Lessons from an Always-Learning Nomad

 

As my time of extended travel across thirteen vastly diverse countries, constant African mosquito bite scars and anti-malaria prophylaxis is finally coming to an end, I have been more reflective than usual about what it has all meant. I knew going into this experience that it would change me, in more ways than I could probably imagine – and that has certainly held true. I have gained so much confidence in myself – in my abilities to navigate difficult circumstances, in remaining strong and coherent for others when they are unable to, and in who I am and how I can affect the world as an individual. I recognize these great traits that I possess more than I ever have, instead of merely listening to others tell them to me. It might sound overly confident to many raised in the always self-humbling culture of the U.S, but I have learned that knowing your worth and marketing those traits are essential in this world, whether for professional or personal purposes.

 

Abandoned Prypiat, Chornobyl – 90 kilometers outside of Kyiv, Ukraine

 

I have naturally lost a bit of myself: more of my OCD tendencies have shed from my perfectionist ideal; most of my standards for what an ideal home should look (or smell or feel) like; my overly cautious need for cleanliness and the obsession with perfect health; my amazingly compact sleeping bag and silk liner that carried me through my Peace Corps travels (I’m coming for you, Kenya Airways). I have had time to ponder, the ability to meet new and influential people, whether good or bad (shout out to you, guy in Arusha with a nice new American made stainless steel water bottle), see old friends and make new ones, and explore places that I never thought I would see in my lifetime. I’ve carried two hiking bags with me over the expanse of two continents and countless cities. I somehow managed to wear every single piece of clothing that I brought with me, from a bathing suit and shorts to my winter jacket, gloves and hat. I have hiked on Mt. Kilimanjaro, kayaked across Lake Malawi, visited the countries that my ancestors came from, taken all forms of transportation to get to one place or the other and relished every minute of it. Okay, maybe not EVERY minute.. how can you enjoy someone puking next to you or getting lost in the middle of the night in a strange new city? It is difficult in the moment, but I have managed to find humor in the frustrating moments, strength when I felt lost and confused, and bliss when everything worked out just fine in the end. Sometimes even better than expected.

Transportation sometimes comes in the form of the top of a 4×4 truck at sunset on the Ethiopian salt pans.

 

Other times it is a 36 hour train ride with the smells of urine wafting through your cabin and a hole in the bottom of the train floor for toilets.

 

And sometimes it is a busted kombi (excuse me, minubus) that gets a flat tire before you get kicked off and shoved onto another bus to your final destination.

And with these few words, I now declare this meeting officially opened. Just kidding – a little joke for anyone who has sat through an infinite number of seemingly never-ending meetings in Namibia. I now present: lessons I have learned along the way, in no particular order of importance.

 

1. I absolutely love being on my own schedule and being completely independent. It has been the most amazing experience for me to figure out how to get from one city to another, without speaking the local language and sometimes not having an exact or concrete plan. It has given me the freedom to change things as I see fit and to organize my travels based on local opinions, without having to consult with a travel partner. As amazing of a travel companion you might have, you still need to compromise on what each of you is interested in. Despite my appreciation for this increase of individual independence, I have also grown enough to admit my vulnerabilities. One of those is the feeling of loneliness I sometimes felt while on the road – something I had not previously allowed myself to feel. Traveling is incredible and allows you to learn and grow, but it is almost certainly better when you have someone next to you to share it with.

   

   Probably being followed by our many new “friends” in Lalibela, Ethiopia.

   

   Cool hostel and even cooler travel companions in Livingstone, Zambia.

2. Not many people enjoy traveling like I do. Most of my friends can attest to my cheap tendencies in everyday situations, to the point that I will barter with someone over the smallest amounts of money that makes them roll their eyes and shake their heads. I like to travel the way local people do, which is not always luxury. Actually, it is almost never luxury, except for my brief evening in Dubai with a pretty amazing guide. I like to stay with people as opposed to staying in a hostel, meeting new people and seeing their way of life. With the money that I save on transportation and accommodation, I am able to more fully enjoy the place I am visiting and continue my travels on a budget.

   

   Wedding crashing on Lake Kivu, Rwanda.

3. I have come to develop a very fond appreciation for the English language. It has brought me so many connections with people from all over the world whom, without it, I never would have been able to communicate with. It is a binding language throughout so many countries that it gives a unique ability for many people to travel with at least some ability to get around. It is also lovely to hear the different accents when different people speak English, and fun to watch two non-native speakers talk to one another. During a trip to the Danakil Depression in Ethiopia, I had a great time acting as a translator for a friend from Japan, our driver from Addis Ababa and an awesome couple from Spain when there were miscommunications. I recognize that I am very privileged to have English as my native tongue, although I do not want that to be the only language that I speak. My newfound union with my mother tongue certainly does not give a pass to most people from the U.S. who only speak English and do not feel the need to know anything else. I think it is quite an ignorant way to live in the world only speaking English because we know that most people speak at least some. I have renewed my desire to learn more German during my travels (DuoLingo tells me I am now 31% fluent) and I greatly hope to maintain my Damara without speaking to my friends daily.

   

   DuoLingo gets it better than most men do.

4. People from the U.S. generally do not travel like people from other parts of the world do. It was almost an everyday occurrence for me to meet someone from Australia, Europe or South America who had been traveling for 8 months, and some who had a few years tucked away in their resume. They were people who had recently quit jobs and were trying to put their lives in a different direction, students who were traveling in between Masters and Ph.D. programs, or people who realized that their life is more important than the standards set by society. Most people I know in the U.S. cannot fathom being gone for more than a few weeks on holiday, and to be fair a lot of that has to do with our broken governmental and job structures that only allow for two weeks of holiday a year. Not to mention the most minimal and embarrassing maternity leaves in the ENTIRE WORLD, but that is for another post. I am beginning to understand the different cultural norms that equate lesser or greater happiness, more fulfillment in work and in life, and I appreciate those who make choices in accordance to themselves as opposed to national boundaries.

   

   Nungwi, Zanzibar

5. Something that I struggled with a lot during my travels is the overwhelming disposability of life on the move. At the risk of sounding like Edward Norton talking to Tyler Durden, everything my journey necessitates is costly to the environment. Coffee and food that are often taken to go instead of sitting down and eating at a restaurant costs the environment in the packaging that is used. Plastic bags that are used by so many travelers, every time they go to the store. Small soaps and toiletries that are coveted by travelers like opiates in middle class suburbs. Plastic bags used by people purchasing one candy bar in the grocery store. Petrol for the dozens of smelly, overcrowded buses I have been on to get from one location to the other. Plastic bags. So much waste is accumulated by travelers, often un-necessarily, that I often wondered how much destruction people who think that they are doing good in the world are actually causing. It takes a lot of extra mental and physical effort to leave a smaller carbon footprint, and I will be the first to admit that it is often the last thing that you want to think about after schlepping 50 kilograms of baggage through the streets of Prague when you arrive at midnight, searching for your hostel. I get it. But if we are to move in this fantastic world that allows us life changing experiences and stories that we will never forget, that extra moment of stopping at a store to pick up fresh produce instead of a packaged dinner for your trip (and carrying your own reusable bag) can make a big difference. Especially when it becomes a habit and you repeat these small steps daily. This is the responsibility of someone whose global impact encompasses more terrain than the average person, but the world will be a better place for future generations if everyone did their part in their everyday lives as well.

http://www.healthguidance.org/entry/14901/1/The-Effects-of-Plastic-Bags-on-Environment.html

 

Forgetting our reusable bags when shopping in Arusha, Tanzania.

 

6. I have learned that traveling during the off-season is absolutely amazing. There are less tourists crowding the streets, which give you more time and space for you to explore the otherwise permeated attractions. It is always cheaper to travel off season, from hostels to tourist destinations to admission tickets. The only down side to this type of travel, of course, if that there is often construction and renovations taking place on the historical monuments and buildings. They take advantage of the low season just like we do, I guess.

   

   Cologne Cathedral, Köln, Deutschland

   

   Old Town – Prague, Czech Republic

   

   Old Town – Warsaw, Poland

    

   

   Shipyard Area – Gdańsk, Poland

7. Of all that I have experienced, the lessons I have learned and the people I have met along the way, nothing sticks out to me more than something that my Godmother and I often talk about: taking risks is sometimes met with obstruction, and that is normal. More than likely, it is a necessary part of the process of trying something new. What better way to find out how you truly feel about something than to test your limits and capabilities to the point of exasperation? And if you can continue on, fantastic – you will reap the infinite rewards for your perseverance. If you cannot (or more realistically, don’t want to) continue, you are all the better for recognizing that something does not serve you. You can always change your direction. You can always alter your course. Life is too short to do anything that doesn’t set your soul on fire.

 

Finding out I am suddenly afraid to cliff jump and that getting older sucks – Lake Malawi.

 

Before almost crashing onto the shore of our camping spot – Lake Malawi.

So You Think You Want to Be A Peace Corps Volunteer [Part 2]

 

It is a tale as old as time that to every story, there are two sides, and sometimes many more, needed in order to understand it fully (can you tell I watched Beauty and the Beast recently?.  This is no less true in my service here in Namibia and often complicates my feelings about how I have spent the last two years.  Yes, of course.. there are incredible stories of friendship, laughter and splendid surprises, with memories I will cherish for the rest of my life, all thanks to my time here.  People who have welcomed me into their homes when I did not feel like I belonged anywhere.  Sunny days and sunsets with people I love that will be etched into my mind and looked back on fondly.

As with anything, especially when you are doing development work, the good comes with a healthy helping of the bad, and the bad sometimes comes with a side order of the awful.  With only one month left of service, I am doing a lot of reflecting on the multi-faceted memories that I will be taking along with me on my travels and then back to my birthplace.  I have been thinking about the questions that people will ask, what they will want to hear and how that will affect me.  No one wants to hear the negative parts of an adventure – no one wants to be told about the sadness and frustrations felt – but I believe that is all part of the process of reacclimatizing.  It will be important for me to share in the decompression process with those that I love, and who I know love me.

