week we will be observing actual lessons at schools in the area. I’ll give a summary of that next week.

So probably the worst part about being in such poor communication with yall is that I forget what all has happened. I’ll try to weave together some stories and thoughts from the past few days.

As I said last time, I now have a Namibian cell phone. I believe the official make and model is a Nokia POS Some volunteers got all fancy and got phones with internet but I decided to keep it simple as all I really plan on using it for is SMSing and receiving calls from the States (Debby did call me and it worked very well – free for me but probably a pretty penny for her).

Probably some of the most interesting things I’ve done/seen happened this past Sunday, September 11^th (I must say, it was a bit of a surreal way for me to mark the 10^th anniversary of 9/11 – I did not see a single American that day). I had known for a week or so that we were going to Catholic Mass at my host family’s parish, St. Peter Claver Church. My host mom, host sister, and I walked there for 9 AM service. As we walked up, there was singing coming from inside the church worthy of a documentary on African music. The women inside who were singing were dressed in traditional Herero garb, which is essentially big Victorian hoop dresses and headdresses that are meant to look like cattle horns. Quite a sight. Mass itself was a brief three hours with lots of singing (the coolest part about the singing was that I’d say only about half the songs are scripted or planned – whenever there is time in the mass when it’s quiet, someone would start to sing a song and everyone would follow suit and sing that song. When the priest needed to speak, for instance during the Eucharist portion, he’d make a time-out motion with his hands). I’d heard that mass was long but apparently I got lucky and happened to attend the mass where they celebrated the feast of St. Peter Claver (who, I learned, was a Spanish priest who served African slaves in Spain) and confirmed a couple teenage girls. Most of the service was in Afrikaans, including all the readings. But in his homily, the priest gives a summary of the gospel reading in English and KKG (a Namibian click language). It was a great sermon about forgiveness and stress. One interesting thing I noticed: less than half of the congregation receives communion. My host mom didn’t receive so I wasn’t about to march on up there and get some body and blood (did I mention I was the only white person?). I’ll have to ask her about that.

As I said last time, my host mom’s sister is getting married. The marriage was announced at church and immediately following mass, the female members of the groom’s family but a white veil over her face and hustled her into a car. After going home to change into more casual clothes, we met them a couple blocks from my host mom’s mother’s house. From there, the groom’s family led the bride to be to the house, singing and dancing. When we arrived at the house, the men hung up a white flag to show that this household had an upcoming wedding. Still singing, they led the bride to a room where she is supposed to stay for a week, alone. My extended host family was then responsible for feeding the groom’s family. Oddly enough, I ate first, as I guess I am always the guest of honor. The meal was chicken, pumpkin mash, and rice – all cooked in traditional pots over an open fire. It was probably the best meal I’ve had in Namibia. Almost as soon as everyone had finished eating, the groom’s family left. I was soon told that we were now going to their house. After more singing, dancing, and flag-hanging, we ate cake and drank beer at the groom’s family’s house. All in all, I was in awe of the whole day – it reflected the hospitality and family bonding that are characteristic of my Namibian life so far. The next step in the wedding process is slaughtering a cow. Yes, that happened.

All in all, it was an incredibly interesting procedure. The groom’s family gave the cow to the bride’s family as a kind of dowry and only the bride’s family is meant to eat it. When I walked up to the house and saw the cow tied to a pole in the backyard, I knew I was about to see some real African life. I’ll spare y’all the literally gory details, but suffice to say once the cow was lassoed, its life came to an end by way of several men and a surprisingly small knife. We ate the meat, cooked in the pots in a variety of ways, for the rest of the weekend.

