Not Exactly What You Think Of When You Hear "Peace Corps"

Without delving too much into the history of Namibia, pre-independence there was apartheid and Rehoboth (the closest large town to me) was the unofficial capital of the Baster population. Schlip (I’m guessing because of its proximity to Rehoboth) just happened to be the location where the premier Baster junior secondary school was to be built. This is where my school came from. With that being said, this school is amazing. When I met my Principal for the first time he told me that his school was the most beautiful in all of Namibia I just thought he had a lot of school pride and love for where he lives and works. After just walking around the school grounds on my first day, I knew he was probably telling the truth. With three giant blocks of beautiful red brick and an entire lecture/multi-purpose room with a huge performing stage, this school is vastly underutilized. Having only 175 students, I am guessing this school could house over 1000 in just comparing its size and population to my own high schools size and population back in Michigan.  The school is also equipped with an unused wood shop, metal shop, drafting room (I think) and music room. They also have a computer lab and a ginormous library, both with air conditioning. I will have my own classroom more than large enough to fit all the students per class with their own desk and chair.

Not quite the “teaching-English-under-a-tree” or with no electricity or pens and paper image that pops into your head when you hear Peace Corps and I agree with you on that. However Namibia is very unique in its history of education which creates a whole multitude of problems that are not existent in other nations around the world with Peace Corps presence. After the fall of European Colonization and the departure of the Germans Namibia was under the governance of South Africa, its official language being Afrikaans. After Namibia gained independence, they changed their official language to English. Most of the people already spoke English but it was a way to unify the nation and forge them ahead in the global arena. Doesn’t sound too bad except for the fact that every teacher in the Namibian education system went through schooling and had experience teaching in a language OTHER than English. Aside from the fact that many teachers here unqualified to teach, those who are qualified still face language barriers, having been educated in South Africa or Namibia (which I just found out that the University of Namibia is not an accredited university meaning its diplomas and certifications are not valid outside of Namibia). So that is one reason why we are here as native English speakers: to educate not only the students but also other teachers on speaking English.

Corporal punishment, which I touched on in a previous blog post is also another reason why we are here. While it is illegal, it is hard to implement. Not only is it the only way that some teachers know how to manage classrooms, it is very hard to find teachers. Not to go too off track here but the unemployment rate is super high in Namibia. I do not know too much about it, so I am sure I will have more information later on but from what I have gathered there are many, many, many people here in Namibia that work at their jobs to make money (well obviously). But once they feel they have enough they quit and live off that. Once they spend it all, they become poor (once again obviously) and start to look for another job. But just like with any employer who would hire a worker knowing they quit their past couple jobs and are now in desperate need of one. This is not everyone in Namibia but it is enough people to make unemployment and poverty a problem. This also does not make them bad or lazy people, its just not part of the culture or their way of life. Many here do not know about business planning or savings which is why Peace Corps also have small business/community enterprise development people. So going back to my original point, corporal punishment is also hard to implement because schools do not want to loose a potentially good teacher.

To continue with this point of not having enough teachers, many teachers here (I know as well as in the United States) are over worked. Some of the teachers at my school I know are teaching 5 different classes. Not 5 classes a day, I mean the math teacher here is teaching Math, Accounting, and Entrepreneurship  for grades 8, 9, and 10. Not only is that 40 hours a week actively in the classroom, that also includes planning, grading, and he also is a supervisor at the hostel during afternoon and evening study. On top of teachers being overworked, a majority of the Namibian population live in remote rural areas – much like where I am living. Just like in the United States, no teacher wants to be secluded in a small town far away from everything with maybe little to no room for moving up in their field. So here many teachers while they work in these small places, actively look for employment opportunities in larger towns. Who can blame them though? Who wants to be overworked, not make enough money for your work, and live in the middle of nowhere. It’s almost a universal challenge I guess no one wants to be in these situations, but someone HAS to. So while as a volunteer we are not supposed to be seen as just extra help for two years, it is kind of a vital role for us to play if we want to be successful in teaching the teachers about alternatives to classroom management, learner-centered teaching, and the English language. Some of the pressure needs to be released to be effective.