In an effort to begin that process now, and to complement the “What I will miss about Namibia” post I finished recently, I want to share a few of the things that I will not miss about Namibia.  Not because I dislike Namibia or want to dissuade anyone from visiting, living or volunteering in this country, but because I think that the balance of truth is far from being available to people thinking about serving in the Peace Corps.  The things that I will not miss are very real and probably felt by most volunteers at one point or another during their service – if I am able to give even one person insight into how to cope, or to be more prepared for what is imminent in their lives abroad, I will feel peace.  It is also part of my healing and reintegration process, so please bear with me.  And in order to make this post a bit more positive and focus on constructive criticism, I will also include how I coped with these frustrations.  Because what is venting without a way to move forward?

So with as little cynicism and as much truth as I can muster in these last few weeks of life in Namibia, I present to you..

The 5 Things I Will Not Miss About Namibia

1. Sticking out in a crowd (and sometimes even an entire town or village).  I would NEVER have expected this to be as exhausting, time consuming and emotionally draining as it turned out to be.  Sure, we got advice on how to integrate and to not take every stare, laugh at our attempts at the local language and unexpected question to heart (owe me money, give me your number, give me a white baby), it it difficult not to internalize many of these remarks.  Especially when you have to hear them every day.  Multiple times a day.  For the better part of two years, apart when I was traveling outside of Khorixas, if I went outside that day, it meant that I had given people the liberty to speak to me (of course this is usually fine – greetings are expected and important in this culture), ask me for my personal possessions, ask to date me, and often times touch or grab me without my consent.  This is easily the most upsetting and frustrating part of being a volunteer for me.  HOW DID I COPE?: It takes a long time and an even larger amount of patience to come up with ways to be culturally sensitive about teaching respect from your own point of view and your own important cultural identity.  I found that telling someone that they are disrespecting me, as respect is a hugely important part of Damara culture (whether you are giving it or not sends a message to everyone involved and watching), and that what they are doing is not appropriate in my culture helped.  This gave the person some context and background information about why I was reacting the way that I was, instead of making me seem cold hearted or unwelcoming.  There are certainly quite a few cases where this did not work and alternative facts – I mean, alternative approaches had to be taken, but those stories will be saved for in person conversations.
2. The lack of fruits and vegetables in traditional Damara food.  A typical meal cooked in my town consists of pap (corn maize mean cooked with oil and salt), a large piece of red meat (remember that chicken is sometimes considered vegetarian here) cooked with spices and more salt, and potato salad cooked with mayonnaise, spices and.. you guessed it – salt.  It is rare to find local vegetables and even rarer to find someone with a garden at their house, growing their own.  Vegetables and fruits are also quite expensive at the store, since they have to be shipped in from nearby cities.  I can’t wait to be able to afford healthy options, and to simply HAVE those healthy options, at my disposal.  Fresh pressed juices, local produce, ALL OF THE AVOCADOS.. I am coming for you.  HOW DID I COPE?: Planting a community garden where I sourced most of my vegetables right from my front yard at the Ministry.  I not only got to teach others about the importance of home gardening, but got to have the most fresh and tasty produce for my meals.  I also purchased fruits and vegetables on my way back to Khorixas when I was traveling from somewhere else, getting a better selection, cheaper prices and saving on travel money since I was already heading that way.
3. The oppressive, patriarchal, downright hateful sun.  This may be more specific to Khorixas in general, as I have spoken to many volunteers who do not have the same blinding, gates of hell, rays of the devil sunshine that we have here.  And I certainly do not want to generalize an entire country when most of my experience has been in one town (because the mountains cast a valley-effect onto this town, and they reflect the sunshine, Andrew.. I know you believe it now).  But good god.. I have never witnessed a sun like the one that we have here.  You can go outside for a minute and feel your skin sizzling.  You can walk from your room to the front door of your compound and already have sweated out the liter of water you drank in preparation for an outing into society.  I cannot wait for clouds in the sky, rain that lasts for longer than 5 minutes and the unpredictability of weather that I forgot existed.  Aside from drunk taxi drivers, the sun has become my worst enemy during my service and I am thrilled to leave it behind.  HOW DID I COPE?:  Wearing all the sunscreen.  I hate the sticky, oily feel of it, but man.. my skin is thankful for the effort I put into it.  I also caved and bought a tourist hat and umbrella for the days when the sun was just too strong.  I might have stood out a bit more (I didn’t think that was possible), but it was worth it in the long run to have the extra protection.
4. Hitchhiking as a mode of transportation – or, to put it more bluntly, the only mode of transportation – in Namibia.  It has been incredibly interesting to meet such a vast array of people in a method that I never thought possible 2 years ago.  As one of my past blog posts indicates, I have met some of my best friends and had some of my best experiences through hitchhiking through Namibia.  However, this does not negate the fact that I was putting my life into the hands of total strangers and hoping that they were decent enough drivers (at the very least, that they had their driver’s licenses).  It was always a risk getting into a car with someone you do not know well, or at all, and hope that you have made a good choice in your intuition.  Aside from the measures of safety I have become a bit lax on, it is a lesson in patience to be at the hands of another person’s concept of timing.  If I plan to travel to the capital city of Windhoek, I know that I have to get up at 6:30 to make coffee, have breakfast, pack the last minute things and walk to the road by 8:00.  Even though Otjiwarongo is about 2 hours away, I know that I will not get there before 10:45/11:00 due to waiting for a ride and the potential for a slower car traveling that way.  Once I get to Otjiwarongo, it takes an extra 30 minutes to walk to the edge of town where I will await another ride.  This ride usually arrives quite quickly due to the frequency of travelers from OTT to Windhoek, but I still will not make it to the city before 3:00 pm.  A 4 hour trip in (a normal) car turns into a 7 hour adventure, full of negotiating, squatting on the side of the road to pee, sharing snacks and conversations (mostly enjoyable) with strangers in the rides.   HOW DID I COPE?:  Books.  Conversations.  Understanding that everything ends at some point, no matter how painful or uncomfortable a ride may be.  Remembering to write little notes or send an sms to look back on and laugh at some of the absurd moments.  Take a deep breath and remember that I have had the privilege for a lifetime to live in a country that I did not even know existed 2 1/2 years earlier.
5. The weddings, babies and life events that I have been gone from during my time of service.  I did not realize how much it was going to impact me to miss three weddings, four babies and a few engagements to people that I love dearly.  I wanted to be there to celebrate with all of them, and to console the ones who lost special people in their lives.  I felt dissociated from the parts of myself that I hold dearly, such as my strong sense of loyalty to my friends and the ability that I used to have to be there for my loved ones in times of great happiness as well as overwhelming sorrow.  One of the most difficult things during my service was to be reminded constantly of “how you must miss your family” from colleagues, friends and even random strangers.  Although I plan to live a life of travel and adventure, I am excited to have a home base that is closer to the people I care about.  At least for the time being.  HOW DID I COPE?:  I’m gonna be honest here, not well.  I do not cry often, as most of my family and friends know at this point, but the random tears that erupt out of nowhere have posthumously been blamed 90% of the time on the sadness I have felt for missing my family and friend’s important life events.  I did as much as I could to keep in contact with them as much as possible, despite my limited access to internet and not having a smart phone that connected to data – Skype, FaceTime and giving updates through blog posts became a treat.  A lot of my friends were really great about sending letters, packages (thanks, Aunt Alexa, Mom and Dad!) postcards (thanks, Kels Kels!) or pictures through Facebook and email (thanks, Ashley and Lana!) to help me feel a bit more connected to what was going on in their lives.  I have appreciated every moment that someone took out of their day to think about me and send a small message.  You guys probably have no idea what kind of impact that had on my motivation and overall happiness, and I can’t thank you enough for making me smile on the tough days (which there were plenty of).

 

I have begun to formulate my feelings on closing my service and moving into the unknown abyss that is the next step in my life.  I have thoughts on how I am ‘supposed’ to feel, and I am sure I will begin to acquire the feelings as they come.  For now, I can look back on the paradoxical experience of my Peace Corps service, relishing in how truly lucky I feel to have accomplished what I did in two years, and grappling with how strangely onerous living in Namibia has been.  I would never change my decision to fulfill my dream of serving.  I will always cherish the memories I have made, the people who I have come to know and love.  It will take me some time to find the humor and gain humility to process some of it, but until then, I will continue on to what is next.

 

So You Think You Want to Be a Peace Corps Volunteer? [Part 1]

 

When I told people that I was applying for the Peace Corps back in 2014, there were quite a few staple reactions that I received.  These ranged from “Wow, you are going to do such amazing things and change the world and every child in Africa!” to “I always wanted to be a Peace Corps Volunteer.. you are living my dream as an old hippie” and even “Why would you go halfway across the world when there is so much work to be done in America?  Do you not love your country?”.  My answers became more routine as I spoke with a greater number of people about the upcoming possibilities, just as my anxiety rose as the days drew closer to my scheduled interview date.  I can still remember the deeply entrenched fears that lay submerged beneath the surface, of wondering whether or not I was competitive enough to be accepted into the Peace Corps, and what I would do if I was rejected.  I felt a strange sense of calm and acceptance wash over me when I received my email in December that I had been placed on the waitlist for Namibia – who would have thought that peace would come with such an unsure reply.

