Transportation Adventures Once Again - To South Africa We Go!

YES! Transportation Adventures!

For those of you who remember last year three friends and I took a pretty crazy adventure across southern Africa by big bus, taxi, mini bus, and pickup trucks to the beautiful banks of Lake Malawi. While it will forever be an adventure I will never forget, it will also be an adventure I probably will never put myself through again. After coming home, I get a text from Derek that said “baring we don’t become mortal enemies, wanna go to South Africa for the April holiday next year?” Hell yeah I do. South Africa is an extremely popular holiday destination for many Namibians and Peace Corps Volunteers. Namibia was a part of South Africa up until 25 years ago and so even today, there is still a lot of connections and similarities. It felt like home in more ways than one, almost like a Namibia meets America, but awesome-er.

Upon planning (and thankfully not becoming mortal enemies) with Derek all the fun and exciting things we wanted to do, Derek goes “Would you be cool with adding a third person to our adventure? I need someone to climb Table Mountain with, and we both know you wont be that person.” Boy knows me so well…  I told him I got his back because he clearly had mine and told him I’d be cool with whomever. And so added to our group was the wonderful Lawrence, us becoming the Meme (a name used to show respect to an older woman) and her two Tates (a name used to show respect to an older man). Actually it was more like Meme and all the Tates as there were 4 other PCVs joining us on the same bus ride, and at the same hostel, as well as another PCV who was meeting us at the hostel, and then another two Americans flying in to meet us, all of whom were guys. This meme did fine though.

As with Derek and I’s previous bus adventure, this trip did not come without it’s bus stories. However these ones happened before we even left our villages. Getting to Cape Town is about a 24hour ride, so our two options for busses were the fancy renowned double decker Intercape and the cheaper-we-found-out-the-hard-way-why Bailey’s. As PCVs we obviously take the cheaper option, so everyone takes Bailey’s. After traveling across the continent and not having a set timetable or price range for anything, I thought, how hard could one bus ride, with a real company with an actual website be? Oh, hunny, this is still Africa.

Different PCVs had different experiences with getting their tickets, some going into a shop in Windhoek and purchasing actual tickets, others taking the more sketchy option and depositing money directly into the account of the company and keeping the deposit slip as the ticket onto the bus. So I begin the process of finding their phone number on their website. Conveniently there a Book Now button, so I think this is perfect and easy. I click the button, fill out the information and then get a confirmation number, which I must call their office with to confirm the booking and payment. The number is a South African number so before making an international call, I decide to call their Windhoek office instead. Here is how the call goes:

Bailey’s: “Hello?”

Shannon: “Hi, is the Bailey’s Bus Liner?”

“Yes, how can I help you?”

“Hi I just filled out a booking form on your website and received a confirmation number and would like to make sure it went through and confirm my payment.”

“Online? We don’t do that.”

“What are you talking about, I just filled it out and it emailed me a number?”

“Okay well it doesn’t work”

“Okay, so can you help me? I need two round trip tickets and a one-way.”

“Yes, I will SMS you our bank details now and you will deposit the correct amount into our account then fax the deposit slip to our office and then call to confirm your seat.”

“How do I know if you have seats available on the dates I need?”

“That is why you call to confirm we received your fax.”

“But what happens if I make this deposit and there are no seats left on the date I need to travel?”

“That is not possible, there are always seats, it will be okay.”

After a few more reassurances and what-if scenarios I feel okay and he even helps in advising me to make two separate deposits (one for the two round trips and one for the one way. I was extending my South Africa after Cape Town and would not be returning with the boys) to make it easier to keep track of.

My next time into town was the last time Id be there before leaving for South Africa so I needed to get to the bank. It was also conveniently Easter weekend and Namibians take their holidays very seriously so after maybe 3pm on Thursday, the banks would be closed until 8am Tuesday morning. I rush to the bank and successfully deposit the money. N3,000 out of my hands. Unfortunately, I didn’t have access to a fax machine until school on Tuesday, but I know volunteers have emailed a scanned copy of the deposit slips.  I SMS back the number of the guy who helped me on the phone, and his response “We don’t have an email.” What? How in the world do you have a website, but no working email address? Okay fine, “I’m coming to Windhoek, can I bring the deposit slip to the office for confirmation?” Just a one word “yes” was the last I received from the helpful man. Back on their useless website there is no indication of a Windhoek office, and their Facebook page looks like it’s in a location I don’t want to go to by myself. All of the men in Windhoek that I know who could accompany me cannot take me, so I was stuck having to fax it when I got back to school on Tuesday.

