keep up with me

i looked legit. no, im not saying that im some american stud. (although ive never been one to decline a compliment) but for the first time in my life, i was about to stand on the other side of the teachers' desk. id get to decide what we'd learn and how we'd learn it, who would pass (and who wouldn't), and i was the one tasked with the daunting challenge: teaching learners and shaping their educational  quest--and as if the challenge weren't daunting enough, need i remind you that me and these learners share very little (aside from that unbreakable bond called the human race ;). our first language, life experiences, and cultural context would never see light of day in the center of a venn diagram. and yet, none of that matters anymore. slowly that middle area is being shaded in as my identity is molding to fit in the namibian context.

so i stood there, along with the other teachers at our school, in front of the learners outside on the "field" where we have our weekly assembly. this time to welcome the learners back to school on their first day. i had the look of a teacher. confident. inspired. prepared. unfazed. it was then that i realized our fascination with a teacher. a teacher was always prepared. and why shouldn't they be? they only work like 6 hours a day? oh how i longed as a child to be on the other side of the desk. no homework. end the work day at 2pm. grades don't matter. 

being on the other side offered me a glimpse into a teachers head as i espoused the confident scowl to the chit chatty learners. uncertainty.  anxious. excited. inspired. and about that short work day and lack of homework…well, perhaps teaching is perhaps the only job where you don't get even a moment off (sorry, barack even you get a breather here and there) 

so thats where the parallels with american teachers starts and ends. because whats perhaps unique is that as we prepared to send the learners off to their classrooms on that ever-memorable first day, the following questions had yet to be answered: what subjects am i teaching? which grades? how many kids are in each class? which classroom will i teach in? but in nam, these (seemingly futile) questions will be answered…in time. so in the meantime, ya just go with it. and thats exactly what i did.  

so fastforward (an hour) and i became a register teacher for grade 8A, the grade 8 math teacher (4 classes in all) and grade 9 english teacher (another 2 classes). so what is a class teacher you might be asking in your head? a register class  is synonymous with homeroom--and though peace corps advises against us from taking on this responsibility, i decided that the extra work was worth the inevitable rewards. i came to nam as an education volunteer with one central focus: to educate and grow young minds through active mentorship and trust based on love and not fear. having my own register class to be responsible for could only accelerate that goal. plus, how else could i remake the arrogance of DRtothePR if not a register class of my own? since in nam the school day never goes precisely as planned, its just best to…well, go with it. and always be prepared. so homeroom lasted a bit longer than the allotted 15 minutes….it lasted 3 days. so what did we do for 3 full school days? well i wont fill your screen with too many details but heres a glimpse…

in the spirit of enhancing self-esteem and leaner ownership of their classroom and their education, i had each learner trace their hand (took a few demonstrations for them to get the hang of that) and inside each finger they wrote someone they admired (some already admired me…clearly trying to get on my good side…yes, it worked), goals for their future, their favorite singer, and adjectives to describe themselves. heres how one learner describes himself "i have a tung and 5 fingers on my left hand" (difficult to argue with that) and one girl proudly announced "i am short and fat" so together we hung the hands around the classroom. and the classroom (slowly) transformed from one with walls falling apart with one that evidently had bright young minds encompassing it. 

as i finally got to meet with my other classes (200 learners in all) they each traced their hands and filled in the fingers. ok so i wont go into each lesson for each day (though i know you're craving the fine details.) but heres what i do want you to know: each friday, i have my english classes write a creative essay on a prompt that I provide. it serves 2 purposes. the learners get to improve their biggest weakness: writing. and i get to literally chuckle (al right ill be honest its a more like my laugh during the 'hey mmmmm hey' she's the man scene) so i was scrolling through them trying to decipher their handwriting all while listing to one of 2 mixes syd made for me. so the first assignment was to write their autobiography. i wanted to learn about my learners. ya know, like their dog's name, their favorite color, and who their friends are. what i didn't realize was that these learners shared more personal and truly sad details about their life than i could have imagined. many have already lost a parent. some to AIDS and others because of lack of proper medical care. others dwelled on their impoverished life style seeking to escape. and then one girl wrote,"God put us on earth to play a game. thats all life really is. so we can only play the game were born into" truly brilliant. it was then that i needed a moment of comic relief (something that only roseanne barr--who by the way announced her candidacy for president of the united states and soon after i offered her my endoresement--could provide at the moment)  but then i read one girl's essay "i was 3 years when my grandfather kicked the bucket and when i was little i was always in hot soup when i didn't help my mother with the chores." gotta love those idiomatic phrases. 

my goal for my learners (other than the obvious) is to create an atmosphere where they feel willing and comfortable to express themselves, and to enrich themselves, grow and continue to learn. half of the 540 kids at are school live full time on the school grounds. the majority are OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children due to the HIV/AIDS epidemic and/or to economic hardship) and thus they are just craving that support that, in turn, will yield the best educational results. sometimes its not what you do but its what you don't do that makes a difference. when a kid asks a question, it means not turning our head and shrugging. when a learner doesn't understand a topic, it means not degrading their apparent lack of intellect. it means when a learner requires help, not turning a blind eye. it means when it comes to teaching, not viewing it as a job that ends at the ring of a bell. and thats why the line from an essay the learns wrote about a wish they had truly struck me. "i want to be a teacher like mr. francolino. he doesn't get angry or yell like the other teachers. he just teaches like i will in the future (spelled feature)" 

so remember when i talked about how in nam, ya just need to learn to go with it. (also if you don't remember, then perhaps there are other problems that we should be discussing instead) so let me explain another one of those "go with it" moments. in nam, one of the most hyped events is "athletics" which takes place during the first 2 months of school (?). i was excited to learn what exactly went on during this ambiguously titled month long list of activities. so one afternoon, i walked to my friends--some teachers at the school--and i just nonchalantly asked "hey so what exactly is athletics?" some shrugged. others nodded. and the most descriptive answers i got were essentially telling me that the kids "run." so thats when i decided to ask the teacher who is running the month long event. "the kids run and jump" so that was at least some more detailed information. i could be down for this. and despite not really knowing what was meant by athletics, this i knew for sure--team red (my team) would for sure have the most pride. step one: we wear red every day. 

so heres the deal: schools basically revolve around these track and field events for these 2 months and so in the afternoon, kids "train" (which means they are weeded out), classes are spontaneously canceled to increase the amount of training (weeding) and that brings us to this weekend. our school will be competing in the regional finals in the track and field items. im judging. should be interesting. 

speaking of my fellow colleagues (i like using that word--it makes me feel mature and smart) lets give them a little time on the blog. so as you know, i now live on the school premises--which is in itself its own community. 220 learners live here. as do 12 of the teachers. so i finally just got a housemate and his name is joseph. he also just graduated from college and he's become the perfect roommate. on his first night i made him rice and we watched 'how to lose a guy in 10 days'--couldnt think of a better way to orient our new teacher. i took the newcomer around our village and it was then that i realized---"woah, this is my home..and it feels as such" waving to locals, taking him to the shop, and then for a drink--it made me appreciate the home that ive come to have. 

on his second night, syd and i along with a few other teachers took joseph to a local bar and we were, of course, flanked by kiara. no thats not a local woman who is courting me (although i can see why you would think that)--thats my puppy. and now that i mention being flanked by kiara--i ought to let you know that my puppy has become a staple of our community--she follows me to school, to staff meetings and routinely interrupts our class, luckily the kids love her and…more importantly, people here respect her and never beat her, they know how much i love her. 

alright so back to my social life in the village. my one best friend--ms muyenga--had me over one night for dinner and a movie (hmmm now that i mention it….) and we watched a movie called "ousofia in london" about a nigerian man who finds himself in london and his culture shock is quite amusing. thats when she decided she wanted to film a movie called "matt in ndiyona" and we all know my desire to be in a feature film..so we'll see how this works out. but life in our community is so open. so serene. perfect. (i have a photo of a rainbow over our school that will prove the latter point) teachers just come to my house to hang out. people constantly visiting others. my favorite is when kids come to my door. i invite them in. they dont speak english. i don't speak rumanyo. then we watch full house together. kind of a  pattern. and of course, i still visit my homestead family as they always venture over to my place. i feel like im their son who has grown up. and then i blush. 

