Lutaka Musipili Philimom, grade 7
Dear Americans
Hallo how are you there in USA? I am doing fine here in Namibia to Kabbe.
My name is Philimom I am a boy of 14 year Our teacher is Mrs brown Emilly She teach us English and maths. I think I will get an A in maths.
I wish you Good Luck to meet me other years coming. I like to be a piote [pilot] One time I will meet you in USA.
Yours faithfully
Philimom Musipili Lutaka
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Learner Guest Post!!
So I gave some learners the option of writing a letter to America to post here. Here are some letters I got back. Enjoy!
Letter 1: Thikukutu Given, grade 7
Hello. How are you? I'm awesome here in Namibia. My name is Thikukutu Given. I'm a friend of Miss Emily Brown. I am in grade 7, Miss Emily teaches us English and Maths and I am a clever boy because I always participate in English and Maths.
One day miss Emily was sick and I went to visit her there I met her friend Kait and I even did some Maths work there. I enjoyed staying with Miss Emily and Miss Kait. I even watched some movies with Miss Emily.
Greating to you all and your family. Even Mr. Skip and Miss Brown too the parents of Miss Emily.
Letter 2: Lutaka Mutwamezi Philosophy, grade 7
Hellow!!! My name is philosophy my surname is Lutaka the use to call me my culture name Mutwamezi I live in Kabbe Area in Linyandelo village means we suffered alot
I wish you to pray for me to pass
Best wishes!!!!
Letter 1: Thikukutu Given, grade 7
Hello. How are you? I'm awesome here in Namibia. My name is Thikukutu Given. I'm a friend of Miss Emily Brown. I am in grade 7, Miss Emily teaches us English and Maths and I am a clever boy because I always participate in English and Maths.
One day miss Emily was sick and I went to visit her there I met her friend Kait and I even did some Maths work there. I enjoyed staying with Miss Emily and Miss Kait. I even watched some movies with Miss Emily.
Greating to you all and your family. Even Mr. Skip and Miss Brown too the parents of Miss Emily.
Letter 2: Lutaka Mutwamezi Philosophy, grade 7
Hellow!!! My name is philosophy my surname is Lutaka the use to call me my culture name Mutwamezi I live in Kabbe Area in Linyandelo village means we suffered alot
I wish you to pray for me to pass
Best wishes!!!!
Marathon!
Okay, so this post is about a month overdue but first of all I want to thank all of my family and friends who donated money so that I could take learners to the Lucky Star Marathon! You all are wonderful, wonderful people who made twelve Caprivian learners from Kabbe very very very very very happy. I've posted pictures on facebook already but now that I have internet at my school again (for now, until someone breaks it again) I'll recount the story titled "the time I decided to transport twelve learners from the village 3000 kilometers in 3 days so that they could run in a marathon."
Each year Etosha Fisheries hosts a marathon in Swakopmund. For those of you who don't have a map of Namibia handy, Swakopmund is on the coast about 300 k West of Windhoek. It's also the most magical place in Namibia, because not only does it have TWO of the three movie theaters in the country, but it also has a Thai restaurant. So anyway, each year there is a marathon which runs from Walvis Bay, about 40 k south of Swakop, up to Swakop. Part of what makes this marathon important for this story is that they also have a learner relay, so teams of 4 learners each run about 10.55 kilometers and together finish the length of one marathon.
When I first heard about the marathon I thought, hmm I like Swakop, it has thai food, I should go there. Then I remembered that I'm an education volunteer and work with children and that every time I go for my daily 5 k run learners run next to me shouting "Miss Emily! Miss Emily! Miss Emily! Miss Emily! We can walk as fast as you're running!" And run in crazy circles around me until the annoyance of trying to run in 35 degree Celcius heat with small boys pointing out my pathetic running ability forces me to say "Good for you. Now let's see how fast you can run to thaaaaaaat tree way over there." So, I thought to myself, these kids like running, they've never been and might never get a chance to go to Swakopmund, and this is the first time in their lives they'll be exposed to the idea that if they work hard and train for things good things might happen, I should train learners and take them to this marathon.
So, at the beginning of this term I made an announcement during morning assembly that anyone who wanted to train for a marathon should meet at the big tree after afternoon study. I didn't tell the learners where it was right away, because I didn't want them to train for the marathon just because they wanted to go to Swakop, which somehow made them all think I was taking them to America. Whoops. But anyway, I paired down the 40 learners who showed up to train to the 12 best runners who came the most consistently, and preemptively put in my request for regional transport about 5 weeks before the actual event.
To give you an idea of what it's like to try to organize events in Namibia, I'm going to now recount to you the story within this story titled "How I got transport for the marathon."
Now, in America, I'm pretty sure when you put in a request for something like transport, they file that request, tell you whether there's transport available for the event, and, if there is, on the day you have requested transport for you can show up, get in a bus with your twelve learners and be driven to and from the place you have requested to be driven to and from. Not so in Namibia.
I put in the request for transport, was told I would be given two GRN bakkies (pick up trucks) with two drivers who would drive me to Swakop 2 days before the marathon, and then back the day after. Ok great. My friend and fellow PCV in town checked several times for me, and every time I went to town thereafter I checked in to make sure everything was all right with the transport and was told each time that there was no problem. On Monday of the week of the marathon, I called the transport office to quadruple check that it was available. The conversation went something like this, "Hi Mr Tawana, this is Emily Brown." "What? Who?" "Emily Brown. The teacher in Kabbe." "Who?" "The Peace Corps Volunteer." "???" "I'm the one who is trying to take those twelve learners to Swakopmund this week for the marathon." "Okay. You are the one taking two bakkies to Rundu." "Right. Two bakkies and two drivers to drive us the Swakopmund and then back." "No, I'm afraid that won't be possible. All of our drivers are in Windhoek for a workshop." "?!?!?!?!?!?! Um, sorry?" "All of our drivers are in Windhoek for a workshop." "?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!" "Do you have any teachers who can drive?" "Um. No. Let me check." After frantically asking my principal, I found one teacher at my school with a drivers' licence, which didn't really solve the problem since I had two bakkies now with one driver. Peace Corps Volunteers aren't allowed to drive, and on top of that I don't know how to drive a stick shift on the wrong side of the road and didn't really want to try with 6 kids' lives in my hands.
I called Mr Tawana again and asked if we could have a combi instead. He said no. I called the coordinator of the marathon to see if Ethosha Fisheries was providing regional transport, which I heard might happen. I was told by the woman in charge that they would find transport and not to worry, and she would call me back later that day. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I hadn't heard from her by the next morning, I got a little worried so I called again. She informed me that the bus providing transport from Katima was full, and asked if I could find my own transport. I explained that I called her because my own transport had fallen through. Atata.
I asked around and found out that last year a Caprivi volunteer paid a Combi driver to drive him and his learners to the marathon and then was reimbursed by the circuit office. The next day I went to the see the circuit inspector to see if they could do this for me. The circuit inspector was out, so instead I talked to the acting circuit inspector. I explained the problem and he said, "so the problem is that you have two bakkies but only one driver? So if we find another driver will that solve the problem?" I said yes, and he promised to find a second driver. I thanked him profusely, and headed off to the transport office to check on my bakkies. When I arrived at the transport office I was told to go to another section of the ministry because the transport officer was in Windhoek. When I got to the other office I asked the man sitting behind the desk about the bakkies. He replied, "We are having a problem of bakkies. I don't feel well. I'm going home." Translation: There are no bakkies. "!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" "Let me make a phone call." After calling the acting transport officer he sent me back through the winding corridors back to the transport office, where I explained my problem and the acting transport officer said that there were no bakkies at the moment, but he would make a few calls and try to pull them from the field. Close to extreme exasperation I sat down to wait, while the other man in the office talked to me about the bible for 45 minutes. While I was waiting I got a call from my HOD saying someone from the ministry of youth (a separate ministry altogether from the ministry of education) had called because he had a bus on which he was transporting learners from other schools to the marathon, and that I should go to see him to see if there was room.
I walked all the way across town (in above 40 degree Celcius humid Katima weather) and went to see the ministry of youth guy. After waiting for about 30 minutes he showed up, and explained that the Marathon people had given him N$10 000 for a bus, but a 22 person bus cost N$14 000, they had a donation from another sector of N$1500 and the schools were going to cover the rest. I said okay, and asked how much, and was told that each team would pay 625, but since I had 3 teams and we wouldn't all fit, I had to pay close to 3000. I asked why, and he said it was because we would need to get a bigger bus. I asked how much more a bigger bus would cost and he said he didn't want to call to get a quotation because then they might charge more than 14 000. "?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" So, to clarify, I was expected to give him a random extra N$2000 without getting a quotation? Yes. But, he said he heard I had one driver and one bakkie, so we could fit one of my teams in the bakkie and one of my teams in the bakkie and the other 8 could go in the bus and then I would just pay the 1250 for my two other teams. Resisting the urge to bang my head against his desk I explained that I actually didn't have that bakkie anymore, so really I needed to get all of my learners on this bus. As we were negotiating, the guy from the ministry of education called and said he had gotten one bakkie. Then the acting inspector called to say he hadn't found another driver. Fine. I agreed to put 4 of my learners in the bakkie and the other 8 on the bus and to pay the difference of N1250 (thank you again to all of my wonderful family and friends who donated!!!!!). MOY guy then informed me that they were just happening to give us the 27 seater for the same price as the 22 seater so we could just put the luggage in the bakkie. Wanting to scream at him for trying to rip me off but feeling relieved that my learners were going to Swakop I said fine.
