My morning view

 Chicken and mahangu (traditional porridge and staple in the diet)

 (Marking and awaiting the feast, of course, prepared and served by the girls)

The soccer boys. Teaching them frisbee and the game of taps.

Soccer field; notice the un-level surface garbage scattered about, and over half the boys are without cleats. Number 5 was lucky to have some

“Sir, you made me feel like a little girl. Thank you,” said the twenty year old Grade Eight learner as she sat down with teary eyes.  An odd compliment, that was followed by many thank-yo’s from learners from all the grades.  Some learners that I never even taught came and shook my hand, thanking me for being at Eloolo.  This happened throughout my last couple of days at the school, commencing in a surprise-going-away party, thrown by the staff for me. I walked into the staff room to a standing ovation.  Then, each staff member, had something genuine and unique to say about how I affected the school, the learners, community, and even them.  They even presented me with a traditional cup and bowl carved out of Mopane wood. Needless to say, this all touched me and each thank-you made my final good-bye even harder.

            Yet, I feel like I should be thanking them.  I hope that my colleagues, community, and learners understand that this was a mutual exchange.  Many of the presumptions about Africa that I had have been shattered. At the same time, the many stereotypes of America that my friends and students had, have also been corrected.  But the exchange goes further than that.  The wonderful simplicity, friendliness, and generosity, that comes with being a Namibian, will certainly stick with me and hopefully make those who I come into contact with in the future, have a better life. I learned those things through sharing, conversations, food, training, and much more. These have all led to my ability to see people as individuals and a culture, and will help me to become the enriching teacher I hope to be. 

            Before my last few days, I was unsure of the impact I left.  Yes, I knew I had helped in many simple ways, but would I leave a lasting effect on this school and the community.  Again, the thank-yous began to confirm that I had helped many learners.  But, maybe I had just helped them by providing them a break? Maybe I was the teaching-clown that allowed them to relax and be entertained?  These thank-yous seemed heartfelt, but I still could not confirm that I had really made a difference. But, one of the teachers pulled me aside and informed me that he had heard many of my learners talking about how the exams they just took (English writing), had been the easiest they had ever taken, because of my teaching. Further, at the staff meeting, many of the teachers thanked me for being a ro-model to them.  I did not expect this.  Teachers who were older than me said that they had learned from my personality, commitment, teaching strategies, etc. that surely have changed them for the better.  I was at a loss for words. 

            This probably sounds like I’m boasting, but I don’t want it to.  Actually, I want to let the people who have helped me come to Namibia know that they are the reason for these thank-yous.  From my family, friends, teachers, and anyone who has ever helped me become who I am today, thank you.  Everyday, I thought of you.  What would you do if you were here?  Would you be lazy? No.  Would you be uncommitted? No.  You would treat everyday as a rare opportunity to learn, teach, and explore.  In the classroom, when I was out on a run, when I was conversing in a bar, I thought of you.  I pushed myself to represent you and me as best I could, everyday.  My successes are equally your successes, and I hold these meaningful thank-yous as a toast.

            So, how was my time here in Namibia?  I can’t explain it in words, but I promise you that it has been an invaluable educational experience that Namibians and Americans have benefited and will both benefit from.   With the most conviction text can give, thank you for helping me along the way and to reach this point.  One of my most memorable experiences here was after a good history lesson.  A learner came up to me and said, “Sir, you taught very well today, thank you.”  That gratitude, my lessons, my time in Namibia, I dedicate to you. 

Written a few days ago

My last week begins today and teaching will end in only a couple days.  In Namibia, national exams in all subjects take place near the end of each term.  On Wednesday, the learners will begin.  That means the school basically goes into shut-down mode, dedicating the upcoming weeks to exams.  Makes me feel at home again almost! 

            During the days, I’ll be doing a few different things.  I promised one class that I would bring in two types of peanut butter and have a blind taste test to see which one is better.  They have done very well, so in reward, Tuesday we will have peanut butter day, they are all very excited.  But it’s not just a party for the next two days.  I’ll be doing exam-prep, whatever I/they feel is most critical and beneficial.  I think the main area we will focus on is the extended response question. 

            Many learners have trouble with reading comprehension.  This leads to confusing and lack luster responses.  Throughout the past two months I have emphasized reading and writing in my classes.  With this extra push and some response practice, I hope they will be able to perform better. I dug up a few old exams and many of the questions follow a typical format.  Using topics that they can relate to, such as music or essential life necessities, I’ll have them respond to the questions, emphasizing providing examples and counter-evidence to back up an argument.

            Previously, I have tested them using questions like this on my own exams.  But again, they seem to have trouble comprehending and then explaining themselves in English.  This gets at the point I want to briefly write about; the problems in the Namibian education system.

            I won’t drone on about how bad the ministry is or the schools, because really they are improving everyday.  But, there are a few glaring problems that must be fixed if Namibia wants to obtain their 2030 goal of a highly educated population.  One; English must be taught at the primary level.  Although, English is a second language for many, it is now the official language of Namibia.  That means it should take precedent inside the language sphere of the classroom.  This is happening in most grades past seven, but in the lower primary level grades, there is a minimal amount of English being taught.  When the students are expected to abstractly respond on their exam questions, they fail to do so, because they just started to learn the basics of English grammar a couple years ago.  If the foundation of a building is weak, it will not stand, and the same goes for language.  However, if primary teachers can incorporate English into their classrooms, and for those that are, use more effective strategies, I think language will substantially improve and help the total Namibian education push.

            However there are a few things.  One, many primary teachers, at least at the schools I have been exposed to, cannot speak fluent English.  If a teacher cannot speak the language, there is no way that they will be able to teach it.  Yet, this is not completely their fault.  Twenty years ago, Namibia became independent and just a few years ago, English was made the official language.  During their schooling, English was merely given a glance, while Afrikaans was the major second language studied.  With future generations speaking more and more English, the upcoming teachers will have a much stronger base than the current teachers, undoubtedly increasing learner language performance. 

            Also, I am not for a complete English domination.  Oshindonga, the local language, is extremely important too.  If English erases this traditional language, a serious loss of culture will take place.  That should not happen, as any native culture should not be forgotten.  They help make the people who they are and create the wonderful thing of diversity in this world.  Oshindonga should be taught equally (splitting the language allotment 50/50) or as a second language.

