If you’re interested in contacting me in Namibia, I’m very interested in hearing from you!
To mail anything to me, send it to:
Karen McGee
Private Bag 506
Ohangwena, Namibia
I’m told that letters take about 3 weeks to arrive. I love snail mail and promise to reply! If you want to send a package, it’s best to send it in a flat rate international box from the post office. I think it only costs $50 and you can put anything in it that you want!
To call me from America, dial:
011264 81 679 8448
Incoming phone calls don’t cost me anything and I think you can find cheap rates through Skype or Google Voice.
To video/voice Skype with me, my name is:
karen.e.mcgee
I only Skype about once a week from 1-5am my time (5-9pm central time) when internet data is free for me, so email me if you want to chat.
As always, your emails, comments, and Facebook posts sustain me. Thank you for the encouragement from home; it is much appreciated in this slow and difficult time of adjustment. Missing you all greatly!
I did not anticipate that my name would be such a challenge for Namibians to say. 95% of the time, my name is “Kelleen Maggie.” Sometimes it’s just “Kelly” and some teachers still call me “Ms. McJee.” They all think the McG combination is hilarious. Well, right back atcha Namibia – I think your Nghi combination is ridiculous.
Just a little name demographic for you from my approx. 250 learners:
Top girls’ names:
- Maria
- Rachel/Martha
- Teopolina
- Ndapunikwa
- Ndamononghenda
Top boys’ names:
- Johannes
- Fillipus
- Festus
- David
- Daniel
Top surnames (heaven forbid you say “last names” – no one understands that):
What a mouthful! The learners get a kick out of me trying to pronounce their names, but I can honestly say that by day 6 of teaching, I have mastered all except Ndamanguluka...gonna practice that one tonight. Thank goodness they don’t have to fill out bubbles on standardized tests for their names like we do in America – they’d for sure run out of spaces!
This is a long story, but I promise it’s a good one – and one that’s completely exemplary of schools in Namibia.
My Friday at school started out pretty horribly. After having to completely re-do my stellar grade 12 lesson plans due to a printer malfunction (aka...I can’t print anything here), I went to school early to photocopy several handwritten worksheets for my classes before our staff meeting. Unfortunately, the secretary was late to school that day. As I sat waiting for the meeting to start, I realized about five other things I had forgotten for my classes. Unfortunately, my Friday had no breaks so I felt up a creek without a paddle (and sadly, this almost made me break down).
At the end of the staff meeting I was called into the principal’s office. Already stressed, I headed down the hall not knowing for what reason I was being summoned. The principal told me I would be serving on a panel to interview four people for our tuck shop (aka munchie mart at school) and library assistants. Remember that full schedule of teaching I had on Friday? “Oh well,” I was told. “That’s just how it works. They’ll sit in their rooms while you’re gone.”
In orientation, we were warned that this is often how school meetings function, but watching the day unfold only got more unbelievable.
I went to meet with my HOD who would debrief me on the schedule for the day. Read carefully: you’ll want to remember these times later in the post. I was told to return to the office at 9:30 so the panel could debrief on candidates and interview questions. Then, the interviews would start at 10:00 and last up to an hour, and then we would make our recommendations. I should be back in my classes by noon at the latest.
When I discussed expectations with each of my classes at the beginning of the week, one expectation that was unanimous was that all my classes wanted me to be punctual and not miss classes (this is a very common problem among teachers in Namibian schools). I couldn’t let them down! So, I made a point to visit the two classes I would be missing and explain the situation beforehand so they would understand. Great! Ready to go.
I arrived back at the office at 9:30 and met with two of my colleagues on the panel. We started to gather our papers but had to wait for the secretary to prepare some more. While we were waiting, I sat and lesson planned so my time wasn’t completely wasted. Around 10:30 we headed to the library where the interviews would occur. The five of us sat down and discussed our interview questions and the answers we were looking for, as well as how the scoring system worked for rating each candidate. Around 11:30, we began the interviews.
After our last candidate, we began calculating scores and making our recommendations (side note: for each candidate, we had five questions worth 6 points each. We had to add them together to put them on a chart. I was the only one who could add these numbers in my head and didn’t use a calculator. Dependence on calculators in Namibia is a huge issue). One of the teachers left to take something to his learners, so while we waited we discussed the grade 12 national exam scores from 2010, which had just come in that morning. Around 1:30, we finally started writing our recommendations and at 1:45, we were released.
School ends at 2:00.
So, I missed all my classes for the day. As Hannah texted me that afternoon, “TIA WTF.” Welcome to Namibia, where patience and a sense of humor are worth $100 USD.