This brings me to the students which is ultimately why we work with the teachers as well. Students here come from a variety of challenges at home. Some of them much similar to those faced by kids in impoverished areas in the United States, some much harsher. Unfortunately the system they are educated through doesn’t seem too user friendly. Failing rates here are astronomical, it is extremely common for a majority of students to have repeated multiple grades before they reach the 10^th grade. This is also compounded with the fact that nationally, the grading scale is as follows:

A – 80-100

B – 70-79

C – 60-69

D – 50-59

E – 40-49

F – 30-39

G – 20-29

U – 0-19

From my current understanding, an F is failing, an E is passing. With 40% of the material understood, the grade is passed. Now I do not fully understand the history of why this is the grading scale but one reason is that it may have at one point helped more kids to pass. Whether this was good or bad at the time, I don’t know but I do think that today it may be causing more harm than good. One thing that I do not know but would help in this observation is finding out what it takes to be a teacher (qualified and unqualified).

One student asked me the other day if failing grades was common in the United States. I told her and the rest of the class that it wasn’t as common as it was here. I then also added that an A is only a 90 and that getting an F at 50% is unacceptable to pass and a D at 60% is pretty darn close. They were shocked. They were even more surprised that I nearly got all A’s all through school. One then raised their hand and asked if I could teach them how to study. What? Study? Teach you? What do you mean? You just do? These were the thoughts going through my head. I never realized that part of my primary schooling was learning HOW to study with taking notes, pre-reading, quizzing friends,  “rewrite in own words”, FLASH CARDS, anything. These kids go to school from 7-1 (8 40 minute periods) straight through (half hour break for tea break) and then go home (or to the hostel to eat lunch) and then come back from 330-5 or 6 for “afternoon study” which is essentially extra class time if a teacher ran out of time or silent study time. The only way these kids know how to study is to re-read their class notes to themselves. Their class notes are just what the teachers write down and they copy. This could be anywhere from paragraph, to examples, to definitions much like in the United States however critical thinking is nearly non-existent here. Relating topics, ideas, themes doesn’t really happen. It’s just memorization. Even reviewing for tests and exams. I do not know what most teachers do but I told my principal that I could do review games with them (like Jeopardy) and he was ecstatic. Yes! Teach them how you study in America! Teach them your ways! They don’t know how to study! It was shocking but exciting because this was something I could really do to help.

So while I am not living in a mud hut without electricity or running water and teaching English to children under a tree, Namibia and its people still needs a lot of help not with material things so much. Just ideas – creative thinking, critical thinking, saving for the future. They are on the right track with enthusiastic people receptive to help and change but I and the other hundred of us in the country are here to teach them. Not your typical idea of a Peace Corps experience, but an challenging experience nonetheless. Well see how it all turns out J

I Make It Rain

I know many of you have been waiting to hear all about my new home so here it is. My new home is a small village named Schlip with a population of about 2000 not counting the goats, chickens, or donkeys because I’m guessing the population would nearly double. It is a small farming village in the southern part of Namibia literally in the middle of nowhere. Even though it seems like everyone here went to a remote place in the middle of nowhere given that all I saw was brown earth, trees, and bushes no mans land for a few hours I think that is an accurate description.  It got its name from the two rivers that make up its borders and form a “slip” like on a dress or skirt. At least that is what I am told, even if it is totally off its creative. The two rivers are very beautiful and one of them even has a bit of water in it with a bit of green grass! For the past year there has been a severe drought and one of the rivers is dried up. HOWEVER, as you may have seen on my FaceBook page, my first official day at school was accompanied with over two days of torrential downpour! Everyone was so ecstatic, my supervisor even told me numerous times how beautiful of a day it was. Not only was there excitement about the rain for the sheer fact that there was rain, there as actually a Bible verse that predicted (foretold?) that on the 24^th day of the 9^th month God would bring rain and all would prosper. Say what you will about the Bible however many people here were very happy that even thousands of years later it was still relevant and speaking to their lives accordingly.

Many of the people that live around here either have a farm on the outskirts of town or one or both parents work outside out of town on various labor projects. The village is fairly well equipped having a health clinic, quite a few small stores, two primary schools, one secondary one (where I am), a giant beautiful new police station and 15 churches. Yes, 15, 1-5. Apparently all of different kinds, and some of them very interesting which I hope to find more about to share with you all. (If you have not gotten from previous posts, people here are very religious).

