chez will & the view from my house

the first picture is the view of the school. that is the the boys hostel on the left, the dining hall in the middle and the girls farther off on the right. you can barely see it, but uandara's house is directly to the right. the second shot is of my flat -- it's actually a duplex, my entrance is the one obscured by the wall. generally there are kids kicking a ball around outside or running around.

notes towards an understanding of herero couture

According to Lonely Planet “Namibia generally has a conservative dress code.” This is an understatement. In Otjituuo the population is overwhelmingly Herero who have a specific code of dress, a style as it’s been for at least the past hundred years. This is an intensely complicated subject. One could literally write an entire sociological thesis specifically on Otjiherero couture.

Let’s start with the women as their dress is possibly the most famous in Namibia. It is composed of a full-length pleated dress made of cotton. Some have patterns or are made like a quilt of various patches. The outer dress is worn over dozens of petticoats. The effect is to emphasize the curves and bigger is better. This tendency does make riding in the back of a combie in between two older Herero women somewhat physically overwhelming, let me make that enveloping, as these outfits were not designed for comfort, yours or your neighbors.

The cut of the dresses is identical and old-fashioned. This stems from there being one real place to get Herero dresses and that is “Busy Hands” in Okakarara. Like the cut, the patterns are all very traditional and are holdovers from the 19th century. Aside from the dress a doily-like scarf is worn over the shoulders. Finally the piece de résistance is the headpiece, the otjikoha, with the two prongs meant to resemble a cow’s horns. The Herero have always been a herding people and cows are still a central part of life here -- a symbol of a man’s wealth and form a womans dowry. This fashion nod is merely a recognition of their importance to the culture. The otjikoha is made of the same fabric as the dress and is tied in a specific way like a turban and held by a brooch. I will say that it does serve a purpose in that women often carry things on their head and thus it serves to balance loads placed there.

To complete the picture of feminine identity you have to understand there is a specific gait that women adopt, it’s something between a hobble and a slow waddle, not sure about the mechanics underneath all those petticoats but I think it’s probably the only way you can walk without falling down. When the woman are not walking they sit in groups in a shady spot under a tree or beside the school buildings. When they are seated they tuck their feet in allowing the dress to flow out around them. I’d say the diameter of the circle that the dress takes up is about five feet. Women are expected to sit on the ground, so you’ll see at events that the women are in their own area, perched on the ground while the men will sit on chairs secluded from the rest of the children and females.

The “traditional” style dates from European colonizers who brought Victorian fashion with them. Before which the dress was even more basic. Nowadays the only tribe that still wears pre-European clothing are the Ovahimba who live west of here. The men and women wear simple loin clothes, even when they are in cities. The volunteers there claim it is very strange to be in a shop waiting in line behind a topless and well-endowed Ovahimba woman. Then again, women in Namibia will often cup each others breasts while speaking which also kinda freaks out the Americans. In Otjituuo only small children wear the loincloth.

Herero men and women who live in cities generally don’t wear the “traditional” clothing unless they are attending a funeral or other event. Whereas in the villages it is an everyday thing. (Interesting side note: on Independence Day everyone working at the SPAR grocery store was wearing their respective traditional dress which was one of the more surreal moments of my service here). The men’s dress is equally European and antiquated. There are two distinct forms it might take. There is a tailored suit which again has an old European cut to it, like something out of a period drama. The men wear a fedora and also carry what another volunteer has called a “Herero man stick” which is a good way of describing it. It is a walking stick for which there is a particular way of walking while leaning back that causes the stick to swing back and forth. I can’t really imitate it even though I see it all the day. The boys at the hostel like to make their own man sticks and do the walk, which is particularly funny to see five-year-olds trying to practice their swagger. I should also mention that the stick is not merely a fashion statement, it is also a herding implement (its original purpose) and serves much the same purpose in disciplining pupils at Otjituuo PS. I guess all in all it is uniquely a cultural symbol for the Herero.

I have also had occasion to see another form of dress for the men. This is only reserved for special occasions whereas the foregoing clothing is worn everyday. I’ve had two occasions to see this form of dress: the first time was when many people were in town on their way for a Herero meeting at Okakarara about seeking reparations for the 1904 genocide. It is indeed ironic that the dress for such occasions is a military uniform complete with epaulets and gold braiding modeled on German uniforms from the nineteenth century. This is supplemented by hides or skins of animals which may be worn across the back like a cape or as a cap. The fact that these men who are not themselves veterans wearing military clothing reminds me in a way of the custom in the southern US of hereditary titles dating from the Civil War (e.g. Colonel Sanders).

