24/7

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 1^st and 2^nd 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.

Lotala