Friday, February 08, 2008

A week... and some months

After a two-month hiatus from PC life, I’m back in Namibia, at a new site and taking on a new job. A lot has happened over the past two months, and while I don’t intend on detailing everything, I thought a smattering of thoughts and photos would be a good way to start off the blogging of 2008. So, here are the past few months, in a nutshell…:

November – December:

• I had a few farewell parties before I left Omaruru. My TRC farewell came complete with a drama that starred one of my colleagues acting as me, running around the office barefoot drinking a juice box and speaking fast Namlish. I never knew I was so easily impersonated. I also had a farewell with my grade 3 English class, which entailed lots of singing and dancing and cookies. A truly perfect day.

Grade 3's, Omaruru


My final farewell party was with some friends and colleagues at my house. And what is a Namibian farewell without a goat slaughter, right? The hostel kids try to act so tough, like “city” kids, but lay an animal carcass in front of them and they go crazy: arms elbow-deep in the body cavity, sifting through organs and intestines like pros.



Dinner, Omaruru




• I participated in the Pre-Service Training for Group 27, who arrived in November 2007. It was really interesting to see my two years come around full circle. As I listened to the trainees voice their questions and anxieties and hopes for the next two years, I was surprised at how clearly I remembered feeling the same way just two years ago. Whether fun or not, time really does fly.

• From mid-November til mid-December, I backpacked overland with two good PC friends. To briefly recap... We began by hitchhiking north through Namibia’s Caprivi Region to Victoria Falls in Livingston, Zambia. After a few fun-filled days (and lots of cheap Chinese takeout; comfort food found throughout Africa) at the falls, we took a bus to Lusaka, the capital city, followed the next day by another, more… tumultuous bus ride to Chipata, the border town. We stopped in Chipata for a few days before heading to the lovely Cape Maclear, Malawi. We spent almost a week at Cape Maclear, hanging out on the great Lake Malawi and resting up on the beach before boarding the Ihlala Ferry, which took us on a very unique three day journey up Lake Malawi, to Nkhata Bay. After a few days with the Rastafarians at Nkhata Bay, we headed further north, crossing the border into Tanzania where we spent only one day at Mbeya, eating more Chinese takeout and waiting for the train to arrive. From there, we took the train (either 2 or 3 days… I can’t remember) over to Dar es Salaam, the capital city of Tanzania.

Victoria Falls, Zambia side

Throwing kids, Lake Malawi

Ilala Ferry, Nhkata Bay


Having done a bit of research in Mbeya, we decided it was best to hurry over to the airport immediately upon arriving in Dar, so as to a) avoid the chaos of the capital city, and b) hop on a quick and inexpensive flight over to the island of Zanzibar. (Point of note: if anyone is considering this trip, do check the prices. When we went, a flight from Dar to Zanzibar was just about the same price as the ferry ride over, not to mention 3hrs shorter). On Zanzibar we stayed just outside of Stone Town in an area the locals call “BuBuBu.” We spent a few days on the white beaches of Zanzibar, eating cheap street food and practicing Swahili, before the three of us boarded our transatlantic flights back to America, just in time for the holidays. It was an unforgettable trip, but not for the faint at heart. This way of traveling is definitely a great way to see the countries and move around with the locals and mingle with the diverse crowd of individuals who travel through Africa, but it is exhausting and can be risky, and while I had a great time, I would never travel this way through Africa again. If any of you and interested in trying, heed this advice: rent your own car.

Volleyball, Cape Maclear

Women collecting shellfish, Zanzibar

The weary travelers, somewhere


• To get to America from Zanzibar, I had to take FIVE flights (a total of 37 flying hours mixed in with a few layovers here and there), and found myself being hassled by airport officials throughout my travels. Upon landing in the states, the customs officials seemed unnerved at the sight of my over-stamped passport, my WHO card filled with immunizations, and my raggedy appearance. So they confiscated my carry-on peanut butter. “Better safe than sorry,” they told me. Seriously?

• When I was home, while in the midst of a classic Midwestern winter, many people commented on how tan I looked.

• I saw Van Morrison perform live in Minneapolis. Hard to top that.

• One of our presents from Santa this year was Green Bay Packer tickets, so my family and I made the trek up to lovely Lambeau Field for the Packers vs. Lions game on December 28. It was cold, but not cold enough (for Wisconsin-ites anyway) to pass on the chance to see Brett Favre in action. And also to cheer for our "friend" Mason.

Frozen Tundra, Green Bay



January 2008:
• I discovered YouTube. And wasted many hours trying to catch up.

• Campaign fever seemed to be affecting everyone in the states, and on a spur of the moment decision, two friends and my mother and my mother’s friend and I all decided to road trip down to Lansing, Iowa for the caucus. It was like a Civics lesson come alive, and let me tell you, if you weren’t an Obama supporter before that night—after sitting in this room in small-town America, listening to first time voters and union people and old, old farmers talk about their fathers who worked in steel mills and their own lives through the depression and the world wars, and to hear them all talk about how this is the time for change—by the end of the night, everyone was displaying their ‘Obama 08’ stickers proudly.

Joe Biden's brother caucusing, Iowa


• I went ice fishing with my brother. It was a first for me, and much more enjoyable than I had anticipated. Though quite cold.

• I bought 14 new books while I was home. So far I’ve read 4.