*****this subsection will be creatively and appropriately titled: bugs. (thats the best i could do for a transition…oops) so i came to nam being like "alright im not gonna be one of those ignorant americans who automatically pictures the creepiest and squishiest bugs possible when i think about africa." i arrived in nam and my convictions were cemented. then i went to my village. heres a brief description of what ive encountered in the past week: walking into my house requires the same routine: cockroach squashing--literally hundreds of cockroaches have invaded so i spend each morning and night putting those little beasts permanently to bed.  there are enough mosquitos in the room to get 219 mosquito bites in one night and of course i don't have the discipline to not scratch them--so the teachers always rub my sore wounds in curiosity, awe, and disappointment (always accompanied by a slight chuckle though as well). fleas attacked my puppy--thankfully the girl's a trooper. a one of kind breed of wasps (that makes them sound pretty cool) that sting any time you walk by them (my sting count is up to 4--including the top of my head) an insect that was literally 4.5 inches long on my shoulder (a photo will soon follow). oh and did i mention that i swallowed a fly. and that a cockroach came crawling out of my ear. sorry mama, i should have advised you to skip this section :)

so lets discuss life when im not busy changing the world (im conceded…shhhhh…i hope that sarcasm can translate well on the screen.)  last weekend--ludacrew (well most of us) had a much needed reunion. i mean, cmon, we hadn't all been together in a few weeks. syd came down to my village and even got to see me teach a few lessons (you can ask her for preliminary reviews unless they're already up on rate my professor) and we made mac and cheese for some teachers, ended the night with cut the rope (i promise thats a game) and then headed to our reunion the next afternoon. so this time the crew headed to tsumeb…aka the las vegas of nam. well thats mostly attributed to the fact the vegas lives there. so the reunion was necessary--laine (did i mention how much i love laine? she's amazing and perfect in every way…thats for you girl ;), vegas and i got to sing our adele-esque version of 'someone like you', chris and i concocted our plan to get our shot at reality TV on the amazing race, syd got to catch up with me on episodes of survivor and that was when we fell in love…with kim and ethan, respectively, then, per usual, we debated productivity vs. fairness, and then learned (pay close attention to these words of wisdom) that if you cook bread for too long, it can burn..and turn black. 

many times traveling around nam can be more eventful than the actual trip itself thanks to the need of hitchhiking. this trip back home was a little more low-key. but we did do one thing worth mentioning. syd and i played around the world on the side of the road as we waited for a hike. typicaly the game is played with a basketball and a net. our version required an empty yogurt container and some stones. still just as fun. then as we reached rundu, we said another emo goodbye. till next weekend, of course. 

i could go on. but its my turn to make dinner for the roommate. mac and cheese. again. but i wouldn't do my post justice if i didn't mention the sixers (who just beat the lakers i might add) and their dominance thus far. kinda reminds me of rick santorum. this time i wont even risk you not getting the sarcasm. that was sarcastic. 

peace and much love

sweet disposition

expectations vs. reality. at first glance this may appear to be an activity that a teacher gives to his or her learners to distinguish between perceptions and fact. but for those who have spent the last 30+ days with me over our seemingly never-ending vacay, its, more accurately, my favorite scene in (500) days of summer. so im chilling outside the pc lounge in rundu (for those of you who haven't been paying attention, thats the largest town in kavango) flanked by my flea covered puppy, suffering from some writers block but i pressed play on the 500 days soundtrack and immediately realized what was so prevalent in my life over this past month. expectations of namibia ≠ reality in namibia. much has happened in the past month (most that just cant be articulated in the confines of this blog) but heres a go to give you a glimpse of december in nam.

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expectation#1: when i made the decision to join peace corps, i did it accepting the following proposition: i would spend my birthday alone, in a hut, minus electricity, perhaps playing a few sudokus, and squashing insects that landed on my computer screen as i attempt to watch episodes of roseanne before the battery fades.

reality#1: so it was the night before our journey to swakop and (coincidentally) the night before my 23rd birthday. laine, vegs, syd, and i had made it to okahandja but with no place to stay, thankfully were in nam where people get married…often. so as we paraded around oka, we came across our training center from our first week in nam and noticed quite the pre-game going on. must be a wedding, eh!? so as we do best, we schmoozed.  syd and i laughed with our arms around elder men who couldn't care less about their lack of teeth because the beer just filtered right in. as we subtly (alright lets be real, im not the most subtle person but just bear with me) nudged in a comment that we had no place to stay, one man who took an interesting liking to me offered for us to sleep in the back of his truck (so we could all star gaze together, of course!) and thats when our other "friend" grabbed our hand and announced that he is the father of the groom (images of father of the bride swirled around in my head) and thus he begged our attendance at the wedding. uhhhh, is this like wedding crashers but we were almost forced to crash? of course!  so following the popping of the grape juice (some people prefer champagne, not these peeps!) and pictures with the bride and groom….the 4 of us made our way to club opouri (a classic spot) and from their syd and i ventured off…and stumbled upon…ya guessed it--another wedding. i danced with a 40year old woman, attempted to mimic the khoe khoe clicks with the girls, and proceeded to share a cupcake with them (thanks again syd), the night ultimately ended with a photo shoot atop a truck headed to o-land. 

the following morning, we made our way to swakup (8 of us crammed inside a truck) but its seemed so peaceful thanks to the soulful singing of "someone like you".  and the 8 of us reunited with the 30 others in our group on the coast of namibia, in swakopmund, a coastal town that mirrors a german town…probably more than most german towns do. and thats when the expectation of my b-day completely disintegrated in my head--spending my bday on the beach on the coast of namib our fellow pcvs….kinda perfect. 

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expectation #2: so if you google namibia and choose images, you will certainly come across the sand dunes that tower the desert and the coast of the country. this most certainly could not actually exist as they appear in pictures. there has to be some artistic interference going on. 

reality #2: well the truth is, they exist and we went sledding down the dunes. walking atop the dunes with your flat board that will soon serve as a means to travel down the dunes (80 km/hr), you have to just pause and stop and think. its almost like walking inside of a google image but with no internet access, you know its real. 

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expectation #3: the first baby i get to name will be my own.

reality #3: as you already know my host brother is mashika. so while i was still on the coast on vacay (it was on the 28th of december to be precise) i got a phone call that interrupted us watching "inglorious bastards". he informed me of the birth of his first son. when i asked the boys name, he said "i want you to give the name" uhhhh ok…ill be honest i don't have much experience naming babies. so i asked for a few minutes (i mean no one wants a rash name, right?) and after deliberating with my friends i called him back and told him "michael"--after my brother. 