            Finally, as I have just mentioned, many of the current primary teachers (again, not all and at least to the schools that I have been exposed to) have a tough time with English.  How can they be expected to teach it if they themselves don’t fully grasp it?  They should not, but that doesn’t mean that Namibia should wait for the next generation of teachers to begin.  Teacher training and education, rides right along side with learner education.  The 2030 goal should include an effective teaching force, which can be obtained with more training. 

            These primary teachers should be made or have the option to attend training.  This would help them revamp their classrooms and take a proactive approach in teaching.  This should not just be for English or for primary teachers, but for all teachers.  More emphasis needs to be placed on current teacher training.  For example, many schools have computer labs.  Great! What a trophy! But a trophy is merely a symbol.  The computer lab itself shouldn’t be something to boast about.  Yes, they represent modernity, technology, communication, etc.  But if the lab is only a symbol for these things, it has little use.  Teachers must know how to use the computers.  Just like English, schools can never help their learners achieve better computer skills (which I have taken for granted and now feel very thankful for having) if the teachers and administration cannot use them.  The labs should come paired with a training system.  Not just some do-it-yourself software, but a face-to-face ICT instructed program.  Obviously this would cost money in many different ways, but the computer labs are more of a waste in just sitting there, gathering dust.  I came here to help teach ICT and was put on hold, because of the apathy and uncertainty of management.  If 2030 should succeed, more effort, time, and money, needs to be put into teacher training, on many different levels.

            So, if you are still reading, I apologize for this rant.  If the ministry remains active, I am confident that giant steps in learning can be made.  But, this is my last week, and I feel it necessary to express some of the things that take away from this education system.  By doing this, I hope that people can begin to understand some of the reasons why volunteers are needed in Namibia and that these suggestions create awareness.  Many of you helped send me here, in one way or another, and I think it is important for me to report back to you.  Hopefully through reading this blog, you can get some sense of exposure to Namibia and feel culturally connected to the larger Africa, just as I have been fortunate enough to.

            I’ll post once more before I leave, sometime later on in the week.  After that, I’ll be in the states and will be able to put up a few pictures a day, so you can actually see (yes!) what I have been seeing.  Best.

        It is the middle of a typical warm sunny Namibian day.  I’m sitting outside on a learner chair, relaxing on this Sunday.  I’d actually rather be at sport right now, at a tournament a few towns over.  I feel quite invested in the teams, helping in the training and attending almost all the games. But, my stomach is killing me.  For the past three days, my digestive system has been a champion, taking on whatever food I shovel in. 

            We had an entrepreneurship day on Thursday, where learners set up stands, mostly of food, and sold them to other students and teachers.  I tackled all the traditional foods, enjoying them thoroughly.  This ranged from bread, which looks like a grayish rock and at times, you may be thinking you are chewing a rock because of the sand, but it actually has a slightly sweet flavor.  The beer is made for sorghum and had a sour yet pleasant taste.  The chicken as always, was delicious, smothered in oniony oil.

            My stomach did not quit on me though and continued feasting into the weekend, during the school bazaar.  Again, the bazaar is basically a large open market type fundraiser.  However, it wasn’t entirely organized, for many reasons that I will not mention here, so the school actually came out in the red. 

            I worked the bar inside a large vacant room with a chest freezer.  I also helped prepare salads (thanks Greers!) and attend to some organizational tasks.  The few teachers who showed up worked hard and made up a bunch of miscellaneous foods, like the ones I mentioned above, potato salad, coleslaw, etc.  The meat here is a bit different, not cut into fine cuts, but basically slabs.  So, you chew and take in a lot of fat.  Add the oil, mayonnaise, salt, and any other liquid besides water (there wasn’t any), and my stomach is knocked out. 

            You may be asking yourself, “Why didn’t you just stop eating or politely decline.”  Both of those things are very hard to do.  The Namibians love it when I eat their food.  Seeing some white person take a sip off their traditional beer makes them almost keel over with laughter and pride at the same time.  Each person with a different recipe wants me to try theirs, because theirs, of course, is the best.  In broken Oshiwambo, I cannot fully explain that my stomach is cursing me to hell right now. So I smile, take it, have a few bites, sips, and if I’m lucky can maybe pass it on to someone else.  Also, food is precious here.  I shouldn’t even be complaining of being over full.  It is a sign of appreciation when someone offers you their food.  Paired with their generosity and them thanking you for being here and teaching, it is difficult to turn them down.

            So, now I sit.  I did washing and when I say I, I mean mostly the girls did my washing, and read (currently, The Fiery Trial).  I’ll go for a walk soon on one of the thousands (no exaggeration) of paths that meander through the bush. Relax and plan out my last two weeks here and fall asleep once it gets dark.

-In addition

I was sitting outside the other night, doing some reading.  Another girl sat outside with me.  It was dark out, so the stars were bright as ever.  Then all of a sudden she said, “tala!” or “look!” I looked and saw nothing different in the night sky.  “What is it?” I asked.  “An aeroplane!”

In northern Namibia, it is not common to see planes in the sky.  I haven’t even really noticed, I’ve just been mesmerized by the beauty of the sky.  But I guess half the beauty is because it is almost like it hasn’t been touched.  You rarely see any blinking planes cruising over, leaving only the twinkling of the stars and maybe a satellite.  So for the Namibian’s here, a plane is something that is pretty amazing.  When I talk about how I got here, they always have many questions about the plane ride. Little things like these make me realize how different our lives and cultures are sometimes.

Amazing how fast time can move. As I get older, it seems every day goes just a second faster than the last. I only have three weeks left in Namibia and I know each week will fly by. This isn’t such a bad thing. If I weren’t busy, enjoying my time here, the days would move dreadfully slow. So although the time moves fast, I feel that it is because I am always up to something; whether that be teaching, coaching, experiencing culture, or simply reflecting, my time here has and is being spent efficiently.