So for only having two small lines on Wikipedia, Schlip is actually a very interesting village.  There are two populations that live here – Nama and Baster. Nama and Basters are two different tribes different tribes of Namibia and Basters get their name from exactly the word you are all probably thinking of – being more white but with black African blood in them. (I will get more into the politics of identity in a later post.) Aside from the separation of identity, there is even a physical separation with the rivers. In general one population lives on one side, and the other on the other side. The Baster side is full of beautifully old run down houses, and the Nama side is the location (slums?), corrugated tin houses, no running water (there are public spouts for water access), and I am not sure about electricity. From what I understand everyone used to get along very well in this small village however in more recent years getting along has not been so easy. Not to the point of unrest or violence, but more just inability to get along and get things done. I know I will learn more and more as my time goes on here so just bear with me.

I am also living with a new host family for the time being. There is a Peace Corps volunteer who is currently here and he is still living in the flat that will be mine. So another wonderful family has welcomed me into their home. There is a mom, a dad, two sons, and a daughter. The father is a brick layer who works away from home but comes home on different weekends so I spend most of my time with the mother and children. The mother is a cook at the hostel at my school and is super sweet. She treats me like royalty and feeds me way too much. I had to tell her to treat me more normal but she still insists. I’m not complaining but its going to be a rude awakening when I live on my own again. The sons are very sweet and polite. The oldest is in 10^th grade at the school I work, I think I increased his popularity a little bit living with his family. The younger one is in 4^th grade and is very shy. Everyday after school his friends come over and they go to their school library and bring back books for me to read to them. I think he has a little crush on me because he has been writing me nightly notes before he goes to bed. The youngest is the daughter. She is very talkative but does not understand a lot of English. For the Afrikaans that I do know, I don’t think  it includes little kid so even though she talks and talks and talks, I have no clue what shes saying. Her mom told me that she thought I was weird or something because I never answer her when she asks me questions. I didn’t even know she ever asked me a question! I am happy to say that this has been my biggest challenge yet. Talking to a 4 year old. Not bad for my first few days…

The First Day of the Rest of My Life (Again)

When I was 18 I was blessed with the opportunity to take part in People to People International’s Peace Camp. As one of 50 others from around the world  my eyes were opened to cross cultural exchange,  hope of a better world one day, and the whole wide world at my fingertips. While I can give you plenty of information about what I did and who I met at Peace Camp I will just leave you with one key moment of it. Our ever so inspirational leader Barb who is a veteran PTPI leader sat all 50 young strangers down on the first day and said welcome to the first day of the rest of you life. None of us knew what she meant by that just yet but boy was she right. It was from Peace Camp that I knew the career path I wanted to take in international relations, having a great ability to promote cross-cultural exchange. I fell in love with the Arabic culture which inspired my undergraduate focus in Middle East politics. It is from all those experiences that I now find myself here, living in Sub Saharan Africa, speaking the local language, and teaching English as an official Peace Corps Volunteer.

            I was officially sworn in this past Thursday September 19^th at the hostel conference center where all 41 of us began our adventure together. Among those in attendance were the entirety of the Peace Corps Namibia staff, all of our future supervisors and/or counterparts, the Deputy Minister of Education, and the US Ambassador to Namibia. We heard various speeches about just how important the Peace Corps has been to the development of Namibia (Peace Corps presence was requested 7 days after independence), how we are now the elite of the elite of the citizens of the United States, and how our lives will never be the same. It was during this time that Barb’s words “Welcome to the Rest of Your Life” began ringing in my head over and over. I realized I will never wake up the same person I was waking up today, I am now part of an elite 200,000 other Peace Corps volunteers all over the world. This, along with 40 of my newest friends, was my new life.

            I took a picture with the Country Director and afterwards he asked me how I felt. Just like when returning from Peace Camp, I was at a loss for words. It was surreal, exciting, overwhelming, scary, sad, happy, everything. I was going to be moving to my new home in just a few short hours, leaving everything I have come to know (yet again) to enter into a community that needs me, fulfilling one of my life long dreams I have come to have in my short 22 years. I just couldn’t contain my emotions. I mean I almost cried like 5 times in a short 90 minute ceremony.  It was pathetic but gosh it was so cool to just sit back and take it all in that your dreams were coming true right before your eyes. I later joked around with another guy that now that I was sworn in I could go home tomorrow since I officially earned the title. But not really because I still have to tell everyone about the wonders of Schlip! Sorry for the lack of pictures, the internet is being really slow. Hopefully I will have them up soon!