 

Throughout January and February, I went through the always detailed, sometimes frustrating process of Medical Clearance for the Peace Corps.  This included multiple trips to doctor’s offices because of repeated testing, locating all of my old medical records, getting fingerprinted, sending in passports in order to receive my Peace Corps official passport with Namibian visa attached, and a trip to the passport office that left me in tears.  All of this, and it was not even guaranteed that I would be leaving in April to fulfill a life long dream to serve as a PCV.  This did not stop me from teaching yoga for a week at a Mind-Body-Wellness retreat in San Miguel, Mexico the month before we were potentially departing, with two very special women in my family.  It was in this beautiful country, sitting next to a small lake listening to an indigenous man play the didgeridoo, that I received the email confirming my placement with the Youth in Development program in Namibia.  I was ecstatic, overwhelmed, full of anxiety and relieved – I must have sat by that body of water for 30 minutes, allowing everything to process in my mind.  Life has such an interesting way of putting you in exactly the right place at the right time so that you feel supported and fulfilled in your endeavors.

 

As my 27 months of service are drawing rapidly to a close, I have been doing quite a bit of reflecting on my overall experience.  I have also spoken to a few people back in the States who have asked questions about what Peace Corps service is like, as they are considering applying as well.  So in this blog, although it is not unique or the first of its type, I wanted to highlight some of the things that I will greatly miss when I leave Namibia.  I have tried to answer as openly and honestly as possible while still retaining a non-biased perspective of my service.  I hope that it provides some insight into my personal recollections and thoughts, but encourage those who are thinking about joining the Peace Corps to look for as many resources as possible to base their own decisions around.  And of course, always trust your gut instincts – it is what brought me to the Peace Corps and what has kept me safe during my 27 months abroad.

 

1.  Greeting before starting a conversation.  This is something that I was starting to do before I left for Namibia, and I noticed how much more aware I was becoming of the present.  Instead of rushing from one place to the next, or one person to the next, I love that every conversation you have here (with sober individuals, at least) begins with “hello, how are you?”  To me, it does not feel like the disingenuous way of the South of the U.S. where the person was merely asking to be polite.  There is something truly thoughtful about greeting someone, especially when it is done in the local language, that makes me feel a bit more connected to my often strange surroundings.  In the terms of the service industry, I believe that it helps to humanize people who are normally only observed as performing a task – something that my father and I spoke about often when he was visiting, as we watched tourist after tourist avoid eye contact with a local and only address them for their occupation that served them.  I don’t think that this is something that I will leave behind, as it has become very much engrained in my character.
2.  Mahangu, ombidi, mutete, Oshikundu and donkey meat.  Much of the food in Namibia is quite basic – pasta, rice, bread and meat – but there are a few traditional foods that I won’t have much access to once I am back.  Unless people are starting to eat donkey meat nowadays.. but somehow I doubt that.  In the northern parts of the country, mahangu (millet) is a staple item, eaten as the carbohydrate of many people’s meals and diets.  It is also used to make Oshikundu, a cloudy, sweet and sour drink, when it is mixed with sorghum and left to ferment.  Mutete and ombidi are wild spinaches that grow during the rainy seasons, picked and then dried, to be rehydrated into a delicious stew with other vegetables and spices.  If anyone knows of any Namibian stores in the U.S. in or around the North Carolina area.. hit me up.  I’ll even take a general “Africa” store, despite its ridiculous attempt to capture an entire continent in one store.
3.  Sunsets, sunrises and any time the sky changes color in general.  The Namibian sun has been my absolute worst enemy over the last 27 months, from sun spots to wrinkles to eye sensitivity.  It is unforgiving, relentless and makes walking around the community (a huge part of work as a volunteer) sometimes unbearable.  But damn, I have never seen the sun coming and going appear so vividly and beautifully.  The colors that are ignited in the sky, ranging from deep purples to honeydew orange, is enough to inspire peace and respite on my toughest days.
4.  Being able to walk everywhere in my town.  I have learned that small towns have their charms as well as their downfalls.  I will never miss being stared at everywhere I go or being talked about constantly because I am different, but I love being able to walk from my house to the location for work, back to one of the schools and then to the grocery store all in a matter of a few hours.  I think about how much I have lowered my carbon footprint in the time I have spent living in Khorixas, since the only time I am in a car is when I am traveling out of site.  It will feel strange to go back to a world where people drive to the store that is a 10 minute walk away  in order to save time and energy.
5.  Things just coming together.  Never in my life have I lived and worked in a country where things are planned so last minute and procrastination run so rampantly.  This was a huge adjustment to make, as I have always been a person who make preparations that sometimes drive others crazy, but I think I am a more balanced person for it after learning to adapt.  You would think the lateness and lack of planning would lead to a lot of events that do not take place, but it is quite the opposite – somehow, everyone involved comes together and pulls off their parts with incredible quickness the day of the event and it actually happens.  Sometimes it feels like magic and I often had to stifle my surprise at the beginning of my service, while now I only shake my head in amazement.  It will be strange to go back to a world where planning takes priority in a job and if there is a lack of it, things fall apart instead of fall together.A small sampling of the things I will miss about Namibia, its vast array of cultures and its colorful eccentricities.  I am thankful to have finally (in 2 months) fulfilled the dream of joining the Peace Corps and have served in a country that I did not even know existed until I was assigned to live in it.

In the Heat of the Day

 

The sun rises in the Eastern window, cascading burnt orange and violet streaks across the mountain ranges as the water for coffee boils. The breeze that glides through is welcomed, as awareness of how the heat will envelop everything within the hour is understood by all. The temperature rises slowly at first and then skyrockets quickly; the familiar dread fills the body like muscle memory. As the hours creep by, the air becomes stifling and the people move slower, conserving every ounce of energy and knowing internally, automatically, genetically, what they must do. The same thing that their ancestors did, finding refuge from the oppressive desert sun under the scarce trees and homemade porch shade, stuck together with any spare, forgotten about parts and pieces. Light fills the room.

 

 

The cat yawns, arching her back and stretching her paws forward, sauntering to find a cooler spot closer to the Earth, closer to the equator. As the day wears on, the sweat pours out – the body becomes more and more sluggish. Intentions that had been previously made melt away from consciousness; a distant thought that seems laughable now. The concerns that seep into the mind consist of maintaining homeostasis, a task that grows increasingly difficult with time, until the heat builds and builds and finally bubbles over in a froth of choking air, leaving its victims gasping for oxygen and sanity.

 

 

And just as furiously as it came, it begins to trickle backwards, retreating into the recesses of the hilltops, slinking away amidst the desert terrain. Breath begins to flow into lungs again, renewing and energizing a body that seceded long ago. The blanket of suffocation is lifted as a breeze trickles into the open window and the sun sets in the Western window, spilling pink and vibrant blues across the field of vision. The heat is gone for the day, sure to rise the next; but for now, rest.

 

A Day As I See It

 

To accompany the most recent Damaricans video where we showed everyone clips of our town and our wanderings, I wanted to take you through a typical work day in word format (a few pictures included for funsies).  This is certainly not inclusive and the diversity of the types of days I experience is astounding, but I have included some of the more interesting or ridiculous parts of my last 10 months living in Namibia.  I have also included the link to our YouTube channel and our “Day in the Life of a Damarican” at the bottom of this page.  Enjoy!

 

 

6:30-7:00 am (no alarm clock needed) : Wake up to my cat either biting my toes or munching on a friend fish head that she stole from my dinner with my neighbor the night before.  Spray her with the water bottle and fume about how I have to find something else to eat for breakfast now that the fish head is gone.

 

Pretending to be cute and innocent.

 

7:00-7:59 am : Grind beans of choice using my hand coffee grinder (thanks Kelsey and Craig!) and boil water after deciding whether to unplug my refrigerator or my neighbor’s electricity from the four adapters coming out of one outlet.  Try not to burn the flat down or cause an explosion by a circuit catching fire (again).  Drink coffee and write in my handmade journal from DanaMom that is slowly running out of pages.  Bucket bathe in my shower that leaks constantly and flooded my place before I attached a hose piece to send the water out of my shower window.  Attempt to flush my toilet that I know will not flush, yet still hope for.  One day.  Walk 200 feet out of my door to the office I share with my neighbor.

 

 

8:15-10:00 am – The office opens on “African time” and I get to the office where I set up my things for the day on the corner of my colleague’s desk.  Try not to knock anything over or kill the wifi by being in front of the antennae on her computer.  Check emails, catch up with colleagues, greet everyone in about 4 different languages, laugh about something we read in the online newspaper that we read daily.  Say hello to everyone who walks by my window and sees a white person, tell them that I do not speak Afrikaans and make their eyes go wide when I greet them in Damara.  Try not to be offended when they say “ayyiiiiiii!  /husa ge Damara !hoa, etscheeeee” (ayiiiiiI! white girl speaks Damara, etscheeeee).

 

Every once in a while, hang out with your colleague’s adorable son.

 

10:00-11:30 am – Power goes out unexpectedly.  SMS a few people in different locations of town, trying to figure out if it is just at our Ministry or town-wide.  Most likely discover that it is just our Ministry and a miscommunication about a bill (or four) being paid.  Determine if I think the power will be out for a few hours or a few weeks and whether or not I need to transfer my cold food to my site-mate’s flat so that it does not go bad.  Decide to stick it out and hope for the best.  Sit outside with colleagues, answering questions about my opinions of the LGBT community (in lesser phrasing) and what a “boy who is a girl” is (transgender), why I chose to live in a place like Khorixas (I did not) and when I will start dating a Damara man so I can learn the language more (I will not).  Try to read a book but get distracted by the man who lives in a shack in the settlement behind the location who comes to the office thinking he is the Director of the Ministry.  He usually wants me to fax or sign something, or give him the receipts for the multi-million dollar program I am “helping him work on.”  Calm him down after someone upsets him or security removes him.  Ponder about what his life must have been like before the mental illness took over.  Thank whatever higher powers there are that he is sweet and non-violent.

 

The Director showing us what home brew is – a scary, horrifying mix similar to moonshine, but with old clothes and underwear.