You know it’s hot in Namibia when your cold shower still makes the mirror in the bathroom steam up.
In October, there’s a race weekend in Swakopmund! While there are several smaller races for children and families, those of us volunteers are getting giddy about the marathon and half marathon. Those of you from Glenview probably think I’m joking when I say I’m excited about this. “Karen? Running? I thought she had a bum foot. Hasn’t she always hated running??” In fact, I got the crazy idea last April to run in the Country Music 1/2 Marathon in Nashville at the end of the month. So, after registering the night before the race, I successfully (and surprisingly) ran my first half marathon! For 2011, what would be better than running one in Namibia? Amy and I have even discussed running the full marathon if we get our acts together and start training. Needless to say, I’m very excited to head to the beach in October and run in the cool weather – whether it’s a 5k or a 42k!
Today, I went for my first run in Namibia. Running is an interesting thing over here...first of all, no one does it. Everyone thinks you’re really strange for running for fun. After a long day of pounding mahangu, handwashing clothes, hand-plowing fields, and taking care of the animals, who would want to do any extra work? In addition, there’s a fine line between whether or not wearing shorts as a woman is appropriate. To be frank, knees are the boobs of Namibia. It can be very scandalous to show your knees depending on how conservative your village is.
I started out just exploring town in my shorts. I’m very familiar with the five blocks between school and the main road but I have not yet ventured out to the back roads. I discovered several churches (one that reminded me of a bilingual tent revival and another that had people pouring out of it, singing and dancing very loudly), a large number of people gathered for a soccer game, many traditional mud hut settlements, and several oshanas (big holes that fill in with water during the rainy season and are an essential source of irrigation and nourishment for rural communities). I did some running on these back roads and certainly got some funny looks, but none that told me it was time to stop.
Eventually, I made it out to the main road: the B1. As I suspected, there aren’t enough main roads to run on in Ohangwena – it’s too tiny of a village. The B1 is the biggest highway in Namibia (only one lane each way but nonetheless, it’s fairly “busy”). If I want to train and run any significant distances, it looks like that will be my option. Running down the B1 was interesting. I got honked at by every car that passed by (as we were told in orientation, “it’s not that you look good, they just want to give you a ride and get your fare”) and yelled and whistled at by people in the shebeens (informal bars...again, mostly just because I’m strange – not because they’re hitting on me).
Challenges to running in Namibia:
– your only choice is to run on sand. sometimes it’s compact road sand, but a lot of times it’s squishy beach sand
- the elevation is high! difficulty breathing
- it’s a bajillion degrees here this time of year
I have to say that it’s days like these that make me really appreciate the cold shower.
(sorry for the bad formatting...can't seem to fix it)
Upon preparing to leave for Namibia, I was told by a former Peace Corps Volunteer in Glenview that people would get confused about where I’m from. In north-central Namibia, they add the letter O to the beginning of everything and usually put an N before every G. So, in telling people I’m from Chicago (I know, I know...I’m from Nashville now. But no local Namibians have heard of the Nash), they often think I’ve said Oshikango. And no white people are from Oshikango, so it’s very confusing.
I took my first solo trip to Oshikango this morning – success! It was pretty flawless...from the hikes (aka hitchhiking) both ways to going legit grocery shopping for the first time. Oshikango is a bustling border town at the end of the main B1 road to Angola. It has a fascinating mixture of Oshiwambo-speaking Namibians, Portuguese-speaking Namibians, and random white volunteers from all over the world (since this is the closest shopping town for those of us in the far north). Although I’ve heard many horror stories about how dirty and crime-ridden Oshikango is, it suits my needs and hasn’t been too dangerous yet.
Today’s shopping trip took me to the Pick n Pay – Namibia’s Kroger. Yes, I am a Publix girl myself at home, but when you’re living on a volunteer’s wages, you can’t afford to pay extra for the great shopping experience at Spar (aka Publix). For only N$200, I bought oats, Rice Krispies, crackers, peanut butter, trail mix, brown sugar, chocolate cookies, shell noodles, pencils, cake mix, two pasta sauces, soup, and a mug. That’s $28 USD for several weeks’ worth of groceries. Awesome!
On the topic of new mugs, I love mugs. Especially large mugs. When one of my favorite mugs started growing cracks this fall, I was devastated and spent months searching for a great, unique, new big mug in Nashville. Today, I found some handpainted Namibian mugs. The tag read “large mugs!” Great! Fact is, this mug is no bigger than a teacup. I sure don’t want to see what a regular-sized mug looks like...
