For now

I realize that I am likely the worst blogger in recent Peace Corps history, but now that I’ve subscribed to decent internet, I really have no excuse not to update more often.  That admission was probably a mistake, just don’t hound me too much, guys, ok?

It’s been three months since I arrived at site (I can’t believe it!) and I’m starting to get into a groove here in Grootfontein.  Work is still painfully slow, but for now I’m trying to get involved in any little project that I can just to fill up my week.  I work for the Ministry of Health, a state organization where a development volunteer doesn’t fit in too well.  I have little supervision, which I know I will appreciate later once I have projects to work on and the freedom to pursue those projects, but for now the lack of guidance is a bit frustrating.  The Red Cross has taken me under their wing a bit and I am so thankful they are here.  I’ve become involved with the HIV support group, the kid’s club (an after school program for orphans and vulnerable children), and the granny’s club (a program to teach guardians how to care for an HIV positive child) all at the Red Cross.  I’ve also hooked up with the HIV Coordinator for the Municipality and she and I have been working on HIV Awareness Week, which is coming up in two weeks.  I also recently did a speech about the link between alcohol abuse and HIV and TB for International Day Against Drug Abuse and Illegal Trafficking.  I don’t consider myself a very effective public speaker, but I think it went alright.  New experiences, right?

Next week is the second round of National Immunization Days, where we go out and immunize any child we can find for polio.  These kids get so many vaccinations, it’s crazy.  And they’re usually not too happy about it…

One of the kids being immunized for polio during outreach.

I think about back home, there’s no way a mother would let someone doing outreach just come up to her door and vaccinate her child.  With all of the discussion about vaccines triggering different genetic disorders, it feels like we’re forgetting why vaccines exist in the first place.  In the states, we can become detached from the infectious diseases that vaccines protect against because we don’t see them.  The reason we aren’t affected, though, is because of the vaccines we’re becoming skeptical of.  Namibia is almost considered “Polio free” by the WHO, but without this vaccine, there’s no way that will happen.  I guess being involved in immunization outreach has made all of this vaccine discussion much more relevant for me. 

When I first arrived in Grootfontein, at the end of the rainy season, everyone I met was warning me of how cold it gets here in the winter.  ”In June and July, you won’t be able to wear sandals and you’ll have to wear a heavy jacket every day!”  Oh, don’t worry, I would reply, I’m from the northwestern U.S., it’s cloudy all the time there and in the winter it even snows!  Well, I should have taken those warnings a bit more seriously.  It is absolutely FREEZING here!  I knew it would get cold, but I didn’t think about the fact that none of these buildings have adequate insulation or are heated.  My sleeping bag and I have become very well acquainted and getting out of bed in the morning is like pulling teeth.  I know I shouldn’t be saying this, but I can’t WAIT for summer!  (Someone remind me that I said that in about 4 months when I’m complaining about the relentless heat)

Two weeks ago I finally moved into my very own apartment in the nurses housing in town.  Though I have yet to get my stove or a proper bed, it’s wonderful to be on my own.  I can do what I want and go where I please without worrying about someone wondering where I am.  I can cook crazy vegetarian food without my host family looking at me like a crazy.  I can wake up when I want, go to sleep when I want.  The best part, however, are the WARM showers.  Glorious.  

Much to my surprise, I’ve seen some of my friends on more than one occasion during my first three months at site, when we’re supposed to be on lock-down.  One of these meetings was for the 4th of July, where around 30 Peace Corps Volunteers gathered in Rundu to celebrate the decidedly American holiday.  

So, somehow, Namibia has made me ambitiously crafty.  I don’t know, it must be all of the time I have on my hands, but for the celebration of the 4th, I decided to MAKE a piñata.  What better time than the 4th to cut and tape cardboard into the shape of a goat and cover it in red, white, and blue?  I had no concept of the tissue paper-cutting, papier-mâché madness that would ensue.  My bathroom was saturated in a flour/water/tissue paper paste and it looked like an American flag had blown up in my apartment for about a week until I could clean it all up.  However, by the end of it, I had a fully functional patriotic-goat piñata.  It went over well with the kids, some of whom had never seen a piñata before. 

Freedom Goat!