 

 

 

11:30-1:00 pm : Contemplate how hot it is getting and whether or not I will do yoga or go for a run later.  Probably neither, since the blazing sun’s death rays don’t go down until almost 8:00 pm.  Check time regularly to see how close lunch is.  Scream hysterically and stand on top of a chair while an 8 inch long spider casually crawls into the office and almost mountain climbs up your foot.  Wait for your colleagues to calmly herd it outside with a rake while wearing a club dress and 8 inch high pumps.  Admire the spider’s pink color from afar and run around trying to take a photo of it without getting too close again.  Get stared at for being white again.  Explain that I do not speak Afrikans.  Amaze someone by greeting them in Damara.  Fend off proposals for me to marry their son (or cousin or brother or father).  Check the time again, hoping for 1:00.  Try to read a book again, get interrupted by four languages speaking quite loudly in the general vicinity.  Finally reach 1:00, walk the 200 feet back, dodging people asking you what is for lunch, to the flat and exhale relief.

 

The picture makes it look so small.. trust, it was terrifying.

 

1:00-2:00 pm : Look at contents of refrigerator and pantry-table.  Decide if turning the stove on to cook will make it feel more like Hell than it already does.  Hope that there are leftovers from the day before.  Feel an epic adrenaline rush when the homeless kids in your town throw empty glass bottles at a tree nearby your window (making it sound like someone is glass bombing your home) for entertainment.  Thank whatever higher powers there are that they are only annoying and non-violent.  Eat whatever found/cooked lunch is available while watching an episode of Law and Order: SVU or entertaining one of the site mates who came for internet.  Hide and pretend to not be home if local kids who have figured out where you live stop by.  Try not to get Giardia again by drinking the local water – force yourself to use the filter that Peace Corps gave you, but end up using your creativity instead.

 

 

2:00-3:00 pm : Come back to the office and join in with my co-workers in their conversations.  Decide if I want to not understand a conversation in Damara or not understand a conversation in Owambo.  Make the choice to go sit outside and read instead.  Surprise visitors to the Ministry by telling them that yes, I do work here, and no, you do not love me (/namsi ta ge a).   Prepare for Not Just a Woman Club (name picked out by the learners – proud moment) or TADAH Club (boys and girls whose focus is keeping them away from drugs, alcohol and HIV) by writing lesson plans and coming up with activities for the kids on Tuesday and Thursday.  Gather information, determine what lessons are important for the kids at site.  Attempt to dispel myths such as “when a boy hits you, it really just means that he loves you more” and “can’t you use a condom twice, as long as you wash it out?”.  Feel like a superhero who can never truly save their town.  And who has no costume.  And who really isn’t a superhero at all.

 

Kids of Khorixas, next to our most commonly seen farm animal.

 

3:00-5:00 pm : Walk, or frequently get a ride from a good samaritan with a car, into town to pick up some groceries, check the mail and hope there are letters or a package from home waiting for you and run into half the people you know.  After many conversations and much small talk, head back to the office to finish up whatever work is left for the day.  Convince colleagues that their friend did not get fat simply from “having sex”, that instead, there are many other factors involved in someone gaining weight when they are in a relationship with someone.  Also, try to explain how it is not polite to call someone fat or tell them that they are gaining weight or that they are too skinny and need to eat more.  Realize that this will not change and try not to worry too much, since most people do not care.

 

Some of my favorite ladies in Khorixas.

 

5:00-6:00 pm : Help close the office down, shutting windows and locking doors.  Try to avoid getting stuck with the office key, meaning you are in charge of opening the office the next day.  Pass the keys around like a hot potato.  You or your neighbor/colleague most likely get stuck with the keys, since you both live at the office in a hidden Hobbit hallway.  Sit outside to finish reading some of the book you are currently reading.  Realize that you will never get through a page with all of the interruptions from gym-goers and visitors.  Remember that you are different and cannot go anywhere without being stared at or intriguing someone’s interest.  Shake your head at yourself for thinking you could sit in peace somewhere.  Go back inside and read and pet your cat under the mosquito net instead.  Invite your sitemates and a visitor over to do crafts from middle school, provided by said visitor.  Feel appreciative to have found people who understand your need for relaxation.

 

Gimping – thankfully, Den was a master and taught our challenged selves.  How did we do this with such ease as kids?!

 

6:00-7:00 pm : Take a second inventory of the refrigerator and table pantry.  Decide if cooking dinner is a feasible option or if leftovers or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is a better idea (read: easier, and much more probable).  Try not to sweat to death if dinner is being cooked because you remembered it was your night to cook for yourself and your colleague.  Fend off cat from jumping onto stove to see what is for dinner.  Fail, get second degree burns all over my body as Clementine knocks over the sauce pan of boiling water from the stove.  Watch her munch on a beetle the size of my palm, try not to vomit with each crunching sound. Make the decision that I wasn’t really that hungry anyway and maybe I’ll have popcorn and an apple for dinner, provided that there are no more beetles around.

 

Fried fish and rice cooked by my neighbor, Schöfferhofer provided by me to introduce her to the few good beers offered here.

 

7:00-8:00 pm : Now that the devil of a sun is on its way down, the time has come to decide whether it will be a yoga session or a run evening.  Attempt to gain motivation by giving reminders of how great I will feel afterwards and maybe promise myself that I will bake a cookie or eat a piece of American chocolate or some M&M’s (thanks, Mom!).  Think about how many kids (and adults) I will have to scold, telling them not to call me a /husa (too many – “/husa ta ge /onsa uha, ta ti #gai te”) and how many proposals I will get (“I can tell by your body that you like to work out – let me join you someday – marry me?”).  Judge myself in my one small mirror, determining if I have lost or gained weight this week.  Flipping a coin also works for this decision.  Usually lose the battle of exercising at all and pick out a movie to watch or book to read instead.  Inevitably watch the sunset which provides endless inspiration and beauty, even if the day has made you question your original intentions.

 

Gotta hold onto that gloriousness.

 

8:00-9:30 pm : Dedicate time to talk on the phone (I know.. can you see how Namibia and finding someone incredibly special has changed me?) to my boyfriend who lives 8 hours away from me.  Share our daily adventures, process the emotions of the day, console the frustrations, talk about future plans, remind ourselves to live in the moment and be appreciative for the positives about the day.  Complain about something dumb someone did or how no one showed up to our club or the important community meeting we were attending suddenly got cancelled.  Talk about what scary/cool insects or animals we encountered.  Be reminded of how difficult a long distance relationship is, but how lucky you feel to have found a partner like this.  Think about how I have lived in Namibia for almost a year and marvel at that.  Only one year and four months left.  Decide if tonight, that feels like an eternity or an incredibly short time to get everything done that I want to.  Appreciate how, despite the ups and downs  of this service and this life, I am living the experience that I always wanted to.

 

9:30-10:00 pm : Fall asleep, reminding myself that tomorrow could be exactly the same or extremely different from today and how grateful I am for that possibility.  Almost kick the cat off the bed as she bites my toes for the second time today.

 

 

Christmas on the Zambezi

 

December and January flew by without much time for me to even think that I was spending my first holiday away from my family and away from the country that I have always celebrated the festive season in.  The heat index staying at a steady 40 degrees Celsius contributed to the dissociation of living in Namibia during Christmas time when I am quite used to waking up to snow on Christmas morning.  Okay, so maybe that is a stretch (fine, a far stretch.. North Carolina does not have many white Christmases), but I cannot remember a time in my life when I had to use a fan to keep myself from sweating during present opening.  One of the few Christmas traditions that have remained in my family over its many incarnations through the years is also one of my absolute favorite.  For as long as I can remember, my Mom has had a styrofoam cone that we decorated with Hershey Kisses to make a small, colorful Christmas tree that lived on our countertop throughout November (yes, November is when decorations went up in our house) and only died when my brother and I had eaten all of the chocolate goodness off of the tree.  When my Mom asked me in early October if I was feeling sadness about not being home for Christmas, I told her that I would miss a lot of things about home.. The meals with all of my combined families, the lights that seemed to appear out of nowhere on many of the buildings in Charlotte, the singing bears at the mall in the center of the city that I went to see as a child, and her ability to turn a home into a classy and elegantly decorated house that I am only just beginning to appreciate.  True to her wonderful memory and her incredibly loving heart, I received a surprise package from her in early November that included everything I would need to be able to set up my own styrofoam/Hershey Kiss Christmas tree.  Not only was I able to have a small piece of home with me in my flat for the next month, but I got to show my site mate how to set it up and teach each other about our family traditions and the differences between a North Carolina and Texas holiday (turns out there are a lot, despite both being Southern states).  You made my holiday, Mom.

 

Giddy like a child while opening my Christmas decorations package!

 

Showing Taylor how to pin the Kisses onto the styrofoam – one gets pinned, one gets eaten.

 

Completed project!  I’m still waiting to take it down because i love looking at it.

 

So instead of focusing on how different things were for all of us this year and how we missed our families, we decided to use our time off to travel around Namibia and Zambia while cooking our way through all of the foods that we missed from the States.  My trip began with a stop up north in a village called Mpungu, about an hour and a half away from Rundu where I spent a few days relaxing on a homestead with one of my favorite people.  Experiencing the village life was incredibly refreshing and turned out to be just what I needed before our journey continued East across the northern province.

 

The perimeter of the homestead – fence made of beautiful wood, containing and protecting many individual homes inside.

 

Beautiful, serene golf course-esque Mpungu.  Bodies of water AND greenery?

 

 

The birthday girl in her new dress made by a Meme in the village.

 

I couldn’t leave you without food photos.. homemade pizza and AVOCADO, my long lost love.

 

After being spoiled immensely with good cooking and the restfulness that only the village could offer, we headed to our next destination to celebrate Christmas with two of my closest friends in Peace Corps.  Katima Mulilo is a gorgeous oasis that sticks out of the long finger of Namibia, close to the Zambian border and many wild animals.  The cooking marathon continued as another volunteer made copious amounts of homemade rosemary bread, flavored cream cheese dip and roasting an entire pig piece marinated in oranges and soy sauce for our Christmas Eve feast.  We balanced this food gorging session with practicing kick-ass yoga every day and holding horse pose for minutes at a time while yelling at the instructor on our video in between playing double solitaire and taking walks around the town.

 

 

The sky could not be more perfect than in Namibia at the water.  No crocodiles in sight.

 

 

Enjoying tea, coffee and the internet while the boys cook us a Christmas Eve feast.  Just how I like my gender norms – nonexistent.

 

 

Happy people, beautiful flowers and delicious food made by wonderful people.  Merry Christmas Eve!

 

 

As soon as we arrived over the border in Zambia, we decided that a trip to Victoria Falls was absolutely necessary on our first day in country.  The only thing that came before this important excursion was food, but that probably goes without saying now.  The pictures and the videos that I saw of one of the 7 natural wonders of the world simply did not do this magical place justice.  Even though we have been in a drought for the last three years, and the water was not nearly as strong as it is during the raining season, the falls did not disappoint in any way and we had a fantastic time being tourists and taking thousands of photos.

 

Victoria Falls in all of its beauty.  Happy to start checking off some of the Wonders of the World!

 

Wild baboons are starting to become a regular thing in my life.  At least these ones did not chase us.

 

Couldn’t think of better people to almost lose my hearing with.

 

Zambia was the next stop on our trip for a full day of rafting and having our bodies destroyed by the Zambezi river.  I’ve white water rafted many times in my life, but this was undoubtedly the most difficult and strenuous of all of my experiences.  We asked our guide to give us the hardest routes and he certainly did that for us – I think we spent half the time in the raft and half the time floating down the river after he tipped us over for the 5th time.  I don’t think I have ever enjoyed myself so much in a new country as much as I did in Livingstone – so many restaurant based NGOs, homemade gelato blocks from our hostel and the greatest accommodations that a Peace Corps volunteer can afford.  The best Christmas gift this year came from my Dad and DanaMom, who allowed me to take the rafting trip of a lifetime on lots of Class 5 rapids that left us beaten and sunburned like we have never been before.  Our only logical question was when can we do it again?

 

The beginning, when the adrenaline was pumping and we were still upright and in the raft.

 

Just before we hit this rapid, we asked our guide if we were going to tip the raft at any point in our trip..

 

 

This picture will live in infamy for as long as I have it.

 

 

Where we spent a good majority of the time – under the raft and under water.

 

 

Zebras outside of the hotel that we ate dinner at and reveled in our rafting pain.

 

 

With December and early January filling up my roster with travels to new places and experiences I will not forget, it only seemed right to finish off my holiday season with a three day hiking and camping trip to the highest point in Namibia.  Brandberg Mountain (Fire Mountain in Dutch, Daureb in Damara) is almost 3,000 meters above sea level and at one point in its history, was an an active volcano.  Many of the rock layers that can be seen on the mountain are present now because of the lava flow that trickled down slowly as the Earth cooled.  The mountain is now just that – a gorgeous miasma of color, a variety of rocks types and a plentitude of trees, including the baobab.  

A daunting task as our guide says “there is the path we will take, straight through the mountain” but a path is nowhere to be found..

 

The first day of our hike was absolutely one of the most difficult exertions of energy I have had in my life.  7 hours of climbing rocks with all four limbs, sweating in the heat of the Namibian summer and walking up 65 degree walls of shale with our 6 liters of water each in our hiking backpacks made for a challenge that we took on with all of our energy.  We were so relieved and exhausted when we made it to the camp spot that we dropped our packs and took a nap in the shade before heading down to the water holes to fill up and filter our bottles – a time consuming task in itself.  Although we were proud of ourselves and thrilled that we had experienced such incredible views on our way up, not much talking was done as we pitched our tents and fell asleep as the stars came out and the weather cooled down.  

Smiling through the sweat.

 

 

Gorgeous gold-flaked tree trunks all over the mountain.  Apparently called a Butter or Bottle Tree.. accents can make things difficult sometimes.

 

The view after many hours of hiking and being told that we have made it past the hardest part!

 

Our guide and blissful smiles.

 

The second day of our hike was just as long as our first one, but on much easier terrain and with the knowledge that we had made it past the most difficult part of our path.  We reached the summit of Könnigstein (King’s Stone) around 11 and ate our packed lunches of biltong (jerky of various animal origins), fruit and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  I think we might have had a celebratory KIND bar to top off our success, as we took in the cool mountain breeze and signed the Guest Register kept in a stone enclave at the peak.

Cave paintings sprinkled themselves in throughout our journey back down to our campsite on our second full day, interspersed with a snack of fruit off of the traditional tree that our guide told us we should eat.  It felt like a very traditional way to live, in some senses, with hiking and eating being our main component of the day with an inevitable nap once we got back to the camp site.  Even though we only camped for a few days, it still established a rhythm for me where I listened to what my body needed more so than I normally would, taking breaks when it felt necessary and napping like I have never napped before.  Take away the busy work days and responsibilities of societal necessity and find out what it is that you truly crave, instead of what you think you want.  Even if it is only for a weekend.

A Quiver Tree on the edge of a cliff.

The hike back down felt so minuscule in comparison to what we had encountered on our way up to the camp spot two days earlier.  Although we were still sweating in the heat of the Namibian sun, we climbed down rock faces that previously forced us to question our motivations with ease and an ability to take in what incredible views we had.  The 65 degree shale walls that we trudged up two days prior, having to stop every few moments to catch our breath and lean forward even more to counter the debilitating angle, were scaled down with greater ease and a focus of not wearing away all of our knee cartilage and slipping on a piece of loose rock.

Details.

 

 

Amazing how life sustains itself even in the most extreme conditions.

 

 

Namibia’s landscape never ceases to amaze me.

Making it to the bottom of Brandberg Mountain has been one of my favorite moments since moving to Namibia 9 months ago.  Actually, I take that back – hiking the whole thing would definitely take its place.  I had some of the greatest hiking companions to give looks to when we were wondering how we were going to force our legs to keep moving, and to crack jokes at just the right time when we were starting to lose motivation.  It was a perfect way to begin 2016 and keep a perspective in mind that we are here in Namibia to put forth all of our efforts and experience all that this country has to offer.

Post-Brandberg Victory Photo.

As the new school year quickly unfolds, I am realizing now that this is the only full year I will have here in Namibia.  2016 will be spent solely in Khorixas, aside from the many travels I have planned and my family coming to visit me so we can explore this country together.  This is the year that I have to invest myself into my community, begin my Girl’s Club and TADAH Club (Teens Against Drugs Alcohol and HIV) and continue with my Cleaning Up Campaigns around town.  This is the year that I will start teaching yoga on the weekends to help bring awareness to the mind-body connection and when I will start a Youth Garden at my ministry where lifeskills and nutrition will meet discipline and hard work to reach a unified goal.  2016 is the year that I will always remember as being 100% Namibian.

Having a cute Kavango kitten always helps things along also.

 

 

Mulled Wine, the Capital City and a Leaking Pipe

 

December is usually a time for business, shopping and reflecting on the year’s outcomes for most people in the States.  I believe it is the opposite here, in many ways, as everyone slows the pace down in order to go back to their family farms and relax for most of the month.  The town becomes less crowded as you walk through it, less people are traveling in and out of my town (which makes transportation a bit tougher) and there is a quietness at my workplace that rivals Sunday mornings in a small town back in North Carolina where everything is closed because “Gawd did not work awn Sundayyy, yawwl!”  So here is a toast to this final month of 2015, which has seen both major improvements into the possibilities of 2016 in Khorixas and Namibia as well as a time for greater understanding of this beautiful, frustrating place.  Oh, and finding out that my favorite restaurant is not serving PIZZA.  Thank God for Delisha’s and all of the happiness it brings to people who just miss that college life sometimes.

 

The desperate mooing of the distanced cow could be heard from the beginning of town all the way to my flat where I was struggling to lock the metal door that perpetually harasses me, sometimes into a state of frenzied anguish, sometimes into a fit of laughter at how a Namibian door has managed to defeat me for the day.  I finally spring the lock closed into its stainless steel enclosure and toss my keys into my floral carry bag that has become one of the recognizing factors in my community of when I go into town to shop.  Its also a nice reminder of Bonaroo and the happy days I spent camping there with some wonderful people last summer, back before I ever though I would actually complete the Peace Corps application.  My walk towards town on my way to pick up produce usually involves passing the locally owned Craft shop (where local crafters can showcase their work for the tourists popping through on their way to Twyfelfontein), the Wambo mall (which consists of a shebeen and a barber shop) and two China shops (self explanatory, I believe), but today it encompassed another oft-seen sight throughout Namibia – a lost cow who appeared extremely anxious about her current situation.  I slowed my pace to watch the cow as she tilted her head back and forth at the four-way intersection, wondering which way the rest of her group went while intermittently mooing into the dead heat of the air surrounding her, hoping that her farm-mates would find her or give her some sort of direction to assist in her struggle.  She stands silently for a moment, tail drifting to the left and then to the right, her ears straining to hear any familiar sounds that might lead her towards the right path.  The nearly one ton animal gives one last, long, mournful moo in my direction before picking up speed and sprinting (well, as much as a cow can sprint) across the road and into the bush on the other side of town towards the location.  I stand motionless and wonder why I am so transfixed on this singular lost cow when I see animals who are missing their pack (mostly goats.. those damn things are loud when they are alone..) quite frequently.  Stray dogs abound, some feral cats can be found in areas with large concentrations of people and rubbish and farm animals seem to be infinite in my small town, wandering from patch of grass to the random trash pile where they peruse through, looking for the least plastic containing item to munch on before heading back to the farm.  So why has this one, cream colored cattle caught my attention?  I continue my heat stroke inducing walk towards our local “OK Value” grocery store, passing a few people I have not seen in a while since I was in the capital city for a week, and give them my greetings despite their varying levels of inebriation.  As I round the corner, passing another barber shop and our local petrol station, I smile to myself and shake my head at my connection to that poor lost cow.  I think most volunteers can relate to the feeling of being lost in a place that felt familiar only yesterday and has suddenly turned into a maze of confusion and frustration.  Khorixas has been my home for the last 6 months and most of the time, I feel very happy and encouraged to be here in this community, but there are certainly times when I drift farther away from the comfort that I have created for myself here.  Whether that is due to a particularly un-savory encounter with someone new or a leaking shower head that has slowly driven you mad for the last half of a year, it can take its toll on your mind and overall well-being without you even realizing that it has been chipping away at your happiness.  So what do you do about it?  Wait for someone else to fix the problem or take matters into your own hands and rely on the people who you have come to care for and who look out for you at every turn?  As one of my favorite fellow volunteers said recently in his blog – “put some water on that shit!” and use what resources you have in order to make this experience everything that it should be.

 

Mooing Mama cow, this one goes out to you – I hope you found your friends and some water as well.  This drought has not been easy on the farm animals, which I believe is representative in my leaking shower saga.  While some places in the United States recently encountered debilitating and damaging floods, most of Namibia has been suffering (I think in this case, unlike most, this word is applicable) with a three year long drought that has severely affected people’s farm land, animals and ultimately, their livelihood.  It seems so unfair and inequitable that some parts of the world are overly abundant, to the point of destruction in many cases, and others are gravely deprived of the simple resources that are necessary for life to continue on, much like the protruding bones on cows that I have seen and the constant leaking of my shower that reminds me how easy it is to get caught up in the perceived importance of priorities.  All aspects and situations are real in their frustrations and complications, despite their oppositional interactions.

 

So, here is a cute photo of some kids who came to my second Cleaning Up Campaign in a different part of Khorixas.  Showing the community that all parts of the town are important.

 

 

It is great to see the turnout of the cleaning campaigns as being mostly youth based, since they are the ones who will carry on the importance of a healthy environment into the future to their friends and families who are not as aware of the education available.  At least, one can hope.

 

So lets see, since the last time I updated the blog, I have celebrated a few birthdays (American style, with a homemade cake and all)..

 

 

.. I have explored some new areas of my town that are often over-looked when it comes to applying resources that we have available..

 

 

.. We opened my site-mate’s care package where a huge jar of Nutella exploded during transit (thank you, NamPost, for ever being the bane of our existence) and we still ate a lot of it anyway..

 

 

.. We created a new Thanksgiving tradition, including grilled chicken, jalapeno garlic mashed potatoes, My Cousin Vinny and feeding stray Ministry of Youth cats..

 

 

.. Had a Friendsgiving full of homemade mulled wine, bacon and green beans, TWO PIES, even more chicken.. and IPAs, that sweet, sweet nectar of the Gods..

 

 

.. My flat has come close to flooding on a few occasions thanks to a leaking shower head and a lack of understanding of how plumbing works..

 

 

.. and I got creative on how I wanted to solve this problem, for myself, with the help of two scavengers who have been at this DIY Peace Corps game for far longer than I have (props, Taylor and Emmy)..

 

Whittling down an old hose pipe to connect to my shower tap so that the water flows out of the window instead of into my flat.

 

.. saw the final product of my pocket knife saga on Wednesday morning finally pay off.. NO MORE LEAKING SHOWER! ..

 

 

.. 132 Peace Corps volunteers in Namibia came to the capital city to celebrate 25 years of Peace Corps service that coincides with 25 years of Independence in Namibia..

 

We got to dress fancy and see some of our trainers from Okahandja.

 

.. we got to hang out at a beautiful hotel for the week of the All Volunteer conference and meet a lot of new volunteers from all over the country..

 

 

.. and of course, witnessed more of the most breathtaking sunsets that Namibia has to offer.  One of my favorite parts of being in this country.

 

 

In all, I would say that I have spent too much time recently focusing on the frustrating factors that will inevitably inhabit all of our lives at some point throughout our service.  I waited for others to make a change or take responsibility for a problem that I was perfectly capable of handling on my own, while learning to ask for help from the right people.  Sometimes the most important part of the process is finding out who you can rely on in a place that does not always feel like home the way you used to know it, and sometimes that is realizing that you need to feel a bit more connected to home.  In this case, it was both, and I am forever thankful for the new friends I have made here in Namibia as well as the ones back in the States who have sent me words of love, reminders of good times, and anything that comes in my mailbox.  Who would have thought that my least favorite place in Khorixas would bring some of the greatest happiness to a small metal box behind a line of memes waiting for their pension?

 

 

Mountains and Oceans and Deserts

As my eyes move across the wall in my office, slowly tracing the sporadic and futile attempts of the wasp to reach an exit point through the window, I am transfixed and focused on how helpless this small creature looks.  It has no idea that the window is merely a foot away.  It has no idea that each time it rears back and collides into the wall over and over again, it is doing damage to itself in ways that it will not realize until its adrenaline has worn off.  It does not understand that if it took a step back to reevaluate and reassess the circumstances, it would be able to see the flight trajectory (potentially.. I am not an expert on wasp eyesight and how far they can see) to the outside air where it so desperately wants to be.  I listen to the buzzing become louder and more frustrated, watching with no expression and no emotion, as the creature moves farther and farther away from its target without even knowing it.  This continues on for some minutes before the wasp exudes an intensely loud audible vibration that I was unaware was even possible for such a small insect, and flies across the room to the opposite side of the wall with great force, smacking into the hard drywall and landing on the floor – finally defeated.  I study the still, lifeless wasp lying on the ground, wondering how its short life played out and if it knew just how close it was to getting to its desired destination.  Watching it grow its elephantine energy, putting forth all of its effort into colliding into the wall over and over again, hoping for an escape that it might have known would never come, made me feel helpless in my attempts to create something meaningful here.  The wasp was so close to the answer – merely a foot away from what would have opened into a new life, a new chance to build a nest and start a family, creating a project for its other wasp friends, but it was so focused on emitting all of its energy in that one moment.  Instead of stopping to rest for a moment, conserving energy and evaluating a new plan of action, it burned out and released all of its strength into the wrong place, making it unable to see another path that was right in front of it.

And then I sit back after re-reading this post and think.. why the hell am I so focused on a wasp and its story?  These metaphors for life can come out of the most mundane and routine experiences if you look hard enough.  Note to self: I need to get out of the heat before I lose it completely.

In any case, the last few weeks have been full of excitement and seeing other volunteers and a little bit of vacation time in there as well.  We had a week-long training in a mountain side conference center close to the capital city where we were able to take long walks through the gravel roads and pretend to train for the 10k and half marathons that many of us would be running the following weekend.

Sunset view from our hotel near Windhoek. How lucky am I?

After a week of sessions that brought back too many memories from our almost three months of initial Pre-Service Training when we arrived in Namibia, we were all very excited to make our way to the coast where we would spend the weekend and run our Lucky Star Marathon.  This was the first time I ran anything more than a colorful 5k to benefit some charity back in the States, so I was nervous about my ability to complete anything more than that.  Thankfully, the coast offered us a chilly, overcast day for our race that made it much easier to bear the thought of running 6.2 miles in.  We had an encouraging group together with some of those brave souls running a half marathon  (22.2 km) while the rest of us completed the “Fun Run” 10k.. not sure whose idea it was to call it a fun run, but they should not be in charge of naming anything anymore.  Although, after running, I do feel more motivated to run the half next year, if this heat doesn’t get to me first.

10k runners at the finish line!  And a new Wambo friend.

Coming back to Khorixas after a week and a half of being gone was a rude awakening to the intense heat that the summer will bring to my dusty community tucked into the Kunene mountains.  The first day we were back, it reached 108 degrees during the middle of the afternoon – I had to remember that I am living in Africa and I have led a privileged life these last 6 months here in regards to the heat (or lack thereof).  It was especially difficult to get used to again after needing a fleece and scarf while we were wandering around Swakopmund, being next to the ocean and the beautiful dunes that lie between this town and Walvis Bay.

Sand dunes in Swakopmund nearby where some of Mad Max: Fury Road was filmed. So epic and so beautiful.

      

Memorable highlights of the weekend include, but are not limited to: finally drinking a beer that tasted different than dirty sink water (thank you for discovering the most delicious Bock, Jordan); sharing pizza with seafood on it from an Italian restraunt; climbing to the top of the dunes to watch the sunset in a mass of clouds that ended up being a large sandbox playground for us instead; eating INDIAN FOOD (aka the source of all things holy and delicious in my life) and sharing a great bottle of Pinotage with people I care about; walking around during the day in a jacket and feeling so thankful that I was shivering (its the little things, man); collecting smooth rocks from the coast to add to my collection at my flat (yes Mom, I’m collecting rocks again); eating probably THE best oyster I’ve ever had in my life at a seaside bar after not having seafood in months; seeing a huge flock of flamingoes every day we walked past the lagoon; and last but not least, meeting people at every point of our trip who either know someone who lives in Khorixas or grew up there themselves.  Damaras are everywhere in Namibia.

Thousands of flamingos at the lagoon in Walvis Bay.

More flamingos, because I have never seen African flamingos. Or flamingoes in the wild in general.

Who wouldn’t wake up at 3:30 in the morning to watch a Lunar Eclipse for an hour?  Even though you can’t really tell this is the moon.  Thanks, iPhone.

I came to really appreciate the time that I had away from my site and the ability it gave me to reflect with the other volunteers who are experiencing similar successes and failures on a daily basis.  It can seem like a lot at times, when 5 really terrible things happen in a day’s time – but then somehow, the day is redeemed by the 6 really great things that happened in between the bad moments.  And sometimes those numbers are reversed.  Sometimes nothing good happens, sometimes nothing bad happens – it is the recipe for becoming a more flexible, resilient and understanding person than you were before which has allowed me to learn a lot about myself.  Cheers to the small steps that we take every day in order to accomplish something bigger than ourselves, no matter the frustrations and setbacks along the way.

Swakopmund is gorgeous – I can see why locals are always asking me why I don’t live here..

Cleaning Up Campaign and Three Months at Site

Welcome back to my life in Namibia!  I am alive and well, despite my lack of updates in the last month or so.  In many ways, I am grateful for the break because I feel that I have been investing myself more fully into my community and staying busy with the present as opposed to thinking about life back in the States, friends and family that can preoccupy the mind easily.  Needless to say, I am excited to let you all know what has been going on with my time that has kept me away from the norm and updating the world on these small town shenanigans.

Trick bikes for PCVs in Khorixas? What could be better?

Peace Corps is really great about reimbursements for necessary items that they do not provide for us in our stipends, including an allowance for the purchase of a bicycle.  As the weather turns hotter and more unbearable, we knew that we had to get a move on the bike search since we are not allowed to drive cars during our service.  My sitemate and I asked around and found out that one of our friends has been restoring old bikes and was selling them pretty cheaply – so despite him warning us that they were trick bikes that most of the guys in town ride around, we took a gamble and went to acquire our new mode of transportation.  I’m sure we are going to stand out even more now in our small town, but it will be worth every moment that I am able to feel the breeze on my face instead of just the harsh sun beating down on me.  Freedom on two wheels never felt so good.

Going onto the local Community Radio Station to be interviewed by some amazing DJs.

The main thing that has kept me the most busy these past few weeks was the planning of a Cleaning Up Campaign that my sitemate and I organized together with Town Council.  Environmental Education and helping people understand the importance of a clean town has always been an interest of mine, but never has it held such significance till I moved here.  The amount of rubbish and litter that pollutes this beautiful town is astounding and became a top priority for me to bring to light to this community.  There is still a very heavy sense of living in the present moment here without much regard for the future, as the mindset has not had a chance to grow as much as is necessary to understand the impact that a lack of planning can have.  So instead of becoming frustrated with the way that things are and have been for a long time, we decided to take the initiative in organizing an educational day for the youth and figureheads followed by going out into the town to collect trash.  This event was the first one that I have played a lead role in, taking care of the logistical factors like writing proposals, collecting materials (trash bags and a donation of cool drink for the volunteers), making announcements on the local radio stations and posting flyers up in the important locations.  It turned out to be something I really enjoyed doing (able to be in control of a project?  organizing and making things function?  count me in!) but absolutely exhausting at the same time.  Making sure that all of the stakeholders were on the same page with content and timing for the day of the event (Africa Time is a real thing, y’all.. thanks for preparing me so well for lateness, Dad) meant spending a lot of time on my phone as well as doing my main job at the Ministry of Youth.  With two weeks of planning time, we managed to pull off a pretty successful event where about 120 people from the local schools, Police Station, Ministry of Education and Junior Town Council showed up to participate in our Keep Khorixas Beautiful campaign.

A view from the stage as the CEO of the Town Council gave the Welcoming Remarks.

The first part of the campaign consisted of educational speeches from a few community members, including a social worker from the Ministry of Health and an environmental educator who works at the Ministry of Youth with me.  The second part consisted of going out into the community nearby the Youth Hall and picking up rubbish for about an hour, almost using up all the bags that were donated by Town Council.  This was a huge success in my mind because the community mobilized together in order to make a small, but important change while hopefully taking the education we gave them into their own lives and telling others about what they learned.  It all comes back to sustainability with Peace Corps and we are going to try to do these campaigns once a month until that aspect has been achieved.  Once everyone understands why preservation of their town and environment is so important, the campaigns will become obsolete – at least, that is my dream for the future.

Troops assembling in the fight against rubbish.

During our time of planning our Cleaning Up Campaign, I was also involved in teaching a week of Health classes at one of our combined schools in town.  My sitemate and I planned different lessons and topics for each of the days, covering Anatomy and Physiology, reproductive education and sexual health.  I have always greatly respected teachers and how hard they work, even just to maintain a classroom environment, but my understanding of just how difficult that can be became so much clearer after spending 6 hours a day with these learners.  In order to be able to teach an entire lesson in 40 minute increments becomes incrementally more impossible the more excited the kids get about the lesson at hand.  Classroom rules and punishments became our best friends as we made it very clear what our expectations were of these Grade 6 and 7 learners.

How often do you get to draw male and female anatomy on a chalkboard?

Despite some moments of frustration, these kids were pretty well behaved for having to talk about sex topics for a week.  They learn to fear HIV/AIDS from such an early age, but do not have the basic comprehension of how their own bodies work or the virus composition itself.  It really gave me a better glimpse of how important it is to start at the basics and work up from there, creating a solid foundation for them to better themselves in the future and pass along their education to their families and friends.  I’ve read a few different statistics on the percentages, but around 70% of Namibia’s population consists of Youth (which is generally categorized from 16-35 here).  This is a huge majority of the country that is vulnerable to many of the issues that currently face young people today, including poverty, unemployment and prevalent diseases.  If we can start the education process at a young age and empower the Youth to take matters into their own hands, the necessary education will continue to be taught to future generations while creating a sustainable knowledge basis.

Feeding the Americans a funky Namibian fruit to watch our reactions.. a favorite learner activity.

Post-Clean Up Campaign Fun Day at the Combined school. Donkey cart rides and ice cream were the best rewards we could think of.

Things finally slowed down this past week after the teaching gig ended and the Clean Up Campaign turned out successfully.  I did a lot of relaxing and reorganizing that evolved into making glasses out of empty bottles with my site mates – making something that I could have paid money for out of something that we already had lying around?  Repurposed activities are my favorite kind.  The glasses actually turned out pretty nicely for only using acetone, yarn and matches and now we have reminders of our times spent drinking ciders in Namibia.  Plus, no one lost any fingers or eyebrows in our attempts at perfection.  If y’all want to try this at home, I’ll post the link that we followed.  Save yourselves some money and make beverage holders out of your favorite empty drinks!

Fire!

http://www.artofmanliness.com/2014/02/19/how-to-make-a-drinking-glass-from-a-bottle/

Horses grazing at one of the primary schools. I am still afraid to pet them, despite my ever growing desire.

I have been slowly coming to terms with the ending of the Namibian honeymoon phase that I felt during my first four months of living on this continent.  I felt such an affiliation with my new culture and the excitement of living in a new country that when these feelings slowly began to drop off, it was difficult to accept.  Instead of understanding that this is a normal process that most PCVs go through (staff prepared us for this with many, many powerpoint presentations and I still felt like I somehow failed in my service) I began to dwell on the physical and mental exhaustion of the everyday life here.  It can become tiring quickly when I know that I have to prepare myself for the potential conversations in a foreign language that people in the community will want to have or the other random encounters that are bound to happen.  I have never found myself so drained from doing such simple tasks as going into town for groceries, as there is the constant trail of thought in the back of my mind that whispers questions of cultural sensitivity, appropriate behavior and bringing new light to topics of health.  I’ve always been a person with lots of available energy to spread myself across many different groups of people and events while lacking patience when others did not share the same energy.  I am learning that the multi-tasking, as great as it is to help accomplish tasks, does not always yield the greatest outputs.  More recently, I have found that the more time I give to myself to read, do yoga or go for runs, the better off I am the next day or when an important event or meeting comes up.  It is truly all about stocking up the reserves, including going to the local rest camp for drinks by the pool once in a while.  We may have unintentionally ended up in a newlywed couple’s photos and videos.

Damara weddings come to us for the party.

I don’t often get to eat green vegetables here, either due to their lack of availability in our grocery store or the inflated cost when they are here.  So when one of my co-workers passed through a neighboring town on her way back home, she stopped to bring me back some spinach and cabbage.  It is common that when you go out of town for something, you bring back small gifts for your friends from wherever you were visiting.  Why would my gift not be something of the food variety?  An easy dinner after a long day that would have otherwise gone to a KIND bar or CLIF bar from a care package.

And a random food photo. Popcorn cooked in coconut oil with sea salt (a DanaMom special) and spinach, onion and apple (a Christine special).

It seems as the weather gets hotter, the wind picks up here a lot as well.  This brings some relief from the strength of the sun, but also kicks up so much dust that the power lines get knocked out frequently.  Our power went out three days during the last week and succeeded in blowing sand and dust into every open window that served as ventilation.  It made me really appreciate how fortunate I am to have simple things like electricity and running water on a daily basis, especially when it came to making coffee one morning with no power.  The perfect excuse to go relax at the lodge nearby and drink coffee and tea in the shade of the trees.  We even met an Australian couple traveling through Africa that afternoon who invited us to dinner – one of the best I have had in a long time.  Kudu steaks, meatballs, chicken kebabs, vanilla cake with custard for desert.. this was a weekend of appreciating the timing of events and the wonderful people that you meet in different circumstances.  The world is a small place full of good people who come along at the right time if you are willing to trust in the universe and where you need to be.

The local lodge ostrich who hangs out and gets fed leftover popcorn while we drink coffee during a power outage.

Life Cycles and Returning to Intentions

Walking or running through the location always creates such a juxtaposition of challenging visual experiences for me.  Sometimes you see a dog or two in a passing bakkie, poking their heads and tongues out of the window in all their glory, reminding you how small the world is and how animals act instinctually  no matter what continent they live on.  It gives me hope that one day people will be able to act similarly, seeing the uniqueness of each culture but never failing to see the humanity in us all that binds us to one another.  We all like to stick our heads out a window once in a while, right?  I finally ate donkey, one of the staple foods here in Damaraland, recently and found a puppy to share the time and scraps with.  I think this was the first time I have held a puppy since coming to Namibia and it did my heart so much good.

Puppies and donkey meat – the recipe for an excellent lunch date.

