for the kids

I once met a woman in a taxi who said she was “addicted” to meat. Apparently she was in America (Las Vegas) and couldn’t find meat.
“I started to feel weak. I couldn’t concentrate. My colleagues asked what was wrong. I told them, ‘We have meat on the street.’ ”
“They didn’t believe me.” She told me. “When I got home I sent them photos of the kapanas*. They didn’t believe me.” Luckily enough she found a KFC (or “Kentucky” as it’s known here); she holed up in her room at the MGM Grand and was able to regain a bit of her equilibrium.

She has a point. In America fast food isn’t meat. Meat means a bone and fat. Hamburgers are not meat. Hamburgers are kids’ food. We tried to serve hamburgers at our host family appreciation day. It was a huge insult. We quickly had to go and get a goat to cook for the older men. Chicken and fish are vegetables. Most of the vegetarians in Peace Corps find their dietary restrictions are incomprehensible. Like saying I take baths in Coca-Cola (actually I once told a learner that to explain why I am white).

There aren’t any of your typical fast food restaurants here. Only KFC. You can get “fast food” here at SPAR and at gas stations. It’s called “Take-Aways.” This pre-made food is then warmed up in the microwave and consists of “chips” (french fries) and various schnitzels and portions of beef. Seldom will you see bread. It’s just not something that you eat with meat. I think a cheese steak wouldn’t count as meat. Kids’ food.

Thomas Friedman has pointed out that no two countries that have McDonald’s have ever fought a war. The Golden Arches seemingly confer some kind of pacific influence on host countries. Or it just means that at a certain level of industrial development (which is necessary to build up a population that can afford and desires McRib sandwiches) inhibits rulers from pursuing conflict as it would devastate that very same development. During the war of liberation South Africa had them. South West Africa not a one. Sixteen years later, still no diplomatic relations with Ronald McDonald. Namibia should move on. For the kids.

*kapanas are dried pieces of meat sold by memes (“may-mays”) wherever public transport buses stop. you get a hunk of oryx or kudu covered in onions for N$2, about 30 cents

ombwa wandje

I was bitten in the calf by a dog last week. The incident prompted the following.
[Will limps up to homestead]
Will: “Moro!”
Dog-owners: “E?”
Will: “Ombwa wandje!” [Will points at bleeding calf]
Dog-owners: “E?” [dog-owners start laughing]
[Will stomps off]
I later took the matter up with a fellow teacher whose “father is the brother of the father” of the woman who owns the dog. Apparently ever since his grandfather died things haven’t been the same.
“Now a woman runs the family. It’s not like in the old days. In the old days we would have killed the dog for biting. The next day we would kill the dog. It’s not like that anymore.” Mr. Tjiriange told me. I also learned that when I said “ombwa wandje” I actually said “my dog.”

My interactions with the non-school community are still fraught with difficulty. Babies still cry when they see me. Nowadays I will say something in Otjiherero which will confuse them even more. I’m not the only white Herero around Otjituuo anyways. I’m still getting used to being addressed from over 30 yards away. You need some lungs on you growing up around here. I still can’t get over some of the little ten-year old girl belting out something in rapid-fire Otjiherero to a distant figure on the horizon. One time I was in the middle of a lesson, literally writing at the chalk board. The door was open and I heard my name from afar. I could make out the principal on the other side of the school. A whole city block away. “Teacher is calling you,” one of the learners offered. I excused myself from class and made my way over to the principal. Turned out he wanted me to make sure that he had added up a row of numbers correctly.

I’ve been here long enough that I’d say I’m known, not “integrated.” Like between the five minutes of walking to the computer room, I’ll have attracted a retinue of at least ten kids. Some kids live really far away from school and can just sense that it’s go time. They are there within minutes. It reminds me of the way that prisoners in jail might communicate using signals. It really is uncanny. In another way that word is spread is in that there are no more “hellos” from females in the community after hours. I put the word out through Motata not to propose any more ladies on my behalf. I asked Jared about this. Jared is the previous volunteer. He now lives in Myanmar and can’t communicate because his emails are checked by the authorities there.

I hang out with the police sometimes. They are really competitive volleyball players. Here volleyball is regarded as a lot tougher than in the states. Our police force is going for vindication in Otjiwarongo for the district finals. Sometimes I can get a hike to town in the back of the police bakkie but recently it’s been in the shop (someone put in regular gas instead of diesel).

I would have to say that over all my shock value has experienced a marked decrease from my continual exposure. My recruiter told me that running around with an iPod wouldn’t be culturally sensitive. Maybe. But I can tell you that after weeks and weeks of seeing me I no longer attract a string of kids running behind me like some faux-inspirational Nike ad. I can’t even get a double take from old men sitting at a shop when I zoom by in the back of a pickup with a cow and some kids. I had started to take some pleasure in saying “boo!” when kids would stare while I tied my shoe on my front porch. There are some kids (who still wear a leather loincloth and nothing else) who live in the bush with their parents and haven’t seen me yet. I can still scare those kids.

excerpts from grade 6

The following are some excerpts from my Grade 6 English test. The prompt was to write their dreams for Namibia. Some of the learners, as evident from their writings took that literally as their actual “dreams” at night.

FYI, “tombo” is home-made beer that is sold around here. It’s usually served out of a plastic barrel that is stirred with a broom handle and comes in XL size pourers – the kind you’d use back home to measure liquids for a recipe. The cost is like N$10 for an afternoon and the better part of a night.

My dreams is about people in Namibia. The people like to kill other people. But am don like that. Also like to fighter every day. But when the people is fight I run away an don like to see people when they are fight. People in otjituuo they like to drink Beer. But in my life I want all Namibian people don not drink Beer. I want look America or German people are good people and America people like Mr. Will. Mr. Will is not drink Beer. Mr. Will is like to drink juice and sugar water.

Namibia is a big country the people do anything that they want to do in Namibia. Namibia have everything that they can do people drink tombo and smell with they mouth.

I dream about my country. The people fight them. The president of Namiiba his said all the police and take the guns and go and kill all the people in Namibia. Of all the police go in the pilot and start in the capital city and gone to other town or the villange and start to kill people. People are outside the police come with big stick and beat people are in the bar and people in the buy food and beat one woman they lose this soap on grownd.If the want to take the police come beat him than people are going to school. One police take him to the car was the big dog with big teeth and that boy are very very run away that dog the run very fast an that police killed that dog and the president said stop this to kill people and beat learners are goint to school.

I dream that I was in Africa. My dream for my country. I dream about flower that was too long that was in my country. It have pink rosess and Green rosess. It was too long look like Makalani tree but is not Makalani tree. I dream that I want my country to look nice. That have green houses and yellow houses. Then my sister call me and say Helena come I want to climb that tall tree and I say no my sister if you climb there the people will be agry with us and bit us And I also have a dream today that I was in the road to going to farm. Then the Black man come out of the big tree near the road. Then he call and say you child come hear and I say no. And the he say come and I say I don’t want what do I going to do there. And he start to run he want to kill me. The he take a big stick and want to bit then I wake up.

If I grow up I want to be rich. When I grow up I will go and find work to do. To buy for my mother the dress. I have a dream. When I grow up I want to go and buy for my sister and my brothers and my father. If I grow up I want to go and buy the new car. If I have my children I will buy for them the clothes. I want the country to nice. Our country must be clean always. We must not do Namibia to be dirty. Our country must not have the bottles and the papers and the plastic. When our teachers Say we must colet paper we must colet them. So that our country must not have dirty. Our country mmust always be clean. When another school are coming to our school our school must be clean. I have a dream. When another school are come they must say our school is very clean Please.