Sayonara, Term 2!

Man, blogging is hard. I’m not good at updating weekly, but apparently I’m also not good at updating infrequently, either.

I have a lot to write about this time, though!

Term 2 is over! And, I’ve been in Namibia for over one year now.  Marking one year in country was a nice opportunity for reflection: reflections on the things I’ve done here and haven’t yet done here, the things I want to do and don’t want to do, and what to do when I’m done here.

Term 2 just ended.  Last Friday was the learners’ (and my) last day at school.  Saturday was the anniversary of our arrival in country, so Group 30 convened in Windhoek for some celebrating.  Sunday we traveled to a conference center outside Windhoek (unfortunately not the Harmony Center, the location of all our other In Service Trainings) for the 2-day midservice IST – our last IST together as a group until we gather again for Close of Service (COS). (Although there is a TENTATIVE All-Volunteer Conference on the calendar for next year.  I hope it happens!)

Before I get too far ahead of myself, let me go back to school.  Term 2 was, in some ways, much easier than Term 1, but in some ways it was a lot harder.  Classroom management was less of an issue this term.  I’m not sure if it was because I grew more accustomed to the chaos always present in the classroom, or if it was because my learners are getting used to me and the way I do things; I’m sure it was a bit of both. 

I had some health issues this term, and struggled a little bit with the blues, and as a result missed some school. I also missed a week for a training in Windhoek (and 2 days at the dentist).  My absences from school put me really far behind my plans, and put my learners behind even further than they already were. (As an aside, substitute teachers are almost non-existent here in the sense that we know them in. there are relief teachers, but they often aren’t trained teachers, they are just people who come in and supervise the class to make sure that they don’t destroy the classroom or each other.)

Classroom management is getting easier, and dealing with the other issues at school is getting harder.  I struggle with racism everyday, racism of the variety that is deeply ingrained and will likely never ever change.  I never thought, coming to Africa, that racism would be the thing to slap me in the face consistently, everyday.  And, no matter how much I try to avoid it, sometimes it’s completely unavoidable. 

I also face some interpersonal conflict at school that is hard for me to handle.  It’s true that some people are just not my cup of tea.  One of the people with whom I have conflict digs consistently on the “privileges” of Peace Corps volunteers.  On Friday, as I was happily leaving school like the weight of the term had been lifted off my shoulders (because, well, it had been), I commented to this individual to have a nice holiday, to which he responded “Holiday? Don’t you mean weekend?” I told him I wouldn’t be at school this week (teachers’ last day was yesterday, Wednesday, when they handed out report cards) because of a conference Monday and Tuesday and a meeting yesterday. He responded, snidely, that he wishes he worked for the Peace Corps. When I asked why, he responded that we’re always on holiday before the rest of the teachers. I explained, again, that I would be at a conference Monday and Tuesday and a meeting on Wednesday. He then looked at me, stricken with panic, as he realized that I wouldn’t be there for all the administrative bullshit that comes with having a register class (a homeroom class).  I wanted to be like…  what did you do before I was teaching that class? Because there was no teacher there last year, and somehow the school survived…   I understand that I’m a teacher, but I do feel like I (and other volunteers) should be exempt from the bureaucratic administrative bullshit that that consumes the existence of all the other teachers. Have I mentioned the files every teacher needs to have? It took me fully a week to compile all the necessary documents in the even that someone from the ministry should drop in and investigate the volunteer.

Anyway, back to school. Learners in grades 5, 6 and 7 have exams at the end of every term.  The exams in April were written in house, but the August exams were written by another school in our “cluster” (the group of schools that my school belongs to).  Exams are a stressful time, until you stop taking them so seriously.  On one hand, it’s really sad that my learners averaged 7/60 on the maths exams, and slightly better on the English exams, but some of their answers made me laugh out loud.  Even when you tell them to read before they answer, they don’t. In their defense, I was (am?) also bad at reading things before I answer.  

Marking a year in country has been a weird experience for me.  This is the longest time I’ve ever been away.  I think about what it was like going to Holiday Inn to staging, meeting all these people that I’d be spending the next 27 months with, making first impressions and forming first impressions.  The people I know today in Group 30 are mostly not those people that I met one year ago.  And the funniest thing is, the thing that continues to come up again and again, is this simple truth: most of us would never be friends in America, but here, we are great friends.  We rely on one another for support, to cope with the absurdity of everyday life.  We share this common thread of understanding that people elsewhere just don’t have.  No matter how well I articulate my troubles, it’s very difficult to understand them unless you’re experiencing the same thing. 

I think about that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach when our plane left Washington DC, the excitement (and relief) or preparing for landing in Namibia. I think about looking out the plane window and wondering where the eff Peace Corps was dropping us; when you approach Hosea Kutako Int’l Airport, your don’t see a city. You don’t see a town. You see desert and bush. Kilometers and kilometers of sand.