With that said, I usually wake up around 4:30 a.m. and gently coax the internet into working. While the internet lazily stretches and starts up, I pound down my largest meal of the day; oatmeal, banana, and peanut butter. That may not seem like much, but if you saw the bowl that it was in, you would assume I was feeding a gorilla. After breakfast and tea (I have a small gas stove) and shaking my head in annoyance at the computer, I read for a bit, currently, Kafka on the Shore. A splash of water, a tie, and my backpack on, I walk over to school, just a three-minute walk from home.
I greet every person I see, literally every one. In Namibia it is extremely rude to not do so, even if you don’t know the person. So tack on an extra five-ten minutes to your daily commute simply because of greetings. I walk into the hectic staff room and prepare my materials quickly. My colleagues and I joke around before school starts, the previous joke being about male nurses in America. Would they call me Sister Alex if I were a male nurse? No, just Mr. Alex. Really?! Aye! Disbelief, laughter, and confusion, all in one.
At 8:00 class begins. English is usually in the morning, so I wake up my first class with some fun stretching games, simon-says type things. This gets them going and we focus on the week ahead (by the way, the National Park Projects turned out great. I’ll take some pictures and post them once I get home. I can definitely see an improvement I their writing, as well as their speaking during their presentations).
Break comes at 10:40. For a half hour, the learners run around the sandy school grounds, maybe going outside the gates to buy fat cakes (again, small balls of fried dough) from the Memes who walk a few kilos everyday, with a basin of food on their head. The can’t make much, but it is enough (one fat cake is N$1=$.15). I quickly head back home, drink a protein shake (so happy I brought the packets of whey) and a clementine, and then walk back to school.
History is usually in the afternoon. I have used many types of initations, my latest being a set of rules written by me, that a learner makes the rest of the class follow (hold hands, give me your pens, come to the front of the class, etc.). This helped to teach indirect rule. Later, in between classes, I water our school orchard, which is made up of six small guava and mango saplings (currently being ravaged by pesky insects).
After school, I head over to netball and soccer training. I have become one of the assistant coaches for both teams and help the condition all the players. We do quick cardio burst exercise routines, squat-jumps, mountain climbers, push ups, etc. All the usual defensive sliding drills, suicides, what I consider many typical athletic exercises. But they are unknown here, at look at me for direction and really seem to be enjoying (maybe not while performing) the training, especially when I participate with them.
By 4:30, training is over and I head back home to do a bit of my own exercising. Whether it be for ten minutes for an hour, as long as I can get warm and a bit of a sweat I happy. This accomplishes two tasks in one; keeping me healthy and making the cold showers tolerable. By 5:00 it starts to get chilly, so the showers are a bit tough to go into, but as long as my body is slightly warm and a let out a lot of odd airy noises during the showers, they aren’t so bad. I can’t complain, at least I have a showerhead, most of the time, people just toss water onto themselves from a basin.
Dinner time follows, with tuna, carrots, and an apple. Like I said before, sometimes the girls and even some of the men surprise me with meals of thick oshithima and a grease you rub it into. This fills you up with an insane amount of carbs and fat, but again, you aren’t hungry, so you can’t complain. It actually tastes pretty good too.
Night time consists of marking, preparing, and reading. With a comfortable sweatshirt on, I pull a chair into the sand and reflect on the day, as the sun sets gracefully on the low horizon. The pink and tangerine colors seem to stand out more than what I am used to, probably because the view isn’t obscured with hills and forest. Once, darkness hits, I peak out my window and let my eyes melt away in the southern hemisphere stars.
I feel so lucky for all of this and the only way to say thank you, is to work hard each and everyday.

-This weekend their will be a bazaar, basically a open market fundraiser for our school. I have been put in charge of running the bar. I have no idea why they chose me for this position. I know I am young, but I have never expressed my undying love for alcohol. I nervously await Friday and Saturday when I will tend to the local Namibians, who speak little to no English. Mental note of practicing my Oshiwambo all week.

-I got a knock on my door Monday. I opened it up and found a brown chicken’s slightly cocked head staring at me. This was my chicken now. The women insisted on slaughtering it. So we took it outside, placed it on a brick, and slit its throat. A few hours later, everyone got a juicy piece of the chicken and filled their bellies with Oshithima.

-For those of you who donated materials, the learners love them. I have a Learner of the Week in each class, where they receive pens/pencils, binders, highlighters, and Dum-Dums. They love it and it definitely motivates the class. They treasure anything that has something from America on it, University notebooks, pens, whatever. They tote around the gear like a badge of honor.

-If I ever repeat myself, I’m sorry, I can’t look at my blog, so I don’t always remember what I wrote. But hopefully this clues you in to how things are going. Best as always, Alex

Another week through and my departure looms just four weeks ahead.  I really have to decide on what I want to teach, so that my short time here has as large an impact as possible.  I took a quick survey from my English learners, asking them what I could help them with the most, just like I did when I arrived.  It was the same as before, speech improvement.  I have a few ideas I’m working on (one of which is English-freeze tag, I’m very excited about that one) so that they can practice speaking their English more, rather than it being dictated to them.  As for history, I have to follow the curriculum schedule a bit more, but I still do have a lot of freedom.  I administered my first history test this past week and the results were average. 

            In Namibia, the failing mark is under 39%.  To obtain an A, a learner must achieve an 80% or above.  This may seem like an easy task to many American students, but for many Namibian learners, it is a constant battle.  For many reasons, home life, poverty, distance from school, etc. Namibian students, on average, have to constantly deal with many outside variables, much more so than U.S. students.  That is not to say there are not problems with schooling factors in the U.S., but the standard of living in Namibia is much lower than in America, increasing the schooling variables.

            Looking at the test, I can tell the students understand and grasped most of the information.  They littered down facts, opinions, and examples, but in the wrong places.  Few responded in full sentences, even though I reminded them to during the test.  The main problem is their English skills.  I don’t think my questions were phrased easily enough for them to truly grasp and I may have asked too much.  If there were two questions in one, such as give an example and explain why, most students would provide the example, but create awkward following sentences or not follow the example with anything.  Tomorrow, I’m going to go over the test and spend a few class periods on understanding and responding to questions.  They will have to take national exams in a month, so I think this will be of great benefit to them.

            Although this may seem like a dismal report for history, my grades were above average for Namibian standards.  The average grade 9 learner in history achieves about a 45%.  My class average was around a 57%.  I’m content for now with this result, but I really want to push harder.  They seem to be responding better to my more active approach to teaching, including them into the lesson and by relating the information to their lives.  I need to up this and have some exciting ideas for my next unit (such as using American flag stickers to help teach assimilation).

