Today's blog post is brought to you by the letter A.

A for Absurd.

The urge to write on my blog or publish my experience and emotions always strikes me at the oddest times. Like today, for instance, while sitting watching my grade 6 class write a maths test.

Life here, at least right now, can be summed up with the word absurd. It may be part of the culture shock cycle, recognizing and identifying things as absurd when they are just another part of what’s going on here. Whatever the reason, my life is laden with irony and inconsistencies and contradiction; these things can either lead me to laughing fits or to wanting to stick my face in a pillow and scream, depending on the day, my mood, and the circumstances.

I’ve struggled in the last months, I just marked 11 months in country and can’t imagine another 16, I’ve thought seriously about leaving at the end of the school year in December, but every time I consider it as a feasible option, the universe tells me that I am where I need to be, at least for now. We’ll see what the universe says closer to December, I suppose.

I know I still haven’t written about the end of last term, or about my super vacation, and already we’re nearing the end of the second term. Really all you need to know about the end of the term is that, after my last post in April, life got very very bad. School was stressful, other PC-related things were stressful, I welcomed the last day of term with open arms. After term ended, Group 30 reconnected. All you need to know about that is that it was awesome. Mostly. We had some very interesting sessions at reconnect, I may try to touch on those in a blog post soon. Post-reconnect, I went north in a bakkie (4x4 truck) and saw elephants, giraffe, crazy running ostriches, oryx, springbook, zebra, and various other forms of wildlife. While in Puros, a desert oasis famous for its angry desert elephants, I got our bakkie stuck in the sand, and an angry elephant tore out the water pump for the toilet closest where we were camping. The following day we got our bakkie stuck again, this time in such a way that I thought maybe we’d never get out. The sand in that part of the Namib Desert is like baby powder; imagine trying to dig a bakkie out of a swimming pool of baby powder. Maybe one day I’ll post pictures. We were.... very dirty. After vacation, I returned to Gobabis, and chilled out for a week or so. At that time, and for the remainder of my holiday, I suffered pretty severe mefloquine side effects, including messed up appetite, depression, hallucinations, and dreams so vivid I’d wake up super confused. I’m glad to be off that shit. It’s poison. (And if you want to find out more about mefloquine, like how it transcends the blood/brain barrier, check out this.)

When I returned home from holiday, I found that my pantry had been raided by some sort of vermin, either mice or outdoor cockroaches (they leave droppings that are sometimes hard to distinguish). At first I thought keeping a clean house/kitchen/pantry would eliminate the problem. It didn't. I sprayed chemicals around all the areas where there have historically been cockroaches, but when none turned up dead in the monrings, I decided that i must have mice. I bought rat poison, and spread it around, but then decided that a cat was a better option, and would also help with my loneliness. The result: Chico the Africat. Possibly the cutest (and most spastic) kitten on the continent. So far he's won over the hearts of everyone to come into my house, even the cat haters. He's simply fantastic.

I’ve had the great fortune to have had really great house guests since mid June. A couple of South African girls stopped on their way from Botswana to Swakopmund, then a bunch of group 30ers came to celebrate the 4th of July (it’s always great to see group 30ers!). The celebration turned into a rather larger party than I was expecting, but it was really a fun night. That same weekend a German volunteer who’d been working in South Africa arrived; she’s still here, and will go back to Germany at the end of August. Having her here has been wonderful, she’s super easy to get along with, she’s doing good work at a project in Epako with street kids, and it’s nice to talk to someone facing the same challenges (and absurdity!) as you every day. Plus, we make amazing salads every night; I miss having a roommate who gets as excited about food as I do (shout out Julie Little!). Then, last Sunday a couple biking across Africa made Gobabis their first stop in Namibia (well, first stop if you don’t count a night in the bush); again, just super cool people to have in my home for a few days – full of interesting stories and opinions and conversations in general. All in all, I’ve been really fortunate in the last eight weeks to share my home with such great people. It’s been really uplifting for my spirit in general.

It’s been really cold in Namibia. REALLY cold. In the morning when I go to the kitchen to make breakfast (avocado on toast these days), I check the thermometer. One morning it was so cold that my tears froze to my face on the way to school. My HOD said that I should be getting rides in the morning, but I do enjoy the bike ride to school, so long as the temperature is above freezing. Only twice have I had to ride when the temp was below 0° Celsius (the first time it was because I thought I could hack it; the second time was because I couldn’t find a lift).

And so now, term 2. On a micro level, time moves super slow. Day after day after day, life is the same... time at school moves at the pace of molasses. On a macro level, holy shit, it’s the end of term 2 and I’m still teaching fractions. I started teaching fractions 5 weeks ago. The reasons for still teaching them are varied; that’s another part of the post, though, I suppose.