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expectation #4: following our 9 day joinery in swakop, we headed down the coast (part of the time on an overnight train which would better be described in person!) to luderitz--claire's site. luderitz is not your typical peace corps site--its a coastal town and claires backyard is a cliff and the front looks out onto the atlantic ocean. so i assumed that heading back to my rural village in kavango, would be a difficult transition, after being teased by the cool ocean breeze and cliffs looking out over us…how could i be excited to go home again?

reality #4: ludapalooza was perfect. 11 of us were better known as fun czars (groups of 2 whose sole purpose was to facilitate fun in any way imaginable for a day). syd and i befriended a couple in luda and they had us at their house (they essentially live in a museum so we reciprocated the following day with buttered noodles and hot dogs), we opposom walked, braiied, peeps got boarded, jumped into the ocean as warranted by kjudi, had a pseudo christmas tree thanks to mo, had a christmas brunch overlooking the ocean, experienced the new years atop a cliff and saw (count em) one fire work go off. 

and then we headed back to kavango--where the infamous gin coefficient was on sharp display. it ought to be emphasized that namibia is the most unequal country in the world, and while the economic disparity is so evident so too is the cultural differences as you cross the red line. and as we crossed the line and into the kavango, i couldn't help but smile. so even though when i greeted my puppy she was flea ridden, and when syd and i entered my house in ndiyona it was smothered with upwards of 1200 cockroaches, it was perfect--to be home. for those of you who don't know, im now living in teacher housing on the school grounds. and more importantly, im working on making my house a home. so what does that mean?? PAINT…and yes, we painted a giraffe. (alright syd you can take the cred now)

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expectation #5: it should take perhaps max 2 days to get back to kavango from luderitz.

reality #5: it took 5.

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expectation#6: dogs should just be given one name. perhaps 2 if you're indecisive.

reality #6: syd and i went to the SPCA to pick up her new dog and his name is george…aka bunt, punchy, mowgli, pettey, zatara, rocco, scorsebey, or copper. you choose. 

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expectation #7: typically i'd assume that i would get sick of people if i spend over a month straight with them.

reality #7: never did. 

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alright the school year kicks off next week, preparations are underway. ill surely keep you updated on the chaos that will undoubtedly ensue. in the meantime, much love and peace. 

na shana kudana

disclaimer: you may wonder if i wrote this blog over the course of a few weeks due to the lack of seamless transitions. in reality, i wrote it in one sitting so please just forgive me for the lack of transitions cause i have a lot to tell you.

"until the lions have their historians, tales of the hunt shall always glorify the hunter" i was sitting in my hut with my brother when he recited this african proverb. and so i thought about it. this proverb, perhaps, explains how stereotypes and prejudices are established and cemented in society--the "superior" defines the "inferior."  prior to its independence, namibia suffered through apartheid rule and its legacy remains.  the legacy that was engrained in their society preached that whites are superior to blacks.  people in my village often appear to accept that they are inferior based purely on the color of their skin. however, i see shimmers of hope, shimmers of their true beliefs that they are truly equal but have never (until now) lived in a society where they could express that--the people who refuse to conform to their society's historical and systematic inequality. learners and adults desire to challenge the past's inferiority complex.  yet i still often hear my friends in the village say "us blacks" or "us africans" when shrugging and accepting their problems.  their jaws drop when i reveal that there is poverty in america, and that many of those poor people are WHITE, that yes, white people gossip, and yes, white people can even get lice. i guess thats what peace corps means when it says its a 24/7 job--im constantly breaking the stereotypes of the "glorified americans and whites" and explaining that yes, we are equal. so we decided at home and at school that there are so such thing as black or white people--were all brown, just different shades. 

so i often allude to the fact that our village is split among traditionalists and progressives. my life is similarly split. my life with my family at the homestead and at school with the teachers, despite just the 5 minute walk in between, couldn't be any different. 

so let me tell you a bit about life with my family. my brother, mashika, is one of my best friends in the village--hes also on the school board and is just a great person.  but instead of going into random details how about a story! so last week i got pretty sick. my stomach was churning but i decided to go to school anyway. so i was sitting in the staffroom talking with a few of the teachers when suddenly i felt dizzy, the room was spinning and the next thing i knew i looked down and was staring at my puke on the staffroom floor. yes, i puked on the staffroom floor. not my favorite memory at site but luckily in namib, people barely flinched as they helped me wipe up the mess with toilet paper. so natalia (my best friend and a teacher at our school) walked me home and i just wanted to rest in bed--alone. but wait….you're in a village---and thus not to be alone! so as i learned from experience, when you're sick in a village and you're in bed in your hut, people from your family to villagers you may never have seen before will be there to check on you.  well, i did not know this and so i laid in bed waiting for myself to recover when i heard a knock at the door. and then another. and then another. so to solve the problem of repeatedly having to get up to open my door, i just kept it wide open. and from then on villagers were walking in offering me bread, sour milk (yes  several times and not my drink of choice immediately after puking, but hey thats me) porridge, SPRITE.  i would drift in and out of sleep and each time i woke up there was a new person seated beside me…just to make sure that i was tended to. and this time my skin color nor my ethnic label played a role (ok maybe a little) but in namibia, "we are our brothers and sisters keeper" those words that barack obama tries so hard for americans to identify with ring so loud and true here. 

so for my family, i am the only mukua (white man) that they have ever interacted with (which is probably why they remind me every day that God meant for us to meet) well, that was until last weekend. so i arrived back at my homestead with some of my friends one night, when they notified me of the rumor that was circulating around the village. THERE IS ANOTHER MUKUA AT MY HOMESTEAD.  they expected me to be rejoicing that there was a white man that was at my homestead but i admitted to them that not having a mirror and being surrounded by black people has kind of led me to forget about my own skin color! so as it turns out this white man, was biking (all across africa for that matter) and needed a place to rest for the night when he approached our village.  well, of course, the people in our village pointed him to the home of the chief and the american. so heres his story in brief: he's from holland and has been on a 2 year journey biking from morocco through west africa and his final destination is south africa (so close!) so that night we talked about stuff white people like, ya know life sushi, (don't worry im kidddddingg!) no instead, he just joined our family with how we spend our typical nights---fending off kiara as she tries to bite your shoes, men gathered around a bowl of food as we eat it with our hands, card games, and, course, a movie.  movie nights at my homestead have become quite the craze at our village. it always begins with me and just my bros gathered around my laptop under the starry sky and then suddenly (unless i am enraptured by the film) when i look back i notice that somehow upwards of 20 to 30 people have gathered around from neighboring villages not making a peep and just taking in the movie. crowd favorites you ask: pirates of the caribbean and rush hour 2.

[imagine transition]

so mashika and i were strolling around the river and chatting with villagers when a (dare i say) sharply dressed couple approached us. also, before i go into greater detail, you must know that at this point i was beyond starving. so typically when you're hungry, the best solution is to go to a local shop and purchase some food. but being in the village…its more practical to pursue other means, like attend a wedding. so anyway the couple approached us and i know them from the village and they were like you must come to our wedding. and i was like well of course (apologies for the lack of quotes, but im sure you'll be ale to determine who is talking) thinking that perhaps it was in a few months or perhaps even a year. ok so i must stop thinking like an american, because the wedding was in less than an hour. as we continued down the river, we noticed a hippo in the water and so, along with a flock of children, we watched as one man played "how close can i get to the hippo without being attacked!"…seemed innocent enough. once we were ensured of his safety, we proceeded to the wedding.  

much of the village gathered at their homestead and before i could take in the wedding decor, i was grabbed by the bridal party and put into a truck and together we drove to the home of the bride where we retrieved a flag (singing and dancing accompanied this ritual, of course) and brought it to the location of the ceremony.  we danced. and danced. and then it was time for the bridal party to be recognized and sit at the well prepared table at the front of the hall. but one seat was empty. i was chatting with friends from the village when my brother pulled my arm and informed me that that missing seat was for me. "but im not in the bridal party" "but you're the american!" so there i sat, along with the bride and groom with their parents. and sitting at the bridal party table allowed us access to the "elite" food. now i suppose that a few months ago, macaroni and rice smothered in onions, ketchup, and mayo would not get my chops choppin but i suppose integration has set in and i was indescribably happy as i scarfed down the undisclosed meat along with the macaroni.  we drank a few windhoek lagers and i got to dance with the elder women, and was introduced to a woman that may (or may not) have been pre-selected as my future wife…unfortunately things get lost in translation, so im still a bit unsure.  