The next day we loaded the learners onto the bus, along with MOY guy and his family, because even though there wouldn't have been space to fit all of my learners on the smaller bus, there was room for him to bring his family on a free vacation. Ahhh corruption. But anyway.
After overnighting in Rundu, we arrived in Swakopmund at around 2:00 the next day. After we unloaded the bus at the coast the learners all rushed toward the ocean. This was the first time any of the Caprivi kids had ever been to the ocean. For some it was the first time they were out of their region. Their excitement and wonder was worth every exasperated second of getting them to Swakop. After taking countless pictures of my learners playing in the ocean, and after collecting seawater to bring back to the village to keep ghosts out of their houses, we went to register the kids to run.
The next day we woke up early to get the kids ready and got the starting point just as they were about to start. After they started running I went from checkpoint to checkpoint to see each runner in each of the 3 teams cross the checkpoint. Although my runners weren't the fastest, the look on each of their faces as they crossed the finish line was priceless. I was so proud of all of them for completing the race that it obliterated all of my feelings of stress and exhaustion. After the marathon was completed we had an awards ceremony. Each of the runners received a T-shirt and a medal which they proudly put on, and my school won a raffled box of running shoes! Each of my runners won a pair of sneakers, with some left over to be distributed to other learners at the school.
After the awards ceremony we took the learners back to the beach, where they ran in and out of the water under my supervision. While they were swimming I looked over to see them pulling something huge out of the water. I ran over to see what they were doing, only to discover that it was a dead seal that had washed up on the shore. Atata.
After explaining how to use the beach showers and imploring them to keep their clothes ON while showering, they got dressed and we walked to the small museum. We went inside to look at displays and they asked me questions such as whether the taxidermied animals were still alive. Afterwards I bought each of them an ice cream cone (they all chose chocolate except for one brave learner who asked for "pink") and we boarded the bus to start the 19 hour journey home. Although exhausted, sunburned, dirty and smelly, the trip was absolutely amazing. I will certainly be bringing learners again next year.
Each year Etosha Fisheries hosts a marathon in Swakopmund. For those of you who don't have a map of Namibia handy, Swakopmund is on the coast about 300 k West of Windhoek. It's also the most magical place in Namibia, because not only does it have TWO of the three movie theaters in the country, but it also has a Thai restaurant. So anyway, each year there is a marathon which runs from Walvis Bay, about 40 k south of Swakop, up to Swakop. Part of what makes this marathon important for this story is that they also have a learner relay, so teams of 4 learners each run about 10.55 kilometers and together finish the length of one marathon.
When I first heard about the marathon I thought, hmm I like Swakop, it has thai food, I should go there. Then I remembered that I'm an education volunteer and work with children and that every time I go for my daily 5 k run learners run next to me shouting "Miss Emily! Miss Emily! Miss Emily! Miss Emily! We can walk as fast as you're running!" And run in crazy circles around me until the annoyance of trying to run in 35 degree Celcius heat with small boys pointing out my pathetic running ability forces me to say "Good for you. Now let's see how fast you can run to thaaaaaaat tree way over there." So, I thought to myself, these kids like running, they've never been and might never get a chance to go to Swakopmund, and this is the first time in their lives they'll be exposed to the idea that if they work hard and train for things good things might happen, I should train learners and take them to this marathon.
So, at the beginning of this term I made an announcement during morning assembly that anyone who wanted to train for a marathon should meet at the big tree after afternoon study. I didn't tell the learners where it was right away, because I didn't want them to train for the marathon just because they wanted to go to Swakop, which somehow made them all think I was taking them to America. Whoops. But anyway, I paired down the 40 learners who showed up to train to the 12 best runners who came the most consistently, and preemptively put in my request for regional transport about 5 weeks before the actual event.
To give you an idea of what it's like to try to organize events in Namibia, I'm going to now recount to you the story within this story titled "How I got transport for the marathon."
Now, in America, I'm pretty sure when you put in a request for something like transport, they file that request, tell you whether there's transport available for the event, and, if there is, on the day you have requested transport for you can show up, get in a bus with your twelve learners and be driven to and from the place you have requested to be driven to and from. Not so in Namibia.
I put in the request for transport, was told I would be given two GRN bakkies (pick up trucks) with two drivers who would drive me to Swakop 2 days before the marathon, and then back the day after. Ok great. My friend and fellow PCV in town checked several times for me, and every time I went to town thereafter I checked in to make sure everything was all right with the transport and was told each time that there was no problem. On Monday of the week of the marathon, I called the transport office to quadruple check that it was available. The conversation went something like this, "Hi Mr Tawana, this is Emily Brown." "What? Who?" "Emily Brown. The teacher in Kabbe." "Who?" "The Peace Corps Volunteer." "???" "I'm the one who is trying to take those twelve learners to Swakopmund this week for the marathon." "Okay. You are the one taking two bakkies to Rundu." "Right. Two bakkies and two drivers to drive us the Swakopmund and then back." "No, I'm afraid that won't be possible. All of our drivers are in Windhoek for a workshop." "?!?!?!?!?!?! Um, sorry?" "All of our drivers are in Windhoek for a workshop." "?!?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!" "Do you have any teachers who can drive?" "Um. No. Let me check." After frantically asking my principal, I found one teacher at my school with a drivers' licence, which didn't really solve the problem since I had two bakkies now with one driver. Peace Corps Volunteers aren't allowed to drive, and on top of that I don't know how to drive a stick shift on the wrong side of the road and didn't really want to try with 6 kids' lives in my hands.
I called Mr Tawana again and asked if we could have a combi instead. He said no. I called the coordinator of the marathon to see if Ethosha Fisheries was providing regional transport, which I heard might happen. I was told by the woman in charge that they would find transport and not to worry, and she would call me back later that day. I breathed a sigh of relief. When I hadn't heard from her by the next morning, I got a little worried so I called again. She informed me that the bus providing transport from Katima was full, and asked if I could find my own transport. I explained that I called her because my own transport had fallen through. Atata.
I asked around and found out that last year a Caprivi volunteer paid a Combi driver to drive him and his learners to the marathon and then was reimbursed by the circuit office. The next day I went to the see the circuit inspector to see if they could do this for me. The circuit inspector was out, so instead I talked to the acting circuit inspector. I explained the problem and he said, "so the problem is that you have two bakkies but only one driver? So if we find another driver will that solve the problem?" I said yes, and he promised to find a second driver. I thanked him profusely, and headed off to the transport office to check on my bakkies. When I arrived at the transport office I was told to go to another section of the ministry because the transport officer was in Windhoek. When I got to the other office I asked the man sitting behind the desk about the bakkies. He replied, "We are having a problem of bakkies. I don't feel well. I'm going home." Translation: There are no bakkies. "!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" "Let me make a phone call." After calling the acting transport officer he sent me back through the winding corridors back to the transport office, where I explained my problem and the acting transport officer said that there were no bakkies at the moment, but he would make a few calls and try to pull them from the field. Close to extreme exasperation I sat down to wait, while the other man in the office talked to me about the bible for 45 minutes. While I was waiting I got a call from my HOD saying someone from the ministry of youth (a separate ministry altogether from the ministry of education) had called because he had a bus on which he was transporting learners from other schools to the marathon, and that I should go to see him to see if there was room.
I walked all the way across town (in above 40 degree Celcius humid Katima weather) and went to see the ministry of youth guy. After waiting for about 30 minutes he showed up, and explained that the Marathon people had given him N$10 000 for a bus, but a 22 person bus cost N$14 000, they had a donation from another sector of N$1500 and the schools were going to cover the rest. I said okay, and asked how much, and was told that each team would pay 625, but since I had 3 teams and we wouldn't all fit, I had to pay close to 3000. I asked why, and he said it was because we would need to get a bigger bus. I asked how much more a bigger bus would cost and he said he didn't want to call to get a quotation because then they might charge more than 14 000. "?!?!?!?!?!?!?!" So, to clarify, I was expected to give him a random extra N$2000 without getting a quotation? Yes. But, he said he heard I had one driver and one bakkie, so we could fit one of my teams in the bakkie and one of my teams in the bakkie and the other 8 could go in the bus and then I would just pay the 1250 for my two other teams. Resisting the urge to bang my head against his desk I explained that I actually didn't have that bakkie anymore, so really I needed to get all of my learners on this bus. As we were negotiating, the guy from the ministry of education called and said he had gotten one bakkie. Then the acting inspector called to say he hadn't found another driver. Fine. I agreed to put 4 of my learners in the bakkie and the other 8 on the bus and to pay the difference of N1250 (thank you again to all of my wonderful family and friends who donated!!!!!). MOY guy then informed me that they were just happening to give us the 27 seater for the same price as the 22 seater so we could just put the luggage in the bakkie. Wanting to scream at him for trying to rip me off but feeling relieved that my learners were going to Swakop I said fine.
The next day we loaded the learners onto the bus, along with MOY guy and his family, because even though there wouldn't have been space to fit all of my learners on the smaller bus, there was room for him to bring his family on a free vacation. Ahhh corruption. But anyway.
After overnighting in Rundu, we arrived in Swakopmund at around 2:00 the next day. After we unloaded the bus at the coast the learners all rushed toward the ocean. This was the first time any of the Caprivi kids had ever been to the ocean. For some it was the first time they were out of their region. Their excitement and wonder was worth every exasperated second of getting them to Swakop. After taking countless pictures of my learners playing in the ocean, and after collecting seawater to bring back to the village to keep ghosts out of their houses, we went to register the kids to run.