And no...I don’t think I’ll be getting that coveted Angolan stamp in my passport, despite being able to see the country every time I visit. I’ve heard it costs $300 USD to cross the border. Yeahhhhh right.
Sorry for the lack of blogging this week! Special announcement: I survived my first real week of teaching. What a RELIEF it is! Rewarding myself with brownies again.
I’ve officially been out of America for one month. Exactly 30 days ago, I was taking my last hot American shower in DC and saying goodbye to winter.
When the adjustment calms down, I’ll do a hefty blog post about the growing pains of living in Namibia. In one sentence, this week has been a constant, exhausting battle against the despair that so easily creeps into my soul; I have to actively remind myself of God’s sovereignty, presence, and promises at every turn. But God is here. God is good. More to come.
Please know that I can physically feel your support and prayers. All the concrete ways you have thought to encourage me and bolster me in prayer are immensely appreciated and will continue to be in the days and weeks to come.
So...now for a list of the many things I’ve written down to you this week:
- I hate chalk. I hate the sound it makes. I hate the chalky feeling on your hands that doesn’t go away after class. I hate that it runs out so quickly. And breaks all the time.
- Instead of a bell, our school uses an air raid siren every 45 minutes. That took some getting used to...
- When I’m in a room of teachers, they almost always only speak in Oshikwanyama. So far, this has done nothing to improve my language skills and has only served to further my concern of ever making friends. But it is fascinating and gives me a chance to zone out and get work done.
- The other day in class my foot started feeling funny. I looked down and had a horrifyingly large, light blue, long-antennaed beetle covering the space between my Chaco straps. It took a lot of self-control not to flip out in front of my grade 12 class.
- I feel like I’m living every day on a beach despite being nowhere near the ocean. There’s no dirt in north-central Namibia! Only miles upon miles of deep sand. As a result, my calves are looking incredible. Walking in sand all day? It’s like long walks down the beach on Beach Week...minus the good friends, heart talks, ocean waves, and Flying Dutchman.
- My learners are perfectionists to the extreme. It seems that all Namibians are, as a matter of fact. You might have thought I had some perfectionist tendencies, but no way. These kids use rulers to line all their paper, protractors to carefully tear sheets out of their notebooks, constantly erase and rewrite everything...and not a single learner has illegible handwriting. So different than when I was a kid in American schools! I could still name the messy kids in elementary school if you asked.
Look forward to a couple posts this weekend about my schedule, classes, contact information, and the hilarity of wasted time in Namibia.
I survived my first week of “school!” While no actual teaching has yet occurred, this week was no easy feat. In fact, it would fall under the “roughest weeks of my life” category. So here’s a quick run-up of the sweet rewards this weekend held:
1) Brownie batter/brownies Friday night – all to myself
2) KFC: yes, the Colonel’s secret recipe is international. America in my mouth, joy in my belly.
3) Sun(set): first time I’ve seen Mr. Sun since arriving up north. These sunsets are even more intoxicating than you could have imagined.
4) Voices of God: the name of one of the groups of young women that sings each night. Sweet grade 12 girl Amelia filled me in on all the info and graciously translated the Oshikwanyama hymns into English. Kalunga=God, Yesu=Jesus, Omwene=Lord. What a unique and unexpected way for me to find worship this weekend.
(tried to upload a video of #4, but it isn't working - anyone else in Namibia have troubleshooting tips?)
God is in it all and restoring my heart as I (anxiously, I’ll admit) approach this next week. He is gracious even as I label his destruction of my hopes and expectations as unfair.
“neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” amen.
Excerpt from the Jesus Calling devotional by Sarah Young...and my prayer for today:
“...on days when your plans are thwarted, be on the lookout for Me! I may be doing something important in your life, something quite different from what you expected. It is essential at such times to stay in communication with Me, accepting My way as better than yours. Don’t try to figure out what is happening. Simply trust Me and thank Me in advance for the good that will come out of it all. I know the plans I have for you, and they are good.”
Still listening to those girls singing from afar tonight...
To say I hit rock bottom fast would be an understatement.
In our training, we’re taught about cultural adjustment in terms of the “W-Curve.” In its most basic sense, the W-Curve shows you that adjusting to a new culture is full of highs and lows that come or go in broad waves. You start out in what we affectionately call the “honeymoon phase” – and oh, the honeymoon phase is so sweet! New friends, exciting scents & sounds & sights, a whole year of adventures ahead of you!
When we were presenting funny skits on each of the stages of the W-Curve, newfriend Hannah and I dubbed the second stage as the “Freak-Out Zone.” When should you reach the Freak-Out Zone. Probably March or April...a couple months in when you realize you really are stuck here for a year. Oh how we laughed about the freak-out zone and how miserable and far away it would be.