            Sorry for the lengthy report, but I feel it is important to discuss how things are going within the school.  Other than that, here are some brief snippets of my life outside of school.

           

            -Before I leave, one meme told me she will give me a chicken, alive and well, and that I will slaughter the chicken and cook it for everyone.  Tips anyone?

            -Every time I bring out my laundry, the girls who also live in the kindergarten insist that they do it for me.  I feel embarrassed, it is my chore and responsibility, I wear the clothes, not you.  Please don’t, It really is O.K.  Those are just some of the thoughts and words I say.  But, the do it anyways, dipping their hands into my buckets and taking over.  I give a hand (no pun intended), but frankly, they do all the hard work.  They make my life very easy here, because that laundry would take me about two hours to hand wash alone.  All I can do to show my care is thank them until annoyance and buy them cool drinks.  Reciprocity I guess, but I don’t feel it is all that equal.

            -Every now and then, after, it never seems before, I eat my dinner, tuna, carrots, and an apple, I get a knock on my door.  One of the girls makes me muhangu porridge (a thick jello like cornmeal patty) and a piece of chicken in fattening but mouthwatering grease.  Again, all I can say is thank you, eat it in front of them, and go to bed over-stuffed.

            -I enjoy running and it seems that the community enjoys watching me run.  Shouts and mimicking first came my way.  I now have a team of athletes that trail my footsteps and laugh all the way.

            -Still the bear in the backyard.  Went to a church in the bush this morning and I think more eyes were on me than the pastor. 

            -Taught the entirety of the cold war in less then thirty minutes to a neighboring school Saturday morning.  I had no idea I would be teaching, they asked me to come in and said they needed to learn about the cold war.  Go! I had a learner come up and draw a gun.  I drew a bigger one, then he increased his gun size, and so on.  This went into a brief lecture and using learners as spies, countries, and types of economies and governments. 

            -I never know what the next day will bring, which is exciting, but exhausting. Hope to blog again soon and all is well with everyone!

Another week through and my departure looms just four weeks ahead.  I really have to decide on what I want to teach, so that my short time here has as large an impact as possible.  I took a quick survey from my English learners, asking them what I could help them with the most, just like I did when I arrived.  It was the same as before, speech improvement.  I have a few ideas I’m working on (one of which is English-freeze tag, I’m very excited about that one) so that they can practice speaking their English more, rather than it being dictated to them.  As for history, I have to follow the curriculum schedule a bit more, but I still do have a lot of freedom.  I administered my first history test this past week and the results were average. 

            In Namibia, the failing mark is under 39%.  To obtain an A, a learner must achieve an 80% or above.  This may seem like an easy task to many American students, but for many Namibian learners, it is a constant battle.  For many reasons, home life, poverty, distance from school, etc. Namibian students, on average, have to constantly deal with many outside variables, much more so than U.S. students.  That is not to say there are not problems with schooling factors in the U.S., but the standard of living in Namibia is much lower than in America, increasing the schooling variables.

            Looking at the test, I can tell the students understand and grasped most of the information.  They littered down facts, opinions, and examples, but in the wrong places.  Few responded in full sentences, even though I reminded them to during the test.  The main problem is their English skills.  I don’t think my questions were phrased easily enough for them to truly grasp and I may have asked too much.  If there were two questions in one, such as give an example and explain why, most students would provide the example, but create awkward following sentences or not follow the example with anything.  Tomorrow, I’m going to go over the test and spend a few class periods on understanding and responding to questions.  They will have to take national exams in a month, so I think this will be of great benefit to them.

            Although this may seem like a dismal report for history, my grades were above average for Namibian standards.  The average grade 9 learner in history achieves about a 45%.  My class average was around a 57%.  I’m content for now with this result, but I really want to push harder.  They seem to be responding better to my more active approach to teaching, including them into the lesson and by relating the information to their lives.  I need to up this and have some exciting ideas for my next unit (such as using American flag stickers to help teach assimilation).

            Sorry for the lengthy report, but I feel it is important to discuss how things are going within the school.  Other than that, here are some brief snippets of my life outside of school.

           

            -Before I leave, one meme told me she will give me a chicken, alive and well, and that I will slaughter the chicken and cook it for everyone.  Tips anyone?

            -Every time I bring out my laundry, the girls who also live in the kindergarten insist that they do it for me.  I feel embarrassed, it is my chore and responsibility, I wear the clothes, not you.  Please don’t, It really is O.K.  Those are just some of the thoughts and words I say.  But, the do it anyways, dipping their hands into my buckets and taking over.  I give a hand (no pun intended), but frankly, they do all the hard work.  They make my life very easy here, because that laundry would take me about two hours to hand wash alone.  All I can do to show my care is thank them until annoyance and buy them cool drinks.  Reciprocity I guess, but I don’t feel it is all that equal.

            -Every now and then, after, it never seems before, I eat my dinner, tuna, carrots, and an apple, I get a knock on my door.  One of the girls makes me muhangu porridge (a thick jello like cornmeal patty) and a piece of chicken in fattening but mouthwatering grease.  Again, all I can say is thank you, eat it in front of them, and go to bed over-stuffed.

            -I enjoy running and it seems that the community enjoys watching me run.  Shouts and mimicking first came my way.  I now have a team of athletes that trail my footsteps and laugh all the way.

            -Still the bear in the backyard.  Went to a church in the bush this morning and I think more eyes were on me than the pastor. 

            -Taught the entirety of the cold war in less then thirty minutes to a neighboring school Saturday morning.  I had no idea I would be teaching, they asked me to come in and said they needed to learn about the cold war.  Go! I had a learner come up and draw a gun.  I drew a bigger one, then he increased his gun size, and so on.  This went into a brief lecture and using learners as spies, countries, and types of economies and governments. 

            -I never know what the next day will bring, which is exciting, but exhausting. Hope to blog again soon and all is well with everyone!