The next day we woke up early to get the kids ready and got the starting point just as they were about to start. After they started running I went from checkpoint to checkpoint to see each runner in each of the 3 teams cross the checkpoint. Although my runners weren't the fastest, the look on each of their faces as they crossed the finish line was priceless. I was so proud of all of them for completing the race that it obliterated all of my feelings of stress and exhaustion. After the marathon was completed we had an awards ceremony. Each of the runners received a T-shirt and a medal which they proudly put on, and my school won a raffled box of running shoes! Each of my runners won a pair of sneakers, with some left over to be distributed to other learners at the school.
After the awards ceremony we took the learners back to the beach, where they ran in and out of the water under my supervision. While they were swimming I looked over to see them pulling something huge out of the water. I ran over to see what they were doing, only to discover that it was a dead seal that had washed up on the shore. Atata.
After explaining how to use the beach showers and imploring them to keep their clothes ON while showering, they got dressed and we walked to the small museum. We went inside to look at displays and they asked me questions such as whether the taxidermied animals were still alive. Afterwards I bought each of them an ice cream cone (they all chose chocolate except for one brave learner who asked for "pink") and we boarded the bus to start the 19 hour journey home. Although exhausted, sunburned, dirty and smelly, the trip was absolutely amazing. I will certainly be bringing learners again next year.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
third term!
Well I'm about 3 weeks into my third term of teaching in Namibia. While many pcvs in the education sector really really hate teaching, I think I lucked out a lot with my placement because I love teaching. There. I said it. I love teaching. So much, in fact, that I'm considering getting my teaching degree in America when (if?...when) I return. There are definitely things I don't love about teaching in Namibia. I hate the bureaucracy, and being forced to make ridiculous files, the unrealistic expectations of the management, the frustratingly low levels of the learners. Sometimes my learners drive me insane. Corporal punishment makes me feel physically ill. But there is little I love in this country more than being in the classroom. One day last term I was giving grade 7 a "pep talk," meaning they were being noisy and I was feeling cranky and trying to make them be quiet and listen to how to add and subtract fractions(yes, even though I love my learners, Miss Emily does have her cranky days) and I finally said in exasperation: "I am here for you!!!! You are the most important people in my life here!!!" And while I was saying this I had a moment of clarity where I realized that this was actually completely true.
Volunteers in other sectors have more free time to spend in their communities doing projects and what what but when you're an education volunteer you don't have much time to spend outside of the school. I spend all of my time with learners. I go to school at 7 in the morning and stay until 4:30 at night. I run with them in the evenings (I'm currently training them for a marathon in Swakopmund!) They come to my house to watch movies with me on weekends. They write me letters asking me to be their best friend. Actually, they are my best friends in my village. These learners are the most important people in my Peace Corps life. They're the reason I'm here. And even when my secondary projects fizzle out, or school bureaucracy makes me angry, I still love those kids. And even when they don't listen in class, or knock on my door at 6 in the morning on a saturday, or break my pens or steal my sticky tack I still love 'em.
So I'd say, I'm pretty lucky.
Volunteers in other sectors have more free time to spend in their communities doing projects and what what but when you're an education volunteer you don't have much time to spend outside of the school. I spend all of my time with learners. I go to school at 7 in the morning and stay until 4:30 at night. I run with them in the evenings (I'm currently training them for a marathon in Swakopmund!) They come to my house to watch movies with me on weekends. They write me letters asking me to be their best friend. Actually, they are my best friends in my village. These learners are the most important people in my Peace Corps life. They're the reason I'm here. And even when my secondary projects fizzle out, or school bureaucracy makes me angry, I still love those kids. And even when they don't listen in class, or knock on my door at 6 in the morning on a saturday, or break my pens or steal my sticky tack I still love 'em.
So I'd say, I'm pretty lucky.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Cultured out
This weekend was a busy weekend! On Friday Sam Nujoma, the founding president of Namibia, came to my school. He was in the region for the king of the Masubia tribe’s birthday celebration, which took place in Bukalo on Saturday, so he came to my school on Friday. My school is named after him, so I think he visits quite often when he’s in the area. Sam Nujoma is extremely popular with the Namibian people: he was a freedom fighter and the first president after Namibia gained independence so people , associate him with defeating the Apartheid regime. Thus, my school went crazy preparing for his arrival. School was cancelled on Thursday so the learners could clean the school grounds (so illegal – can you imagine that happening in America?), and on Friday tons of people showed up to see him speak. I got to shake his hand which was pretty cool – unfortunately I entrusted my camera to a learner to take pictures and he somehow missed that. A band played for the event, and learners performed from the school choir and culture group. Caprivian culture groups wear reed skirts and dance a really intense hip shaking dance which is actually really great. It’s crazy how people can move their bodies here: I swear all of my learners can dance. A dance group from the village also danced spell. For that the women wear big skirts with a lot of fabric underneath and kind of shake their hips while clapping.
After the dancing Sam Nujoma gave a speech. When I asked one of my cleverest learners, what he thought of Nujoma’s speech he answered “when he said he had been in SWAPO (Namibia’s main political party) for 46 years I thought he was very old. Also, he doesn’t speak English properly.” I will reserve judgment on that in case the Namibian government is checking up on this blog. Nujoma also donated N$2000 dollars to my school to build new class buildings which I didn’t know we needed but okay.
On Saturday I went to some of the event in Bukalo. Bukalo is about 10 k from my village and kind of the capital of the Masubia nation. The Masubia are the main tribe in the Eastern Caprivi, which is the side my village is on, but there are also Masubia people stretching into Botswana. In Caprivi there are two main tribes: the Masubia and the Mafwe. The two tribes don’t get along very well and there’s a lot of tension between them. The Masubia people speak Subia and the Mafwe people speak Sifwe, which is why the Caprivian language is Silozi even though the Lozi tribe comes from Zambia. It’s a bit confusing. The Khuta, or tribal court, for the Masubia people is in Bukalo and it’s where the king lives. All villages also have smaller khutas which are run by the village headmen, or indunas, and it’s where disputes are settled. The Khuta in Bukalo is extremely formal. Women must wear sitenges, and before you enter, or even if you are just walking past the entrance, you have to kneel down on the ground and clap. If you forget you have to pay the king in cattle. When you come before the chief you also have to kneel down and clap the whole time you are in his presence. Men can kneel down on their knees but women have to get even lower, so their hands and knees are on the ground.
But anyway, this weekend was the Subia king’s birthday so there was a cultural festival in Bukalo which happens this time every year. I only went to part of it because I was feeling a bit cultured out after the event on Friday and several other events that have happened at my school this term. Kaitlin, Andrew and I showed up while they were still giving the speeches. We wanted to go inside the main arena where the king was sitting so that we could see him better. From what I could see he was dressed in leopard furs, and in front of him on the table was a leopard skull. He’s actually pretty young, in his 40s, and I have heard tell that he didn’t actually want to be king, but he was somehow forced into it because there were no other heirs. We weren’t able to get into the main sitting area because it was full, and I’m not sure we were actually important enough to sit there. Everyone who entered or exited had to kneel and clap, and anyone who passed before the chief had to kneel and clap before him. Since there were no seats in the arena they let us sit with the band who were right next to the sitting area. Sam Nujoma gave a speech, and after he finished there was an entertainment break when the band we were sitting with got up to play. The band had gone to eat lunch so they were late arriving back, so while they were waiting they kind of just focused the cameras (the news was there) where they were sitting, so basically just on we three random white people. Then the band finally got back, so they got up to play, with the cameras still focused on them with us in the background. Awkward. Made more awkward by the fact that the song the band played was about “shooting the mukuwa” with two female dancers shooting at a “boer” to the sound of drum beats. The boer, or “mukuwa” since there’s no differentiation in the language between boer and white person was differentiated with a big belly made of pillows stuffed under his shirt to show that the white man was well fed and greedy. The boer was defeated and everyone cheered while meanwhile we makuwa were sitting in the background watching awkwardly while being filmed. It was a very uncomfortable experience.
After the song finished the current president of Namibia, Pohamba, spoke for about an hour. By the time he was finished we were pretty done also, so even though there were more speeches and dancing to follow we hiked back to Katima for hot showers and pizza, both of which, to be honest, are more rare in my current life than watching important people give speeches and Caprivian dancing.
After the dancing Sam Nujoma gave a speech. When I asked one of my cleverest learners, what he thought of Nujoma’s speech he answered “when he said he had been in SWAPO (Namibia’s main political party) for 46 years I thought he was very old. Also, he doesn’t speak English properly.” I will reserve judgment on that in case the Namibian government is checking up on this blog. Nujoma also donated N$2000 dollars to my school to build new class buildings which I didn’t know we needed but okay.
On Saturday I went to some of the event in Bukalo. Bukalo is about 10 k from my village and kind of the capital of the Masubia nation. The Masubia are the main tribe in the Eastern Caprivi, which is the side my village is on, but there are also Masubia people stretching into Botswana. In Caprivi there are two main tribes: the Masubia and the Mafwe. The two tribes don’t get along very well and there’s a lot of tension between them. The Masubia people speak Subia and the Mafwe people speak Sifwe, which is why the Caprivian language is Silozi even though the Lozi tribe comes from Zambia. It’s a bit confusing. The Khuta, or tribal court, for the Masubia people is in Bukalo and it’s where the king lives. All villages also have smaller khutas which are run by the village headmen, or indunas, and it’s where disputes are settled. The Khuta in Bukalo is extremely formal. Women must wear sitenges, and before you enter, or even if you are just walking past the entrance, you have to kneel down on the ground and clap. If you forget you have to pay the king in cattle. When you come before the chief you also have to kneel down and clap the whole time you are in his presence. Men can kneel down on their knees but women have to get even lower, so their hands and knees are on the ground.
