Jefrou, It Is Me!

This week in Arts we drew self-portraits. My grade 5 class was absolutely thrilled about this.

Tickled pink.

Of course, my older kids enjoyed it, too. I brought in a mirror for them to pass around, and they loved staring at themselves. Teenagers.

But my Grade 5ers. Every 10 seconds I would have another excited learner practically peeing himself, shouting “Miss! Jefrou! Look at my face! Look my beautiful hair! I draw a teeth! It is me! Ivanga, give me the blue color! BORROW ME THE BLUE COLOR!” Etcetera. Of course, I also enjoyed looking at their “beautiful hair” and “a teeth.”

So much so, that I will share a few with you.

You might think to yourself wow, that last kid went nuts with the red crayon. But a lot of my students colored their faces red.

Why?

Because most of my learners are from the Himba tribe. Which means when they aren’t in their school get-up, they are in traditional dress, which includes painting their bodies with red ochre.

They colored their faces red for the same reason that, when doing a unit on adjectives, they chose to describe their mothers as “red” rather than “tall” or “friendly.”

They are proud of their culture. And they make damn sure that I know they are Himba. They are red Himba, Miss May. Did you know that, Miss May?

I did.

Generally speaking, adults of the Himba do not speak English, and although hospitable, they are from a culture that is difficult for an outsider to understand.

This is why I love teaching their kids. It’s educational for both parties.

Anyway, self-portraits. A fun project.

Namlish 101

Welcome to 

Namibian English 101 (AKA Namlish)

You learn it fast. Usually the hard way. With lots of confusion and awkward interactions.

The Basics

I’m coming now. = I’ll be back soon. (said when leaving a room)

now = probably won’t happen for a while, if ever

now now = soon

now now now = the American version of now

Help me a pen./Borrow me a pen. = Can you lend me your pen? (You never ask if you can use something. Questions are not a big thing here.)

That side/this side (accompanied by a general and indistinct wave) = the usual way of giving directions. Could refer to any distance, i.e. “that side” of the country or “that side” of town

I will pick you. = I will pick you up. (not pick your nose or pick you from a tree)

what what = etcetera

I am suffering. = I have a slight problem.

colleagues = used to refer to friends, peers, coworkers, relatives, some bum you met on the street, and what what           

Is it? = Seriously? (A: “It rained very hard yesterday.” B: “Is it?”)

Are you there/here? = Are you OK?/Are you mentally present?/still not completely sure what this one means (said out of the blue, as you are sitting there, minding your business, and the speaker is staring at you)

I am having 4 brothers./Are you having a paper? = I have 4 brothers./Do you have this specific paper I am looking for? (present continuous. All the time.)

Mmmm…(without showing any emotion on the face) = Yes.

How is the day? = How are you doing?

No, it’s OK. (said when ending a conversation) = OK, bye./Yep, this is the end of our conversation. (doesn’t have to relate to the sentence before it at all)

You can have./Can I put? = You can have it./Can I put this here? (Direct objects are unnecessary.)

I’m going to the network. = I am going somewhere where I can get cell phone reception.

The battery is somehow flat. = My phone died.

making noise = complaining/misbehaving/not being serious (i.e. “In class, that one is just making noise.”)

The time is going/moving. = We are almost out of time.

There are so many more great ones, but I will start you off slow.  

Half Time

Next week marks the halfway point in my contract with the Ministry of Education. Six months until I pick up my last paycheck. I feel that I should reflect on my time as a volunteer, muse about all of the things I have learned, and plan what I will do with the last half of my year. That is what rational people do, I think.

But I’m having a hard time reflecting because I have onion juice in my eye, and frankly I can’t think of a way to be insightful without sounding like a total a-hole.

So, I will ignore what rational people do. Because I do that sometimes.

I will instead enlighten you as to the contents of my wardrobe. Because that is what really matters here.

First of all, there is a dead lizard in there that I am scared to get out. It is the size of my hand. It’s been there since I got back from holiday. But let’s move on.