and now life at school (well aside from my duties as a teacher!) so i have made some amazing friends at school. the teachers at our school have been so genuinely welcoming and in that namibian attitude have taken me in as one of their own. i had concerns coming into a school as an american volunteer about how i and others would be received…but this is just better than expected. so last weekend, a few of us took a drive to popa falls--the waterfalls on the kavango river and had a picnic at the lodge.  one of our friends drove while me, natalia, annalitha, and anna sat in the back of the truck (on a mattress for added comfort) and just talked all about love, and relationships, and i had to remind myself that im in southern africa right now because sometimes i get so comfortable in my new environment sometimes i forget to look around and appreciate this. so im not sure if this was directly related to our love conversation but the teachers also kept referencing how they need to have sleepovers at my place….

so last week, i ran into the principal's wife (who is also a teacher at our school) but she was so pregnant that she stopped going to school. so i walked into her homestead, ya know just to see how she was doing (i mean she's pregnant after all) when i asked how are you, she responded "im good, im in labor right now" uhhhh what??? YOURE IN LABOR?! shouldn't we be doing something? like getting you to a hospital? telling someone? panicking? and shouldn't you at least take a seat or something? but no, she was just patiently waiting for her husband, my principal, to leisurely arrive home and once he did they would make their way over to the hospital. and then there was the principal driving in his gray volkswagon with his arm stretched outside his door to ensure that it wouldn't fall off. and thats what i love about namibia. people don't panic, people are not constantly stressing, life is enjoyed in the moment, even when you're in labor. so the next morning, our principal was back at school, seemingly unfazed, and i asked "whats the baby boy's name" and he just laughed. immediately i wondered if i had missed out on some obvious cultural tradition (maybe they're having a naming ceremony next week--how could i not know???" then he said he'd tell me at lunch. and when he uttered the name "francolino" at lunch later that afternoon, i thought he was calling my name--little did i know he was referring to his new born baby. so i admit meeting a boy named francolino was something i never thought id do (though i was deeply honored), especially while in namibia. i think, though im not sure, that he's the only african child with an italian surname as his first name…but who really knows?

[transition?]

for the past few weeks (before i officially begin teaching in january) i have been meeting with community members, teachers, and leaders to assess our village so that, together, we can work to improve conditions. and theres one issue that has routinely been raised, especially at our school--gender inequality: girls viewing themselves as inferior and boys seeing themselves as superior. as i alluded to before, our village is unique with traditionalists pitted against progressives. but the gender issue is crucial. teenage pregnancy happens too often at our school leaving the girls with the choice to drop out and become a mother too early, remain in school forcing their family to raise the child, and meanwhile the father has no legal obligations towards the child and thus boys fail to understand the issues associated with teenage pregnancy. HIV/AIDS is epidemic and men are often the perpetrators because women often allow their boyfriends to have multiple partners because its "socially acceptable." acceptable is in quotes because the women i talk to do not accept it but rather they see no way to reverse these practices or exercise their rights. and then last week something occurred at our school that warranted a rapid response and action. an 8th grade learner was raped by two 9th grade boys--in a classroom during the evening study hours. it was that moment when a sense of urgency struck in. girls need to be empowered, need to understand their inherent rights and how to exercise them. but equally important is the role of boys in female empowerment. girls cannot be empowered in a society filled with boys who fail to recognize womens rights and their inherent equality in society. thus natalia (who admirably pushes the limits on gender roles and defies stereotypes) and I worked together to establish a boys and girls gender equality program: GLOW--guys and girls leading our world. and heres our vision: provide a comfortable environment and forum to discuss issuers relating to gender, health, and self esteem; to examine stereotypes and challenge societal views of how each sex "should" act, and allow a forum for boys and girls to interact and understand the realities of gender.  our aim: overcome gender injustice and build individual and group capacity and empower our future leaders. 

[imagine transition]

so let me tell you a quick love story. its about kovu and kiara. [if you've seen lion king 2 and you realize that this story is unoriginal you are welcome to skip ahead!] in romeo and juliet-esque fashion, the two lion cubs managed to fall in love despite being offsprings of rival clans (were talking about scar and samba after all) so….if you're not aware, sydney and i got PUPPIES! they're brother and sister and we (obviously) named them kovu and kiara, so perhaps love is not in their cards (but whats a little incest once in awhile?) i was visiting sydney at her site, right outside of rundu, and her brother, kankala, (yeah he kinda likes me more, sorry syd) just handed me a puppy--no questions asked. and now my puppy is not just mine but my whole family's. but lets talk about our time in rundu. so whenever syd and i need a cab to her village from town, its always a struggle. like for instance, one night it was particularly late and we were a bit lost and needed to get back home but cab drivers often refuse to go to the villages.  thats why we told him that she is pregnant and were naming the child after him, if he takes us…so obviously he complied. and somehow everytime i return to my village from rundu, i always gets texts and phone calls from random peeps like these: "mr francolino..how are you…i want you to be my band's manager, are you interested??" or "mr francolino i am selling diamonds on the black market..would you like to assist?" 

so heres the deal: my homestead period has expired [i suppose now i can tell you that this past months a few people were struck by lightening THROUGH their huts but i didn't want to say before so i didn't have to scare anyone!] and thus i will be moving permanently to the school living in a teachers house (electricity and running water…whatttt now???) with another teacher (TBD) its obviously sad to leave my family but i will surely be over all of the time, having dinners and of course movie nights.  i have my own hut and last night i told mashika that he should move into it because its so large compared to the others. then he replied "no matthew that hut is always going to be yours" and i just smiled and, perhaps in the spirit of thanksgiving, i am thankful for a family in namibia making me feel like im part of it. 

so as i write this, im in the staffroom with the other teachers who are marking final exams (i just finished marking mine!) the learners are set to leave school and go home for the holidays until the new school year starts in january. so i suppose i ought to say goodbye to the learners but before i do, i just wanted to inform you that group 34 pcvs are REUNITING FOR THE MONTH!!!! were headed to reconnect (peace corps workshop) in windhoek and then vacay in swakopmund (land of branjelina) and christmas in luderitz…so yeah we'll be on the chilling on the coast and going sand boarding. and tomorrow im hosting a christmas dinner and polyanna (a bit of cross cultural exchange to promote teacher unity!) filled with music and competitions, of course! 

in the spirit of thanksgiving ill end this post like this: i am forever thankful for my amazing friends and family (in namibia and in the states) who i love sooo much! but mostly i am thankful that the NBA will be returning albeit a bit late. 