Freedom goat about to be pummeled

One week until Group 29 reconnect, where I will get to see some friends I haven’t seen since April, then my first vacation since I’ve been here!  Four of my buddies and I are venturing to Chobe National Park in Botswana and Victoria Falls from the Zambian side.  Very exciting.

I will leave you with AFS (Another F-ing Sunset, as we call them around here) and some adorable kiddos.

All my love.

Snapped on the drive back to Groot from the south.

Love.

I am now a certified Peace Corps Volunteer. Training group 29 swore in on Friday, April 17th. The ceremony was nice enough; it felt like any normal graduation ceremony minus my family in the front row trying to make the camera work, causing me to laugh hysterically during my speech. This time I made it through my speech just fine, though. I’m sure it helped that it was in Otjiherero, a language I have a very weak grasp on, and I really had little idea what I was saying or if my pronunciation was even close to accurate. According to some of the audience members, though, we really sounded good so I guess I faked it pretty well.  

Here are some pictures from swear-in.  Anika, my dear friend and Otjiherero partner in language/crime, seems to be in most of the pictures I post on here.  I thought I’d introduce her since you’ll be looking at her so much.

This is (from left to right) Benna, Anika, Me, and Richard, our Otjiherero language trainer.

These are some of the wonderful ladies in my training group at the ceremony

It was quite unpleasant saying goodbye to my fellow trainees. I consider myself a fairly independent person, but I’ve gone from having a support network of 20 other volunteers who I saw virtually every day for the past two months to being in a new town with no other PCVs and little work to do. Peace Corps has a policy that we are not allowed to leave site for the first three months we’re here, meaning that I won’t see many of the other volunteers until Reconnect sometime in July. Total drag.

The move to site was uneventful, save the nasty flu I came down with the night before, making me a little uneasy about spending five hours in a truck with precious few places to stop for the bathroom. My entire first weekend in Groot was spent in bed watching the first season of Weeds.

I won’t say I’m homesick, but some recent news about home has made me take pause and really examine what the hell I’m doing here. Peace Corps has always been something I’ve had in the back of my head that I wanted to do, but I was pretty passive about it. “Live in Africa for two years? Sure, why not? I can handle it.” Now, I feel as though I need to figure out why I want to be here and how the next two years will be better spent here than at home. I won’t come home early, that’s not what I’m saying. I just feel like I need to be a little clearer with myself about what I want out of the next two years. Something I probably should have figured out before I signed up, you say? Yes, you’re probably right.

I am really quite happy here, though. My days are spent meeting people and getting to know this town and my evenings are spent reading and writing. I met Celia, the new VSO in my town today. She’s English and will be working in the physical therapy department at the hospital. She’s very open to working on projects with me, which I appreciate, an once I move into the nurses home I’m sure we’ll hang out a lot more.

Totally random, but I have eaten more peanut butter in the last two months than I think I have in my whole life. I absolutely can’t get enough of it. It’s probably the drop in protein that’s causing my body to crave it like mad, but during training there were times where I ate peanut butter for every meal. I thought I’d be burned out by now, but I still want it all the time. Mmm, peanut butter sandwich…

Just today I received another wonderful care package from my mom. I’m laying in bed typing this, surrounded by candy and protein bars, Vanity Fair and Spin, glucosamine, Tapatio, and three glorious pounds of whole bean French roast. Damn, my family knows how to send a proper care package.

I’ve updated the blog with my mailing address, should you be inspired to compete with my mother (good luck…)

All my love.

I know, I know, it’s been way too long since I’ve updated this thing. I found out my permanent site, a town called Grootfontein, about 5 hours north of where I am now in Okahandja. That sounds fairly far away, but I’m actually one of the closer ones to Windhoek, the capitol. I spent last week in Grootfontein checking everything out and getting to know the staff where I’ll be working. I’m going to be doing community outreach for the Ministry of Health. Grootfontein is the health district capitol, so the area I’ll be covering is very large, basically like the size of a New England state. The town itself is very green relative to the rest of the country, which is nice, and is in the “mountainous” region in the central northeast. I was expecting mountains a little more dramatic than what I saw, they were just glorified hills. The town is mid-size for Namibia, around 22,000 people, but large for a Peace Corps placement. I have a grocery store with fresh vegetables and everything! I’m super spoiled. It also looks like I’m going to get set up with DSL once I move into my flat on the hospital property. The only thing that’s a bit frustrating is that there are five main languages spoken in the town: English, Afrikaans, Otjiwambo, Damara, and Otjiherero. So, though I’m learning Otjiherero, I’m probably going to be speaking mostly English because it’s one of the most common.