Hanging on the right side of my “cupboard for clothes” (the word wardrobe is not widely known here) is my school uniform—a black skirt, perpetually covered in white chalk, and a pink men’s dress shirt, 2 sizes too big for me and sporting a purple paint stain from art class.

Next is my lined jacket. Everyone thought I was an idiot to bring a jacket to Africa. Well, joke’s on you, little ice cube people. An arctic penguin could survive here in the morning. Remember, it’s winter.

A dwindling assortment of tops and bottoms, much more stiff and threadbare from hand washing than they used to be, are shoved onto the top shelf. Everything that was once white is now grayish brown. Everything that was once a vibrant color has faded in the sun. Everything is falling apart.

(Except for a new shirt that I treated myself to last weekend because I am finally getting paid.)

Below are my socks and underwear. And half of a bathing suit. The other half has probably been eaten by an unsuspecting kudu in Northern Namibia. But let’s keep this PG, ladies and gents.

On the bottom shelf, my shoes. First, the rain boots that I was told I would need and have NEVER touched since being here (My learners think they are the shoes I use for tending to my cattle. I didn’t correct them.). Next to them, my good ole running shoes that I have just begun to make use of once again. A pair of $3 faux-denim faux-Keds and two pairs of sandals, completely dilapidated from the amount of walking I do, cap off my shoe collection.

Also in my wardrobe, for safe keeping of course, I put any medicine I have at the time, an extra toothbrush, some books, and my salt. People always be tryin to steal my salt.

Looking at the wear and tear on my clothes makes me simultaneously annoyed that I will have to replace most of these clothes within the next month and amused that my clothes got the worse half of the lets-live-in-the-Namibian-boonies deal.

That’s not to say Adventure: African Bush has been a cakewalk for me. But I’ve held up more substantially than my garments.

And I can’t complain. In this place, my situation is well above average. In this place, I’m comfortable, even if I sometimes have to force myself to be. And here, it is always, always interesting.

Plus, if my clothes do all turn to scraps of useless fabric in the next week, I can always walk around naked.

At least I’ll fit in with the Himba and Zemba.

Perhaps my aspiration toward public nudity is how I’ve changed. If that’s not insight, I don’t know what is.  

I Left My Heart and Cleanliness in Southern Africa

The sun is blazing through the window, as is usual in this part of the world.

To my left is Rachel, one of my fellow WorldTeach volunteers, holding a sizeable hiking backpack on her lap. Sitting on my right knee, a Zambian gentleman with a case of narcolepsy. My feet are propped on top of several bags of the other combi riders. The radio blasts boisterous African beats. The narcoleptic’s head bobs sleepily. We have crammed ourselves into a badly aging minibus, packed tighter than a tin of sardines. Which is funny because sardine-like fish keep cascading onto my head as we bump and lurch through the streets. I pick Nemo #4 up off of my thigh and casually place it back into the overflowing canvas bag of sea life nestled in between my back and the arms of the bloke behind me. I give said bloke a thumbs-up to let him know that the safety of his dead fish is important to me. He gives me a nod, and I turn to the smudged combi window, which is somehow stitched together with string, and try to ignore whatever sharp object is digging into my right butt cheek. I look outside. Zambia looks back at me.

It’s over halfway through our month-long journey around Southern Africa. Namibia to Botswana to Zimbabwe, through Zambia to Malawi, then back to Zambia.

 

Take a look. It’s a long way.

At this point my initial amusement and tolerance of public transportation is alive only because of my iPod and a half-eaten bag of biltong.

But take this thrilling depiction of holiday life with a grain of salt.

Such onerous and odiferous modes of transport were well worth each end result. We met more amazingly helpful, kind, and entertaining people than I can count on my fingers and toes.

Except for the man that dropped us off at a bar 30 km away from the town in which we were supposed to end up. In the pitch black. With all of our bags. And blithely assured us it was our hostel before zooming off in the opposite direction.

That was less than ideal.

But my travel biddies and I encountered some unreal sights and some crazy, random, bizarre experiences. Most of which I would repeat in a hot second. A few of which I would prefer to not repeat anytime in the next 10 years.