"i just wanna live my life!"

alright so before i begin trying to articulate the inarticulatable (hows that for an english teacher making up a word!) i must first just tell you that i literally walked in my hut door covered in little black hairs. yeah, i know that may sound sketch but heres the sich: i told my little brother that i would shave his head for him at school (because i was doing the same for myself, of course) and then soon after (i suppose i should have predicted this) a flock of learners headed over and lined up, waiting for me to shave their heads. since our school is a hostel school, half of all of the learners live on the school premises and all learners are required to keep their heads shaved (even girls) and thats where i came in. secondary project? barber! well, in the spirit of sustainability, i decided to hand over the reigns (ie, hair clippers) to one of the learners so that i could "supervise" and by that i mean hang out with one of my fellow teachers--and someone who just might be the female Namibian version of ME!

so despite the hairs and dirt and whatever else encapsulates my bod right now, i decided that its about time i posted an update! so we officially completed our pre-service training 2 weeks ago--and how eventful it was. we truly formed a family in okahandja--with fellow pcvs and namibians. thats why moving to site was nothing but bitter sweet. this is kinda for my fellow pcvs but heres a glimpse into our lives as trainees: chris and i ate chicken on the sidewalk, vegas and i got giddy, we danced at gios as grandmas shouted "all the way from america," held committee meetings at none other than club o, syd and i emceed the family appreciation day,  bagshotted each other…a lot, had dance parties with 10 year old neighbors to britney, facilitated romance (more than once), swam at the lodge, played buffalo, top 3 bottom 3, chanted swear us in, indulged in jam jars…and oh i could continue but instead…

so fast forward and here i am, in my village of about 5000 people. the token american. the lone white--pretty much ever. describing my life in ndiyona and the whole community is just not possible--a blog would not do this village justice [here is my plug to encourage you to visit, so that way you wont have to rely on a few words to understand my new home!] but aside from that i suppose ill give it a try! my village is purely fascinating.  its on the verge of becoming a town (and yes, that requires official government classification and development) so its quite evident that the development is welcomed by some but leaving others unsettled. so now its time to tell you about my favorite thing: village dichotomy. its evident everywhere everyday. and im slowly losing site of how fascinating these things are, but i suppose thats what integration is all about. well lets talk about my host mother for a bit: she speaks barely any english and we live in a homestead without electricity.  each day i see her walking towards the river carrying an empty bucket that she'll soon fill to bring home for her daily bath.  ok now its time for the village dichotomy: while she's walking down the dirt road in search of water, she's updating her FACEBOOK status on her phone (obviously). and as we walk around the village which is drizzled with mud hats covered in thatched roves, those same thacthed roof sometimes have a satellite dish attached to it (cmon even peeps here watch roseanne) so the struggle between modernity and development with traditions and conservatism is certainly alive.  

its like any society: where there are people trying to maintain traditions struggling with progressives who hope to implement change to improve their lives. but here its different: ndiyona literally means "waiting for tomorrow" and while the translation doesn't originate from the ideals of development, the translation is relevant and often referenced.  many adults in our village lack an effective education for 2 reasons--the education system under the apartheid regime purposely kept the standards for blacks low and if a final tenth grade exam isn't passed (even now) that learner is no longer able to continue with their schooling.  so while many adults lack the education credentials, they often talk to me about its value and significance--something they understand more that anyone. and they have so much hope for their children but are cautious at the same time.   one of the biggest challenges that children face is complacency.  the older generations before them have always been told that they are inferior and thus eventually their ambitions dissolved. and parents tell me that their children sometimes lack effort and enthusiasm because that intangible trait of craving education is sometimes lost when their parents grew up in a society where they were "inferior" despite their greatest efforts. and thus enhancing ambitions and cramping complacency is something that together we will need to overcome.  although one problem exists: there are those parents who reveal to me that they fear that if their child is too successful he or she will leave the village and escape to the large towns which is where opportunity breeds. but in a namibian family, who will be there to take care of the elders? and thats why no matter what i do for the next 2 years here, i want to involve the community-at-large and do so in an inclusive and sustainable fashion.

well one thing i do know ill be doing is teaching, of course.  and while i don't start officially start teaching until january (the start of the new school year)  i have been co-teaching math classes at the junior secondary level. so in the next few weeks, im trying to adapt to the school environment and procedures here so that i can get rid of those kinks before i have a class of my own. like this for example: each class begins like this: 

--good morning class, how are you?

--[children stand]we are fine sir and how are you?

--i am fine, you may have a seat

--[children are seated and class begins]

ok so when i taught my first class i got the first part down, but unfortunately not the last. so as i taught the first 5 minutes i realized that the learners were all still standing and failed to even mention a word about it.  oops. ok so as i was writing this i thought id let you know that one of the teachers at school literally just walked in the staff room and picked up my laptop and told me that i "must" get him one [uhhh no!].  those kinds of things are said all the time. so i make fun of namibians and always do it back to them…like for example i told my friend i like his watch and that he "must give it to me" its kind of my favorite thing to joke about….although when namibians do it, well, they're not joking. and speaking of the teachers at my school, well i went with a few to rundu last week (the large town about an hour away from our village) we got a ride with some man coming from caprivi on his way to the north and so as we got in we realized that there were already about 12 kids in the back, but we made room of course, i mean were going to the big town of course.

so i obviously wanted to tell you all about my weekend in rundu because i got to meet up with my pcv friends, but my first few hours were just so namibian that i must focus on that. so when i arrived in rundu, i grabbed some food with one of my friends from my village and then we parted ways cause i was supposed to meet up with my friend sydney right outside rundu. well i never got there, and thats pretty typical of namibia. so as i explored the town a bit before getting into a cab i was walking down the street when a man shouted my name of his car.  then my phone vibrated and it was a teacher (the same man from a  second ago in case that wasn't clear) from my school--he told me to walk down the street and that i "must" meet him. so i walked down that same street and chatted with him for a bit and clearly expressed that i had plans and had to go. as he acknowledged my plans he summoned me into his car and i was gracious because i wouldn't have to get a cab to my friends place. but wait this is namibia! so as we drove it became a bit more obvious that we would taking a detour. we ended up at  a car repair shop (?) [also each question mark represents every moment that i was super confused but merely chuckled to myself…ok i loled] where we switched cars and i was driving with this random man from caprivi (?)  before i could even ask any questions. then we ended up at someones house (?), then a gas station, and then a college (?). there lacked an explanation for any of this (but hey, free tour right?) thats one thing you truly have to appreciate about namibia--people here are not stuck on time or agendas (and while that may get frustrating in the professional setting) its such a change of pace to JUST BE and not constantly be thinking. "americans think too much" i was told--and perhaps they're right, perhaps we could learn from just living and experiencing. so anyway, i did finally get in that cab and well even the cab took me on a little tour of his own--we picked up his wife and 3 kids at the grocery store (?) and minutes later he pulled over to buy some mattresses on the street (?). whats funny about all of this is that its not funny to anyone but people who aren't namibian.  like why are their 4 screaming kids and a bunch of mattresses in my cab!! but thats what you're for!

oh and once i was finally able to meet up with my friends in rundu--we had such an amazing weekend. we ate REAL pizza at the lodge along the river facing angola, went out dancing to some trippy namib techno, [almost] had a movie night, danced with 40 year old brits, reunited with my suga mama (finally), made some namib friends (sorry my lady pcv friends, i also offered some of you to them…but we'll get to that later), late night wimpies. but id go into detail on our weekend but i think i could sum it up like this--ruigo, sydney and i were walking back to the lodge to meet some friends but then we passed a shebeen blasting "i just wanna live my life" out the doors--so what else could we do then literally sprint inside and get our dance on. also did i mention it was 2pm in the afternoon? so ruigo merely watched with a bit of confusion as syd and i got our dance on inside as namibians literally crowded around us--so curious and so amused. they clapped and shouted [in local language of course] "oh man these americans our dancing to OUR tracks!" and thats when one man walked up to syd and handed her 10 namibian dollars. yeah we were that good. ok, i suppose i cant take credit for the profit.