But anyway, this weekend was the Subia king’s birthday so there was a cultural festival in Bukalo which happens this time every year. I only went to part of it because I was feeling a bit cultured out after the event on Friday and several other events that have happened at my school this term. Kaitlin, Andrew and I showed up while they were still giving the speeches. We wanted to go inside the main arena where the king was sitting so that we could see him better. From what I could see he was dressed in leopard furs, and in front of him on the table was a leopard skull. He’s actually pretty young, in his 40s, and I have heard tell that he didn’t actually want to be king, but he was somehow forced into it because there were no other heirs. We weren’t able to get into the main sitting area because it was full, and I’m not sure we were actually important enough to sit there. Everyone who entered or exited had to kneel and clap, and anyone who passed before the chief had to kneel and clap before him. Since there were no seats in the arena they let us sit with the band who were right next to the sitting area. Sam Nujoma gave a speech, and after he finished there was an entertainment break when the band we were sitting with got up to play. The band had gone to eat lunch so they were late arriving back, so while they were waiting they kind of just focused the cameras (the news was there) where they were sitting, so basically just on we three random white people. Then the band finally got back, so they got up to play, with the cameras still focused on them with us in the background. Awkward. Made more awkward by the fact that the song the band played was about “shooting the mukuwa” with two female dancers shooting at a “boer” to the sound of drum beats. The boer, or “mukuwa” since there’s no differentiation in the language between boer and white person was differentiated with a big belly made of pillows stuffed under his shirt to show that the white man was well fed and greedy. The boer was defeated and everyone cheered while meanwhile we makuwa were sitting in the background watching awkwardly while being filmed. It was a very uncomfortable experience.
After the song finished the current president of Namibia, Pohamba, spoke for about an hour. By the time he was finished we were pretty done also, so even though there were more speeches and dancing to follow we hiked back to Katima for hot showers and pizza, both of which, to be honest, are more rare in my current life than watching important people give speeches and Caprivian dancing.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Term 2
I haven’t written in so long I’m starting to get emails questioning whether I’m okay, so I suppose it’s time for a new post. At the end of April/beginning of May I went to “reconnect” which s part of our peace corps in service training (IST), which is basically exactly what it sounds like: technical training on things like project development and teaching to help us in our various primary and secondary projects. But really ISTs are an excuse to hang out with everyone in the group (the Dirty 30, as we’re the 30th group to arrive in Namibia and well, it’s catchy. We even have 30 people in our group, since we started with 33, lost 4 who went home and gained one who had a site change here from Benin). During our free time during IST we engaged in recreational activities befitting Peace Corps volunteers, playing chess, planning our secondary projects, working on our local languages (code for drink drink drink, and set up the Peace Corps projector in the conference hall to watch hours of Glee). We also had a Doppelganger party, where we drew names of our groupmates from a hat and had to dress up and act like that person for the night. It was pretty hilarious to see how not only do we have very distinct mannerisms that other people in the group obviously pick up on, but we also have so few clothes in this country that we could instantly tell who it was by the outfit. Stewart was me, so he wore my iconic purple t-shirt, chacos and jeans. A few weeks later I was in Rundu meeting another volunteer at dusk, and she said she couldn’t tell whether it was me, but then she saw that I was wearing my purple shirt.
After reconnect Brian flew into Windhoek to meet me and we went on a 2 week trip traversing 4 Southern African countries. I think he’s planning on writing a guest post about our trip so I’ll leave it at that.
So for the last 2 ½ weeks I’ve been back in Caprivi, getting back into the swing of teaching and village life. Actually last week I had to miss a week of school to attend a grade 7 Maths workshop in Katima. Namibians are constantly planning workshops forcing teachers to miss school to discuss things that could have been done in half a day, or via a “circular” (memos that are rumoured to be distributed to all schools, but I somehow never seem to see them. Then when I ask questions like, “did they change the grading scheme for upper primary grades and not tell anyone?” I hear “well didn’t you get the circular?” Nope.) This workshop was particularly painful. We spent a day talking about filling in our continuous assessment forms, which I thought had to be filled out every term, so I have no idea what the teachers at the workshop did last term. Then we talked about files. Oh files, the bane of every education volunteer’s existence. All teachers in Namibia are supposed to have 5 files, each with a different title but with the same papers in them that are impossible to find. They have to be neatly organized and covered with wrapping paper and your performance as a teacher is judged solely on these files. I mean, it doesn’t matter if your learners are doing well or if you can actually teach, if you don’t have those files you fail. I haven’t made my files yet, which probably makes me a terrible teacher. No matter that my grade 7s who started the year not being able to multiply now know all of their times tables.
Maths is, as they say here, a problem. I’m pretty sure that in the lower primary grades (1-4) they do not learn math. At all. They learn how to count up to 20, and recite it 100 times a day (and apparently all forget about 17, according to Andrew who’s listened in on these lessons). Then, suddenly, in grade 5, they’re supposed to start doing long multiplication and division, learn about fractions, decimals and what and what, and they don’t know how to add or subtract or know their times tables. Then, by grade 7 they have a national exam which tests them on what the syllabus says they should be learning, such as multiplying and dividing fractions and decimals, geometry, and the what and what. Then they obviously all fail, literally. At my school last year we had a 0% pass rate. I think the pass rate for the region was 20%. Then we have workshops to discuss why they’re failing, which is obviously because teachers don’t have wrapping paper covers on their binders. Is my frustration with the Nam educational system coming across?
So anyway, I’m trying to take pleasure in small accomplishments, like the fact that I can now ask a kid what 9 times 7 is and she generally knows the answer. I mean, some don’t, but it’s baby steps. So that was my week last week, but made better by the fact that a pizza restaurant opened in Katima and I ate pizza 4 times in 5 days. Our standard of living in Caprivi is improving.
So that’s about all the updates in my life. Not too exciting (except for the pizza!) Today I have a holiday because it’s the Day of the African Child, commemorating the student uprisings in Soweto in 1976 to protest the apartheid education in South Africa. So now I get a random Wednesday off of work! I should spend this time lesson planning and working on setting up the school library but I’ll probably cuddle up under my blankets (it’s winter here now and it is COLD, way colder than I actually thought it would ever get) and watch Friends. Ahh Peace Corps life.
After reconnect Brian flew into Windhoek to meet me and we went on a 2 week trip traversing 4 Southern African countries. I think he’s planning on writing a guest post about our trip so I’ll leave it at that.
So for the last 2 ½ weeks I’ve been back in Caprivi, getting back into the swing of teaching and village life. Actually last week I had to miss a week of school to attend a grade 7 Maths workshop in Katima. Namibians are constantly planning workshops forcing teachers to miss school to discuss things that could have been done in half a day, or via a “circular” (memos that are rumoured to be distributed to all schools, but I somehow never seem to see them. Then when I ask questions like, “did they change the grading scheme for upper primary grades and not tell anyone?” I hear “well didn’t you get the circular?” Nope.) This workshop was particularly painful. We spent a day talking about filling in our continuous assessment forms, which I thought had to be filled out every term, so I have no idea what the teachers at the workshop did last term. Then we talked about files. Oh files, the bane of every education volunteer’s existence. All teachers in Namibia are supposed to have 5 files, each with a different title but with the same papers in them that are impossible to find. They have to be neatly organized and covered with wrapping paper and your performance as a teacher is judged solely on these files. I mean, it doesn’t matter if your learners are doing well or if you can actually teach, if you don’t have those files you fail. I haven’t made my files yet, which probably makes me a terrible teacher. No matter that my grade 7s who started the year not being able to multiply now know all of their times tables.
Maths is, as they say here, a problem. I’m pretty sure that in the lower primary grades (1-4) they do not learn math. At all. They learn how to count up to 20, and recite it 100 times a day (and apparently all forget about 17, according to Andrew who’s listened in on these lessons). Then, suddenly, in grade 5, they’re supposed to start doing long multiplication and division, learn about fractions, decimals and what and what, and they don’t know how to add or subtract or know their times tables. Then, by grade 7 they have a national exam which tests them on what the syllabus says they should be learning, such as multiplying and dividing fractions and decimals, geometry, and the what and what. Then they obviously all fail, literally. At my school last year we had a 0% pass rate. I think the pass rate for the region was 20%. Then we have workshops to discuss why they’re failing, which is obviously because teachers don’t have wrapping paper covers on their binders. Is my frustration with the Nam educational system coming across?
So anyway, I’m trying to take pleasure in small accomplishments, like the fact that I can now ask a kid what 9 times 7 is and she generally knows the answer. I mean, some don’t, but it’s baby steps. So that was my week last week, but made better by the fact that a pizza restaurant opened in Katima and I ate pizza 4 times in 5 days. Our standard of living in Caprivi is improving.
So that’s about all the updates in my life. Not too exciting (except for the pizza!) Today I have a holiday because it’s the Day of the African Child, commemorating the student uprisings in Soweto in 1976 to protest the apartheid education in South Africa. So now I get a random Wednesday off of work! I should spend this time lesson planning and working on setting up the school library but I’ll probably cuddle up under my blankets (it’s winter here now and it is COLD, way colder than I actually thought it would ever get) and watch Friends. Ahh Peace Corps life.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
a dog named banana
I just completed my first term of teaching! The end of term exams were pretty much standard for Namibia. They didn't send the exam timetable until the second week of exams, then they didn't send any of the exams on time so it was pretty much chaos for 2 weeks. I finished recording all of my term marks which meant I had to track down just about every learner and force them to hand in their work, which took about 2 weeks, only to find out that we don't count the term marks, or continuous assessment first term. And actually the April exams don't count at all. Yup, makes a lot of sense. But in marking all of this work I did come across some gems so I figured I would type them up now for your reading pleasure.
Grade 7 composition about what happened when a boy got a dog for Christmas, written by Nchindo Mukaya:
"last christmas i received a dog called banana. banana is a good dog. it is have colour that i like most in my life. Its colour is blue, green, yellow, it have long tail and it have four legs and big eyes." The composition ends: "but sometimes my dog is very bad. It can kill someone."
A composition I assigned for grade 7 asked them to write a letter to someone from another country. One kid wrote to me in South America, one wrote to Jacob Zuma and one wrote to Robert Mugabe.
Philosophy Lutaka Mutamezi: "How are you? robert mugabe it seems to me you are fine me two i am fine just like that life goes on.
Given Thikukutu: Diversity Tour application, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?:
"I would go to north america to visit miss emily brown's family and i would love to meet miss emily brown's family because miss emily brown is like my friend. I always stay with him and she always tells me stories about his family thats why i want to go to north america."
Things to work on next term: punctuation and pronouns.
Grade 7 composition about what happened when a boy got a dog for Christmas, written by Nchindo Mukaya:
"last christmas i received a dog called banana. banana is a good dog. it is have colour that i like most in my life. Its colour is blue, green, yellow, it have long tail and it have four legs and big eyes." The composition ends: "but sometimes my dog is very bad. It can kill someone."
A composition I assigned for grade 7 asked them to write a letter to someone from another country. One kid wrote to me in South America, one wrote to Jacob Zuma and one wrote to Robert Mugabe.
Philosophy Lutaka Mutamezi: "How are you? robert mugabe it seems to me you are fine me two i am fine just like that life goes on.
Given Thikukutu: Diversity Tour application, if you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go and why?:
"I would go to north america to visit miss emily brown's family and i would love to meet miss emily brown's family because miss emily brown is like my friend. I always stay with him and she always tells me stories about his family thats why i want to go to north america."
Things to work on next term: punctuation and pronouns.
Friday, April 9, 2010
America the Beautiful
A funny thing happens when you're a Peace Corps Volunteer and you're nearing your 8 month mark of volunteer service. You start to love America and all things American. Now, I don't consider myself overly patriotic. I don't have an American flag sticker on my car in America. My learners have been bugging me to sing them the American national anthem but I've been refusing because 1. i don't want to humiliate myself so thoroughly by singing in front of my class, and 2. I'm afraid I'll forget the words.
But after about 8 months of service, I find that I day dream about the simplicity of owning a car (PCVs can't drive), and being able to just get into that car, drive on the right side of the road (here they drive on the left hand side, or, sometimes, the middle) and go to the store. And even if you don't have a car there's reliable public transportation. Like, you know there's a bus that stops here, wait here and in a reasonable amount of time there will be a bus. Here if you need to go to town you can wait anywhere from 0 to 3 hours. And even if I do get a ride right away there's no guarantee that we won't make multiple turns and take an extra hour and a half, getting to town, by which time I have to turn around and go back to the village. If I run out of toothpaste in the middle of the week I pretty much have to wait for the weekend. And even then there's no guarantee that I'll get a ride into town. In America when you want to do something you can just do it. You don't have to think about it. Here, going to the bank can take 6 hours of waiting in line only to have the window close when you're the next person up. In America you can get a haircut, go to the bank, go to the post office and go shopping in like, a MORNING! Here that would probably take at least 2 weeks.
What else is amazing about America? The food. Oh the choices! The quality! If you want to go out to dinner you have SO. MANY. CHOICES. Indian food, Thai food, Mexican food...a fellow volunteer who extended for a 3rd year recently went home for her 30 days of leave and while she was there she ate 18 burritos. Burritos! Sometimes I would give my right arm for guacamole. And beer! Oh I miss a good microbrew. Alas our choices in Namibia are quite limited. Sometimes on a friday evening I just want to kick back with a nice cold magic hat #9. If I'm in town I can settle for a Windhoek or Black Label but in the village it's inappropriate for me to drink because I always have learners around. But even a Windhoek just ain't the same.
Also, in America it's not hot all the time. Sure it gets cold, but then when it's cold you can take hot showers and wear sweaters and thick socks and cuddle up into bed. Here when it's hot, which it has been nonstop for the last 6 months, there's nothing to do but sweat. And showers, well those are nice if you don't live in the village. I'm stuck with a bucket bath. With the combined dust, humidity and heat I haven't been clean in 8 months. Sometimes I think I'm clean, after I just took a bucket bath, but then after wiping my face with a tissue I realize I am actually just as filthy as I was before.
Don't get me wrong. I like Namibia (most of the time). It's just that being here has made me appreciate all America has to offer. So this weekend I want you to eat some good food, take a hot shower and crack open a cold one. While you do so think of me.
But after about 8 months of service, I find that I day dream about the simplicity of owning a car (PCVs can't drive), and being able to just get into that car, drive on the right side of the road (here they drive on the left hand side, or, sometimes, the middle) and go to the store. And even if you don't have a car there's reliable public transportation. Like, you know there's a bus that stops here, wait here and in a reasonable amount of time there will be a bus. Here if you need to go to town you can wait anywhere from 0 to 3 hours. And even if I do get a ride right away there's no guarantee that we won't make multiple turns and take an extra hour and a half, getting to town, by which time I have to turn around and go back to the village. If I run out of toothpaste in the middle of the week I pretty much have to wait for the weekend. And even then there's no guarantee that I'll get a ride into town. In America when you want to do something you can just do it. You don't have to think about it. Here, going to the bank can take 6 hours of waiting in line only to have the window close when you're the next person up. In America you can get a haircut, go to the bank, go to the post office and go shopping in like, a MORNING! Here that would probably take at least 2 weeks.
What else is amazing about America? The food. Oh the choices! The quality! If you want to go out to dinner you have SO. MANY. CHOICES. Indian food, Thai food, Mexican food...a fellow volunteer who extended for a 3rd year recently went home for her 30 days of leave and while she was there she ate 18 burritos. Burritos! Sometimes I would give my right arm for guacamole. And beer! Oh I miss a good microbrew. Alas our choices in Namibia are quite limited. Sometimes on a friday evening I just want to kick back with a nice cold magic hat #9. If I'm in town I can settle for a Windhoek or Black Label but in the village it's inappropriate for me to drink because I always have learners around. But even a Windhoek just ain't the same.
Also, in America it's not hot all the time. Sure it gets cold, but then when it's cold you can take hot showers and wear sweaters and thick socks and cuddle up into bed. Here when it's hot, which it has been nonstop for the last 6 months, there's nothing to do but sweat. And showers, well those are nice if you don't live in the village. I'm stuck with a bucket bath. With the combined dust, humidity and heat I haven't been clean in 8 months. Sometimes I think I'm clean, after I just took a bucket bath, but then after wiping my face with a tissue I realize I am actually just as filthy as I was before.
Don't get me wrong. I like Namibia (most of the time). It's just that being here has made me appreciate all America has to offer. So this weekend I want you to eat some good food, take a hot shower and crack open a cold one. While you do so think of me.
Friday, March 12, 2010
Day to Day
So I'm using free internet at the TRC and I'm going to suck as much as I can out of the 2 hours that I have. So I figured some of you might be interested in what my daily life is like out in the African bush. Basically, on weekdays I wake up at 6:10 to get ready for school, which literally takes me about 10 minutes since I have about 4 work outfits in Namibia and I don't even have a mirror to beautify myself. So ponytail, blouse, skirt, done. School starts at 6:50 with assembly, where kids sing the National Anthem about 6 times until they sing loudly enough, and classes start at 7. I teach until 1, when I go home to eat lunch and nap for an hour because I'm exhausted after teaching all day in the ungodly Caprivian heat which just does not seem to go away. Ever. Then it's back to school for afternoon study when I try to have extra classes to get my kids up to speed since I've been trying to teach remedial classes since my kids don't know their times tables and they're expected to know long division by now. But usually my principal decides he'd rather have the kids do manual work because, you know, it's all about having a pretty school and less about whether the learners know how to do math. I leave school around 5:30 to go for a run (I know, Namibia has forced me to start running. After fatty, oily, salty Namibian host family cooking I started worrying that the very few clothes I brought with me would stop fitting. So, running). Then I usually cook dinner, watch something on my computer and go to sleep. Are you bored yet? Yes, the life of a PCV is not very glamorous, particularly an education volunteer living in a village in Caprivi. If adventure is what you be after you will not find it here.
Weekends I usually spend doing school work, visiting my host family, and more recently watching the same kids movies I have on my laptop over and over again with my learners. They discovered that if they do stuff for me, like help me hang my laundry or fetch water, I'll let them watch movies on my laptop. Actually they don't even have to do stuff for me, I'm such a sucker. So I've watched the Lion King and Shrek about 4 times each in the last 2 weeks, Harry Potter, Fight Club which they inexplicably wanted to watch (I only let the older kids watch that). I actually kind of love my learners and I also love kids movies so it's kind of a win win situation for me.
When I start getting restless I come to town to get milkshakes and eat ice cream. So I don't really have too many complaints about life in the village. Actually with all of the lesson planning and marking I do it feels like I don't have too much free time, so when I do have some time to kick it it's pretty nice.
Well my internet time is quickly dwindling so I'll leave it at that.