• Upon returning to Namibia, I took on a new job as a Gender and Development (GAD) Assistant/Peace Corps Volunteer Leader (PCVL), and I moved to a new city. I am now living on a traditional homestead with an Owambo family in Ondangwa, the far north of Namibia, and I work out of the regional Peace Corps office. My homestead is about a 20-30 minute walk—on winding, sandy paths, through pokey bushes and random streams and cattle and oshanas and mahangu fields—from town into the bush. There are about 172 paths one can take from my homestead to the town, and every time I walk to town, I attempt to take a different way so as to better acquaint myself with my new “neighborhood.” I get lost a lot.

My homestead, Ondangwa


• When I returned to Namibia, and it’s scorching-desert summer, my friends and colleagues were shocked at how white I was.

• My current living situation is the embodiment of the dichotomy that is life in Namibia. While Ondangwa is at least three times the population of Omaruru, complete with 3 grocery stores, a few clothing stores and even a KFC, my homestead has no plumbing (only an outdoor tap and pit latrine), and infrequent, unpredictable electricity.

• S.I. !Gobs only passed 8 out of 97 grade 12 learners in 2007.

• Since the name ‘Caitlin’ sort of sounds like ‘Catherine,’ and the Oshiwambo translation of the name ‘Catherine’ is ‘Catrina,’ most of my Owambo friends and colleagues have always referred to me as Catrina. The only difference in Owamboland is that, as you may guess, since pretty much everyone is Owambo, everyone calls me Catrina. This is further aided by the fact that my family hosted a Peace Corps Volunteer a few years ago whose name was also Catrina (or some variation). So not only do they call me Catrina, but so do numerous people in town who see me and figure that the old Catrina has returned (people constantly tell me that we look alike, but that could mean nothing more than that we’re both white and both female). And since I respond when anyone hollers out: “Catrina! Wu uhala po, meme!” we’re all just rolling with it.

• While I do like my new site and my family, I miss Omaruru more than I expected to.

• The northern regions of Namibia have been experiencing horrible flooding due to excessive rain fall over the past few weeks. The flooding covers over 450 square miles, and has taken out bridges and roads throughout Owamboland. People drown daily, and the rain continues to fall. According to The Namibian, 44 primary schools have stopped classes with an additional 37 schools affected because children cannot wade through the high waters, and 4000 heads of cattle and 1800 goats have been killed. Some homes and business are entirely under water, and thousands of people have been flooded into their villages, unable to leave to buy food and necessary supplies. After two years without a drop of rain, this devastating downpour as of late seems almost biblical.

• My 60-year old meme doesn’t speak any English. As I’m still fumbling to become conversational in Oshindonga, exchanges between the two of us usually don’t go much further than: “Hello. How are you? I am fine. How was your day? Mine was fine, I was at the school. It is very hot/rainy. Let’s go watch television.” Every night, my two sisters and my meme and I (and usually some random cousins and nieces and aunties and friends and dogs I’ve never seen before) sit down to watch Second Chance—El Cuerpo del Deseo—our twice-dubbed Spanish soap-opera. It’s quite intense, complete with overly-dramatic facial expressions and thunderous, consequential music; features which do not require a 1st language knowledge of English to understand. Every night after Second Chance we watch WWE-Smackdown-Raw-Wrestle Mania, or whatever it’s called. While my meme enjoys El Cuerpo del Deseo like the rest of us, American WWE is her absolute favorite show. So our evening bonding consists of Spanish melodramas followed by quality time with the Undertaker, Rick Flair and Batista.

• I ate a frog last week. Intentionally.

• Living in the north of Namibia is like living in a different country, and while I do miss Omaruru, I am happy to move away from the strong legacy of apartheid that permeates the south of this country.

• I had a snake in my house the first week I was living there. I’d been keeping my doors open during the days so that my host family felt comfortable entering. Then one day, I saw something slithering out of the corner of my eye, and sure enough, it was a long, thing, green and yellow monster. Now, while I do pride myself on overcoming my fears of any sort of bug or lizard or rodent, snakes are something I just haven’t warmed to. As soon as I saw it slithering along my floor, I began screaming, “Snake! Snake!” My 13-year old host sister ran in, rock in hand, and proceeded to smash the snake to pieces. “I don’t like snakes,” I told her afterwards, trying to explain my cowardice. “Me neither!” she exclaimed. “I don’t like them at all. Not even a little. I’m also very afraid. Very afraid.” Funny… our “very afraids” look very different. And when I told my meme about the snake, she too expressed her deep fear of snakes. In fact, once word of the snake had spread, everyone in my family came by my house to talk about it and to share their own snake-anxieties. “It’s my greatest fear, Catrina,” said my auntie. However, since the snake, I’ve been vigilant about quickly closing my door behind me, yet I’ve noticed that my family continues to leave their doors open, even after nightfall, which tells me that either their lying about their snake-phobias, or my host family is much tougher than I am. I’m going to guess it’s the latter.

So I guess that’s about all. I’m still working on getting into a routine at my new site, but I’m hopeful that this will be another rewarding year. I hope everyone is well, including my friends from Nam25 who are in the process of settling back into life stateside. Namibia misses you! Take care, stay in touch. Kala po nawa!

Sunset behind my school, Ondangwa

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home