so let me give you a glimpse of what its like to live at my homestead: well there are several families living on the homestead all somehow related to the chief (were not always sure how, but who's checking?) and each family lives within its own thatched in area to create the facade of privacy.  facade you ask? well, even i have my own thatched in property but its purely for show.  the lack of personal space must be repeated because its so apparent. but somehow its refreshing. tonight we had a family game of frisbee--well it was actually just supposed to me and my little bros playing and slowly it seemed as if the entire village got word that a frisbee had entered the premises and soon after people poured onto our homestead until we played some made up version of frisbee. so it was going well--ya know, typical frisbee--but this is where the difference between playing frisbee in namibia and the states becomes evident. so typically, in the states a game could be interrupted because, lets say, dinner is ready. well, this is what happened tonight: my brother got a text that there was a newly born calf in the woods behind our homestead. [and just to give you an understanding of the importance of cattle ill say this--people come to the chief almost daily to document the births and deaths of cattle because it all must be recorded] so without much hesitation or questions asked, the frisbee stood idle on the sand and about 10 of us headed to the woods in search of this lost calf. well, there it stood and we literally had to chase it out of the woods and towards a tree near our house and we tied it up with a rope. clearly the chief has dibs on the baby cows. 

ok so living at such a large homestead invites sometimes uninvited guests and by guests i mean permanent residents. well, take the bushman for instance. i might live in a rural village in the kavango but even our villagers have their stereotypes of the people who live deep inside the "bush." well, that leads me to the fact that a "bushman" showed up one day recently and has been here ever since. and as peculiar that might be, just remember that theres also a random white man living here! anyway, the bushman (he's introduced himself as something different each time so ill call him this until further notice) is obsessed with hanging out with me. but he doesn't speak english at all. so heres what were doing: im giving him english lessons in exchange for rumanyo lessons. and he always tells me that never did he ever [fingers up, lets play never have i ever] dream that he'd be friends with an american. and that smoothly segues to how my brother always mentions that he never thought that the day would come that he'd share a bowl of food with an american--yes, and then he proceeded to film me eating with him with his cell phone. but a little documentation never hurt anyone!

so each day after school, my brother and i take bike rides around the village together. biking on dirt roads (covered in sand) is so much harder than he makes it look but im getting used to it. and so we ride by the school, the church (which i now attend mass because its such a reputation booster in a devout catholic community!), and the shop on our way to the kavango river. a 15 minute bike ride typically takes upwards of 2 hours though. and thats ok. i wouldn't be doing my community justice if i didn't mention the significance of greetings. so as were riding bike, we repeatedly get off and greet the elders and shake hands with kids, and hug friends. but regardless the greeting is always the same:

--metaha

--metaha none

--nawa

--ii

--ee

--vavo

--ii

--nawa

--nawa

and i wrote it all out just so you could envision me shouting this as im panting while riding my bike over piles of sand.  and when i greet them in rumanyo, which of course i do, its met with a sense of confusion (huh isn't this guy white?), curiosity (if he greets then he must speak fluently) but mostly appreciation. and thats the most important thing. i constantly appreciate that my community has so graciously welcomed me as one of their own and are so eager to learn from me and i am from them.  actually that last point shouldn't be lost in the sentences covering this screen. my community (except for the boy who still wont get within 5 feet of me bevause he thinks i just might bite him) has reached out and taken me in as one of their own.

i hope that you're all well despite kim kardashian's impending divorce. missing you all

peace 

mukeu kutjanga romanyo

so im reading you shall know your own velocity! by dave eggers and came across the following line: "travel was a distraction for the unimaginative." it was a timely moment to read the line--i had just experienced my first day of site visit and i sat on the edge of my bed (without sheets i might add, but who's asking?) and reflected upon what was the most unimaginable place i could, well, imagine--Ndiyona, Namibia! So slowly, I was able to reinforce something that drew me to peace corps in the first place--living, not just traveling,  in a place that despite the richness of any mind i could fail to even conjure up in the depths of my mind.  

so lets set the scene: 7 of us trainees along with our supervisors headed out for kavango at 6am jamming to party rock (what else?!) and one by one we reached our village, me?? I was the last! Since our arrival in Namibia, we have been situated in a bubble--one complete with Americans and the necessary luxuries of life.  But as 7 of my faves (suga mama, syd, and science among them) approached the north and the kavango region in particular, being peace corps volunteers became that much more real.  Houses were replaced with huts, supermarkets replaced with small shops, and roads with dirt.

soon after my arrival for my one week site visit, one fact became evident: i am the sole American to have ever graced this village in a long time, and thus I have become a novelty. I am the first peace corps volunteer in ndiyona since 1997 and so my presence alone has resulted in massive attention, appreciation when i (attempt to) use the local language and a sense of curiosity.  As PCVs, were put in a precarious situation: integrate in the community despite our foreignness, offer innovative solutions that do not infringe upon local abilities or knowledge, and retain our identity while constructing a new one altogether. Which is why integration is essential: our purpose is to build capacity in a sustainable fashion to ensure that when we leave our presence is still felt--with the community, the teachers, and learners. 

Speaking of learners--well, thats the reason im here after all.  I observed classes for the week, co-taught a few, and met with many teachers and determined the following overarching issue: shame.  Learners have trouble grasping basic english concepts--from reading comprehension to sentence structure and expressing themselves through writing.  English is the crux of the education crisis in Ndiyona especially with English being the medium of instruction for all subjects.  And thus with the fundamental english struggles, learners are too ashamed to express themselves, participate, or engage in the material in fear of being laughed at (which often occurs) and this lack of confidence exacerbates the existing community issues: HIV/AIDS, poverty, etc. Tenth grade (as i mentioned in a previous post) is the crucial year: leaners must pass 6/9 classes (and english must be among them) in order to continue in the education system.  So heres the deal: Ill be teaching 9th grade english and will continue with the same classes when they're in 10th grade the following year.  Additionally Ill teach 8th and 9th grade math and….physical education! My overarching goal is this: make connections with the learners to uncover their potential, lift their confidence in themselves, and allow them to think about life in a new way altogether. I want to help reinvigorate the inherent desire, love, and ability to learn.

I asked one of the teachers to check out the school library (if it even existed) and was thrilled to hear that Ndiyona has a "very large library" as the teacher put it.  So we walked over and unlocked the door and i was eager to see a glimmer of prospects for the school and as i pushed open the door, i saw an enormous room (yup, the library was quite large) the only thing was there were probably only 50 or so books.  Thus I would love to stock the empty shelves of the library with donated books (thats where you'll soon come in :) and then, more importantly, encourage learners to value education and reading outside  of the classroom.

one afternoon after school, I walked through the sand and back to my home when a man tapped me on the shoulder from behind.  Despite that i thought that i was sufficiently introduced to the community, the man appeared to be a stranger.  And without an introduction he summoned me to his house before i could ask the essential questions (ya know like who are you? where are you taking me?).  The next thing i knew i was seated across from him at his kitchen table and he was eagerly preparing some food for lunch (caponte, he called it)…and mind you im still somewhat unsure who he is.  As he lifted the dish to reveal the food he had prepared, he finally disclosed that he was a fellow teacher but had been in zambia for the past week (reason unknown!) but was ready to welcome me. Before i could express my appreciation, I was distracted by the food (if you can call it that) on the plate.  Many of you are probably familiar with the fact that im not  quite fond of fish.  therefore when i saw a plate covered with guppies or minnows or whatev with eyes and all i…gagged a bit. and then laughed. in typical peace corps fashion i just grabbed a handful of porridge and scooped up some minnows and chewed (and chewed) and irregardless of the stench of a dirty fish tank, i swallowed too! so anyway, that story just needed to be told, but mostly (other than showcasing my willingness to assimilate..haha) i just wanted to articulate the sense of community that continues to amaze me in Namibia.  As a complete foreigner in my village of 5000, I was soon accepted and welcomed by colleagues and just random neighbors: and the motive wasn't so much to express appreciation for my arrival but merely to welcome me as one of them.  Its fascinating how quickly a random white American can feel like a member of a family in a Namibian village.  It takes a village (alright i just wanted some kind of hillary reference!) additionally, i wanted to showcase the inability for namibians to understand american views of privacy and personal space.  in namibia, if you spend time alone then its assumed that you are either sick, upset, or antisocial…and while this certainly challenges the american cherishment (made up word, i admit) of personal space, it certainly becomes a benefit when people repeatedly knock on your door in a village completely foreign to you.