Weekends I usually spend doing school work, visiting my host family, and more recently watching the same kids movies I have on my laptop over and over again with my learners. They discovered that if they do stuff for me, like help me hang my laundry or fetch water, I'll let them watch movies on my laptop. Actually they don't even have to do stuff for me, I'm such a sucker. So I've watched the Lion King and Shrek about 4 times each in the last 2 weeks, Harry Potter, Fight Club which they inexplicably wanted to watch (I only let the older kids watch that). I actually kind of love my learners and I also love kids movies so it's kind of a win win situation for me.
When I start getting restless I come to town to get milkshakes and eat ice cream. So I don't really have too many complaints about life in the village. Actually with all of the lesson planning and marking I do it feels like I don't have too much free time, so when I do have some time to kick it it's pretty nice.
Well my internet time is quickly dwindling so I'll leave it at that.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Africa Law
In my grade 7 math class I'm trying to teach them about the laws governing mathematical operations (I say trying because I'm pretty sure they don't get it). I think there should be some kind of law governing life in Africa, something like the "Getting Stuff Done Law." It goes like this. Make a to do list of things you want to get done in a day. Divide that list into two. Divide it into two again. Okay, go ahead divide it into 2 again...yeah why don't you go ahead and divide it into 2 again. There's the list of stuff you can actually get done in a day. How far off were you from what you were hoping to accomplish in a day?
Case in point. Peace Corps sent a mass sms a few weeks ago kindly telling all PCVs they could either get the H1N1 vaccine or go home. Then they tried to convince us Caprivi volunteers to hike down to Windhoek to get the shot, basically meaning missing 3 to 4 days of school. No thanks. So they sent agreed to send the vaccine up here, but forgot to inform us until I called our Peace Corps medical officer last week with a different question about a prescription and she told me I was supposed to go to town 2 weeks ago to get the shot and I better go this week or else. Since the last 2 periods of my thursdays are admin periods (free) I decided to leave school early to get the shot and to get a bunch of stuff done that I haven't been able to since I live in a village in the middle of nowhere. So yesterday I dutifully made a to do list. Get shot. Meet another volunteer to get my package slip. Go to the post office to pick up a package and mail a birthday card to my brother (March 14: Happy 21st Chris!!!!!). Go to the TRC to write a blog, write emails to a billion people, look up places to stay for my holiday, download application forms for learner leadership camps, some other stuff to do on internet. Go to the stores to shop, and ask about donating food for EWA (PC run "everyone wants acceptance" leadership camp). I informed my principal on Tuesday of my plan and he said no problem. I knew I had a lot to do but figured I could swing it. But I forgot to take into account the African law of "Getting Stuff Done."
Firstly, my principal informs me this morning that there will be no school tomorrow because there's a mass meeting in Bukalo for all the schools in the area. Ummm, okay. Thanks for telling me? I love that they incessantly complain about the low performance of learners, and yet don't see a correlation between the number of days teachers miss school due to pointless meetings, and the low grades our learners receive on exams. But anyway. Okay fine, I remind him I was leaving at 11:30 today and he said no problem. So at 11:30, as I'm finishing up my math class, another teacher comes in the room to ask why I'm not at the staff meeting. What staff meeting? The one that started 15 minutes ago obviously. The way teachers are informed of staff meetings is that a notebook with the information is passed around from teacher to teacher and each teacher initials the page with the info. Someone left the book on my desk during period 6, while I was in class (I know, I know, what was a teacher in Namibia doing teaching her scheduled classes? I should probably have been sitting at my desk planning/complaining about how much work it is to plan for all the subjects I don't actually teach). So, great. So I go to the meeting which lasts until about noon, bouncing in the balls of my feet anxious to get to town while my principal reassures everyone that there will be food at the meeting tomorrow, he's just not sure if it will be just breakfast or also include lunch, but since we end at 1 we probably don't need lunch....Seriously. This is what Namibian staff meetings cover. Awesome.
So then I get out to the hike point in the pouring rain, since rainy season also follows African time and arrived 3 months late this year, or so they tell me since I don't know when rainy season usually starts. Luckily I only have to wait about 10 minutes before a car pulls over, so I hop in even though it's going to Lusese, abou 5 k down the road, before going to town. Of course, the driver then proceeds to stop for every hiker between Kabbe and Lusese, and then from Lusese to Kabbe, until there are so many people in teh car he has to tie the luggage on the top of the car. So it's about 45 minutes until we're passing Kabbe again, and I think okay finally. Hopefully this is a fast ride. But since there are so many people the car is weighed down, and the luggage starts falling off the top of the car so we have to continually stop, so what should be a 30 to 40 minute ride takes over an hour. Of course. So now it's 2 pm and I have to get all the stuff on my list done before the last cars leave at 5 from Katima, so I head to get the swine flu shot first of all, where I have to wait 40 minutes to see a nurse, and then he has to read the directions on how to give the shot to himself. So long story short, this blog is about the only thing I'm getting done on the computer today so don't be sad if I didn't send any emails. '
Well, at least I got 2 things done on my list. Sometimes the Law of Getting stuff done in Africa can be as simple as multiply by zero (and no grade 7 learners, a number multiplied by 0 is not 34.)
Case in point. Peace Corps sent a mass sms a few weeks ago kindly telling all PCVs they could either get the H1N1 vaccine or go home. Then they tried to convince us Caprivi volunteers to hike down to Windhoek to get the shot, basically meaning missing 3 to 4 days of school. No thanks. So they sent agreed to send the vaccine up here, but forgot to inform us until I called our Peace Corps medical officer last week with a different question about a prescription and she told me I was supposed to go to town 2 weeks ago to get the shot and I better go this week or else. Since the last 2 periods of my thursdays are admin periods (free) I decided to leave school early to get the shot and to get a bunch of stuff done that I haven't been able to since I live in a village in the middle of nowhere. So yesterday I dutifully made a to do list. Get shot. Meet another volunteer to get my package slip. Go to the post office to pick up a package and mail a birthday card to my brother (March 14: Happy 21st Chris!!!!!). Go to the TRC to write a blog, write emails to a billion people, look up places to stay for my holiday, download application forms for learner leadership camps, some other stuff to do on internet. Go to the stores to shop, and ask about donating food for EWA (PC run "everyone wants acceptance" leadership camp). I informed my principal on Tuesday of my plan and he said no problem. I knew I had a lot to do but figured I could swing it. But I forgot to take into account the African law of "Getting Stuff Done."
Firstly, my principal informs me this morning that there will be no school tomorrow because there's a mass meeting in Bukalo for all the schools in the area. Ummm, okay. Thanks for telling me? I love that they incessantly complain about the low performance of learners, and yet don't see a correlation between the number of days teachers miss school due to pointless meetings, and the low grades our learners receive on exams. But anyway. Okay fine, I remind him I was leaving at 11:30 today and he said no problem. So at 11:30, as I'm finishing up my math class, another teacher comes in the room to ask why I'm not at the staff meeting. What staff meeting? The one that started 15 minutes ago obviously. The way teachers are informed of staff meetings is that a notebook with the information is passed around from teacher to teacher and each teacher initials the page with the info. Someone left the book on my desk during period 6, while I was in class (I know, I know, what was a teacher in Namibia doing teaching her scheduled classes? I should probably have been sitting at my desk planning/complaining about how much work it is to plan for all the subjects I don't actually teach). So, great. So I go to the meeting which lasts until about noon, bouncing in the balls of my feet anxious to get to town while my principal reassures everyone that there will be food at the meeting tomorrow, he's just not sure if it will be just breakfast or also include lunch, but since we end at 1 we probably don't need lunch....Seriously. This is what Namibian staff meetings cover. Awesome.
So then I get out to the hike point in the pouring rain, since rainy season also follows African time and arrived 3 months late this year, or so they tell me since I don't know when rainy season usually starts. Luckily I only have to wait about 10 minutes before a car pulls over, so I hop in even though it's going to Lusese, abou 5 k down the road, before going to town. Of course, the driver then proceeds to stop for every hiker between Kabbe and Lusese, and then from Lusese to Kabbe, until there are so many people in teh car he has to tie the luggage on the top of the car. So it's about 45 minutes until we're passing Kabbe again, and I think okay finally. Hopefully this is a fast ride. But since there are so many people the car is weighed down, and the luggage starts falling off the top of the car so we have to continually stop, so what should be a 30 to 40 minute ride takes over an hour. Of course. So now it's 2 pm and I have to get all the stuff on my list done before the last cars leave at 5 from Katima, so I head to get the swine flu shot first of all, where I have to wait 40 minutes to see a nurse, and then he has to read the directions on how to give the shot to himself. So long story short, this blog is about the only thing I'm getting done on the computer today so don't be sad if I didn't send any emails. '
Well, at least I got 2 things done on my list. Sometimes the Law of Getting stuff done in Africa can be as simple as multiply by zero (and no grade 7 learners, a number multiplied by 0 is not 34.)
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Almost 6 month anniversary!
I don't know if I'll be able to post before our real anniversary but that's right. February 21st marks my 6 month anniversary with Namibia. If this was any other relationship I could probably expect chocolates, flowers, maybe a nice dinner, but since this is Peace Corps I can probably expect to to be brutalized with either ungodly heat or a massive downpour, overrun by dung beetles and flying biting ants in my charming TRC room and to eat some delicious (?) nam food. Ah, true love. Well we only have another year and 10 months together (not that I'm counting) so I better enjoy it while I can.
Teaching has settled into something like a routine. I've gotten used to asking my learners to do something, like use rounding to solve complex problems, and then realizing they can't because they don't know their times tables or how to do long division. Or asking them to write a paragraph and realizing they don't know how to write a simple sentence. Even so we're ploughing through somehow.