This Is Africa.

No this is not a link to the Shakira song... 

So this week I got my first real experience of what it is like living in Africa. The last half of this week we were set up with a current volunteer to shadow at their site. While some lucky ducks got to travel up to 8 hours away, my SUPEP (education) South group made sure we would not be more than 3 hours away from Okahandja. Let me clarify, 3 hours of continuous driving on a tarred road with a working car.

            The plan for our first adventure was for us to be escorted to a larger town (Karibib) with a language trainer and from there the person we were shadowing was to either meet us or set up something to get us to their site. Unfortunately due to last minute scheduling conflicts our PCV could not make it into the town and was unable to set something up so he instructed us to ask around and have the volunteers currently living in Karibib to help us find a ride. Hiking is an extremely common form of transportation in Namibia because not many people can afford their own cars and this country is flipping huge with little to nothing between towns and villages. So those with vehicles generally try to find people to fill their car with to help off set the price of gas and have someone to talk to. Now I know what every one is thinking, OMG Shannon, you are going to die. I can assure you that this will not be the case as every volunteer in this country gets around like this. It is not like in the US where you see someone on the side of the street and wonder what things they have done to end up without a car of their own and without anyone in their lives to help them at this moment. That is not the case here. I promise. Obviously with every travel experience you have to exercise personal judgment but more often than not, you will be okay. Luckily for my first experience with this there was going to be me and another trainee shadowing the same person so worse came to worse I had a travel buddy.

The day started off with our initial van arriving almost an hour later than needed (African time) which was no big deal because we were not actually in a rush. We did after all have all day to travel 3 hours away.  After charging all 7 of us a ridiculously high price we all got off in Karibib. We were told that we should probably purchase food in Karibib because food in the village was limited and a little bit more expensive. After an extremely lengthy process of trying to figure out what we wanted to eat this weekend, what we didn’t think we could get in the village if we wanted it, and how much we wanted, we were off to find a ride.

With our bags, groceries, and wide eyed expressions we were approached by a man who figured we needed a ride. Turns out he was going exactly where we were however, all he had was an open back pick up (what Namibians refer to as bakkies). In attempt to transport as many people as possible many drivers fill the backs of their pickups with bodies. I hope the thought going through every one’s head right now it omg that is so illegal. I am not sure if it is explicitly illegal here in Namibia but it is no doubt extremely dangerous. Therefore we are forbidden to ride in them, no excuses. Our Safety and Security Coordinator would rather pay for a personal taxi for us before letting us get in one. So while it looked like our first option in getting to the village was going to be a dud he offered to put us in the two front seats with him. He was leaving within the next hour (ended up being over an hour), for the normal rate, this was perfect.

After witnessing enough people climb into the back of this truck where there was essentially standing room only Aaron and I settle into the front seat only to then wonder whether this car was going to start. We realized there as no handle on the interior of either of the doors aside from a metal rod that probably served some mechanism and barely a steering column. The driver climbed in and as he was explaining how happy he was to meet us be pulled out a screwdriver, grabbed a wire from underneath the steering column that apparently had the ignition attached to it and turned the car on. The car then rolled forward a few feet and he hit the gas and it roared to life.  After driving around a two street town completing various errands the driver had to complete (don’t worry, he parked the car in the shade for us), we were finally on our way an hour after getting in the car. Actually, that’s what we though. Low and behold, the car broke down. Don’t worry, we weren’t in any danger, there were literally no cars on the road to hit us and the scary African wildlife consisted of cattle, goats, and a few donkeys.