My expectation (doesn’t life always hinge on those darned expectations?) was that while this huge leap would not be easy, I would certainly continue to see my purpose and be excited about the bigger picture...and just being back on this continent. Coming off of an autumn full of such high highs, I thought I could ride that wave and be able to carry over the tangible fruits of God’s promises into these more difficult times.
But Freak-Out started to knock on my door when I arrived Sunday night. It stayed away, but then followed me to school on Monday. Since then, it has full on tackled me to the point that I feel inches from drowning and moments away from jumping on a plane home.
The most maddening part is that I know God has led me here. I know His fingerprints have been all over every step of this journey. And if He’s led me to this, He will bring me through it. He is constant and His love will not change, even now. I could recite a whole litany of God’s promises...
But this morning, all I had the strength to pray for is that God would remind me why I was here...remind me that He is here, too.
Upon returning from a long afternoon in Oshikango with my two Japanese roommates, we approached the school and could hear music in the distance. As we neared the classrooms, the sweet sounds of singing and dancing rose and fell in the dense Namibian air. We followed the voices to a grade twelve classroom on the far side of the schoolyard. The desks had been pushed to the sides and middle of the room. As we crept in, the loud voices, frantic stepping, and bright colors swept over me. A group of young females was dancing in a snake-like pattern around the room singing beautifully raw Namibian folk and gospel songs. Their enthusiasm was contagious and overwhelming.
I knew immediately. God was showing me why I am here. Music and I have had a rough past two years, but through it all, nothing seems to stir my heart more than raw, soul-filled melodies. Despite being the only oshilumbu (white person) for miles, I was able to be a fly on the wall and simply soak in the sweet serenade.
This doesn’t change the fact that everything I’ve been handed has been the opposite of what I signed up for. Or the fact that adjustment is so much harder than I ever expected. But this silver lining in a progression of the awfulest days has given me the briefest ray of hope that God is still with me, despite the blinding fears.
Think back to your first day of school. Perhaps you’d just bought a new outfit (some cool saddle shoes, maybe?). You had received your class list a few weeks ago. Your teacher had fun getting-to-know you games, showed you where your stuff should go, told you the rules, and maybe even taught on the first day.
Now try to conceptualize the first day of school in Namibia. Maybe, as the teacher, you would receive a schedule of your classes and roster of all your learners, get to know them, talk about who you are and what you’ll teach...
Scratch that. That’s not the Namibian first day of school AT ALL.
Here’s my day:
7:10 am – walk over to the teacher meeting, which is scheduled to begin at 7:15 and last for ten minutes
8:15 am – actually begin teacher meeting, which easily lasts until 8:45
8:45 am – freak out about the rain because student assembly was supposed to start at 7:30 outside. Oops...hello rainy season.
9:00 am – begin student assembly in the dining hall. 1,000 learners*, 33 old teachers, 11 student teachers, 2 new teachers, 1 principal
10:15 am – end meeting, head to teacher meeting to discuss time tables**
10:30 am – wander around looking for the teacher who has the time tables
11:00 am – find time tables; follow my roommate around to scope out my classes, even though they’ll all probably change this week; see the library
11:30 am – lose my roommate; sit in the teacher’s meeting room while a handful of other teachers sleep, chat, or page through books
12:30 am – meet with my Head of Department (HOD); he is sweet and speaks with enormous pauses between sentences; welcome to Namibia
2:00 pm – finish meeting with HOD; learners leave, so I go home
What?? Not your typical first day of school...but on the bright side, I don’t have to teach right away. This gives me time to get my act together, get settled, and make some broad lesson plans.
Already looking forward to visiting some of the other vols soon (there are 8 of us new ones in the north-central region and 5 extenders). Who knew how close you could get to people in only two and a half weeks? They are my lifeline in Namibia.
Rejoicing in being overwhelmed and knowing every past vol has survived, and so will I.
* in case I hadn’t clarified in a past post, children in grades 1-12 are called “learners” in Namibia, whereas people in college or university are called “students”
** time tables are the schedules of classes. they are not set before school starts; instead, they are set during the first few days of school instead of teaching
Early Sunday morning, Ohangwena region loaded up into two bakkies (pick-up trucks) to head up north with all our luggage. The morning was filled with unexpected tears and sad goodbyes, but great excitement for what was ahead – village! community! school! settling! We knew what we were in for: an 8-10 hour ride north on the B1 with a Ministry official and getting drop off one by one.