And then there is the inevitable sadness factor of some of the animal’s living conditions.  To see a small dog, whose ribs are protruding profoundly from its boney body, sleepily napping in front of a corrugated metal shack brings initial first world thoughts of anger and judgement.  I come from a place of privilege where owning a dog is a choice and many people abuse this right by not taking care of their animals in the proper and respectful way by chaining them up outside or training them to be aggressive.  After spending a few years volunteering at the Humane Society back home and seeing the worst of animal violence, I have to say that human beings can be atrocious examples of what it means to be a dominant species at the top of the food chain.  I carry these knee-jerk reactions and judgements with me based on these experiences, though I know that they do not always apply, especially here in Namibia.  What starts out as “How can this family let that dog starve so blatantly?  The kids and chickens are running around the yard playing – they clearly have enough food to go around.  Why would they own a dog if they cannot take care of it?” after some thought turns into “That dog is sleeping in front of this house because it has learned that this is the family who gives it scraps and meat bones when other people kick at it or throw rocks.  This family probably did not choose to own the dog the same way that we do back in the U.S, but the dog chose to remain with a kind group of people who feed it the little bit of extra that they have.”  It brings to mind one of the stories in the Bible that I heard about in childhood sermons in Roman Catholic Church (thanks, Mom) about donations to the church and the difference between giving all you have and simply giving a large tithe because you are wealthy.  This is what many families here believe in – such an abundance of community and sharing with the person next to you, regardless if you know them well or not.  The dog that gets the scraps of meat from the family that is donating all that they have is much more meaningful than the bowl of organic dog food that a dog back in the United States has.  In order to not butcher it, I’ll just put the direct quote below.

Mark 12:41-44

“And he sat down opposite the treasury and watched the people putting money into the offering box. Many rich people put in large sums. And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which make a penny. And he called his disciples to him and said to them, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

How do you cite the Bible appropriately that would make an English teacher proud?  I feel all of my schooling and education coming forth right now asking me to give a citation for the quotation above, but I can’t say that is something I have ever done.  I am living in a mostly Christian country right now and have been feeling compelled to become more open-minded to the doctrine here in order to understand the mindset of the people I am surrounded by daily.  Reasoning behind people’s motivations and behaviors has always been fascinating to me, as many times there is not an exact logic behind a feeling or decision – this furthers my personal belief in the need for an emotional side of human consciousness that is sometimes unexplainable, but is just as valuable to listen to as practicality.  It ties directly into intuition and the value that I have placed upon my own, ensuring that I trust myself to make the right decisions.  This is especially important in a new environment and culture when everything feels unfamiliar and fresh, but I still experience those gut impulses which help to guide my actions in a safe way.  Do I take this car of tourists when I am hiking from one town to another?  Do I trust that people in the world have mostly good intentions and are willing to do the right things?  It is beginning to help guide and challenge my ways of thinking that have become so ingrained from living in the United States for 23 years.  We are taught early on to never accept things from strangers (especially candy), to never go to someone’s house without getting to know them first and certainly do not take a drink from a stranger.  These measures are, of course, put into place for good reason and caution is certainly an important part of growing up in a healthy and safe way in the States.  But, so much is different here in Namibia, especially when it comes to social norms and cues, that it becomes important to make sure you are adapting to the culture as well as maintaining your personal boundaries and limitations.  In the Damara culture, you do accept food and snacks from colleagues that you do not know (especially sweets) because everything is shared here.  In order to become, and feel like, a part of the work place or a family, sometimes you take a piece of candy that you would not have normally eaten.  You also go to people’s houses who you might not know that well, either because they are friends of your friends or they stop you on the gravel road as you are running past and invite you in for tea with their grandmother.  Turning down an offer to have a drink bought for you here is sometimes seen as an insult to the purchaser, so the decision becomes a cultural paradigm that intersects with your own decisions and choices that you make for your well-being.  It is an interesting, but important, learning curve to balance.

Speaking of drinks, my site mate and I had the opportunity to go out into the community of Donkerhoek yesterday with the Health Extension Workers from the hospital.  This is a make-shift location of corrugated metal homes behind The Location where some of the most poverty-stricken in Khorixas live with no latrines, high unemployment rates and sometimes no water from the few taps available.  The HEWs go into the communities every day, checking on the homes they are assigned to, making sure that ARVs are being taken and the people with TB are coming to the hospital for their treatments.  They hold community meetings under “The Meeting Tree” and create home-made hand washing stations called “tippy-taps” right outside of people’s homes so that sanitation can slowly start to become more of a priority.  Children as young as 8 hang out in the center of the community, selling the homemade liquor made by their parents.  This process is dangerous for the home where the old oil drums slowly cook the alcohol, as the HEWs told us that if a match was lit near the fumes coming off of the barrels, an explosion was very probable.  I felt like I was back in my home state, watching moonshine being made and hoping that there was not a meth lab nearby.

One of our very funny escorts through Donkerhoek, show casing the recycled bottles the brew is put in.

I debated purchasing a bottle, you know, to support the local economy and what not, but saw the ingredients and thought better of it.

One of the women who had a Tippy-Tap built in her yard, demonstrating the hand washing techniques that the HEWs taught her. She was so proud to be able to teach others in her community and happy that her children would get cleaner food now.

It is overwhelming to see so many basic needs in one place.  How do you decide what thing should be focused on first?  One person’s need is bound to be different from another’s – who says what is the most important aspect for a community?  I am glad that there are people like the HEWs who have a better idea of what the first steps are and have already implemented some projects.

This past weekend I had planned to travel up North with my sitemates for a Trade Fair that was taking place and meet some of the other volunteers who have been up there for a while.  Timing and planning in Namibia is a very, very different concept and things mostly do not end up going as planned.  This was one of those situations as our ride fell through last minute, meaning that we would have to pay a pretty good amount of money to travel if we went.  So instead, I opted for a weekend in Khorixas wandering around and seeing the town in a new light.  I am glad that I made this decision as it helped me feel more integrated into my community and allowed me to meet more people who I feel more compatible with in terms of friendships.

My new best friend in Khorixas – only two years old but can out-dance anyone, especially me. But I guess that is not saying much.

On Saturday I went to one of my co-worker’s homes for a poige, which is basically a term for a barbeque in a big black pot that is common cookware in Namibia.  You throw in whatever you have at home (always including meat, which is the staple food here) with vegetables, rice and spices, cooking it over an open fire for a few hours.  It turns into a delicious concoction very similar to the stew I have been making about once a week.  I am a big fan of minimalization, especially when it comes to cooking on a small stove with a lack of utensils.  Anything I can throw into one pot and be done with, I am all for it.  While we were waiting for the food, we were entertained by Kai, the two year old dancing prodigy.  I have a few videos of him that I will have to send out in an email, as this website does not allow you to upload into blog posts.  The sense of community bonding and “everyone is family” mindset never ceases to amaze me, as 5 or 6 people who had not been there all day showed up just as the food was being served.  I’m beginning to think that there is some sort of sixth sense you acquire the longer you stay in Namibia that allows you to know exactly where to be in order to receive a plate.

This week has been full of puppies and animals. This little cutie followed me around for a while thinking I was its Mom.

We were feeling really adventurous this week in our culinary experiences.  There is a new sit down restraunt (this is a big deal here, folks) close by to where I live in town that always has delicious food and is upping their game daily.  They have a beautiful display case that is decorated with pieces of fruit and candles – their business strategy is slowly winning the town over as it is becoming a popular lunch spot.  They have unique options for purchase, like an entire half of a pig head.  Or for those who just don’t think they can handle that much pork, you can pick from the 12 or so pig ears that 6 pigs donated recently in different sizes and forms.  My site mate decided this was going to happen for her lunch, so of course I got to take part in the meal as we share everything in Africa.  The taste was great, but the cartilage was a bit much on the crunchy side with the rubbery texture of the little bit of meat on the ear.  Sorry Poppa Mike, but I don’t think I would rank this on the top of my list of pig parts.  I bet you could show them a thing or two about the butchering business, though!

Trying pig ear for the first time. Poppa Mike, you would be proud!

On Sunday, we made tentative plans to drive out to a town a few kilometers from Khorixas and go swimming – something that I forgot how much I love and how quickly I got excited about the prospect of being in water.  After a long morning and afternoon of this excursion not coming to fruition, we decide to picnic at the base of one of the biggest hills in our town and then hike up to the highest point for a splendid view of the mountains nearby.  Totally worth the steep walk up the rocky terrain in flip-flops to catch the sun setting and see my town from a different perspective.  Sometimes that’s all it takes, just a switch up from the usual things that you see to gain a new appreciation for the environment you find yourself in.

When a trip to a neighboring town to go swim in a dam doesn’t work out, you hike to “Paradise”.

Seeing a rose growing for the first time in Namibia serves as a reminder of the little things that make us happy.

I hope that wherever you are in the world, you are happy and healthy as you are reading this.  I think of all of my family and friends often and sometimes that is the hardest part of being so far away.  As happy as I am to be doing this work and experience this beautiful country, I miss the people who much of my identity was tied to.  I guess that is part of the biggest work I am doing here, though, is to peel back the layers of who I am with other people and truly be alone in this.  This is the only way to find the core of who I am and make decisions purely based on what I want in this new environment that challenges me in ways that I have never been challenged before.  Despite the things I am missing, I am creating a new way of being for myself and doing exactly what I have wanted to do, the only thing I have been sure about in my life, for as long as I can remember.

I leave you with a quote from The Translator, the latest book I have checked out from the Public Library across from my place of work.  I read this autobiography at just the right time when I was feeling a bit overwhelmed with the prospects I have set for myself and the first real time that I questioned “what on Earth am I even doing here?!”

“What can you do?  You make friends, of course, and do what you can.”

Of course.  Of course that is all you can do sometimes and that is plenty enough sometimes.  What more is there to life than that?