The One Glove Trend

The One Glove Trend

July 5, 2011

            Walk into almost any Namibian classroom and you will notice many boys and even girls wearing one glove on their hands.  Cheap cotton grey or pink gloves cover either their left or right, while the other hand is exposed, making an uneven and odd look (maybe Michael Jackson didn’t start this peculiar fashion statement).  I’ve asked many times,  “Why only one glove?” Most students cannot give me a good response, for reasons ranging from lack of English to embarrassment.  So I quit asking, I didn’t want to make anyone feel awkward.  Anyways, I had my assumptions, which I felt were pretty accurate.  I have seen some Namibian television (which is rough; Spanish soap-operas dubbed to English become quite tiresome) and music videos dominate the screens.  Kwaito artists, a hip-hop, pop, house, genre makes up 75% of the Namibian music scene.  During these artist’s videos, many wear one ragged looking glove instead of the pair on both hands.  I assumed that most learners were mimicking their favorite musicians and ro-models, making their own outward material statement during school.  However, these were just assumptions and my curiosity drove me to find out the best answer I could.

  At our mid-service gathering this past weekend, I asked my field director about the fad.  She laughed and agreed that many learners do wear the one glove and that yes, partly because many Namibian celebrities show this symbol off.  But, it goes much deeper than that.  During the winter, weather can get below freezing in Namibia.  For someone who experiences 111F at times during the summer, 32F seems frigid.  Even many of my colleagues and Namibian teachers burrow into their winter jackets all day, whereas I still manage a slight sweat during the 75F day.

            The glove trend helps to illustrate how deep the idea of sharing is embedded within Namibia.  Learners pass their gloves to friends who don’t have any, because one glove is better than none.  I now notice it is so rare to find a learner with a pair of gloves. Yet, if I look at the learner sitting next to them, I realize that they are wearing the nice pink matching partner.  This isn’t to say that everyone does this because of their complete willingness to share, but I believe that deep down, this statement does represent much of what Namibian life seems to be about, the community.

            No matter where you go in Namibia, there seems to be the understanding that life is larger than the individual.  Friends, family, the nation, they all matter more than just you.  When it comes time for lunch, an orange will be split into as many ways as possible and handed around.  Take a few bites of an apple and toss it to a colleague or learner.  They will accept willingly.  One teacher went a picked up a box of juice for me the other day, just because he was at the grocery store and I had mentioned I had ran out.  A two seated truck, becomes a comfortable three or four person bench.  Tired? A Namibian will not mind if you rest your head on their shoulder (this has happened to me within the taxis and kombis).

            I think these artists take the one glove to the next level of making a fashion statement.  At the same time, I think it also recognized that this is a sign of sharing and unity.  It’s something that I deeply respect about this culture and hope to bring back within my own life upon returning home. 

Don't remember if I posted this yet, but this is the outside of the building that I'm living in.  Actually got some internet so I could show some pictures, Happy 4th to everyone!

Ongwediva

Last Friday, some of my colleagues surprised me and took me over to one of the teacher’s bar.  Most of the bars here, are small open concrete buildings, with only a table and a small counter to sit at.  But they are everywhere and enjoyed by many.  This enjoyment dwindles to excess and it is a huge problem for Namibian’s who spend much of their pay in the bars.  However, the teachers at Eloolo are good people and thought that I should have a welcoming party.  We sat, joked, and discussed while having some beers and cool drinks.  There was even a bit of roasted chicken and meat, which they eat to the bone, and even the bone sometimes. 

After the bar, I headed over to Ongwediwa.  My principal lives in this nice small town, which is seen as one of the nicer communities within the region.  Upon entering, I could tell that there was more money here. Most houses (almost all are one story) have a gate and even a small back yard of sand and fruit trees.  I felt very lucky to be here and in such good company, as my principal and his family were extremely friendly and generous.

So I spent the weekend relaxing, playing with his children (two girls seven and two.  They also have two other girls who are seventeen and thirteen. They help with the household chores, and return get a place to sleep and get to go to school. Another four year-old boy is also fostered there) being waited on constantly.  They aimed to stuff me.  A compliment here is to be fat and they tried their hardest to make me so in just a couple of days.  Huge bowls of buttered porridge, roasted meat, and traditional maize milk were always at the ready.

On Sunday I attended church.  It was a a Lutheran service, but unlike any I have ever attended.  The closest comparison that I can make was that it was part Luthrran, Evangelical, and Baptist all in one.  The Namibian Christian’s and Lutherans, at least at this church, celebrate jubilantly, when they praise God.  Instead of the solemn (by no means is that negative and yes, I know Lutheran churches do have fun too) services of some Lutheran American churches, this church had a celebration.  The preacher yelled, screamed, cried, laughed, and made sounds that I didn’t know humans could make.  Members danced, made congo-lines, sang, and moved around in any way possible.  This three hour experience was breathtaking.  It was so different than what I know church to be like. 

I applaud these members, because of how devoted they are to their religion.  They truly love being Christian and worship in a fantastic and happy way.  When they walk away, I can see that they get the same meditative calming out of the service, just as many do in America.  It really did put a smile on my face just to see how much their religion meant to them.  Yet, at the same time, this powerful religion can mask their interpretation of the world.  In discussing religion with a few members, many accepted other practices, but only if they believed in Jesus.  That doesn’t seem to include some religions I know.  If a person did follow something other than Christianity, than they were in the wrong, leaning on the immoral side.  I listened intently and was reminded again about how religion can be a brilliantly good thing, but also mask and dictate life.

I know there are some services like this in America and that many of my experiences here can relate to others elsewhere. Also, there are many things I don’t have to the ability to say, because of my constraints with connectivity and time, but I hope you all understand that I take a careful approach when I do get a chance to blog.  If I ever leave something out, stop short, or offend, I apologize, it is not my intention to do so. I merely try to report what I see and giving some interpretation of it in the short time that I can.

English: Biodiversity. Took the learners on a walk today, describing biodiversity.  History; working into collaboration and resistance on European colonialism. 

By the way, I am taking pictures and will post them when I get back.  I can’t get them up here, but I think you will really enjoy them.  Thanks and hope all is well.  

Dream

My students submitted me their first drafts of their dream poems today.  Most students chose the paths of doctors, teachers, musicians, or pilots.  All of these occupations are quite honorable and each student had their own motivation for choosing them.  But, there wasn’t much differentiation between which occupation they chose.  Out of my seventy students, these were the four dominate choices.  The only other three, were to become president, a police officer, or an engineer, and truly, there was only about six of those total. 