The day turned more and more shambly as time went on. It included:
-listening to the same pro-SWAPO CD seventeen times in a row. Imagine listening to your favorite CD seventeen times in a row. Now imagine listening to the cheesiest Fourth of July CD you can. Think Lee Greenwood synthesized and on steroids.
-consistently driving 40-60 kph over the speed limit.
-crossing the Red Line only to discover that every guide book was correct: farm animals rule the land up here.
-watching a cow look you in the eye and decide to mosey in front of your 160 kph car anyway. Think speeding down I-65 and having an elephant plop down in the middle of it.
-braking way too suddenly for cows, goats, donkeys, and other wayward animals
-driving over double the speed limit down dirt/gravel roads...fishtailing the whole way, swearing the car’s going to flip or the tires will pop
-exchanging very heated words with the driver because apparently insisiting that he “slow down” doesn’t translate into Namlish
-us unloading all the luggage ourselves while he stood around, tapped his foot, and sighed
-successfully thinking on my toes and agreeing when he asked if I had a boyfriend in America; that made him jealous enough to slow down and protect my life a little better
The difficult thing about being in a foreign country and car-less is that you have zero control over your safety on the road. Of course you could insist that someone stop and let you out if they’re not driving safely, but a lot of times that will leaves you in the middle of the road in the second most sparsely populated country, where the next ride might be several miles out.
This year will be full of a lot of prayer that the animals become less stupid and the drivers become smarter. And patience in realizing when I’m too cautious of a driver and need to just relax because we will survive; so many people do. Just a little cultural adjustment, that’s all.
Once I move to my school tomorrow, I will have lived in seven homes in the past year. Seven! I suppose that’s the life of a twentysomething vagabond. So, in honor of the great people who have lived with me this past year, here are some home highlights from January 2010 through January 2011:
January 2010 – May 14, 2010: lived in “The Kissing Booth” at Vanderbilt, Towers 4, floor 13 with Kelly, Sara, Mallory, Lauren, and Melanie. Sweet times living near good friends. Highlights included Waffle Wednesdays, a live Christmas tree, and knocking on the wall with the Soul Train.
May 14, 2010 – July 30, 2010: home sweet home in Glenview with Jen and my Bobby McGee. Laid back summer at home full of good food, puppy time, weddings, and lots of Playtime Pals.
July 30, 2010 – August 18, 2010: Sweeeeet Dissssspooooosition with Kiely, Steph, and Paige, dear friends who let me sleep on their guest bed as I resettled in Nashville, much to Ben’s despair. Highlights included snuggling&giggling, one surprising kitchen critter, and real good heart to hearts.
August 18, 2010 – September 18, 2010: lived with ROOMS: long-time BFF Jon. Highlights included surviving without a couch (aka training for Namibia), eating too much funfetti, cooking really delicious meals, and sitting in front of the worldmap dreaming about travelling.
September 18, 2010 – December 18, 2010: lived in Lenox Village with sweet Grace friend, Carlye. Beautiful home, cute neighborhood, and many new discoveries in a new part of Nashville. Highlights included wine & The Event on Monday nights, cheese grits, and vegging on her suuuuper comfy couches.
(December 18, 2010 – December 28, 2010: moved back home for my interim week...celebrated holidays and enjoyed time with the fam)
December 28, 2010 – January 16, 2011: moved to Namibia, “lived” in Windhoek and Tsumeb.
January 16, 2011 – beyond: PSSS, Ondangwa Region, Namibia. Lived with Mamiko and...other roommate(s)? Highlights will include EVERYTHING.
Mostly excited about finally settling, but also a tad anxious. What if I feel too antsy to stay in one place in two months? It will be an adventure, for sure. Here’s to growing up and becoming more of a “real” adult.
Rejoicing in (future) consistency, and irreplaceable roommates of the past!
Last night for traditional dinner, I indulged in this Namibian cuisine:
Oshiwambo chicken. Yes, that is a chicken foot. And yes, I did gnaw on it. No, it was not very satisfying, but it definitely was not disgusting.
I also ate chicken liver last night, which was OH SO GOOD.
We went to the market a few days ago and ate kapana and fat cakes. Yum!! Kapana is fresh meat from cows that are killed at the market that morning and cooked immediately. Freshest meat you’ll ever eat. And fat cakes. Ohhhhhh fat cakes. I’m hoping they won’t be the cause of my obesity while I’m here. Fat cakes (or oukuki in Oshikwanyama) are traditional Namibian fried dough. Every country seems to have its own version of fried dough, and I’m convinced that I will always love it wherever I go. Much greasier and doughier than my current favorite fried dough: beignets in New Orleans. They’re made fresh at the market and served wrapped in newspaper, which means you’re eating a blue- or green-tinged fat cakes by the end because of the newsprint.