School starts at 7:00 in the morning. Teachers are supposed to be at school at 7. The first bell rings at 7, and the late bell rings at 7:10. Every day we have a staff meeting, which used to start at 7, and now starts at 7:10 after the late bell. This leads to a shorter first period, to the learners running around after the late bell rings, to inconsistent late-comer punishment (because how are you going to punish a kid that comes late when the teachers are otherwise occupied when s/he comes). Teachers going to class late (or not at all) is a problem that I’ve talked about before; the principal often brings up this issue (ironically) during these morning staff meetings when he himself is making the teachers late for class. This morning’s meeting also touched on teacher professionalism. Again, apparently I’m the only one who sees the irony in preaching teacher professionalism when the person preaching it often doesn’t go to the classes he teaches at all. But, who am I to criticize?

I’ve had some trouble externalizing my stress this term. Often, I can’t figure out why I’m stressed, only that the stress is there. I’ve missed school days because my stomach is running (do we say this in America? I have a running stomach? I don’t think we do, but I imagine you can figure out what it means), or because I wake up with headaches.

I’ve finally returned to my happy vegan roots. My diet for the first several month here was, admittedly, not great. Although I managed to maintain veganism, doing so in a host family meant eating tons of soya mince (a flavoured TVP that comes in a box and is really handy for people in the village who can’t buy meat all the time, but seems to contain a lot of chemicals), rice, porridge, bread, soup packets that contain a lot of salt, and other... Namibia fare like super starchy vegetables. Sacrificing my veganism wouldn’t have improved the situation, because the meat here tends to be super fatty and prepared in unhealthy ways. After moving to town, to my own house, my eating improved, but I was using food to cope (as lots of volunteers do) – and I was still eating the super starchy, fattening foods. While in my mefloquine haze, I lost my appetite, and in the process lost some weight, but also stopped eating the crappy food I’d been eating and started feeling tons better. My appetite returned, but I’ve now cut out most refined carbs like the porridge and pasta and rice that they love here, as well as most bread. As a result, I’ve lost most of the weight I gained, I’m on a veggie/fruit/raw nuts and beans-rich diet, and I feel much much better. I’m eating lots of raw food and sprouting legumes like crazy(in fact Donata, the temporary roommate, and I are eating a jar of sprouts a day. it’s impressive). It’s really true that what you put in your body has a direct effect on your physical and mental states.

So back to the absurdity of life. I’ll see things everyday and the first word that comes to my head is: absurd. Most of the time they’re really small things. Today I wore a dress to school. I often wear dresses or skirts to school. And I almost always bike (except when it’s below freezing). When I wear dresses and skirts, I wear black leggings underneath, always. I may as well be wearing pants under my dress/skirt. And STILL men stare and yell and whistle, as if I were wearing nothing at all. It’s... very funny.

I’ve been wanting to rearrange the desks in my classroom for ages, but my learners just.... can’t handle anything other than sitting in pairs that all face the front of the room. A couple weeks ago I put them in groups of four, and as I suspected it would, it was a failed attempt. Last week I got ambitious, and needed to rearrange, so instead of going back to the pairs that face the front of the classroom, I made myself president of grade 6. At least, that’s what one of the learners who helped me to rearrange told me. My desk is now in the front and center of the room, and all the desks arc around mine like the seats in parliament arc around the president. Me, president of grade 6. :)

Aside from being President of grade 6, teaching is a crap shoot. I’m becoming accustomed to the absurdity that is 90% of my life at school. I’m making small strides in my classroom. We finally finished Charlie and the Chocolate Factory a few weeks ago. It was hugely satisfying for all those involved – for me and for the learners. It’s the first book any of them have ever read (or even had read to them). We finished the book on a Thursday, and I showed them the old movie the next day. It was fun to watch them forming their own visions of the book in their minds, and watch their reactions to the portrayal of the book in the film. Even better was listening to them during the movie: “Miss, that’s not what happened in the book!” “Miss, it’s just like the book!” “Miss Nikki, Mrs. Bucket didn’t sing in the book!” “Miss, the boat isn’t pink!” I was anticipating the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory hangover; that is, my class had been on such a Charlie high for so long that I was worried that no matter what I tried to follow it up with, there was going to be some unrest in the classroom. I was right. We started reading Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, but it’s just not the same. I’m trying to come up with another book to read with them, but I’m coming up short at the moment.

Apart from the Charlie hangover, there are good things happening in my classroom, mostly. And the best things that are happening are the things that can’t be measured in end of term marks. My learners are a product of my classroom (which is, in turn, a product of my personality): a bit disorganized, and mostly a peaceful, relaxed herd. I can see and hear their English improving faster than the other classes just by dint of being with me all the time.

I’m a stickler for good grammar. I always have been. At some point since coming to Namibia, I’ve become proud that English is my mother tongue. Maybe it’s because I know I speak good English when necessary, combined with hearing it repeatedly butchered day in and day out here. It’s true that we don’t speak the Queen’s English, but regardless of that, it is the national language of the US, and it is spoken properly by at least some of the population. There is a recurring implication that American English is not proper English, and this recurring implication is made often by someone who says “we doesn’t,” “they doesn’t,” “I doesn’t,” and “they isn’t.” AHH. It’s a bit like a knife twisting in my side every time I hear it.

That brings me (and you) pretty much up to date. If you’ve made it this far, thanks! I hope you’re well, wherever you are and whatever you might be doing.