Last week I stayed with the same host family I’ll be living with for the first three months I’m at site. They were wonderful, much like the host family I have now, with two daughters, Fabiola and Magreth, who are 16 and 23, and a son, Turi, who is 10. Fabiola and Magreth were great tour guides, I know I’m going to appreciate their knowledge of Groot. They are also Hereros and, if I haven’t mentioned it before, Herero women have a very interesting style of traditional dress. Sitting at home bored one night, they insisted I try on one of their mother’s traditional Herero dresses. I’m reluctant to post this horrid picture of me in it, but it will at least give you a good idea of what the dress looks like and it’s the only picture I have of my new host family.

Seeing the state of primary healthcare at site was grim. During my week at the clinic, the first HIV counseling and testing I observed was a positive result, I saw hookworm in children at a farm school, and went into the bush chasing down TB defaulters. At first I was excited at the idea of being immersed in these diseases that I only studied in school, but I’m reluctant to be excited about a public health emergency and now I’m just motivated that I get to do some work. There really is so much to do in the community, I’m just concerned with my ability to affect change.

Life at home with my host family is great.  Mara and Congo give me lots of space (which I appreciate) and talk with me about African and American politics and sociology.  They are both so welcoming and open-minded – they already call me part of their family.  Mara told me last night that when I get married, I’d better invite her to my wedding.  I didn’t want to spoil it by telling her she would probably be waiting a while.  Mara bought me my first Namibian beer yesterday, a Windhoek Lager.  While we were sipping it on the porch, enjoying the weather during the planned power-outage in our neighborhood, we realized that we were both born on February 12^th.  She said, “Ah, nature has such a way of bringing people together!”

 Kenao, my host sister, might be the sweetest little girl I’ve ever met. She has been my shadow since I moved in and has been a wonderful language teacher.  We do the dishes together every night after dinner and she enunciates each item she’s drying slowly for me to repeat.  “O-tji-a-ha” (plate), “E-ko-pi” (cup), and so on.

I was able to show off my family to my fellow trainees on Saturday, when we had a Namibian-style cookout, or a Braai, at the training center.  Host families from the different languages (Afrikaans, Otjiherero, etc.) cooked traditional meals using traditional methods and we all gorged ourselves at the end.  Well, some of us did.  For me, it was more of a visual lesson on where meat really comes from.  I couldn’t watch the chicken slaughtering itself, but I saw them alive and then saw them headless and bloody two seconds later.  You’d think that would be the most graphic part of the whole thing.  It turns out that my people, the Herero, are huge meat-eaters and a specialty of theirs is something called, “smiley.”  It’s a fully cooked goat head, called as such because it smiles at you while it’s waiting to be eaten.  I think it was when I saw my language professor trying to get at the brain that I decided to fill up on bread and nothing else.  At least I wasn’t part of the group who eats dried worms.

This is a picture of me pounding corn to make maize, like a good vegetarian

Here is a smoky picture of Mara, Congo, Kenao and I. 

I find out my permanent site on Thursday, which is where I’ll be going for good after swearing-in on April 17^th.  Site announcements can’t come soon enough.  I’ve been so lucky with my host family, but this will be where I live for only two months.  The site is the place I have to be content with for two whole years.  It’s out of my hands now, I know, but I’m still nervous.  

 There are already things I miss about the states, though few and far between so far.  I ate my last Luna Bar yesterday – bad move.  Also, I didn’t realize how problematic finding brewed coffee would be here.  There are a few of us that are pretty much dead on our feet in the morning because of the caffeine withdrawals.  I’m jonesing for a French press, a grinder, and some Stumptown. 

Well, I’ll leave you with a photo of one of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen, snapped from my front porch last night. 