And tonight? I learned that I like beets. A lot.
So much deliciousness. Don’t worry, Dad, I’m eating very very well here. My tummy is happy for all the new foods in my life!
On Sunday, we are all departing for our villages throughout Namibia. There are eight of us in the north-central regions of Ondangwa and Omusati, two in Kavango, and two between Windhoek and Swakopmund. It’s difficult to articulate the wide gamut of emotions we’re all feeling right now, but I’m eager to arrive, stop having so many unknowns, and dive into real life.
This week, we finally began our language lessons! The eight of us in Owamboland are learning dialects of the Oshiwambo language (pronounced “oh-shee-VAHM-bo”). Those of us in Ondangwa are learning the Oshikwanyama (“oh-shee-kwahn-YAH-mah”) dialect, while the others are learning the Oshindonga dialect. Both dialects are similar and can be understood across O-land, but have slight spelling and pronunciation differences.
I have been on a language high this week with all the new phrases and words we’re learning! I really love Bantu languages, and since I already have background in Swahili and Kinyarwanda, learning Oshikwanyama has been exciting and has made a lot of sense, even in just these first few days.
So I’ll leave you with a few fun words (and will likely post more as I learn this year). Everything is pronounced exactly how it’s spelled, so happy Oshikwanyama-ing!:
Wa lele po – good morning
Wa uhala po – good afternoon
Wa tokelwa po – good evening
Edina lange oKaren – my name is Karen
Okuna oupyu nena – it’s hot today
Oikulya iwa unene – the food is very good
okambishi – dog
ohuhwa – chicken
omwe – mosquito
eluviluvi – spider
kaume – friend
omutima – heart
omeva – water
oraadio – radio
oselula – cell phone
tate – older man
meme – older woman
ofikola – school
omukulunhufikola – princpal
omuhongwa – learner
omuhongi – teacher
onguluyomambo – library
outawodula – rainbow
Here’s to hoping I become fluent this year – hold your thumbs!
I’ve heard it said that you can grow to like (or at least tolerate) any food, as long as you try it seven times. Those who know me well are aware of how adamantly I hate peanut butter. However, living in a situation where snacktime doesn’t exist and it’s difficult to find protein to get you through the day, I began looking for something more substantial for my diet...and I’ve heard it said peanut butter will do the trick.
So here it goes: seven days to love peanut butter. The unfolding of a new love:
Day 1: thin layer of PB on half a slice of white bread; gagged on the first bite; not excited about doing this for six more days
Day 2: no gagging, but a lot of nasty face-making
Day 3: tolerance; ate a whole piece of white bread with peanut butter on it
Day 4: I think I might like it? And it’s only the fourth day!
Day 5: first whole peanut butter sandwich; no gagging, no face-making
Day 6: dare I say that I enjoy – maybe even really like – eating peanut butter?
Day 7: returned to the kitchen late at night for a peanut butter sandwich after already having eaten one that morning. A new love has been born!
There you have it. Call me crazy, but it’s true. I love love love food...especially foods that elicit spontaneous “mmms” and joy. Now I get to add a new one to the list!
On Sunday, we visited Etosha National Park in the northeast region of Namibia, about an hour away from our base in Tsumeb. Etosha is an internationally recognized game-viewing park that is well known for its enormous salt pan. The salt pan is a huge depression in the earth that fills with water during exceptionally rainy years. However, in dry seasons, it is a vast expanse of cracked, bright-white soil from the salt. Because of the arid nature of the landscape, many animals are driven to the pan to find water in the drier seasons, which presents an incredible opportunity to view many, many species of Namibian wildlife in one location.
Our visit coincided with the rainy season (Namibia’s summer) which meant that many smaller watering holes throughout the park were full, so unfortunately there were not nearly as many animals rimming the pan as during the rest of the year. However, we still were able to see some incredible sites that were comparable to my last safari at Mikumi National Park in Tanzania.
I will update this post and upload photos from Etosha as soon as I stay up late enough to do so...check back in a couple days!
- Housing situation: after accumulating a deep pool of water in our room that resulted in heavy mildew, saturated clothes, and a nearly-collapsed armoire, Amy and I were moved to a new room for the last night. It’s wonderful!
- New favorite cider: Savanna Light. Maybe even better than Woodchuck back in America...and the bottle is gorgeous.