Housing remains a problem. I have a beautiful traditional hut almost all built...but the ministry has to finish the last few components, such as the concrete floor, the door and the windows (somehow important nay?). Unfortunately, it appears Caprivi is broke. Broke ass broke. The ministry of works has no more money. Til April. How does this happen? Inefficiency and improper spending I'm guessing. Mawe. So I've been living in a spare office in the TRC which, as you can probably imagine, is less than ideal.
Well, I wish I had some better stories, but I just got done with a 6 hour time tabling workshop and my brain is pretty fried. The workshop was just explaining how to use a program to electronically generate timetables rather than the traditional method, to sit down wtih a piece of posterboard and last year's schedule and just change the names if teachers are doing different subjects. That's how we did it at my school and my schedule had to be changed twice the first week. It turns out the electronic program is really easy if you've ever used a computer before. If you're like the majority of the namibians who attended today it's about on the same level as rocket science. I was assisting the man sitting next to me when Scott, the Australian VSO who was running the session started explaining something and the guy next to me was obviously not paying attention. So when he turned to ask me a question about what had just been explained I asked, in the same tone of voice I use with my learners "Were you listening to Scott's instructions." "No, not so much," was the response I got. Ah tatata... i'm beginning to think the learners aren't quite at fault...
So anyway a better update is soon to come, hopefully. With pictures! Even though I always promise those...
Teaching has settled into something like a routine. I've gotten used to asking my learners to do something, like use rounding to solve complex problems, and then realizing they can't because they don't know their times tables or how to do long division. Or asking them to write a paragraph and realizing they don't know how to write a simple sentence. Even so we're ploughing through somehow.
Housing remains a problem. I have a beautiful traditional hut almost all built...but the ministry has to finish the last few components, such as the concrete floor, the door and the windows (somehow important nay?). Unfortunately, it appears Caprivi is broke. Broke ass broke. The ministry of works has no more money. Til April. How does this happen? Inefficiency and improper spending I'm guessing. Mawe. So I've been living in a spare office in the TRC which, as you can probably imagine, is less than ideal.
Well, I wish I had some better stories, but I just got done with a 6 hour time tabling workshop and my brain is pretty fried. The workshop was just explaining how to use a program to electronically generate timetables rather than the traditional method, to sit down wtih a piece of posterboard and last year's schedule and just change the names if teachers are doing different subjects. That's how we did it at my school and my schedule had to be changed twice the first week. It turns out the electronic program is really easy if you've ever used a computer before. If you're like the majority of the namibians who attended today it's about on the same level as rocket science. I was assisting the man sitting next to me when Scott, the Australian VSO who was running the session started explaining something and the guy next to me was obviously not paying attention. So when he turned to ask me a question about what had just been explained I asked, in the same tone of voice I use with my learners "Were you listening to Scott's instructions." "No, not so much," was the response I got. Ah tatata... i'm beginning to think the learners aren't quite at fault...
So anyway a better update is soon to come, hopefully. With pictures! Even though I always promise those...
Friday, January 22, 2010
First week teaching, Oy vey
Firstly, Happy Birthday Dad! Miss you!
This week was my first week actually teaching my own classes. It went pretty well considering I had no idea what I was doing most of the time. People here assume that because I'm American and their volunteer I know how to do everything, but, for one thing my teaching experience is limited to volunteer ESL classes for day laborers, and for another thing the way things are done in this country often make no sense! Like, for example, at the end of last term all teachers were told to complete their subject plans, or yearly schedules, by the time school started last week. But they hadn't allocated the subjects yet! WHAT?? Also, there's so much paperwork and bureacracy involved in teaching here. I'm supposed to make five binders. Five! I also was assigned to teach Math, even though I have absolutely no qualification to teach Math aside from the fact that I took some Math classes sometime, I think? The last Math class I took was statistics for my psych minor in college which I'm pretty sure isn't on the syllabus. As long as I'm one step ahead of the kids I should be okay though...right?
I'm also still getting used to the Nambiguity of living here. For example, every Tuesday we have morning briefings for all members of staff, which always begin at 6:40. So last week I was getting ready for school,and at 6:25 my host mom knocked and my door and said "we're late!" So I said, no we're not late, we still have 15 minutes, and it takes about 3 minutes to walk to school. So at 6:35 we left and got to the meeting at 6:38. We walked in and my acting principal started scolding us for being late. I explained that we're not late, that the meeting was supposed to start in 2 minutes, but he said we were supposed to just know to show up early. Obviously.
Two weeks ago when I was on my way back to site after reconnect I smsed my principal to let him know that I was on my way, but would only arrive in Katima the next evening, so I would miss the first day of school. About 5 minutes later I got a phone call from a man who didn't identify himself asking me where I was. Thinking it was my principal, who never identifies himself on the phone when he calls, I replied that I was in Otavi (about halfway from Windhoek to Rundu) and reiterated what I had said in my message. "Okay, let me know when you're in Katima and I'll come pick you up." Okay, great. The next day while riding in a very slow moving lorry from Rundu to Katima I got another call from another male voice asking me where I was. Assuming it was my principal again using someone else's phone I replied that I was about 250 k from Katima. He told me to let me know when I was in town and he would drive me to KAbbe. I said okay and hung up. Once I arrived in Katima, after I finished doing my shopping for the week I called my principal and told him I was in Katima. "Oh, okay" he replied, "well I'm at school now." At school, meaning Kabbe. "Oh, okay. So you're not going to pick me up?" "Oh you need to be picked up? Okay, I'll come early in the morning." Thoroughly confused by this conversation and having no idea what "I'll pick you up and drive you to Kabbe when you arrive in Katima" means in Namblish, I crashed at Kaitlin's house, and ended up getting a ride with a PC driver doing site development in the next village the following morning. Later that afternoon, while I was sitting at my desk organizing my things for school, I got a phone call from another unidentified number. A male voice: "Hello, where are you now?" Thinking it was my principal again, I said "I'm at school," (duh). "Oh okay, have you moved into your house yet?" "No." (duh). "Why not?" "It's not ready yet..." (wtf?) "Why didn't you call me when you got in yesterday? I was waiting for your phone call." "Wait...who is this?" "It's John, from the ministry!" Argh!!!!! It was this guy from the ministry who came to measure my house, and, since I'm a white lady, is obviously trying to get me to fall in love with him by forcing me to drive to the flood plains with him (another story), and offering to give me rides places. I felt pretty dumb for asking my principal to pick me up in Katima. Damn you Namibian vagueness! Didn't you have teachers to teach you phone etiquette in school? Oh wait...
So those are my stories of Nambiguity for the week. I'm sure many more will ensue over the next two years. Looking forward to it!
This week was my first week actually teaching my own classes. It went pretty well considering I had no idea what I was doing most of the time. People here assume that because I'm American and their volunteer I know how to do everything, but, for one thing my teaching experience is limited to volunteer ESL classes for day laborers, and for another thing the way things are done in this country often make no sense! Like, for example, at the end of last term all teachers were told to complete their subject plans, or yearly schedules, by the time school started last week. But they hadn't allocated the subjects yet! WHAT?? Also, there's so much paperwork and bureacracy involved in teaching here. I'm supposed to make five binders. Five! I also was assigned to teach Math, even though I have absolutely no qualification to teach Math aside from the fact that I took some Math classes sometime, I think? The last Math class I took was statistics for my psych minor in college which I'm pretty sure isn't on the syllabus. As long as I'm one step ahead of the kids I should be okay though...right?
I'm also still getting used to the Nambiguity of living here. For example, every Tuesday we have morning briefings for all members of staff, which always begin at 6:40. So last week I was getting ready for school,and at 6:25 my host mom knocked and my door and said "we're late!" So I said, no we're not late, we still have 15 minutes, and it takes about 3 minutes to walk to school. So at 6:35 we left and got to the meeting at 6:38. We walked in and my acting principal started scolding us for being late. I explained that we're not late, that the meeting was supposed to start in 2 minutes, but he said we were supposed to just know to show up early. Obviously.
Two weeks ago when I was on my way back to site after reconnect I smsed my principal to let him know that I was on my way, but would only arrive in Katima the next evening, so I would miss the first day of school. About 5 minutes later I got a phone call from a man who didn't identify himself asking me where I was. Thinking it was my principal, who never identifies himself on the phone when he calls, I replied that I was in Otavi (about halfway from Windhoek to Rundu) and reiterated what I had said in my message. "Okay, let me know when you're in Katima and I'll come pick you up." Okay, great. The next day while riding in a very slow moving lorry from Rundu to Katima I got another call from another male voice asking me where I was. Assuming it was my principal again using someone else's phone I replied that I was about 250 k from Katima. He told me to let me know when I was in town and he would drive me to KAbbe. I said okay and hung up. Once I arrived in Katima, after I finished doing my shopping for the week I called my principal and told him I was in Katima. "Oh, okay" he replied, "well I'm at school now." At school, meaning Kabbe. "Oh, okay. So you're not going to pick me up?" "Oh you need to be picked up? Okay, I'll come early in the morning." Thoroughly confused by this conversation and having no idea what "I'll pick you up and drive you to Kabbe when you arrive in Katima" means in Namblish, I crashed at Kaitlin's house, and ended up getting a ride with a PC driver doing site development in the next village the following morning. Later that afternoon, while I was sitting at my desk organizing my things for school, I got a phone call from another unidentified number. A male voice: "Hello, where are you now?" Thinking it was my principal again, I said "I'm at school," (duh). "Oh okay, have you moved into your house yet?" "No." (duh). "Why not?" "It's not ready yet..." (wtf?) "Why didn't you call me when you got in yesterday? I was waiting for your phone call." "Wait...who is this?" "It's John, from the ministry!" Argh!!!!! It was this guy from the ministry who came to measure my house, and, since I'm a white lady, is obviously trying to get me to fall in love with him by forcing me to drive to the flood plains with him (another story), and offering to give me rides places. I felt pretty dumb for asking my principal to pick me up in Katima. Damn you Namibian vagueness! Didn't you have teachers to teach you phone etiquette in school? Oh wait...