I’m here!  Staging feels like a month ago even though it’s only been a week.  I finally feel like I’m adjusted to the time and we’ve spent three whole days now without flying.  I keep waiting for panic to kick in once I realize that I’m here for two whole years, but I’m just excited.  I feel so lucky to be here and I’m having an amazing time.  I think Kyle was right; this job was made for me. 

The group is great.  There are 22 of us and we’re all HIV/Health extension trainees.  It’s nice to have a small group because we’ve all gotten to know each other fairly well in a short time.  We’re from all over the country, though I think California is representing pretty hard.  I’m surprised that I’m the one with the most Public Health experience – I was hoping for someone else to nerd out with.  This is the group at the Johannesburg airport.  We had been traveling for a LONG time, so excuse the haggard appearances.  If it looks like I was about to fall over, it’s because I was. 

Namibia is beautiful.  It helps that we came here during the greenest time of year.  It’s sunny and pleasant all day and then thunderstorms at night.  Wonderful.  I’ve seen beautiful birds and made friends with a 12 week old puppy the other day.  No big wildlife yet, but hopefully we’ll see baboons on the road to Windhoek next week.  I’d put up pictures of the huge bugs that I’ve seen, but they look tiny on camera.  I saw a beetle the size of my fist and a grasshopper-looking thing that was as big as my foot last night.  I swear it made eye-contact with me.  No big spiders, but I’ve been pretty good about the creepy-crawly stuff so far.  I killed a huge roach on my roommates bed this morning – I’ve been walking tall ever since. 

We’ve been living in dorm-style arrangements at the training center in Okahandja for the last four nights, but tonight we move in with our host families.  I met mine last night and I don’t think I could have found a better match.  They are the Hindjou family – Congo, Mara, Kenao, and Rino.  Kenao is eight and she lives at home.  Rino (the only one I haven’t met) is 16 and attends boarding school in Windhoek.  They were so welcoming and Mara gave me a huge hug when she met me.  Congo used to play football for the national team and Mara is an English and Otjiherero teacher. 

Otjiherero (pronounced “Oshi-herero) is the language I am learning.  We started lessons yesterday and it’s going well so far.  There are only two of us learning the language, so our classes are wonderful.  I get to have class under this grass awning every day.

Rough life, I know. 

The language I’m learning gives me a little clue about where I’m going, but not much.  I’m pretty sure we’re all going to have electricity and running water.  We’re going to get cell phones next week that will have internet.  I’m going to be living a pretty cush life in some sense.  We’ll see once I get to site, the location of which I find out next week.  I could be in a more populated town or I could be thrown out into the bush. 

I miss you all and I hope everyone is well. 

All my love.

I’m sitting in my mother’s living room, adding to a seemingly unending list of tasks to accomplish and things to buy before my big departure.  In the past week, I have purged the old clothes and books, packed away the winter jackets and boots into the basement, and come down to Portland with only about three times as much stuff as I will actually be able to bring to Namibia with me.  

Even I was surprised by the amount of accumulated crap that I donated to Goodwill last week in Seattle.  I filled up a whole rolling cart with garbage bags.

The sight was quite liberating.  Now I’m going to have to whittle what I have left down to fit into my 85L Gregory (The Green Beast) and my REI Staff ‘04 pack.  Not a lot of room for two years worth of living.

I’m having trouble putting my whole departure into perspective.  I feel like I should recognize the magnitude of the experience and change that’s right in front of me.  I should be savoring my last moments in the chilly, temperate, damp Northwest, reminiscing with my all of my friends, going to my favorite places.  To an extent, I am doing all of those things but, honestly, I am so unbelievable excited to start this damn thing it’s hard to appreciate the things I’m leaving behind.  I started my Peace Corps application over two years ago – that’s almost an entire PC stint.  Everyone around me seems to get weepy when they talk about me leaving and I understand that it’s harder to be left than to leave (really…I do), but I secretly also want to dance around the room every time I talk about it and tell my weepy friends and family, “FINALLY!” 

Finally, I get to quit this waiting game, I get to go on this big adventure that I’ve talked about since I can remember.  I get to live abroad and not just visit.  I get to practice what I’ve learned in school and working at Planned Parenthood.  

I, my friends, am finally moving to Africa.