9am onwards

I generally teach 4-5 classes a day – I am responsible for only two promotional classes, namely Maths and English for grade 6 which has 51 learners.  Beyond the sheer size there is a remarkably different range of competencies and ages.  I have 9 year-olds as well as 14 year-olds in the same overcrowded class.  So far I have been pretty unhappy with my English classes, both because of my inability to teach them much and the difficulty of teaching kids for 40 minutes in a language that no one speaks outside the classroom.  Not only that but according to the syllabus we’re supposed to focus on developing conversational skills not necessarily grammar rules, but when you have 51 kids it’s tough to turn it over to have them talk among themselves.  

Maths is better and a lot easier to teach.  I think we’ve made some strides this term but I still have problems with learners making mistakes that are from not concentrating on what they are doing.  There is also a pronounced tendency to simply write a number without actually thinking about the problem just to have something to show.  I check homework everyday but beyond taking about ten minutes during which I have the kids work on a problem or some exercise from the book I see some learners whose answers are completely wrong.  There is also a lot of focus on copying by rote but that’s where the work stops.  Learners are not used to having to think for themselves, I don’t know how to develop their creativity, it’s startling that after I explain something like making a picture where I want them to show what is important to them and giving them examples of different things they could draw I get exact copies of what is important to them, including many well-copied pictures with the state of North Carolina and the Peace Corps logo.  

I choose to focus on my better learners who are definitely getting something out of my classes.  I approach the challenge like a field doctor approaches triage – there are some cases that I cannot really deal with in my class, if the learners are causing a problem and do not want to learn there is little I can do but try to minimize their disturbance by sending them out of class or to talk to the principal.  The learners still don’t really take me seriously because I don’t practice corporal punishment or even pinch them.  I’ve realized that when I give them guilt trips about doing their homework it’s mostly for my benefit.  

I have to fill in for Religious and Moral education for grades 5, 6, and 7.  I also do Basic Information Science for grades 6 and 7.  Those classes are generally used by teachers to mark exams or are literally free time for the kids. Although there is a syllabus it isn’t taken seriously as there’s no exam. I have been using them variously.  Because I only see the grade 5 learners once a week I am still stared at like an alien and the kids have only one year of English so it’s pretty hard to try and teach much of anything.  I have them type on the computers, play card games, do word searches and other puzzles I come up with. For the grade 6 class I usually will have them work on whatever homework I’ve given them and then help them personally, something I can’t do during a normal class.  The grade 7 I still have yet to come up with a good way of dealing with.

After Grade 7 BIS becomes Life Skills which I taught during Model School.  Life Skills is a holdover from South African rule and includes topics like personal hygiene, health, sexual development and other classes that we don’t really treat in a regular manner in the US.  I think it’s actually a great class and it’s too bad that we don’t have it here at Otjituuo.  I think that these personal issues are left for the Matrons to deal with and they’re too overwhelmed by the kids to really do the kind of parenting that the kids need.  I’m not sure if you understand that these are kids who see their parents 2-3 months a year, most are the sons and daughters of workers on commercial farms spread out across Otjozondjupa region.  Because they don’t have transportation they walk to these farms which might be as far away as 20km.  Many are dropped off at school  by the Boer farmers who will drive in with 20 or so kids from a farm.  Many of the boers are responsible for paying the meager school fees that Otjituuo charges (about US$13 a year).  The idea of parent involvement is unheard of here in Otjituuo, which presents a problem as far as discipline.  What discipline there is is corporal even though it’s outlawed – the parents just want the staff to beat the kids but I’m still wary of that even if there are times when I lose it with my learners.  What this lack of influence does do for the kids is create a self-reliance and unique maturity, like these kids are able to fend for themselves when they need to travel long distances, even at very young ages.  There are two Owambo girls in my Grade 6 class who travel by hiking to Oshakati in the far north.  The school situation there is even worse and so these girls come to Otjituuo where they don’t speak the same language and have to travel 5 hours to get home.  The principal will take them as far as the gas station in Grootfontein and then they’re on their own.  In terms of the US that’s like dropping two eleven-year-old girls at a Greyhound bus terminal in Los Angeles and them traveling to San Francisco.  But it works.  They are also able to watch over other even younger kids.  I don’t many parents would entrust a 1 year old to a 9-year-old babysitter but I see that all the time here.  