As I cannot possibly recount (and also don’t much feel like trying) the details of a 4-week holiday, I will summarize. Which I realize is subpar. But I think you will get over it someday.

Shap. So.

The Target(s): boating and walking around the Okavango Delta, Botswana; gallivanting around Bulawayo, Zimbabwe (where we experienced a wide variety of nightlife with a group of local artists); camping in the ruins of Great Zimbabwe; eating and dancing our way through the Harare International Festival of Art in Harare, Zimbabwe; boating, snorkeling, braaiing, drinking, and lying on the beach for 3 beautiful days in Lake Malawi; and kickin’ it on the Zambian side of Victoria Falls with a mess o’ North Americans and Brits.

The Company:

The four Americanas,

An assortment of wildlife,

And the random others who we ran into along the way whom are unlikely to read this blog so they don’t get shout-outs. Sorry. But know that they made our trip infinitely better.

The Means (in order to keep true to our < $1,000 budget): public transport, subpar/often nonexistent camping equipment, grocery store meals, and a good deal of self-restraint

The Evidence:

one of our modes of transport

Our poler in the Okavango Delta

On the delta

Walking around an island in the delta

I spy elephants!

and then Rachel drove a combi around the streets of Bulawayo

Great Zimbabwe

lounging at Lake Malawi

Cape Maclear, Malawi

Victoria Falls

what happens when you walk near the falls

As much as I’m pleased as punch by my whirlwind adventure (let’s see how many shitty idioms I can cram into this sentence), I was happy to be driving through the familiar mountains and inhaling the dust of the Kunene region once again.

Hope all of you are having a lovely week, and that sunshine is radiating out of all your crevices.

I know my word choice astounds you.

Cheers.

On Jolly Holiday

Just a note to those of you who use this blog as reassurance that I am still living…

I will be starting my month-long “holiday,” as they say here, on the 25^th of April. I’m still not sure where I’m going, when I’ll be there, and if internet is feasible.

So, perhaps there will be no blog posts. Perhaps there will be many. As with everything this year, I never really know what’s happening until it has already begun.

I’ll miss my new digs in Orotjitombo and Opuwo, weirdly enough (which doesn’t bode well for December). But I’m onto a month of continent-trotting with some WorldTeach gals.

Wish me luck that my bank account doesn’t spread itself too thin.

Here’s to hoping I see you soon in cyberspace. Cheers.

The Calm After the Storm

Folks, we’ve come to the end of term 1 at Orotjitombo PS. The school closed 4 days early due to the fact that the maize meal and the food budget were completely depleted. No maize meal, no food, no kids. So, away they went.

There was a flurry of activity, a mass of learners throwing their belongings into my closet, shouting, car engines stalling, and then…

Nothing. Sweet, sweet nothing.

Today, I walked to the entrance of my stuffy little house to find the school grounds empty. The students were gone. Most of the teachers were in Opuwo. There was no singing, no shrieking, no hysterical crying, no laughing, no “Miss, can I have a sweetie.” The only sounds I could hear were the wind whipping around the buildings, the creaking of my door hinge, and the sporadic clink of the flag beating against the flagpole. The dust swirled across the yard, and I realized how much I have missed the quiet.

I did. I love just standing there, surrounded by quiet. I know this is a freakish characteristic by many people’s standards. But I need it as much as food, water, and beer.  

As much as I love being around the learners, and as boring as “quiet” gets after 2 days, I thought I was going to have to stick my head in the sand, ostrich-style, if I didn’t get a break from ALL THE NOISE, ALL THE TIME. Endless. Children, teenagers, they are like energizer bunnies. Especially when there is no TV or videogames to distract them. And that’s a great thing. But baby-sitting 318 kids for 4 straight months is a little harrowing. One can only take so many times of being woken up by a hand reaching through their window asking for soap at 5 o’clock in the morning. Gives me a panic attack every time.

