The following, from a randomness/unanticipated point of
view, really isn’t that unusual here.
You can have a week of sheer nothingness/routine/boredom and then you
can have a week of twist and turns.
You just never know.
Rukwangali tutoring –
9:00 AM Thursday, Aug 30
I finally managed to find a Rukwangali tutor. Granted, I’d sort of given up trying to
find one after my first month at site.
But, after having multiple PC friends making solid progress on their
languages, I’ve allowed shame to drive me to give it another try. By great coincidence, a volunteer just
started at the youth center that grew up speaking Rukwangali (many of our
volunteers and staff are from east of here and grew up speaking
Thimbukushu). The people at the
Youth Center are also getting better about speaking Rukwangali to me. I spend the first 30 minutes of every
morning outside with our volunteer staff practicing Rukwangali. Later in the morning, I sit with my
tutor, Carl, for a more formal lesson.
It’s been fun and I can tell the folks at the center appreciate my
effort.
Shoe maker – 10:00 AM
Thursday morning
A local man comes to my office to get advice on starting a
business making shoes. He’s
confident of his skills, though he hasn’t made a shoe in 6 years. I spend an hour with him during which
we go through some financials and I give him multiple assignments. We schedule another meeting in a
week. He seems happy and excited
to get to work on the assignments.
(Update: he stood me up for follow up meeting…not unusual but always
frustrating. Hopefully, he’ll
visit again soon.)
Pit latrine – 11:00
AM (about) Thursday morning
I’m working on a very slow moving project to get a pit
latrine (outside toilet – think outhouse) built for my PCV friend Geri who is
deep in the bush and currently employing the large airy bathroom known as
“nature” (plenty of natural light in the daytime, a little risky at night). The plan is that PCV Nathan and I will
do the construction. We received
some training from an Australian volunteer, Richard, about 8 weeks ago, but I
needed to get some more information from somebody that has built pit latrines
locally on materials needed and process.
So, the center supervisor hooked me up with a friend of his. We went through his detailed plans and
created a materials list. He was
knowledgeable and helpful and exactly the sort of person I needed to meet. My goal is to start work on the
construction by early October (I think snakes have babies in May…I guess that’s
the real critical deadline, huh, Geri?).
Round about Noonish, I’d
say, on Thursday…
A man (our new youth center security guard) runs by my
office window with a bow and arrow.
Curious, I stand and look out my window. I find that he’s chasing a puppy that appears to be about 3
or 4 months old. Those of you that
read my blog regularly know that Namibians don’t share the same love of canines
that Americans do. This particular
puppy wandered onto our property and became public enemy #1 in the eyes our new
security enforcer. I, feeling his
reaction to the intruder was a bit strong, ran from my office to try and stop
him. As I ran through the lobby, I
felt compelled to yell “Morokeni!” to some strangers there, as greetings are
very important in Namibia.
I made it out onto our lawn in time to see our guard
throwing a sizeable rock at the puppy who was now cowering in the corner of our
razor wire fence. The puppy bolted
and the guard raised an arrow at him and shot (not noticing or, rather,
ignoring my yells to stop).
Luckily, he narrowly missed and I got to the guard as he was prepping
another arrow. The puppy found the
exit and reunited with his mother outside the gate. The conversation that ensued between the guard and I was
unpleasant. This was my first
argument with a Namibian. It’s
very uncomfortable being a white person here debating, somewhat angrily, with a
Namibian. This guy lived under
apartheid. He called me “master”
angrily. I dropped it immediately after
that, but later asked him to not bring the bow and arrow back and explained to
him that seeing dogs abused is upsetting to Americans. We seem to be on pretty good terms now
outwardly, but inwardly I don’t think he likes me very much. He hasn’t brought the bow and arrow to
work since.
I once had a conversation with a man outside a shebeen (bar)
in Omaruru. He told me how hard it
was to look at any white person as a friend. He said he’d lived under an oppressive white minority for so
long that it was hard to let the anger go. He told me a story of seeing a friend of his shot to death
by South African troops on his old school grounds when he was a child. I always go back to this conversation
in my head whenever I see a Namibian doing something I’d like them to not be
doing. I bite my tongue a lot
here. When you're a Peace Corps Volunteer, you're always a Peace Corps Volunteer. 24/7.