The wedding itself was surprisingly similar to a conventional American wedding. It was at a picturesquely African hotel or lodge-type establishment. I was told that having a wedding at a place like that is more typical of white Namibians than black Namibians and this may have something to do with the fact that the groom’s father is the mayor of Okahandja. So the uniqueness of this Namibian wedding laid outside the ceremony and the reception e.g. the cow slaughtering. The next day, we returned to my host grandmother’s house where the event of the day was officially passing over the bride to the groom’s family. Everyone is ushered out of the house except for the elders of each family while they “negotiate” the terms of the marriage. I’m told this is largely a formality and there was nothing really to negotiate, rather they are just fulfilling traditional requirements. This Saturday also provided a chance for those outside the family and/or not invited to the wedding to greet the newlyweds and celebrate their marriage. Luckily for me, three other PC trainees were staying with friends of my host mom so they were able to come hang out as well. All in all, it was a fun (but tiring) weekend filled with eating and celebrating. It was quite the experience but I’m glad to be on the other side of the weekend as it was a very busy time for my host family.

On to my own news: today (the day before I send this email out), we found out our site assignment for the next two years! I am to be stationed in a relatively big town called Rehoboth in the middle of the country. It is about a three hour drive from Okahandja and even shorter from the capital city of Windhoek. There are three PCVs there now and I am slated to live with another Education Volunteer, after another six-week stay with a host family. We will be going on our site visits at the end of this week and I am of course excited to see what’s it like. My assignment is an upper primary English teacher (5-7 grades) and I’ll also probably work with computer training for teachers and hopefully coach some sports as well. I’m sure many of you will be googling/wiki’ing Rehoboth and find out more than I know now but I do know it’s significance in Namibia is that it is a hub for an ethnicity called “Basters” – coloreds (again, socially acceptable in Namibia and South Africa) who came from South Africa a couple hundred years ago.

I’ve neglected/forgot to go into detail about observing school lessons last week but I’m going to briefly summarize because I’d rather send out a truncated email than wait another week. The primary school I visited all week had surprisingly nice facilities but lacked resources as far as textbooks and teaching materials go. For example, there are about 40 learners to a class and the teachers and the books rotate classrooms. So 4 students are sharing 1 book at different times. Although we did not see it, there was certainly evidence of corporal punishment in the form of pieces of garden hose or things of that sort on desks and teachers occasionally made comments about doing or not doing such and such or the learners will be beaten. The good news is that I’ve heard when PCVs successfully implement non-violent discipline strategies at their school, corporal punishment tends to fade away. The students are incredibly respectful, probably because of the beatings, and stand and greet every time an adult enters the room. You could tell they were very excited to have American visitors. On Fridays in Namibia, teachers tend not to teach/go to their classes at all so I had a few classes where I was responsible for watching the class. In some classes, we played “hangman” as a spelling lesson and in another, a teacher actually helped me to facilitate an English lesson where learners talked about what they saw on a poster – which was awesome. In the last lesson of the day with a 6^th grade class I had been with earlier in the day, I taught them the American national anthem. They ate it up. I wrote the lyrics on the board and they wrote it into their notebooks and I helped them learn the tune. It was probably the first and last time I sang the Star Spangled Banner by myself. Another PCT who was at my school told me that in one class she was supervising, the learners practically begged her to teach them something. All clichés aside, it was an eye-opening experience for the value of education.

I realize this update was all over the place but I hope at least a little of it was understandable. Sometimes time drags here yet it can also fly by. Four weeks in Namibia feels like months. All in all, I’m doing very well here. Probably not losing the weight most of y’all thought I would but I guess that’s a good thing? I really appreciate any emails and I’m sorry if I don’t respond to them now but please know how much they mean to me. Once I get settled at site or get steady internet, I will be wheeling and dealing emails. Also, finally got some snail mail so keep the letters coming.

