Windhoek, Swakop, Home

 Everything happens for a reason.  And in Namibia, things have a tendency to just work themselves out. 

I went to Windhoek last week on Thursday, to see the dentist… again, for what I hope will be the last time until Close of Service medical.   Since I had to go to Windhoek Thursday, I didn’t go to school on Thursday, so Wednesday night I woke up to use the free internet from 1 am – 5 am.  I slept a bit later than usual Thursday morning, and was then, of course, rushing around to pack things up for the 2 days in Windhoek and 2 days in Swakopmund.  

For the last 6-9 months (hard to say when exactly I started) I’ve been collecting coins in a jar.  I’ve been putting off counting and turning them into notes because the jar was started to fund something specific, and even though it likely won’t happen, I’ve secretly been holding out hope.  Anyway, in light of the fact that I have about N$200 in the bank until the end of the month (that's about USD$26), I decided that this was as good a weekend as any to count.  The result: N$335!  And some smaller coins that I threw back in.  Thank you, Namibia.

It seems the older I get, the longer it takes me to pack to go somewhere.  Added to this is that I almost always travel with food to Windhoek, because produce there is astronomically expensive.  So after rushing around packing, doing wash (that wouldn’t dry and wouldn’t dry and wouldn’t dry), trying to clean up a bit, I finally headed out to the hike point. I had to stop at the grocery store and the bank on the way, and by the time I got to the hike point, it was just after 11 – a bit late as far as getting a reliable hike goes. I waited at the hike point for about 20 minutes, and had just complained to Ashley, the other group 30 PCV in Omaheke, that I  wasn’t having much luck, when a really nice white Mercedes with Windhoek plates drove by.  It didn’t stop (being driven by a single white woman, I wasn’t surprised), and neither did the next 5 to drive by, but then there was the white Mercedes, coming  back.  The driver stopped, asked where I was going, and told me to get in. Turned out to be a FANTASTIC hike.  The driver was a 27 year old woman who travels around Namibia as a medical rep.  She was super nice, well spoken, and we talked a lot about hiking, and how of course it can be dangerous, but how sometimes you get really lucky and hiking goes from being a hassle to a pleasant journey.  And I do love when people tell me that hiking is dangerous, and I tell them that it’s not when people like them pick me up.

I had a dentist appointment Thursday afternoon, slated to be the last of 5 since April.  Of course, despite (or maybe because of) the more or less fantastic day that I was having, something was bound to go wrong.  The appointment was to fill cavities in my back molars; the dentist made the contact between teeth too tight and couldn’t fit floss through, so was using a tiny saw to create that gap when something went horribly wrong and he cut the corner of my mouth open.  We’re not talking a minor scratch here; he was actually talking about having to put a stitch in it before he sat me upright and it stopped bleeding.  And so, visit #5 turned into visit #6 the following morning, for him to take out and redo the fillings he’d done Thursday.  Dude is nice and all, but I really hope not to see him again until I’m about to leave Namibia. 

Friday night I got to hang out with a couple other group 30ers, which was really nice, and then on Saturday morning we left Windhoek to hike to Swakopmund to cheer on the people running the Lucky Star Marathon.  As it turned out, we didn’t actually make it in time to Swakop to catch the end of the marathon, but it was nice to hang out with people after the fact.  I ate sushi (sans mayo!), and saw some people that I hadn’t seen in a while.  (As an aside, congrats to all the PC/Nam PVCs that finished the half and full marathon!!!)