4AM Friday morning,
Aug 31
I woke to music blasting outside of my bedroom window. My neighbor had returned from a night
at the bar, completely trashed but apparently not ready to call it a
night. In Namibia, people get paid
at the end of the month and there is a noticeable increase in activity around
the bars. The music was coming
from his car stereo. I waited
about 10 minutes before deciding to go ask (politely) that he turn the music
down. I found my neighbor
and his friend, both very drunk, standing next to his car. His wife, seemingly sober, was sitting
in their living room. I explained
to him that it was 4AM and that he’s probably woken up the entire neighborhood
and ask him to turn the music off or, at least, down a bit. He explained to me that I should shut
the hell up and go home. A few heated
pleasantries later, I return to my apartment, the music still blasting. I was planning on getting up at 5AM
anyway for a long run, so I just make breakfast and coffee and start my day
early. Later, I had the unpleasant realization that after nearly 6
months, I’d just had my 1st and 2nd argument in Namibia in
less than 24 hours.
6:00 AM Friday
morning
I’m waving a cab down about 5 miles from my place. I’d been feeling crappy on my runs for a
few days and on this one my legs just gave up. I’d been in denial, but now I had to accept that I was
getting sick. I tried walking a
bit and then running again, but no go.
My legs were finished.
8:30 AM Friday
morning
I meet with the head of USAID Namibia, the head of USAID’s
faith based initiatives, and the head of Barack Obama’s faith based initiatives
office. The three of them were
touring various projects in Rundu.
At one point, the gentleman from the White House was handing out photos
to women at a struggling riverside garden. The photos were ones you would all probably be familiar
with. The old women standing next
to me was holding a shot of Barack, Biden, Hilary, and company watching the
raid on Osama Bin Laden’s compound.
It was a bit surreal.
Later in the day, we discussed some project possibilities
and I showed them around Rundu. I
joined them for three different meetings, one with the Women and Children
Protection Unit (WACPU) which is an office of the Rundu police force that deals
with gender based violence. The
other two meetings were around various agriculture initiatives. It’s always a bit jarring to go from
the African world to the world of meetings with fast speaking Americans with an
agenda and a timeline. I
managed. I spent nearly 7 years in
DC and never met a single politician.
6 months in Africa and I’m in a meeting with a guy from the White
House.
Saturday morning, 7AM
I decide to spend the weekend with PCVs Geri and Nathan in
Divundu. I walk to the hike point
and a man standing next to his tractor-trailer waves to me. It’s the same man that brought Nathan
and I from Otavi to Rundu after our meetings in Windhoek. He asked “where are you headed?”, I
said “Divundu”, he smiled and said “get in”. Talk about luck.
Lotala and I chatted the entire way out. We laughed about the checkpoint police pulling us over a few
weeks back when I told him I nearly offered to hide in the bunkbed. He said that the same police had once
asked him to take a pack of 4 Namibians to the next town once (basically asking
him to break the same rule they later tried to fine him for breaking). He said that he is always nervous to
enter the Congo and always relieved when he gets out again. He said that going through that three
times a month is tough, but that it makes the rest of his days seem easy in
comparison.
My sickness really settled in while I was in Divundu. Though, on the bright side, I’ve never
slept so well in Africa! I finally
broke down and called the Peace Corps medical officer who set me up with a
doctor in Rundu. My Rundu doc is
working hard to try to figure out what the issue is. A lot of blood tests.
So far, all clear. The final
tests come in next week. I’m
hoping I’ll get some clarity then.
My hope of running the Swakop marathon I’ve been training for is fading
quickly. I’m trying to not get to
upset about it, but it is disappointing.
I’ve been trying to figure out what the cause might be, and I’ve
narrowed it down to two best guesses.
1) I really shouldn’t have refilled my water bottle at a mud hut 6 miles
outside of town where they likely don’t have access to city water, or 2) in my
effort to get some photos inside a tumbo establishment, I purchased and drank
about 4oz of the homemade alcoholic beverage. I’m leaning toward the culprit being the bush water stop
during my last 20 mile run, but it could really be anything. As my doctor put it “there are a lot of
strange sicknesses here”. I
actually ran a marathon a few weeks ago in Windhoek. I’d intended on only doing the first 20 miles but decided to
push on and finish. So, at least I
can say I’ve accomplished that. However, I’m still hoping to participate in
Swakop. Fingers crossed. Thanks for reading.
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| Lotala |