after that yum lunch, some fellow teachers and i took a walk along the dirt road. we passed the lone shop in town, the police station, and a mob of learners on our way to the banks of the kavango river.  so once we reached the the kavango river, life just became surreal. we stood on the edge of namibia literally feet from angola. so what was my first though? well update my Facebook status, of course! cause while i might live in a village lacking access to electricity, we do have internet phones.  

on our way back, we walked to my homestead (where Ill be living for at least the first 6 weeks at site) to visit my host family (and thats not just any family, my friends, its the chief's fam) As we approached the homestead for the first time, I noticed over 10 kids hard at work on my incomplete huts.  I soon learned that those kids are my learners and they were busy building my huts! and upon my arrival they put their tools down and broke into song (umm my kinda kids!) the lyrics were something like this "welcome welcome, we are happy, you are welcome" (then some local verses)    Well i immediately thought of the ultimate discipline strategy, in lieu of detentions, Ill have my learners build an addition to my hut! 

Since my learners were busy preparing my huts for my permanent arrival at the end of october, I stayed at the modern housing at the school for the week.  However each night I headed over to the chiefs homestead for dinners and…well, just quality time with the community members. The homestead is quite large and I spend most of my time with the chief's son and his family.  Although, we do greet the chief each night and its very scripted: we walk though a certain entrance so not to disturb him, then bow and as I shake his hand I hold my arm with my left hand, and we keep shaking as we go through the local greetings (which can take upwards of 3 miniutes!) My host bro, Mashika, (were pretty much best friends) but we spent each night that week huddled around the fire, sharing undisclosed meat products, and discussing angolan politics, and (trying to) speak romanyo.  oh about that. well, remember i told y'all (cass i brought this to namib) i was learning rukwangali? well, my village speaks romanyo (a distant sister of rukwangali) so while i still have to learn rukwan for pc, my host bro was already starting to give me lessons in romanyo.  one night i was writing romanyo words down in my notebook and heard my host siblings chanting something in the background. it sounded catchy so i just kept on writing unfazed. then my host bro came over to me and revealed what mukeu kutjanga romanya means--"white man's writing romanyo"…well, i guess you cant argue with that analysis. 

we sat there around the fire, when, on the last night of my site visit, i saw my colleagues approaching the homestead.  and they summoned me to come with them.  yes, im often summoned in this culture (as i said, people constantly socialize, cant argue with that)! since it was my last night til my permanent arrival, they thought that they should take me out--so we went to a club (yes theres one in our village) and danced to rihanna…like i do everyday anyway!  It was there that one of the female teachers told me that she dreamt about me (flattered?) and in it she was revealed my age (creepy?). she was correct by the way.  

when we returned back to our training site the following week, we greeted our fellow pcvs as if we hadn't seen each other for months. I literally hugged each person (yup all 38 of them)…thats just how i roll.  Our bags and dirty selves found ourselves at opuiri of course and the following morning at a cultural festival!  And, in typical nam 34 fashion, we perfumed our "tate gwetu" song and dance to the whole town at the festival--laine led the vocals, and i, of course, led the dance surrounded by my fellow pcvs! and before we resumed training, we spent the next day at the pool at the local lodge…ill just leave it at that for now.

alright friends, in honor of steve jobs ill end it like this "stay foolish, stay hungry"--i think that pretty much sums up the way life ought to be lived.

peace

you can call me mr. franc

so let me give you a visual: imagine seeing the outline of the map of namibia (in yarn with large rocks to hold it down) displayed outside, in the sand i might add, right outside our training center. then imagine that the next 2 years of your life are purely determined by the arbitrary decision of where to place us on that very map.  well thats exactly what happened today. at the end of a long day of training, the anticipation that has dominated our every thought of the day (and the last month for that matter) dissipated into reality. one by one we stood on the imaginary map, on a site that right now is no more than a name, but will soon become part of our core.  ok, well how was that for a lead up? you probably just skipped ahead because, like many of us, you just couldn't resist the temptation of knowing where ill be spending the next 2 years of my life! 

As i mentioned before (im checking to make sure that you're actually following this blog religiously!) I will be serving in the Kavango region--a region plagued with issues that much of Namibia fails to grasp.  The highest number of orphans due to the HIV/AIDS epidemic live here, the largest population of "severely poor" [my disdain for such a label is well documented] Namibians live here, the largest percentage of school age children with no shoes and inadequate outfits live here, and soon so will I along with 7 others! Soon to be the kavango family and Im so excited to have this experience with them all and mostly go rafting at Victoria Falls!  To be exact, I will be teaching 9th grade math and english at Ndiyona Combined School in (ya guessed it!) Ndiyona which is situated 100km east of Rundu (the capital of the region) and along the Trans Caprivi Highway and the Kavango River and less than an hour from Botswana and Angola. After meeting with the interim principal, he outlined objectives of our education project in Ndiyona and among them include the following: raising math standards in a school with bottom math scores, establish programs for the OVC (orphans and vulnerable children) population which constitutes of half of the school, increase English speaking ability, boost student confidence and critical thinking skills, and promote HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention programs. 

But heres what makes me feel kinda cool and popular [2 extremely important attributes to acquire] I will be living in a homestead [meaning I will live on the same property as a family but in my own separate house] with the village chief…like cmon, talk about village connections!  So you're probably picturing this magnificent house, well actually im in the PC so you're probs not…anyway--heres the description that I have of my living arrangements "thatched hut with cement floor, with reefs as a wall."  Ill be visiting the site at the end of the week so ill give you a more accurate visual, promise! [and sorry diana, but no, i don't have the privilege of having in a pool in my back yard :) ]

Well if you ask me, and you don't really have a choice now do ya?, I feel ready for village life. Lets talk about this past Saturday as an example. So we had a cookout with our homestead families--and they all made local dishes from all over namib.  Since we were pretty hungry, Vegas and I fed each other some grilled worms and I managed to swallow them (ok yeah I gagged a bit, but whats a man to do?!) So while playing ninja with the local kids certainly occupied much of my time that day (thanks dreebs btw!) I thought "hey, why not just kill a chicken?" So Renee and I, eager as children ready to kill a chicken (sorry couldn't think of any other example!) and we did just that. several saws of the pocket knife and viola!--just like that a chicken that we were minutes before chasing around the compound became raw meat!  and for our main course you ask?? goat's brain, cow stomach, tongue, and probably some other things that ought to be censored on the internet. then i cooked some lamb on a fire that i started!! i feel like im officially a man now 

Sometimes its hard to describe to non-pcvs about the inherent familial ties we all have based purely on the fact that were pcvs…but heres a go at it! So I was sitting on the couch holding my baby host sister, watching another epsiode of "1000 ways to die" with the fam and my phone rang.  it was julie hyman--a fellow pcv in the north who graduated from gw a year ago--well we've never met but were obviously best friends, cause thats how things work around here. anyway she was stopped at the local gas station along with another pcv on their way to windhoek, and she told me to run so we could meet. and i did just that.  Other than that, our group-- NAM 34--always finds a way to exceed expectations.  from chris' podcasts, to speculating about vegas' love life, to singing the namib national anthem in the combi, playin' shoulder games, discussing FOMO issues with syd, or leading a tate gwetu song and dance yet again--yeah, its these moments that make training what it is and leaving for site (though not for a month) that much more bitter sweet.