- Traveled to Etosha National Park today. Highlights included watching a springbok give birth in a flower-filled field near our car to “The Circle of Life,” listening to Ladysmith Black Mambazo and the Lion King while driving around the park, seeing the Etosha Salt Pan, seeing a male lion!!!, seeing a lone elephant in the middle of an ocean-sized savanna, and seeing a million bajillion zebra and giraffe (my favorite!)
- Learned to make homemade brownies tonight. I think I’m gonna survive just fine.
- Old Tsumeb. Like Main Street USA in the middle of Namibia. Small shops, slow traffic, street musicians, and sweet parks.
- Backerei. First Namibian coffeeshop experience. Owned by a slightly crazy Italian woman from South Africa. Delicious authentic hot chocolate. Time to start a “Best Hot Cocoa of Namibia” list...
- The sky. Every sunset makes my heart melt into a pile of goo. I don’t think I will ever tire of looking at the Namibian sky. And to think it’s supposed to be even more beautiful in the North...
And best of all: being surrounded by good people and good food every single day. Blessed to be here and rejoicing in joyful expectation!
This is by no means a promise to post photos every Friday, but if I happen to stay up to 1-4am when the internet data charges are free, I can promise some more glamorous blog posts. Tonight, I'll let the photos do the talking. Here are some snapshots from my first ten days in Namibia:
WT:Nam 2011 Volunteer Locations
New friends Hannah, Amy, and Bridget & Tall Horse South African wine for New Years. There's a giraffe on the bottle!
glory.
Backpacker's hostel in Tsumeb
Dinner team Brett and Tanya - and our community kitchen
Teaching practicum celebration
Vols Kaylan, Hannah, Bridget, Tanya, Bernie, and Karen
Learners Lukas, Christofine, Zelencia, Cordula, Marianne, and Helena
We are currently staying at a fantastic hostel about four hours north of Windhoek. Having spent the first five days in Namibia in luxurious Windhoek, we have been met with a small taste of Namibian reality this week in Tsumeb. New friend Amy and I wanted to share with you a (somewhat) dramatic interpretation of the adventures of the past few days. Without further ado, please enjoy this dramatic recap of our adventures with my guest co-blogger, Amy:
Karen: We arrived in Tsumeb Monday afternoon and were graciously welcomed into Room 12 of the backpacker's hostel.
Amy: Upon opening our door, we thought we had just received the keys to a mansion. We had high ceilings, a wall of windows overlooking the Bird Cages, and a shower with water pressure. Little did we know...
Karen: ...that the water pressure could peal your skin off. And that our room had many additional guests. Having lived out of our suitcases for five days, we were eager to unpack our limited belongings. We were excited to stow said belongings in our elegant armoire.
Amy: We opened the doors only to find an extended family of palm-sized moths living in the upper cabinet of the armoire. Since we are so intelligent we unpacked our clothes into the lower cabinet and opened our lovely wall of windows.
Karen: The African breeze was intoxicating! We dashed out our door to explore and discover cages full of turtles, peacocks, guinea fowl, and various other birds. That night, I was on cooking duty while Amy relaxed by the greenish-colored pool.
Amy: Dinner was delicious!
Karen: Little did she know the oven was surrounded by a small herd of miniature cockroaches that exploded like popcorn as they died on the stovetop...and possibly in the food.
Amy: Later that night, as we ventured into our room, we discovered that the moth family had migrated into our lower cabinet and made a home among our belongings.
Karen: A great deal of (un)necessary squealing occurred. Upon further analysis, I repacked my clothes into individual gallon-sized baggies while Amy left her clothes to fend for themselves at the bottom of the cabinet. We were unsure of how quickly the moths could devour our clothing.
Amy: I decided to take a shower and had to use my superhuman strength to turn the knobs. I discovered that our shower curtain was inadequate and quickly produced a mosquito breeding ground when the shower flooded our entire room.
Karen: We simply decided to ignore all impending disasters and went to bed. “Bed” consisted of a foam pad, a pillow stuffed with cheap cotton balls, and a thin duvet – no sheets.
Amy: We thought we would sleep soundly with the African breeze from the open window.
Karen: 1am. Battle time. It may have been tiny, but the persistent buzz of a single mosquito was enough to arouse me from a good night’s sleep. A mosquito! Is this a malaria zone?? I can’t remember! Thus began the epic Karen versus mosquitoes war. The best way to fight said mosquitoes? Smacking your head as hard as you can every time you hear The Buzz and hoping not too many die in your ear.
Amy: 3am. The moth family decided to leave its humble abode and dive into me like Kamikaze pilots. The solution was to cover my head with the lovely duvet (I may or may not have been on sleeping medicine and fell back asleep).