In preparation to fax it I tape the deposit slip to beautiful clean pieces of white paper. In my best most clear handwriting I give all the information I could possibly give, dates of travel, times of travel, destinations of arrival, destinations of departure, names of the people traveling on which deposit slip, emails (in case they get a working one), and all phone contacts, JUST IN CASE something happened. I ask my secretary to fax them in the morning, and at the 9am break I go see her, get the fax confirmation receipts and sit down to call the office. Here is how the first conversation went:

Bailey’s: “Hello?”

Shannon: “Hi is this Bailey’s Liner?”

“Yes”

“Hi, my name is Shannon. I just faxed two deposit slips and would like to confirm that you received them and confirm the travel dates.”

“Okay can you call back? I’m with a client.”

…….WTF am I? “Uh-Okay, I’ll call back.”

5 minutes later.

Same lady answers: “Hello?”

“Hi, my name is Shannon and I just called a few minutes ago, I faxed my deposit slips and need to confirm my bookings.”

“Are you being picked up in Keetmans?”

“No in Windhoek. There are two different deposits, one for two round trips and one for a one-way.”

“We have nothing here, you will have to send them again.”

“Well could you check again? I have the confirmation receipt that they were successfully sent.”

“No, you need to send them again.”

“Okay thank you”

Amid the chaos of exams I ask the secretary to fax them one more time. She does and I return to class at 930.

15 minutes later, my cell phone rings with an unknown cell number. I generally ignore these as its most often a wrong number or someone who got my number without permission, I was also in front of a classroom of rowdy teenagers who I just got quiet. It calls a second time and I ignore it as well. About 10 minutes later my iPhone rings. I have one stupid phone for actual calls and texts in Namibia and the iPhone for Facebook, iMessage, WhatsApp. Peace Corps and a few PCVs are the only ones that have that number, so when it rang I thought there was an emergency and I pulled out the phone in front of all the students. Here is this conversation:

Nervous Shannon: “Hello…?”

Crazy lady yelling something I don’t understand.

Shannon: “I’m sorry I think you have the wrong number. Who is this?”

More crazy Afrikaans speaking woman yelling.

Shannon: “I’m sorry I can’t understand you” (My students mouths have dropped to the floor as this is now the debut of my new phone.)

Crazy lady: “THIS IS BAILYS BUS LINER! YOU JUST DEPOSITED 3,000 DOLLARS INTO MY ACCOUNT HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO THIS IS?”

Shannon: “I’m sorry you are calling on a private cell phone number which I do not have.”

Crazy Lady: “WHY WOULD YOU DEPOSIT 3,000 DOLLARS IN REHOBOTH INTO OUR ACCOUNT WHEN WE HAVE AN OFFICE IN REHOBOTH?”

Confused Shannon: “I’m sorry I was not aware that you had an office in Rehobth.”

Crazy Lady: “WELL NOW SOMEONE MUST PAY THE BANK FEES. WHY WOULD YOU BLINDLY DEPOSIT MONEY INTO AN ACCOUNT WITHOUT ASKING QUESTIONS? ARE YOU STUPID?” I don’t remember if she actually called me stupid but that’s certainly how she was talking to me.

Shannon: “I’m sorry, I’m a teacher, and am in the middle of teaching right now. Can I call you back?”

Crazy Lady: “Humph. Okay fine.”

This woman, I kid you not, was so terrifying, I was shaking. About 10 minutes later I get a text from Derek asking if I knew anything about an Afrikaans lady from Rehoboth calling and yelling at Lawrence about bus tickets. Oh no, she got to him too. I apologize profusely, because if he got a fraction of the fury that I got, he’d probably be shaken as well.

There was no way in hell I was calling this woman back on her cell phone so I gathered up the courage to call the office back. After all, they clearly got my 3,000 dollars. I needed to make sure Derek, Lawrence, and I all had a bus ticket. I nervously dial the office back.

Bailey’s (same younger lady as earlier who told me to call back): Hello.