            Why is this?  I think one reason is their exposure level.  Few students leave their local villages and communities.  They aren’t able to experience the true variety of jobs that are out there.  This isn’t their fault, but something that they were born into.  It’s hard to leave when they don’t have any money to do so.  Even a trip to a neighboring region is a very big deal.  They experience these professions very frequently.  Traveling doctors make their rounds around the town.  Learners attend school almost every day.  Musicians can be heard on the radio.  I’m not really sure where pilots came from, but the idea that they could fly anywhere they like and get away is an intriguing one I’m sure.

            Yet, not many learners said they wanted to leave it all.  Yes, most said they wanted to travel, see America, and do “big” things.  But that doesn’t mean they forget where they came from.  In every dream poem, every learner said they wanted to help their family to some degree.  I think this speaks volumes about the people and culture.  Even at a young age, these students value family and supporting their community as one of the most important things in their lives.  I believe that this was almost every students dream, whether they realized it or not.  They all wanted to make “a lot of money” so that they could “take care of” their poor families, sister, brother, meme, tate; they listed every one.  Most understood that their needed to finish their education, which would allow them to fulfill their dreams.  I truly hope that they all can and proceed to get in and finish university.  This sharing family-community based culture is inspiring and humbling.

On The Coast

Thursday afternoon, I made a spur of the moment decision, hopped on a kombi (travel van) with another volunteer from the North and made our way down to Swakopmund, a resort like coastal town.  I had no idea what Swakopmund would be like and I was quite surprised at what I found.  But first getting there. 

Again, things in Africa move a bit slower than in America.  So although I was in a kombi at 3:30 we didn’t leave the parking lot till 5.  That meant we had to stop in a town called Tsumep, because for many reasons, you really shouldn’t travel around after dark.  The next day we waited for a kombi in the early morning, but none arrived.  However, a nice looking white man pulled up in a truck with a cab and said he was on his way over to Swakop.  We took him up on his offer and climbed into the bed of his truck.  We figured it couldn’t be too much further; we had spent three hours driving the night before.  But we were wrong and the nine-hour ride left our bottoms bruised.  Even better was when another three passengers crammed into the bed with us.  One hiker pulled out a crumbled up ball of newspaper to reveal a nice snack of fresh moist grubs.  The motto goes “In Africa We Share” but I feel the right to reserve “In Africa we can politely decline.”  Another day maybe, but the hot and squished bed of the truck didn’t seem the ideal place for indulging on a new treat.  While they munched along, I noticed a little brown head poke out from the open newspaper.  He continued to climb out revealing large wings a fat black stinger.  For those of you that don’t know, I am terrified of bees.  And this one was huge and an inch from my knee.  The lady finally realized the wasp was in her food and flicked it out and onto my leg. Scared out of my mind, I scrambled and hit my leg, flicking it onto the window, where the other passenger picked it up and squished it in his hand.  My manliness went down a few notches in only a few minutes.

But back to Swakopmund.  Imagine a few blocks of the most genuine Bavarian style shops, eateries, and architecture, put that before a background of the Atlantic, and you have Swakop.  Pale yellows and creamy pinks and blues covered almost all of the buildings.  One doesn’t even have to eat the chocolate croissants or drink the boots of beer to be happy.  A simple walk around is quite relaxing.  Yet, I reflect back on my brief time there and have very mixed feelings on the town.  Walk into any bar or restaurant and your server will be black.  Now look around and observe that all of the customers are white.  This was the case in almost any building.  I understand that some things are hard to change, but Swakop still has some feel of segregation.  I know that this is the case in many places around the world, but coming from a place where I am the only white person around, it took me aback. Further, we spoke with some of the visitors and locals and discussed what we were doing in Africa.  We told them we were teaching, specifically in the northern part of Namibia.  Many laughed and joked about how “stupid” the northern Namibians are and that our efforts are in vain.

This ignorance kills me and at the same time lights a fire in me that makes me want to work harder.  My students are brilliant, friendly, and what’s more, they want an education.  Some walk miles to get to school.  They understand that an education will get them further in life.  That doesn’t seem so stupid to me.

Weekly Plan

History

European colonization- They will colonize a country (Xela) and take two territories, identifying why they chose those territories, for strategic purposes, economic, etc.

Cont. with the Scramble for Africa

English

Dream Poem

The students will be creating poems about their dreams and what they want to do in life.  I’ll be taking in my laptop tomorrow to show how music is poetry, specifically dream songs by their favorite artists (Jay-Z, Kanye West, etc.)

Take the class

I had already observed a few History lessons and it was now time to observe English.  This was a different teacher and a grade lower then my ninth grade classes (most students in ninth grade are seventeen).  As I am having trouble posting pictures, I’ll try and describe the classrooms the best I can.  Imagine a long, two-toned, one story building, grey and green or grey and maroon.  Large yet prison like windows run along the sides of the building, with thick white bars protecting the dusty glass.  Inside, there is a smudged green chalkboard at the front, with tiny wooden student desks scattered around the room.  There are chairs for almost every student, but that doesn’t mean that the chair would have a back to it, sometimes it is just the flat wooden bottom with two metal bars racing up vertically to support a learners back.  Both the cement walls and floors are chipped and dented.  Nearly nothing hangs on the walls.  This is the basic classroom.  I don’t mean to make it sound so dismal, but truly, it is a cement room with an old board, desks, and chairs.  But at least there are these things. 

            I sat in the back of the class as the teacher began class. He announced that I would be taking over the class soon and that they should feel privileged to have me teach.  After that, he nodded his head to me and walked out.  So much for observing.  I gathered myself and trotted up the to front of the class.  I gave them a good morning and asked, “Do you know where I am from?”  I received blank stares, some nods, some shakes, some whispers.  “America.  Do you know where America is located?” Same response.  I drew a terrible world map and pointed out the various continents, countries, and where I lived. I then asked them if they knew of any famous people from America, musicians, actors, etc.  Some did and they quietly mentioned celebrities such as Tom Cruise, Jay-Z, Beyonce, 50 Cent, or Taylor Swift.  I located where each of them lived or came from.  The students seemed to like this, not because they said much, but because they couldn’t take their eyes away from the board or me.  I then went over where President Obama lives, the capitol, and such.  I had them pronounce Connecticut, which took a while, but we finally got there.  And then time was up.  My first lesson over and I felt good about it.