Karen: 3:30am. Did covering my head in the duvet help? No. Did moving the fan closer to my bed help? No. I began to think life was hopeless and I would never ever survive Africa.
Amy: 4am. I was startled out of my drug-induced slumber by rude crows of our natural alarm clock...the rooster.
Karen: Rude! Not only was it three hours too early, but my morning cheeriness was accompanied by an excruciating headache from that night’s bug-on-head massacre.
Amy: 3pm that day. I noticed a plethora of red bumps on my right arm and the rest of my body. My suspicion was bed bugs but the conclusion was mosquitoes. Karen had also lost in her hard-fought battle.
Karen: 5pm. It was time for the 2011 All-Moth Diaspora. With the help of our new friends, they tossed 28 giant moths into the Namibian sunset. Only two lives were lost that day but our sanity was saved.
Lessons learned:
1)Things always seem worse in the dead of the night
2)Tsumeb is not a malaria zone
3)Always close your windows at night
TIA: This Is Africa. None of the above anecdotes are reasons to cry, freak out, or fly home. I’m simply in Africa and embracing a life full of new (and sometimes overwhelming) adventures.
Rejoicing in the adventures ahead...and in staying malaria-free!
One of my favorite Nashville artists, Andrew Peterson, came out with a new album at the beginning of Fall 2011. A group of us was lucky enough to find out about the CD release and witness the play-through of the CD in Tennessee. On our roadtrip to Tsumeb this morning, I put it on and listened to it in full for the first time in a while. Each song is so packed with depth, poetry, and beauty, and Namibia was the perfect background for a refresher.
“You can see the roads that we all traveled just to get here
A million miniscule decisions in a line
And why they brought us to this moment isn’t clear,
But that’s alright, we’ve got all night.
Could it be that the many roads you took to get here
Are for me to tell this story and for you to hear this song?
And your many hopes and your many fears
Were meant to bring you here all along.”
(“Many Roads”)
This song has been a favorite of my Nashville friends for a while, but it held a whole new weight when I heard it today. I am grateful for a heart that feels too full when I’m surrounded by good people. Those of us who just arrived all come from such different places in life – locations, careers, relationships, passions – and ended up here in Namibia. And the people we have meet here are all from such diverse backgrounds. Yet we were all put in this moment together. It may not be clear why or how, or how these relationships will be used in our lives, but God’s fingerprints are all over it. And for that I am more thankful than I can put words to. I’m eager for the year ahead and the people God will put in my life who came from many roads to this one spot. We were meant to be right here all along.
Current location: my bed at the Carolus Guesthouse
Gosh, life is so UNREAL right now! In the most wonderful, unexpected, perfect way.
We celebrated the beginning of our new year in Namibia with a braai (a traditional Namibian barbecue). best.meat.ever. We ate boervoers (sausage-like meat made from the neck meat of cows), beef, and lamb, along with bourchons (Namibian rolls). After a rousing game of Apples 2 Apples with the whole crew and a late-night dance party, as well as samplings of delicious South African wine, we rang in the New Year in the courtyard of Carolus. Most unique New Years celebration to date!
Happy New Year from WorldTeach:Namibia 2011!
Our orientation sessions these last few days have been intense but fascinating. It’s so stimulating to talk about education, culture, psychology, people, and life with this group of highly motivated volunteers, as well as dive into training for the year ahead together. I’ve loved getting to know my colleagues and consider myself incredibly blessed to be surrounded by such a stellar community…it makes the year ahead a lot less scary to know that we will be there to support each other and already hold most of the same expectations, goals, and fears. Training is not all heavy topics, though; we’ve also had a fair dose of fun, such as learning a little bit of Namlish! For example, if I tell you I’ll meet you at the school now, I may come eventually or not at all. If you want me to come immediately, you have to ask me to come “now now now.” All young, unmarried twenty-something men are called “small boys.” Instead of crossing our fingers for good luck, we hold our thumbs. If a man “proposes” a woman, he didn’t ask her to marry her – he hit on her. “Can I go with it?” means “Can I borrow it?,” except you probably own’t get it back. Many people speak English here in Windhoek, but it’s like a New Yorker in the Bayou for the first time – the dialect is totally different.
Today is our last day (for now) in Windhoek. We’re departing early Monday morning to drive five hours to Tsumeb where we will do a teaching practicum in the mornings and continue training and bonding. I can’t wait to drive through this country and see more of Namibia, as well as finally begin interacting with the children here. As much as I’ve loved the comfort and security of orientation, it still doesn’t really feel like I’m totally here yet. And for all you ASBers out there, we’re doing life maps in Tsumeb. I can’t WAIT!