Homestay, Windhoek and Okahandja Chilling

9/1 – 9/5

On September 1^st, we moved in with our host families. I live in two-bedroom house in a neighborhood of Okahandja called “Smarties” with my mom host mom and one of her two daughters (the youngest is staying with grandmother). When I asked why it was called that, I laughed when my host mom told me it was because the colorful houses look like the candy of the same name. The houses are indeed all different pastel colors, about the same boxed-size as ours, and the neighborhood is latticed with unpaved, dirt roads. All the houses have fences with barbed wire and most have dogs of some sort. One thing we have learned is that America is very unique in its “dog culture”; dogs here are not pets but parts of one’s alarm system.

The food my host mom has cooked so far has been pretty standard Namibian fare: meat with a starch of some sort. The food is pretty salty and oily as well but very tasty. The staple starch is called porridge (also called “pap”) and is a boiled mash of maize that is very similar to grits. I’ve only had it with a kind of lamb gravy on top but my host cousin told me several other different variations to expect. The host families make several accommodations for us trainees. Namibians don’t usually eat vegetables with their meals but they are asked by PC staff to throw some greens and oranges on our plates for nutrition. Also, Namibians don’t usually eat breakfast so my host mom is always asking me what I want to eat in the mornings. Coffee makers are non-existent. Some other trainees tell me that their families have French presses but no such luck at my house. I don’t mind the instant coffee too much as I still need it in the morning.

The way that I hang out with my family aside from meals is watching “soapies” – primetime soap operas. The current saga on NBC (not our NBC, y’all can figure out what it stands for) is “India – A Love Story”: a Mexican soap opera set in India and Brazil dubbed in American English. It is terrible. Conversation in the house during this time is limited to talking about how ridiculous the plot is. Unfortunately my host family is not really in to sports but I can occasionally watch a sports channel to catch some rugby. The Rugby World Cup is coming up in a few days and Namibia indeed has a team. They have never won a game in WC play and apparently only whites and coloureds care (please note: “coloureds” is a socially acceptable term dating back to the classifications from apartheid). Hopefully I will get to watch as the All Blacks cruise to victory in New Zealand.

On Saturday we piled into a bus to the capital city of Windhoek on a little field trip. We went to the mall to get cell phones. I got the worst/cheapest phone I’ve had since my first phone in Marist days. It looks like something you’d expect to see Poot buying at a gas station in The Wire. Some trainees got internet phones but you won’t be seeing me update my facebook status every 10 minutes (ed. note: until I got to site where I have internet at my school!). I’m having a little trouble activating it but hopefully I’ll figure it out soon. The mall was incredibly nice with a ridiculous amount of white people. After a couple hours at the mall we went and saw some real Namibia.

Our first stop after the mall was the historical monument in Namibia – Heroes Acre. It honors the heroes and heroines of the Namibian struggle for independence against the Germans and South Africa. The layout is a wide path of stairs, with heroes’ graves to the left and right, leading to a statue of a soldier that represents a tomb of unknown soldiers. At the top, we were treated to an incredible view of Windhoek and the surrounding mountains. After Heroes Acre, we went to the Old Location graveyard, which honors a 1959 massacre that killed about 100 people who refused to evacuate their homes so that a white neighborhood could be built there.

We then went through a couple open markets where they sell traditional foods and cook meat you can buy off the grill. In one of these markets, the main business is bars known as “shabeens”. They are basically tin shacks that serve alcohol at all hours of the day. We’re told these are found all over Namibia and are a pretty big problem. In these markets, we also saw “kapana”, where men grill all kinds of fresh meat to be bought and ate on the spot. Some trainees were a little put off by the flies swarming around the raw meat but I of course ate a piece. The last leg of our journey through Windhoek was down Evelyn Street, which runs through the slums of Windhoek and is peppered with bars and shabeens.

On Sunday, my host family went to Windhoek for back to school shopping for the girls and left me behind with another family that is also hosting a fellow trainee, Giovanni. They took us to a pair of soccer games where two local teams faced off against a top Namibian team called Black Africa FC. Apparently Black Africa won the Namibian Premier League last year so I guess we saw the best Namibian team? It was great to watch some live soccer and I hope I can see more games in the future.