In my off periods I usually make copies for other classes or write emails.  Although the school has internet, the NGO that runs it, a Finnish organization called SchoolNet, is also used by 300 or so other schools across Namibia and the slowdown in bandwidth is definitely noticibale as the day goes on.  By 11Am it’s barely worth trying to login to Gmail, even without images because it is so slow or the connection just goes out while you are trying to load a new page.  I don’t know how many times I have lost entire emails or blog postings.  It can be very very frustrating.  School is over at 1PM, after 8 periods, except on Fridays when we only have 7.  In the afternoons I generally make myself lunch which consists of a tuna fish or PB&J sandwich or an omelette. I think I neglected to mention that my breakfast consists of muesli and yogurt as well as a huge cup of coffee that I nurse throughout the day.  In the afternoons I will read and prepare lessons or mark.  I also open the computer room to my best learners a few days a week, first going over their math or English homework with them.  There are four Pentium II IBM Aptiva machines that were donated by the SanLam insurance company which the previous volunteer loaded with a Super Ninetendo emulator that the kids like to use.  To my dismay they play the kind of non-rewarding video games that I favored as a kid and not the ones I try to steer them to (Aladdin and The Lion King).  I didn’t use to think that seeing violent movies and video games caused people to mimic the behavior but I can’t help but seeing that the mindless street fighting that they are doing on the screen is influencing the beatings that the kids inflict on each other on the hostel grounds.  It’s never anything serious, although I did see a girl with a pretty nasty cut that she told me had been given to her by another girl cutting her.  One thing I want to do is get a hold of some childrens movies (animated Disney stuff) to show the kids on weekends when there are movies at the hostel so that they are not just watching some BS action or karate movie.

Around 6:30pm I go running each night on the dirt road to Okakarara, these days I have to double back halfway there as the river that normally is ford-able has completely overwhelmed the road (I am told Otjituuo hasn’t seen rains like this since ’74).  I make quite a sight for the children that live in the village, what with my headband and long hair I look like one of the Royal Tenenbaums, and certainly the first white person they’ve ever seen, let alone running.   At first being trailed by dozens of village kids running without shoes, shirts or even pants was like some inspirational Nike ad but these days it’s kinda annoying.  The kids are obviously totally enjoying every second as it’s the most that’s happened all afternoon, but when I’m trying to give cows, goats, the occasional speeding bakke the slip I’m not in the mood for the little ones yelling “Otjirumbu!” which means “white ghost.”  When I clear the village the scenery is definitely picturesque.  The road dips about 2km out of the village which is where one of the local farms called Okomunbunde is located.  It’s also where people like to smoke weed and go swimming in the river.  It’s that time of night when the sun is just going down and it’s actually cool enough to be outside.  I have seen some amazing sunsets, the sky is truly different here, I’m not sure if it’s the southern hemisphere or Africa.  Sometimes it’s purple, other nights it’s red orange and blue all at once.  It’s the aw-shucks moment of the day.

When I get home I will take a shower and cook up something for dinner or eat whatever my counterpart/neighbor Motata Uandara (or to be more accurate his “girl”) has cooked up.  In that case it will usually be a piece of goat meat that has been slow cooked with barbeque spice and onions over a hotplate for a couple hours along with pap, aka mealies, aka oruhere, what we call porridge made up of maize meal eaten with sour milk (omaere).  There is actually a wide range of milk products ranging from delicious (oshitaku – kinda like a yogurt smoothie) to disgusting (ohambeya, an alcoholic sour milk).  If I’m cooking for myself I have been known to vary widely, it is indeed a blessing to have the Peace corps Namibia cook book.  So far I’ve made delicious lasagne, an ok Pad Thai, many different stir fries, lots of salad, and even fried chicken on occassoin.  My supervisor really likes “American boy” food like hamburgers so I will indulge him but ever since we slaughtered a goat in February I’ve kinda had this aversion to red meat, don’t know why.

At 8:30 it’s time for popcorn and watching Namibia’s national “soapie” When You Are Mine at Uandara’s.  The first time I saw it on NBC (not the American one) I really didn’t get it.  But during community-based training in Otjimbingwe it sunk in for me, the genius of it all, and became a nightly tradition.  Now a devoted watcher I am generally upset if I can’t make it on a weeknight.  Luckily if you miss an episode NBC shows repeats of all the episodes for the week on Sunday morning.  To those that still ridicule it, I will say that if you are embarking on a 4 hour hike to Windhoek, I know I instantly have something in common with my seatmate if I say “Oh, that Paloma…”

By 9:00pm I’m getting pretty sleepy.  By 10:00 I’m usually asleep or I’ll be regretting it the next day.  