Still-shaky-Shannon: “Hi, my name is Shannon. I called earlier about confirming a bus ticket and -”

Bailey’s: “Oh YOU’RE the one who deposited money in Rehoboth?”

Shannon: “Yes, that was me, I would like to confirm my travel dates for the two round trips and the one-way”

Bailey’s, now getting worked up and raising her voice: “Why would you deposit money into the bank in Rehoboth when there is an office in Rehoboth.”

Shannon: “I’m very sorry, I was not aware there was an office in Rehoboth or I would have gone.”

Bailey’s: “Well now someone must pay the bank fees!”

Shannon: “Umm, okay”

Bailey’s: “Is it going to be you?”

Shannon: “….It’s not my account or my business, so I don’t know why I would have to pay.”

Bailey’s: “Why would you lie and tell me you were based in Okahanja (a town about an hour north of the capital) when you were really in Rehoboth?”

Shannon: “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bailey’s: “Do not lie to me! I recognize your voice, you told me you were in Okahanja and could not get to Windhoek which is why I SMSed you our bank details! Why would you lie?”

Shannon: “I think you have me confused with someone else because I have never talked to you before”

Bailey’s: “DO NOT LIE! I remember your voice!”

Shannon: “Excuse me, but I have never spoken to you before.”

Bailey’s:  "Well where are you right now?” As if I lived in a town and could just waltz into their office at their beckoning call. Ha-ha.

Shannon: “I am on a small farm 100km south of Rehoboth called Schlip. I received your bank details from a man who answered your office phone last week.”

Bailey’s: “A man? Oh, fine. Humph”

Shannon: “So, can I please confirm my booking?”

Bailey’s: “Fine. (Scoffs) What date are you traveling on?”

Shannon: “April 22, its all on the paper of the faxed deposit. I need two round trips and a one way.”

Bailey’s: “Well I can’t read a single thing on these faxes so you will have to bring the original deposit slip to board the bus. I will say it again, you need the original deposit slip to board the bus. Without the original deposit slip you will not be allowed on the bus. I repeat, you will not be allowed on the bus without the original deposit slip. Your reference number is 1. The round trips’ reference number is 2.”

Shannon: “That’s’ it? My reference number is 1?”

Bailey’s: “YES THAT IS WHAT I SAID! 1! AND THE OTHER IS 2!”

Well that’s not the most secure reference number but okay…

Shannon: “Okay and where does the bus pick up?”

Bailey’s: “At the bus terminal across from the KFC.”

Now, there are a total of 4 KFCs in Windhoek. I am only familiar with one. ALSO, every capital city in southern Africa I have been to, has a bus depot. Strangely, I have never been to Windhoek’s if it has one. So being familiar with one KFC I ask if it’s the one across from a certain service station called Wikka. Everyone knows it, and it conveniently really close to the Peace Corps office.

Shannon: “Is this the KFC that is across from the Wikka service station in town?”

Bailey’s: “NO HOW COULD YOU ERWOUROWEFOE! IT IS THE BUS TERMINAL ACROSS FROM KFC.”

Shannon (shaky again): “Okay thank you for your help.”

I was so fed up and upset with how I was being talked to and treated as a customer who put a hell of a lot of faith in their company, but there was nothing I could do. They had $3,000 dollars of mine and I had reference numbers 1 and 2. Like really?

Thankfully everything ended up working okay, actually kinda perfect. Upon arriving at the bus terminal across from KFC (which was actually a taxi rank next to KFC and across from the service station Wikka like I thought. Who knows her shit now?) I realized the lady checking the bus tickets was the same crazy lady who called to yell at me during school. I heard her voice and boy if I was a guy…okay we’re not going to get graphic here but we’ll just compare it to Chandler on Friends hearing Janice’s laugh. It didn’t help that the deposit slips I had were stamped at the Rehoboth branch, bright and clear right in the middle of the paper. I was terrified I was going to be publicly shamed and yelled at in front of a busload of people I’d be sitting with for the next 24 hours. I probably would have cried then made fun of by the 6 boys I was traveling with for being a girl. My shaking hands handed her the paper, she looked it over, I was free. Derek handed over his paper she made some comment on how the money was short for a full round trip. My heart started beating faster, my muscles tensed up, I was ready to pounce. But she gave them the all clear and took the slip. We find our seats, then Derek realizes he doesn’t have proof that his return ticket leaving Cape Town is paid for and confirmed. He goes back up to the lady to ask if he can take a picture of deposit slip just in case. She snaps at him about not trusting her. “IF I SAY YOU’RE ON THE LIST, YOU’RE ON THE LIST!” He just walks back wide-eyed.