So those are my stories of Nambiguity for the week. I'm sure many more will ensue over the next two years. Looking forward to it!
Thursday, January 14, 2010
End of holidays and first days of school
Well, it's been a little while since I've posted. Hmm let's see, I spent Christmas in Kabbe with my host family which was...interesting. Definitely not the kind of Christmas I'm used to. My host mom invited me to church for Christmas eve...then told me service starts at 1 am. Namibia has turned me into an old lady, or my dad, who goes to sleep at 8 pm every night and wakes up at 5. Seriously, I can not stay up late anymore. But I agreed to go, thinking Namibian Christmas eve mass would be some kind of cultural event I should see, and figured I could take a nap before it started. But in true nambiguous fashion, at 9 pm, when we were finishing up dinner, my host mom said she was leaving now now for church. Okay, I said, but doesn't the service start at 1? Yes. She said. But why are you leaving now? Well people are already there, singing and having baptisms. I asked when Chuma, my host sister was going to church and she said maybe at 2 am. I was starting to get a little frustrated, since I don't really like church anyway, and the services are in Silozi so usually I just sit and zone out, and I definitely didn't want to get stuck at church for 6 hours in the middle of the night. But of course I got dragged with my host mom and host sister who decided to go and leave early. 4 hours of singing and dancing ensued, and then the service finally started, at around 1:30 am, when Chuma decided to leave because her 2 year old daughter was feeling sick. So that's the story of how I almost went to Christmas eve mass in Namibia.
Christmas day was mostly uneventful, until around 3 pm when people started pouring into the village to drink and braai. Christmas in Namibia is pretty much like 4th of July or a summer barbeque. Definitely not anything like what we're used to. I did get to talk to everyone in my family and Brian's family though, which was definitely the highlight of my holiday.
I spent New Year's in Rundu with some friends after our thwarted efforts to evade Peace Corps' notice and head to Otjiwarango for New Years' with some other dirty 30ers (our moniker for Peace Corps Nam/Group 30). However, the day before New Year's eve the friend we were going to stay with had a break in, so her house was on Peace Corps radar, and being sensible folks we thought flaunting to PC that we were breaking the very strict out of site policy (not allowed to leave your region for the first 3 months after swearing in! Period.) was a little stupid. So we spent New Year's eve watching movies and playing cards (while enjoying some WIndhoek Lager of course) while trying to stay awake until midnight. We then proceeded to wake up at 5 am to hike out of Rundu to enjoy some new year's day festivities in otjiwarango. So, that's the story of how I almost celebrated New Year's eve with the dirty 30 in Otjiwarango.
I then spent a week in Windhoek for reconnect, the second part of our PC training. It was in the mountains at a beautiful "resort" as we like to call it. Actually after months of living like PCVs this place was a resort, with air conditioning, hot showers and a pool! It was also great to see the rest of my group, who truly are such wonderful people I can't stand it. We also got to drop some mad Namib dollars eating in Windhoek. Ahh Windhoek. So strange, so disconcerting and so wonderful sometimes. Mostly the food. Indian, Italian, KFC...we even found a place called Joe's beer house which has a hefeweizen! After months of drinking watery Windhoek lager or the cheaper brands that have an aftertaste of soap that cloudy wheat beer was like 500 ml of heaven.
Which brings me to the present. Well, after hiking back from Windhoek, and realizing again how effing far Caprivi is from the capital (it took me 48 hours to get back to Kabbe, overnighting in Rundu and Katima), I arrived just in time for the first day of school! Actually the 3rd day technically, since teachers were supposed to be there monday and tuesday. But in Namibia that means nothing happens except maybe stuff that was supposed to happen last term, like finishing your grade symbol distribution (I don't know why that was so important, but it was), and what what. So yesterday the learners arrived, and of course our subjects hadn't been allocated and we had no timetable, so the learners ended up doing manual labor and running around for most of the day.
Today I showed up and at our brief staff meeting was told that the pre-primary teacher wasn't there, so why didn't I just watch the pre-primary class today? Putting aside the fact that I'm actually teaching grades 7 and 8 English and Math, and would have liked to spend some time talking to and getting to know them, the pre-primary students DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH. Or Silozi. And after 3 months in the village my Subia is in a sadder state than I'd like to admit. So I walk into this class of about 12 terrified looking 5 year olds (don't forget, this is their first day of school. Ever.) And proceed to hand out construction paper and crayons that they just stare at. I take out a crayon and start coloring my paper, saying "bone!" "See!" Color! Finally the secretary came in and I asked her to translate for me which got some kids coloring. When they got bored with coloring I decided to attempt to teach them "Duck Duck Goose" using my extremely limited vocabulary. I achieved this by going around and miming what they were supposed to do then when I tapped goose, saying "Iwe!" (you!) "Mata!" (Run!) then "Kale!" (Sit!) To my surprise it actually worked, and I successfully got them to play for the rest of the period. Poor kids. First day of school and they show up to a crazy white lady who doesn't speak their language. Being an African kid is hard in so many ways.
Well, that's an abridged version of my activities for the last few weeks. Now I'm on my way back to Rundu for a PC meeting. But first I'm heading over to Kaitlin's to bake cupcakes to bring for our Friday wine day in Rundu. Hey, even PCVs get to have a little fun sometimes ;)
Christmas day was mostly uneventful, until around 3 pm when people started pouring into the village to drink and braai. Christmas in Namibia is pretty much like 4th of July or a summer barbeque. Definitely not anything like what we're used to. I did get to talk to everyone in my family and Brian's family though, which was definitely the highlight of my holiday.
I spent New Year's in Rundu with some friends after our thwarted efforts to evade Peace Corps' notice and head to Otjiwarango for New Years' with some other dirty 30ers (our moniker for Peace Corps Nam/Group 30). However, the day before New Year's eve the friend we were going to stay with had a break in, so her house was on Peace Corps radar, and being sensible folks we thought flaunting to PC that we were breaking the very strict out of site policy (not allowed to leave your region for the first 3 months after swearing in! Period.) was a little stupid. So we spent New Year's eve watching movies and playing cards (while enjoying some WIndhoek Lager of course) while trying to stay awake until midnight. We then proceeded to wake up at 5 am to hike out of Rundu to enjoy some new year's day festivities in otjiwarango. So, that's the story of how I almost celebrated New Year's eve with the dirty 30 in Otjiwarango.
I then spent a week in Windhoek for reconnect, the second part of our PC training. It was in the mountains at a beautiful "resort" as we like to call it. Actually after months of living like PCVs this place was a resort, with air conditioning, hot showers and a pool! It was also great to see the rest of my group, who truly are such wonderful people I can't stand it. We also got to drop some mad Namib dollars eating in Windhoek. Ahh Windhoek. So strange, so disconcerting and so wonderful sometimes. Mostly the food. Indian, Italian, KFC...we even found a place called Joe's beer house which has a hefeweizen! After months of drinking watery Windhoek lager or the cheaper brands that have an aftertaste of soap that cloudy wheat beer was like 500 ml of heaven.
Which brings me to the present. Well, after hiking back from Windhoek, and realizing again how effing far Caprivi is from the capital (it took me 48 hours to get back to Kabbe, overnighting in Rundu and Katima), I arrived just in time for the first day of school! Actually the 3rd day technically, since teachers were supposed to be there monday and tuesday. But in Namibia that means nothing happens except maybe stuff that was supposed to happen last term, like finishing your grade symbol distribution (I don't know why that was so important, but it was), and what what. So yesterday the learners arrived, and of course our subjects hadn't been allocated and we had no timetable, so the learners ended up doing manual labor and running around for most of the day.
Today I showed up and at our brief staff meeting was told that the pre-primary teacher wasn't there, so why didn't I just watch the pre-primary class today? Putting aside the fact that I'm actually teaching grades 7 and 8 English and Math, and would have liked to spend some time talking to and getting to know them, the pre-primary students DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH. Or Silozi. And after 3 months in the village my Subia is in a sadder state than I'd like to admit. So I walk into this class of about 12 terrified looking 5 year olds (don't forget, this is their first day of school. Ever.) And proceed to hand out construction paper and crayons that they just stare at. I take out a crayon and start coloring my paper, saying "bone!" "See!" Color! Finally the secretary came in and I asked her to translate for me which got some kids coloring. When they got bored with coloring I decided to attempt to teach them "Duck Duck Goose" using my extremely limited vocabulary. I achieved this by going around and miming what they were supposed to do then when I tapped goose, saying "Iwe!" (you!) "Mata!" (Run!) then "Kale!" (Sit!) To my surprise it actually worked, and I successfully got them to play for the rest of the period. Poor kids. First day of school and they show up to a crazy white lady who doesn't speak their language. Being an African kid is hard in so many ways.
Well, that's an abridged version of my activities for the last few weeks. Now I'm on my way back to Rundu for a PC meeting. But first I'm heading over to Kaitlin's to bake cupcakes to bring for our Friday wine day in Rundu. Hey, even PCVs get to have a little fun sometimes ;)
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