the early part, 6AM-9AM

Day begins early here. A few hours before the crack of dawn a learner beats on a steel hoop usually around 5AM give or take 20 minutes. I will wake only long enough to realize I don’t need to get up and enjoy the pleasure of my little temple of sleep -- all ensconced in my mosquito netting like a princess. At 6:00 my alarm goes off and I have to thread a hand through to snooze it for a bit. The net is effective but I use it more to ward off other bug landings, such as when moths arrive in vast numbers, like some ancient pestilence out of the Bible. I do get quite a bit of mosquito bites, especially on my feet and ankles. I have even gotten bitten on the palm which is disquieting.
At 6:45 I’m at school (a two-minute walk away). My principal likes to have the staff meet in the morning but it’s mostly small talk in Otjiherero so I sometimes go check email or make copies. We have assembly outside on Mondays and Thursdays – the learners stand in lines by grade and gender, recite the Lord’s Prayer by rote and the principal might say something to some learners about absences or leaving the hostel grounds. Around 7AM class starts. I am responsible for the Grade 6 class which has 51 learners. The classes are forty minutes long and periods are marked by the clanging of a learner beating on an iron tire rim.
At 9:00AM we have a thirty minute break – the kids are given a snack, usually bread with jam and can buy “fat cakes” which are like hush puppies except the size of a fist. The three female matrons, who ostensibly take care of the 400+ learners, usually hang out near my flat with these for 50 Namibian cents which is worth about a dime. I guess I’ve just gotten used to it but the image is kinda surreal. The heat is serious, and they’re wearing this elaborately constructed outfit with a dozen petticoats and traditional cow-horn headdress, laying lengthwise on the ground.
Meanwhile the kids also run side hustles selling “sweets” and I have to stop them from this in class. Even worse than the little wrapped candies is the trade in straight sugar which runs about 10 cents for a miniature cupworth. The kids sequester this in pockets, a la Napoleon Dynamite for later consumption. Sometimes when I catch them I make them eat it all at once. Some of the learners think that they’ve gotten away by destroying the evidence except that they’ve got it all over their face.
Learners will tell me with a straight face that they haven’t touched my chalk when they’re got chalk all over their lips. (“Teacher, I didn’t eat the chalk,” Will: “Kungeri, you have chalk all over your face.”) I also have a recurring problem with learners eating the margins from handouts. I’ve had days where after giving kids time to work on a sheet all class I collect ones who have any picture colored in and the margins eaten away, but with nothing in the way of actual answers. It was nice to hear that other teachers had exactly the same experience. Not sure how I’m going to get them to stop eating the paper as they are fed nicely at the hostel (I will often eat lunch in the dining hall).

Namblish Survival Guide

This is meant to illustrate some of the quirks I’ve observed so far in communicating in Namibia’s official language. Here are some of the more commonly used phrases and Namblishisms:

Nay – This appended to the end of a sentence indicates a question, as in “This is poisonous, nay?” but more often used as a way of seeking understanding, as in

Volunteer # 1: “So I got a hike in a donkey cart, nay.”
Volunteer # 2: Mmmmn.

Volunteer #2 has politely showed he’s listening. It’s rude if you listen quietly, a guttural mmmn is infinitely better than “oh” or “really” which is it’s closest approximation in English. If the story were meant to astound volunteer # 2, the more expansive “IS it” would be better.

Volunteer # 1: “So I ate a donkey today.”
Volunteer # 2 : “IS it.”

However, it can just indicate that the person isn’t really listening to what you’re saying. It’s that universal. A lot of volunteers use this one – it’s actually the name of the Peace Corps newsletter here – but I find it annoying when speaking to another American. I mentioned in my email about the difference between an American conception of “now” and its interpretation here in Namibia. Upon further study I’ve concluded it lacks any temporal significance. It’s just a polite thing to calm Americans. I prefer to stick to the guttural, non-verbal communication which I’m actually pretty good at. The other one that springs to mind is the habit of learners to make a pig snort sound which is actually not funny here, it’s just a way of clearing your throat. I will briefly list some of the funny learner phrases:

“TEACHER, THIS ONE HE IS BEATING ME!” This I hear all the time. With equal frequency it’s actually a girl doing the beating, but because there's no gender for pronouns in Otjiherero the kids don’t really use he/she appropriately. The girls are also a lot bigger than the boys on average and they do beat on the boys a fair bit of the time.

“Borrow me a pen” – this is easily explained as lend and borrow are the same word in Afrikaans. There’s also the Britishisms (South Africa took over after Germany was defeated in WWI), cars have bonnets and drive on the left side of the tar road. At school writing a test is what the learners do while teachers are invigilating. Too much of this will cause learners to complain that “my head, it is paining.”

Acronymnastics

This might just be a NGO thing but you find yourself uttering endlessly abbreviated sentences like this “So the APCD* emailed me to say that PCVs shouldn’t be working with OVCs because he’s worried I’ll ET before our COS date. I already turned in my CAS marks to the HOD and the PCMO is ok with it. I have a bunch of HCNs onboard as well as the TRC and an FBO. I said, what do you think I am a PCT?!”

*APCD = Associate Peace Corps Director
PCV = Peace Corps Volunteer
OVC = Orphans and Vulnerable Children
ET = Early Termination
COS = Completion of Service
CAS = Continuous Assessment
HOD = Head of Department
PCMO = Peace Corps Medical Officer
HCN = Host Country National
TRC = Teacher Resource Center
FBO = Faith-Based Organization
PCT = Peace Corps Trainnee

animalia

animalia