We fit 13 people in a 6-person bungalow, so needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep, as I was sharing a twin bed with another volunteer.  Around 6 am Sunday morning some other people got up to try to catch a bus they knew was going to Windhoek, and since I was awake, I got up too, figuring a free ride to Windhoek is a free ride to Windhoek (I have to pass through Windhoek to get to Gobabis).  Turns out said ride was a bus of learners who’d run in the marathon (all boys).  We managed, after some finagling, to get some seats on the bus, but it was smelly, slow, and broke down about 2 hours into the journey, between towns. It happened to break down across the road from a pack (?) of giraffe, so that was cool, but the matter at hand  was that we were broken down in between towns, with no new bus in sight, so 3 of us decided to get on the side of the road and start hiking again. In the end, we managed 2 really nice hikes to Windhoek, one with an owner of Safari Hotels, 2 swanky hotels in Windhoek.  Once we got to Windhoek, my luck ran out, and I stood on the road trying to get a hike for an hour (and, mind you, I was already sunburned from the weekend, and Namibia’s getting HOOOOOT).  Finally, I decided to take a hike to the airport, it’s between Windhoek and Gobabis, and hoped that I’d get a hike from the airport.  Got a hike with a super nice dude who actually gave me a little cash (since I’d mentioned my cash flow issues this month) and asked me to sms when I got a lift to Gobabis (since I’d expressed my concern at being stuck at the airport).  I ended up getting a lift not even 5 minutes later with a lorry, super nice driver, being able to make conversation, however simple, really makes the time go fast. Good thing, too, since he didn’t drive over 95 kph (about 60 mph).  And so, 10 hours after leaving Swakop, I was home sweet home. 

In America, if you’re a teacher and you miss school, the school gets a substitute.  Here, unless you pull a lot of strings, my classes just go unsupervised if I miss school.  I gave another teacher some things to give my grade 6 class to do while I was gone, but really, it’s easier to just pick up where I left off after a couple days than it is even to have to go over work left for them to do while I’m gone.  Regardless, my learners gave me their reactions to the assignments I left (Miss, I didn’t understand these maths) this morning when they saw me.  

One of the things I gave them to do was a reading passage about Mozart (but written for kids, stop groaning) and reading comprehension questions.  One of my goals this year, in addition to surviving it, is to expose my learners to things that they’ve never been exposed to.  Things like… classical music.  Today, we read the passage, we looked at his 18^th century portrait, we talked about him…  but tomorrow? Tomorrow  I play Mozart for them.  And it’s true that some of them will love it, some will hate it, but at least they can say that once, they heard it. They’ve been exposed.   

The weekend left me sunburned.  Some of my learners have apparently never seen a sunburned white person before. They said, “Miss, you are pink!” and “Miss, what happened here??” One even asked me what I was wearing under my dress (in reference to my pink upper chest) and when I told her it was just my skin, she just stared at me. I also suspect that she may have been dropped on her head as a small child, but it’s hard to say. :) 

I'm still finding immense pleasure in listening to my learners speak.  Of course, their English isn't perfect, but, in the spirit of small victories, I'm still celebrating every time I hear a learner say, "Miss, that boy stole my pen" instead of "That boy steal my pen," or "But Miss, I swept the classroom on Friday" instead of "Miss, I sweep Friday."  This week: we're working on go vs. went.  Baby steps!

In the next 2 weeks, I have to finish teaching everything require on the syllabus, and the following weeks are for “revision” (reviewing), then the learners take the end of year exams.  I’m feeling a bit anxious, about finishing everything on time, about the exams, and about my journey to America in December.  It seems so far away, but in terms of all the things I have to do before I leave, it’s really right around the corner. 

Lastly, today I reached a maximum tolerance level for the people in Gobabis who call me  /nûs – literally, white lady.  In the north, most volunteers are the only white people in their villages/towns. Here, Gobabis is full of other white people.  Why must people yell  /nûs at me???  In America, I wouldn’t say “Hey, black guy!” or “Hey, biracial guy!” While I understand I’m not in Kansas anymore, come on! Really? Here it’s acceptable to call someone  /nûs if you don’t know their name (apparently), but even a year+ into service, I’m still not totally ok with it. 

Lastly, after some visits with my friend’s son Vija, who is in pre-primary at the school near my house, I’m convinced that English education from the start is absolutely the way to go.  But that’s for another post.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re well!!! Thanks for reading. :)

And, as always, I do appreciate your updates…. Even if don’t respond to them.