Tonight I went on a very short jog. It was short because it was impromptu, and I was wearing flip-flops. I was walking the 1 kilometer to get to the patch of sand where I get cell service, enjoying how the wind blows away all the sound from the village, and I all of the sudden decided I do enough walking, walking isn’t fast enough, screw walking. So, I took off my flippy-floppies and started Forest Gumping it down the road. I haven’t run in over 3 months. I used to run nearly every day. I don’t know what provoked it. Maybe the heat has made me more bat-shit crazy than usual.

I’m not saying this was some spiritual moment for me. I’m not even saying I enjoyed it. I couldn’t really, because the whole time I was having an internal struggle.

This is a nice thing. I love running. Let’s keep going…Someone’s staring at me behind a bush right now. I know it. And tomorrow everyone will be talking about how the white girl thought she was being chased by something. I should definitely stop. I can’t stop. I’m like an Olympian up in here. But I’m wearing my school shirt. This is ridiculous.

For a 7 mph moment, I felt like my normal (that's relative) self. Not the girl that only takes 3 showers a week, eats cold tinned beans for dinner, and is constantly and spastically waiting for another African-shaped curveball to be pelted at her face.

For the record, though, I’m good at navigated curveballs. And I like my life in Namibia. A lot.

But this place gets loud sometimes. And bustling, and crowded. And because my ears are apparently connected to my lungs, this cacophony of…life makes it hard for me to breathe. Also, sometimes it smells like poop at my school. This also makes it difficult to breathe.

I’ve got to say, I like the breathing thing. I’ve missed it.

It’s been a mind-blowing, mind-numbing first term. It went by in a storm of bewilderment. I couldn’t tell you why, but for some reason I visualize the word bewilderment as an elephant awkwarding itself down a Slip-and-Slide (Seriously, this image actually pops into my head. In cartoon form). This also aptly depicts my floundering through term 1. Not pretty, humorous, loud, ultimately good fun.

And now, for 2 more beautiful days, I will stare at my wall and do absolutely no more than listen to the sounds of nothing. 

Easter Break Shenanigans

Today was my last day of teaching for Term 1.

Let me clarify. I am required to be at school until April 24^th. However, the next 19 days will be dedicated to proctoring and marking exams, as well as a lot of sitting around and twiddling your thumbs. Or so I have gathered from my coworkers.

Regardless, I can say that I am happy to be finished with lesson planning and grading homework assignments for the next month or so. Yes, yes I am.

Now, last weekend was Easter weekend. A four-day weekend. So what does one do on a four-day weekend in Namibia?

Head to the coast.

Thank. God.

I truly did not realize how much I missed the ocean and less dusty air until we were cruising down the Western coast of Namibia, the road hugging that beautiful blue.

Sentimentality aside, we arrived in Swakopmund, beach town and home to many wonderous things. Like real stores and seafood and bars. Oh, my.

Day one went like this. Our friend and driver on this weekend bender, Louis, asked Ashley and I if we wanted to go ride his quad around on the dunes.

Obviously we did.

I even got to drive in a straight line on flat ground for about 30 seconds. I’m pretty sure I will be going pro soon.

This outing was followed by a few drinks and the question, “Do you girls want to go skydiving?”

Why is that even a question?

So, this happened.

Look at them nostrils.

Skydiving was awesome. That’s an insipid and generic thing to say, but it was.

However, I think I have some sort of adrenaline deficiency because not only was I completely calm for the entire ride up and fall down, the first thing out of my mouth when the parachute opened was not “THAT WAS SO COOL,” it was “Hey, what was that bit of weird red colored land that I saw on the way up?” My instructor and I then had an educational conversation about where they make salt.

Like I said. I think I need to throw myself out of a plane without a parachute to get those butterflies. Still, so much fun and totally worth the money. Thumbs up.

The rest of the weekend was a blur of good food, fun people, jumping around in the ocean, and das boot (If you don’t know what that is, I’m not going to explain it. It’s very undignified. But you can peek at the background of the photo on the right.)

The ride back to Opuwo was long and hot, as I was smooshed in between Louis and Ashley on a mattress on the center consol in the cab of the bakkie.

That was a lot of prepositions.

And I just felt compelled to make you circle them all.

I obviously need a break from teaching.

Uhh…well leave it at that. Much love to all y’all! And happy belated Easter!