So in preparation for being a teacher (that is why Im here after all!) we spent this whole week observing namibian schools.  (i go by mr. franc now by the way!)   one  problem that we noticed and are sure to be faced with as teachers is that teachers often don't show up for school unannounced so as a trainee and with little to work with one afternoon I did what always seems to captivate a class here: let the class ask me about America! So the first question was, "so how is america?" uhhh fine…a lot of debt? not quite sure how to answer that question, I asked them what they thought of america and told them that id dispel some stereotypes.  So what exactly did I have to dispel you ask? here it goes:  no were not all rich, yes there is more than one airport in the US, no I don't know Rihanna and im not related to kim kardashian (though now that they mention it, i do kinda see the resemblance!), no north korea is not a beacon of liberty, and yes I've seen black people before coming to Namibia.  

ok well id love to divulge some more insight into my life but my lil bro is litrally tugging at my arms trying to get me to blow some bubbles for him. and id take my time but he just grabbed our puppy by its tail (again) and threw it out the door, so well long story short, i ought to head out. im headed off to my site visit tomorrow morning with my kavango crew.  looking forward to providing you with a detailed description of what my life may look like for the next 2 years.

so until then, peace and love

ngapi nawa?

well, well, well, [hold on a sec while i remove some clumps of dirt from my hands--i promise I'm showering regularly!] So keeping a blog has become much more difficult than I could have imagined.  No, its certainly not for lack of internet because unlike most of my counterparts around the world, I have a portable modem, NBD. And no, its not because I don't have a lot to say--cause I certainly do.  Rather, its challenging enough to process every experience I encounter and people I meet and now I have to articulate it all.  Well, here it goes!

It seems like it was months ago (I think the consensus around here is 6) that I led a group of eager pcvs to Jims Steaks for one last American indulgence and yet its only been 2 weeks.  

So if you were wondering, I am currently sitting in my host family's house  and watching a rereun of the VMA's with my host bro! I moved in several days ago and soon after, my [host] mother was admitted to the hospital for an emergency c-section! IT'S A GIRL and her name is Gabriella--looks liked my nieces name afterall! they are both healthy yet still in the hospital and that leads me to my first "That's so Namibia!" moment--I was sitting on the couch the other night (alone) with the door open hoping that the dogs would finally stop harassing me (I ran out of apples to throw their way) and soon after the sun set, I  glanced at the open door--the dogs were nowhere to be found--and there stood an unrecognizable man.  So what do you do when a stranger is quietly standing by your door when you're home alone in a foreign country? Well, what anyone would do, of course--let him in! Well, it turns out that it was my suga mama's [host] father (explanation will come shortly!) and so we chatted and within a few minutes he demanded my company at dinner at his house and so I went! The sense of community is so strong here--no one ought to be alone and no one ought to be without an adequate meal--again, so Namibian, we Americans could learn a few things!  

Ok so I casually mentioned that I have a suga mama and while it appeared to be a nonchalant mention, it truly is a big deal.  ( I mean c'mon I'm a volunteer!) Let me use her name, its Alice, and she is our lone retiree thats serving with Group 34 (mad props to her btw) and it began one night--like most things do--as a joke but like many jokes, it quickly escalated.  [the peace corps rumor mill is one of the fastest traveling things I have yet to encounter and just imagine what its like when im done with it!] So anyway, ever since Alice made that offer…well, let's just say things have been coming together…We're neighbors in our homestead communities, were learning the same language and will be placed in the same region (along with 5 others!)

Oh speaking of, I suppose I should let you in on a little known secret--I am learning Rukwangali (a Bantu language) and I will be placed in the Kavango region, in northeast Namibia. (quite close to Botswana where some girl named Supriya or something is also serving!) Kavango is one of the more densely populated areas of the country and certainly a far cry from its desert and dry neighbor in the south.  Kavango is ridden with forests, wildlife, and its namesake river!  The Peace Corps medical team has been briefing us on relevant health issues that we may face--here's what us 7 in particular have to watch out for: wild hippos raiding poorly built homes, schisto (a parasite that invades your skin and grows a family of millions inside your body!), rabid animals roaming freely, and rampant floods in during the rainy season.  So clearly I'll be stocking up on EmergenC.  

Wanna see an example Rukwangali greeting? (you don't really have a choice so just say yes..)  

A: ngapi nawa?

B: ii

A: ee

B: awo?

A: ii

B: nawa

A: nawa

tell me you don't love this!

oh and i think i ought to mention, I made a new Peace Corps family! NAM 34!!  I think that one apprehension I had when I committed to peace corps was a fear that I wouldn't have the strong support and deep bonds with people that is so necessary to have a truly meaningful experience.  Well, I found just that. Its crazy how people can connect so much in so little time (though my fellow alt breakers will certainly identify with this sentiment!) Something, perhaps  close to fate, brought the corps four together (catchy huh?!) Knowing that I will share this experience with Renee, Vegas (the nickname stuck!), and Laine makes me that much more eager for this to all unfold. Oh and I cant forget Science, yes that nickname has stuck too! But despite how cliquey we may (or may not be) I think that our group is uniquely connected and I am so proud to be a member of Nam 34.

Well, you must be asking what are some things you guys do as a group?! As a preface, we begin each day of training dancing to and singing along to classic Namibian songs (tule pela!) and that got us thinking….FLASH MOB obviously.  So Shaun, Anupa, Laine, Nora, and I choreographed a dance to "I just cant wait to be king" and (after teaching our peers) we performed it (spontaneously--or so they thought!) in front of our Namibian trainers.  As our hips gyrated and hands flew in the air, we were stared at and most likely judged.  But despite any judgment they made, they decided they liked it! So what began as a joke and turned into a full on show,  is now known as a traditional American song and dance. We have had a difficult time explaining that our one night choreography to "I just cant wait to be king" is not an American tradition but regardless were just gonna go with it and just perform it with no questions asked. sidetone: Namibians LOVE dancing and thus I have fit in quite well thus far (aside from the stares and laughs that ensue when Namibs see Americans tear up the dance floor!)

Ok so some of you may be wondering what the education situation is like in Namibia.  Well, let me give you a little glimpse (many more to come in the next 2 years).  My host brother in law (I'm a little lost with the terminology and the extended family complicates things, so forgive me!) is currently in tenth grade and this grade is absolutely crucial.  Learners must take a national exam upon completion of the tenth grade and those who do not pass (which statistics show that nearly 38% don't) are forced out of the education system with little chance of completing their secondary school degree.  Thus creates the at-out-school-youth problem which plagues Namibia, combined with 53% unemployment, and excessive drinking.  This cyclical problem has roots that are quite deep that even go back to the education system under apartheid in which it systematically kept black students at an "inferior" level to ensure white supremacy.  Additionally, the disparity in wealth is tremendous--as we drove through Windhoek (the capital) you could see homes that could pass for Southern California soon after you passed homes built with corrugated iron slabs with no access to sanitation, clean water, or disposal of waste. Namibia is the most unequal society in the world--the disparity between rich and poor is astonishing.  Things are slowly changing.  And as things slowly change, I hope that my host bro (Diwan--prnounced Divan--Afrikaans btw) can pass and I will do all I can to see that that happens.  

for those of you who have the $$ to afford it (or if you just miss me) give me a call on my new Namib phone: 264 081 758 1726

Anyway, as I embark on this adventure I think about you all the whole time (especially one little egyptian princess)! 

peace and love