The driver takes the handy screwdriver to the ignition to turn the car off laughing like he just told us an inside joke (I think it was he saw my horrified expression when he used it the first few times). He then reassured us that he has driven this truck between the two towns every day for the past 18 years so he knows it inside and out and can make it work. After taking that trusty screwdriver and a sledge hammer to something under the hood, we were back on the road and thank god. If the thing had not started I don’t even think the cute blonde American in Africa could have found another ride, there were literally no cars. Throughout this whole event and thought process I think I twisted my face between looks of worry, irritation, humor, and exhaustion (kinda like typical PMS) and so Aaron leaned over and just said TIA Shannon, TIA. This is Africa. And boy was he right. We finally made it to the village and after a struggle to get out of the car (apparently me slamming it to make sure I wouldn’t fall out was not the way to shut the piece of metal that they called a door) we were settled into a cute little ministry flat similar to the one I will be living in.

The next few days consisted of us observing classes, taking cold showers in the middle of the day, and me listening to the other two guys play guitar (so much for having 4 of my best friends start a rock band in high school and still never learning how to play). Otjimbingwe was actually a really cool little town. During German colonization it was actually the capital of German South West Africa so there are many ruins of buildings and technology left over from previous occupations. All in all it was small, personal, and extremely hot. There was evidence of poverty but also evidence of someone making the best with what they had in contrast to those who you can assume have made and continue making poor life decisions especially when it comes to alcohol. I wish I would have taken pictures but while there were many people at the local bar well into a number of drinks on a Thursday, there were also people tending to their gardens out side of their tin shack with recycled tires and glass bottles as decorations. So it was interesting and I know I will be able to expand on this more as time goes on here.

For as much fun as the initial trip was, there was no disappointment in the second one going home. To start, getting a ride out of our little village is not always the easiest so we decided to pack up early and try to make our way back to Karibib by Saturday night to stay with some volunteers there. We found out that a teacher’s wife was coming back from a teaching conference and that a ministry vehicle would be coming through and going back to town. We jumped at the free ride which was a large van with two teachers in it. They were well into their post conference party mode when we joined their ride but they did not let us stop them from continuing their fun. The big black man sitting backwards between the drivers and passengers seat continued to play DJ turning on some of those hot American tunes like Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, and Rihanna. I think he was trying to make a move on the female teacher which may have been why that was his choice of music but its whatever, I enjoyed it.

After staying in Karibib for the night we woke up and attempted to put our hiking skills to the test. Literally every car driving out of Karibib that morning was going through Okahanja so we thought it would be quite easy to find a ride. Actually, it was, for $100 each. (Let me make an side note here: N$100 is only US$10 so in a global perspective getting an hour ride for that price would be a deal. However, we are volunteers, we make no money, and people are usually generous enough to give you a free ride. Sometimes though you gotta wait, or suck it up and negotiate). It was actually quite surprising first, not one white person stopped for us. We literally looked like tourists, I was even carrying my Vera Bradley duffle bag. But they all looked at us with doe eyed expressions as their empty SUVs drove by. Whatever. Also, the first three people that stopped, asked for way more money than we were willing to give, and even when we each pulled out our strategically placed $20 and coins the people shook their heads and drove away, in their empty cars, without 80 or 90 extra dollars. I just shook my head not seeing the rationale in that.

Eventually, a nice man in a large van stopped, accepted our price, and let us get it. Not gonna lie, this van (actually any van in Namibia) could probably be in the running for the next poster child of Kids-Do-Not-Walk-Up-To-This-Van-Even-If-It-Offers-Free-Candy. Once again, I can rest assure you all though that this is a safe mode of travel, it just doesn’t look like it. So anyway the driver picks up three more people and drops them off at their various locations. Once getting to Okahandja though we drive all over town, into one of our local neighborhoods, and conveniently stop at a shabeen/bar (I think he was using his $80 in a way he thought was mot worth while). He told us 5 minutes, we knew where we were, I was actually about 10 minutes from my house, but we really didn’t want to get out of the van because it was the middle of the heat of the day, we were smelly, unshowered, and just didn’t want to perpetuate our stank or exhaustion. After 20 I was fed up with transportation and lack of the idea of customer service, about to storm in there when he walks out with a lady friend and a beer. Stay classy man. She says hi to us, continues talking to him, and gives him a kiss goodbye. Apparently that just couldn’t wait until we were dropped off about a kilometer away. He just had to see her right then and there. If I had paid more than $20 I probably would have had a shit fit but oh well. All I can say is: This Is Africa.

Here is a lovely picture one of my mom's coworkers made in honor of this post: