Language, Leaving, and Love

February 3, 2008

Having A Moment of Color

I’ve been in Namibia for 3 months. In fact my anniversary was yesterday (^_^). I am here to teach English (the national language) and I’m not getting paid. I have given my life. So why are these people sweatin’ me about speaking this language? Not English, I speak that one pretty well. If they don’t get off my back about speaking Otjiherero I might stop speaking altogether. I can and do greet people in the local language. I can say some other words too. I admit I could know more at this point but give me a break- I’ve been in training, moving around, English is the language I am supposed to speak most of the time, and I have been at my permanent site for less than a month. So why why why are these people at a neighboring site hassling me? I just came to spend a quiet weekend with Bri but every time we step outside someone is berating me for not knowing more of the local language. Then it dawns on me or rather I decided to acknowledge what it is. My friend is white and I am not. I could be a Namibian (coloured as they say) and they are expecting me to instantly pick up the language because of my skin color. They are wondering why I am letting this white girl show me up. I will not explain this or discuss it any more, right now I have no words for what I am feeling all I can say is that I am having a moment of color.


February 7, 2008

We’re still waiting for electricity. Turns out there’s a power shortage, but what’s new eh? I hear we may be getting solar energy actually. I mean Namibia does have about 300 sunny days a year, why not?
In the mean time I have a few options. I can give my phone to the principal to take when he goes to his farm or to run errands in other communities where it can be plugged in for a bit to get a few bars.
There is also the school’s generator which seems to be little more than a car engine and battery detached from the car, thankfully, and using petrol to get fired up. The electric cord is stretched through the window of the secretary’s office where most of the teachers then plug in their phones as long as she is using the car engine to power up the type writer.
When there’s no typing to be done I can always giving my phone and charger to my counterpart to have it “processed”, by which he means sending it off with a small boy to be delivered to some mysterious source of power that I have never seen. Not that there is much to my community, seriously the school is the main establishment. But I’m sure I’ll stumble upon this secret processing plant one day and probably also find most of the electronic gadgets from the surrounding houses waiting to get juiced up. TIN.


February 13, 2008

My school day begins at 6:35am when I walk across the yard to the school and unlock my classroom. I prepare for my classes- change the date on the chalk board, write vocabulary words there as well as anything else we’ll talk about in class (w/o electricity there are no worksheets or copies to hand out, it’s all written on the chalk board). Classes begin at 7 and end at 1 with a 40 minute break in the middle and no passing time between classes, they all end and begin at the same time- it’s a neat trick being in 2 places at once. At 2:45pm the bell is rung to call all the learners to afternoon study which lasts…an hour- an ample amount of time because they are only required to have assignments that take 10-15 minutes per subject. I’m assigning grades 6-7 to write sentences and paragraphs- not pages. By the way there’s no study on Wednesdays because there is athletics. And there’s no study on Fridays because the learners are going home and the teachers leave to go to their farms.
Now are there any questions as to why the kids are having trouble passing their national exams?


February 14, 2008

Grade 6 has fallen in love with “Simon Says”. Please pronounce it with a long ‘i’ and ‘o’ so that it’s “See mone”. It’s so cute the way they beg me to play it all the time. I can always motivate them by saying, “The sooner we finish this, the sooner we can play Seemone Says”. They’re favorite command is “Seemone says dance”. And they all start dancing and I burst into giggles. Now they’ve started giving each other instructions using Simon. “Seemone says sit down.” “Seemone says open your books.” It’s so cute and funny. I love it.
Today after playing a particularly tough round I high-fived the two kids still in the game (I love that the same kids always get out in the beginning). Then all the other kids crowded around for a high-five too. Precious.
Grade 6 rocks my world! And I get to have them again next year (^_^).


February 22, 2008

70, no 69…Actually it’s 70…No 69...Actually 68

This is the true story of 70 people, no 69, picked to serve as PCVs in Namibia. We began as 70 in Washington, DC then one decided it just wasn’t for her so she left us before we even got to know her face. We boarded a plane bound for South Africa as 69 PCTs.
As training began and things started to get difficult with being away from home for the holidays, discussing such heated and heavy topics as race and stereotypes, and as we learned about the jobs we’d come to do we all looked around wondering who might ET (early termination).
They say that people usually leave right after CBT (our month of staying with a host family and running a model school with local children) once they’ve had a taste of the life here (pre-teens getting drunk, the education system which is often a haven for people who don’t want to do any work, and being force-fed meat…I’m kidding they don’t force feed us but if you don’t eat meat your host mom won’t know what else to cook for you). But everyone in our group stayed after CBT. Miraculous. We felt proud.
We thought we were safe and that we’d all swear-in together at least. But alcoholism and family issues caused one young man among us to make a decision that wasn’t exactly shocking. Instead of accepting a probationary swear-in which included an agreement to not drink for 3 months, this PCV-hopeful chose to call it quits and head back to the states. From what I hear, on his last day he got drunk and went to the PC office and told the country director a thing or two. Way to show them.
We swore in and started to get settled into our sites, decorating our homes, figuring out what to cook, and getting to know the neighbors. We thought everything was fine. I mean everyone threatens to ET, it just feels good to have the choice. It seemed so out of the blue when our fellow PCV told us last week that she had decided this wasn’t the place for her and that she’d be going home. She left yesterday.
Whenever someone leaves you kind of check-in and take inventory of yourself and make sure you’re in the right place, following the signs, and learning the lessons. It shook us up a bit and we couldn’t believe that again we’d lost one.
I’ve heard that education volunteers often leave at the beginning of the second year. They come back from December vacation refreshed and ready to make a difference. When they realize that not much besides themselves have changed- the kids are still complacent, other teachers are still lazy, and they still work for a bureaucracy- they often choose to cut their losses and go back to the land of electricity, plentiful internet, and running water (actually Namibia’s water system is pretty good). We haven’t gotten that far yet; when we do I’ll let you know how my soul searching goes. In the meantime BriAnne and I want you to know that we are not going to ET.