            Namibian students, at least rural ones, are extremely respectful.  It is a cultural thing to respect elders and I am very impressed at how devout the children are to this code.  If a person is younger than you, they will do anything you ask.  Learners here fetch water, help mark papers, or grab extra supplies. They stand up when a teacher is around and sit only when they are allowed to.  They never speak out or disrupt the class.  When called upon, they slowly, very slowly, stand up, think for another few seconds, and then whisper their answer.  Coming from loud and speedy America, this is a huge shock and adjustment for me.  Through the introduction lesson I explained that if they want to be the Learner of the Week (something I am doing to get the students motivated.  Every Friday I give the Learner of the Week a hand-made certificate, very nice of course, candy, pens/pencils, notebooks, etc.) they must participate, cooperate, and be respectful.  The participation factor is the most essential to me.  There is no way they will learn English if they are so reserved.  I told them that they must speak loud, LOUD! They laugh and then do respond, but this is very unusual to them.  Over and over I remind them to speak up, I have them repeat tough words of vocabulary.  They do enjoy it when the class yells in unison and I can tell that they are getting it and remembering. 

            After my first lesson they understood that the “I” in Connecticut has a soft “i” sound, not like an “ee” sound which most of them say.  I emphasized this by shrugging my shoulders and saying “eh”.  This animation and the volume have worked definitely worked, as they seem to remember what we went over in the past few days.  Hopefully they will continue to improve their English, something that is highly valued here in Namibia.  I taught them the word giggle today, they liked that.

How man people can you fit in the back of a truck?

The answer would be at least eighteen guys.  I thought that I had rode in tightly packed cars, but nothing comes close to this.  Sixteen of the travelers made up the Eloolo boys soccer team.  When a school has little money, the coach’s truck serves as the bus to get to and from games.  Even more, the budget is so tight that the principal struggled with paying the $250 tournament reservation fee (equivalent to $50). It’s amazing the things I took and take for granted, especially when it comes to sports or any extracurricular activity.  But that is not to say the tournament wasn’t a great time and success.

            I spent my weekend about thirty/forty kilometers away from Eloolo CS in the next region outside Oshana.  The boys soccer team and girls netball team (imagine basketball where the hoops have no backboard and the players cannot move with the ball or touch each other, only pass) competed against about ten other schools from around the neighboring regions.  Eloolo came into the tournament realistically expecting to be beaten, as the other teams are better funded and have larger schools.  But, the girls netball team beat another neighboring school and the boys soccer team took third place overall within the tournament!  Safe to say both teams left in high spirits. 

            The grassy white-lined fields and polished wooden courts that I know were replaced by sand.  Sand, trash, rocks, and sprawling weeds combine to provide a playing field for the kids and this school had a “nice” sporting area.  Situated in between long grey and green classroom buildings, the fields dominate much of the school grounds.  During the tournament, vendors dispersed themselves around the buildings and paths, selling sweets, fruits, and a new favorite, sugar cane.  I saw one of our boys munching, rather, tearing on a purplish bamboo like stick.  He told me it was sugar cane and I had to try some.  For those of you who have never tried it, if you do happen to come across it, take the chance and buy some.  One two-foot shoot of cane cost one dollar.  I was instructed to tear the dull purple bark off with my teeth (which was hard to do) to get to sweet pale green insides.  The sweet insides were juicy but tough and you only suck and chew the fiber until there is no taste left.  After, you spit out the excess fiber, adding more turf and variables to the playing fields. 

            I think I was quite a sight when I ate my sugar cane or sat and had lunch (beer and porridge/oshithima) with my unusual methods of ripping through the sugar cane or not understanding how to attack my porridge without utensils.  Even when not eating, people stared, pointed, and watched.  Imagine seeing a bear in your backyard.  You know they are around, but when it is right there sitting on your porch, you can’t help but be fascinated, curious, and scared.  I can tell that whenever I am spotted, excitement builds throughout the community.  It is a very unusual feeling being on this end, being the extreme minority. 

            But back to the car ride.  After the two-day tournament (sunrise to sunset) we made our final trip back home.  I crouched on the side of the truck as some boys sat on the roof or stood in the bed, each holding each other’s shoulders for balance. We were jostled and bumped around as the truck made it’s way through the sandy roads, kicking up dust on our bodies.  But the boys were happy and I was too.  They sang the entire way back, the same song, for thirty minutes, and they never got tired of it (sounded like a pump up song).  I enjoyed the gorgeous sunset and reminded myself how lucky I am to be here. 

            This was just my weekend, I know it is already Tuesday, but I wanted to catch you all up with what went on in the few days before.  I’ll hopefully post about my first day teaching soon (imagine a bear in a classroom).

My First Day

I arrived mid-afternoon in Ondangwa a scattered urban town with a few shopping centers and plenty of honking taxis.  I met my Principal on the side of the road with another fellow teacher, Festus, who drove me over to my school and living complex.  My Principal asked if I had had a good trip and I responded that indeed I had.  However, I did not mention how different of a drive it was compared to any other I have had.  Baboons frequently tramped across the two-lane road and through traffic.  Cows and bulls lazily chomped grass along the sides of the street, while meercats (spelling big time) were like dodging squirrels.  One doesn’t need to take a safari within Africa to find wildlife; just drive along the road for an hour and you will find plenty.

            Festus and about six other teachers live within my complex, which is an old school building and some rooms are still used for the local kindergarten.  My room was the school tuck-shop but was recently cleared out into a livable space.  It is a bit tight with a fridge, bed, and a few shelves taking up most of the space.  I added a desk and chair today, borrowing them from the student’s for a bit.  I have a place to work, eat, and sleep, and that is fine by me.  Moreover, I won’t get too lonely, as there are plenty of paper-thin wall spiders.  This may sound like I am resentful towards my accommodations, but I am far from that.  My school and the ministry have gone to the furthest efforts to provide these things and I couldn’t be more grateful.  Complaining would be a sin.

            Going off of that, the teachers and students are extremely friendly.  The teachers, especially my housemates, have made it clear that whenever I need anything that I should not hesitate to ask.  My Principal even gave a check-in call last night just to make sure I was doing all right.  With everyone being so accepting, it is easy to see the Namibian family like culture in full effect. 