And I sometimes have to think back to the feeling of anticipation and excitement and unknown that filled me the first day in Namibia.  Life now is so normal, even the absurd is beginning to seem less so, and when I think back to the newness of everything, it helps me to remember why I came here in the first place, and in the larger picture, why I wanted to be a Peace Corps volunteer.

When asked to identify successes and challenges of the first year of service, we were reminded that making friends is a huge success. In fact, integration into the community has been one of my biggest challenges.  But, I have made a few fantastic friends in Gobabis that have helped me through some really bad days.  One is the secretary at my school, Yolande.  She’s simply fantastic and frankly I’m not sure how I would cope at school without her. The lower primary HOD (Head of Department) is my other saving grace at school.  These two women are wonderful.  The Ministry of Education IT guy, Ruben, is my other saving grace.  Sometimes I get home from school and go to his office and just sit there.  Ruben’s educated and speaks really nice English, and we’ve developed a relationship in which we just give each other a bunch of shit all the time, and it makes us both smile. 

One thing about my experience so far that’s markedly different than the experiences of my colleagues is my relationship with my learners.  Most volunteers who live in town actually live on the school grounds in the hostels; other volunteers live in villages where their movements are tracked every minute of the day by… well, everyone. My case is much different. I live in town, my school is in the location, and most of my learners have no idea where I live.  Other volunteers complain about the learners invading their homes often – knocking on doors, windows, at all hours of the day.  I have none of those problems.  However, these volunteers are really close to the learners, and I still feel a certain amount of detachment from mine.  I’ve identified this as one of my challenges, something that I want to address and be better about in the coming year.

Some other challenges I’ve identified from my first year: frustrations with secondary projects, having the energy to return to school in the afternoon for afternoon classes and sports, and feeling the “miracle worker” expectation.  Teaching is my primary project, but within my school, the library is supposed to be one of my secondary projects.  My school already has a nice library, and a library teacher.  She is, however, worried more about how the library look than the functionality of it, which means that the learners can’t actually use it, because they just mess it up.  She’s also so bogged by policy and procedures that it makes it virtually impossible to have a working library.  In addition to that, I’ve been asking since January for a key to the library.  My school simply refuses to give me one, which means that I have to depend on the library teacher every time I want to do something.  All these things wrapped up mean that I’ve done very little in the library. And it’s such a nice library (by Namibian school standards) that I’m really upset about that, and I’ve resorted to having to ask my APCD to talk to my principal about giving me a key, especially if I’m going to be asked to teach Basic Information Science next year (BIS is the class in which learners “learn” how to use the library). 

Back in January I set up computers in our media room (where we keep the overhead projectors no one but me uses, as well as a TV/VCR and ceiling mounted projector).  There was no cable to run to the power source. They’ve been sitting there since January without power, because the school won’t buy power cables for them.  Frustration.  And I’ve been tasked with teaching the staff how to use the computers, and I keep telling them that I’ll start computer classes as soon as there is power to the computers. I feel validated in that, but so far, no power, so no computer classes.

In the community, secondary projects are trickier.  Need is the first consideration.  Does the project address a need of the community? Is it a need that the community sees, or a need that the volunteer sees? Sustainability is the next factor to consider. If you start the project, and then leave, will it continue? If the answer is no, walk away.  The obstacle then becomes creating the sustainable project with a Namibian counterpart, or find a shorter term project that doesn’t perpetuate the idea that volunteers give hand outs.  With all those things in mind, I’ve not yet found a project in the community. It’s on my list of things to do in the coming year. 

The “miracle worker” expectation is something lots of people encounter.  We’re American, and the expectation is that we’ll come in and fix everything that’s wrong at our school.  The reality is that not only can we not come in and fix everything, but most of us are struggling to keep our heads above water.  The frustrating part for me is that PCVs are alleged to be “agents of change” but most Namibians are resistant to real change, so even if we identify something that we can help with, our suggestions tend to be shot down anyway.   For me, it’s the expectation that I won’t struggle with the things that teachers normally struggle with, or the implication that I should have all answers.  (The flip side of this, of course, is when everything I do is questioned by dint of being American. That’s fun, too…  especially when the object in question is my ability to speak (and identify!) proper English.)

On the home front, my cat is great. Chico is the best africat ever!

And, sadly, I said goodbye to my German long term couch surfer Donata today. She’s heading back to Germany, but will return to Namibia next year. I look forward to it, it was a blessing to have her with me in my house.

Now that I’ve written entirely TOO MUCH, I’ll wrap it up here, and hope to write again soon. I hope you’re well, wherever you are in the world. J