            This was especially evident during my first school assembly.  Every morning Eloolo (pronounced Eelowlow) has a mass outdoor assembly where announcements are made.  Three younger girls began by singing a hymn and reading a religious passage.  After, the Principal introduced me and I said a few words (basically, wa lalapo or good morning).  To finish, the school sings the national anthem as the Namibian flag is raised. 

            After a brief discussion with my Principal, it was determined that I was going to teach history and English.  He had me observe a history teacher, Eugene, who runs a relaxed but effective classroom.  The learners (students in Namibia) all seem quite disciplined and very willing to learn.  To end the day I played in a pickup volleyball game which was quite fun. 

            So my first day is done and I am very happy.  The students are curious, bashful and excited all at the same time.  I am the only white person within the 800-student/teacher body, so I stick out a bit.  Wherever I go, there is someone who says hello or gives a wave.  I went for a run later to a group of shops/shacks and the people through up their hands in surprise and welcoming.  It’s very weird contrasting so much from the people here.  But that is just on the outside.  I feel a deep comfort in the kindness and wellbeing that everyone emits.  This definitely allows me to relax more and will help me along my teaching journey in Namibia.  I’m excited to continue to learn more and more and hopefully can return the favor.  Tomorrow, Eloolo is participating in a soccer/net ball tournament and I will be traveling with both of the coaches (whom are also my housemates), Festus and Joseph, for the day.  Best of luck to the teams and hope to keep you all posted soon.  Best. 

p.s. The internet is very slow and unreliable, I have to wake up at odd hours of the evening to access it, so I'm sorry for the delay on the posts

Recap

I'll try to catch you all up with what has been going on in the past few days.  I'm sure many of you have questions about the pictures and small blurb I posted.  Basically my fellow volunteers and I drove into a the poverty stricken area within Windhoek.  I think we all kind of felt a sobering effect once we saw the homes, clothing, and families that surrounded us.  The homes were small shacks, no larger than the sheds many of us have in our back yards, yet to them, our wooden sheds would be a major upgrade.  Aluminum walls leaned in on each other and even as we walked, a wall here and there would fall down.  Some homes had old rusty fences surrounding the "yard" which was made up of trash, tires, basically things that you would find in a scrap yard.  But despite this environment, the people were friendly and open to us (yes, possibly because they knew we had money).  Yet, I don't believe it was just that.  The culture seems communal and inclusive.  I was only haggled once or twice, one of the times from a man who was a supposed musician and was looking for a sponsor.  Another lady, said, "You must give me your phone."  But again, most people were quite friendly and just as curious as we were.  One girl asked to touch one of my peers hair and giggled in excitement when she was allowed to.  Polite "hellos" and head nods were given, and even a few handshake-bows (shake with your right hand as you grab your right wrist with your left hand in a slight fold).  The kids ran away from us, then chased us, then shouted to their friends to come.  I bought some candies on the way and handed them out.  Children crept up slowly to me and took them with uncertainty, as if I might close my hand on theirs.  But once one child had made the leap, many more relaxed and enjoyed their treats.  When I took my pictures, I would then show the children and even adults.  They loved this and laughed as they couldn't believe that they were seeing themselves.  As I climbed back onto the bus, I thought about how lucky I am to have what I have; my family and friends, my education, my home, my iPod, my clean Tshirt, everything.

And just ten minutes down the road we entered the campana.  This was a food market, but not of the European sort.  Flanks of freshly slaughtered cow hung from the rafters of a large pavilion.  Butchers hacked at the meat with medieval type axes and through the slabs onto huge grated grills.  This brutal scene provided some of the best meat I have ever tasted.  The cow was fresh, natural, and juicy.  People lined up for each butcher, grabbing the meat directly off the grill with their hands and dipping it into a hot and savory spice mix before popping it into their mouths.  Safe to say, my stomach was in nirvana.  I also gave the cow stomach and intestine a try, which were both tasty, except the muscular stomach was very tough.  After that, most of the volunteers needed a drink, so glass cokes and sprites were available from other vendors.  I skipped on this and gave some dried grubs a try.  Salty and earthy, they were not my favorite, but I can see how people enjoy them.  And if that was not enough, I indulged on a "fat cake" a less sweet fried dough ball.  This comes wrapped up in a piece of newspaper and is best enjoyed in pieces dipped in a tomato and onion mix.

Entirely full, we hopped back on our bus and drove over the capitol.  Prestigious and beautiful, the white monuments and lush gardens represented what the Namibia government strives for, Westernization.  However, their history is represented well, as you can see the hints of German, South African, and British culture within the complex.  For example, just behind a major state house, bowlers (white bowlers) competed on a bright green lawn, in a proper silence.

In a matter of four hours I had jumped demographics and economic statuses from the low to the high.  It was so sad to see how many people were not even close to even a middle income status.  The Namibian poor live with little to nothing and it doesn't seem that that will be changing any time soon.  It's interesting.  Even in the heat, country Namibians still wear all their clothes.  It's winter time now, so the day doesn't get much warmer than 80, but still, the sun is constant and almost anyone would sweat, especially in the tough conditions that many of the Windhoek poor live in.  Instead of cooling off by taking off their shirts, they keep them on. Why?  I think one answer is that their shirts and material possessions are their status symbols.  If a person has a nice sport jersey on, rather than a tattered t-shirt, they will be perceived as having a good status, a better life.  Collared shirts can be a sign of wealth and I'm sure we can all imagine the hierarchy of clothing, that many of us even see within our own culture.  I think it goes even further here.

I head out Thursday and hopefully will give you all another update soon.  Again, I'm not sure how my internet will be in the north, but I know I will be far from a city, which is not good for connecting to the web.  I'll do my best and try to include you all in my experiences. Best as always,

This is why I came...

We walked into a low income town today and when I say low income, I mean subsisting on almost nothing.  I walked around feeling embarrassed to be there, feeling that they thought I was so arrogant and rich white person.  But, most Namibians in this shanty-like town (not in a derogatory way) were friendly and curious.  I'll explain more in an upcoming blog, because this blog itself took forty-five minutes to complete because of the weak internet.