Albeit the disappointing customer service experience leading up to the trip, the actual bus ride was not so bad. I got two whole seats to myself to sleep on and at every rest stop and even the border crossing the Bailey’s bus drivers made sure to pull in before the larger Intercape busses. Therefore we got in and out of places pretty quick. Our only hold up was someone who may or may not have been trying to smuggle a child across the border and the physical pat down I got at trying to enter South Africa. As an American I am used to TSA being all up in my business, so to prime myself I usually pat myself down first make sure all the pockets and normal hiding places are empty, then I stick my arms out ready for the official inspection. Well, to start with I was laughed at by the other women in line for patting down myself. Then as if that wasn’t awkward enough I stick my arms out and stand up straight and the agent I guess didn’t know what to do with someone as experienced in security measures as I was so she just kinda hesitantly stuck her hands out, cupped my boobs and said, okay you’re good. Welcome to South Africa!

P.S. When departing Windhoek we made a stop in Rehoboth, to pick up more people. Conveniently it was at their offices I should have walked into. I was really excited to see where this elusive place was, as I feel pretty confident in knowing my way around my own shopping town. Turns out their office was a shack/room/area attached to a no-name gas station that I have only ever seen taxis use. The only taxi’s I’ve seen use it are the ones I am in as they either want to show off the pretty white blonde haired girl they picked up for a ride to the attendants that work there, or there is some sketchy deal they got going on. The only indication that that was the Bailey’s office? No there was no sign, but a printed piece of A4 paper with a non-descript picture of the bus and text that says all sales are final and they do not make refunds. Apparently I’m an idiot for not knowing that existed. Even if I had asked, I don’t know how they would have ever been able to describe to me the location cause all I know it as is the sketchy gas station.

In My Time of Absence Pt 2 - December and Mike Riley's Visit!

December

With school closing early, Schlip cleared out pretty much within the first week of December. My closest friends in town were both going back to America for the holidays so I was pretty much the only American for some 200km. It wasn’t bad though, I danced way too many times to Taylor Swifts new album, was able to actually keep my flat clean, and consistently have washed clothes (this was probably more due to the fact that I wore the same thing almost three days in a row cause I never saw anyone). I was also able to hang out at my library and work/read/sleep/ play games by myself there. It’s air conditioned, nuff said there.

I share my birthday with another volunteer here and so we decided to do something together to celebrate as we were some of the only Volunteers in Namibia at the time that didn’t have large travel plans or family visiting (Mike Riley came in January just scroll down for more about that). We decided to treat ourselves to a trip to the beach, which not only included the beach, but also some of the best food Namibia has to offer, fresh seafood, 4G internet connections, cable TV at our hostel, ice cream, and yeah, actually what more do you need to make yourself happy on your birthday? Our intention of only staying 3 days eventually turned into some like 5 or 6 days as we kept waking up and deciding, nah…I’m gonna stay one more day. The weather was just absolutely gorgeous. One morning I woke up to go get coffee in town (Oh yeah, Swakopmund also has REAL coffee, and cheesecake if it’s your lucky day at Slow Town). I put on a cute dress and my cool sunglasses, was sharing the beach front boardwalk with dog walkers, runners, and bike riders, and the sea breeze felt so good I literally stuck my arms out like my life was a movie and the happy ending credits were just about to roll. This may have also been influenced by some of the wine I had at dinner the evening before…

The glorious beach walking days were over as I headed back to Schlip to spend Christmas with my host family, on probably one of the hottest days of my entire life. To start, I got a sunburn walking between my house and my host family’s house that’s like down the street, (I wanted to get my bathing suit because their cousins brought a kiddie pool they had gotten for Christmas). So yeah sunburned skin on Christmas Day, over 100 degree heat, and not a trace of breeze in any direction. It was so hot I was scared to walk home with my sunburn in fear of making it worse. So I was pretty much stuck. Sunburned and bloated from the gluttony I bestowed upon myself the week before on the beach. That third ice cream in one day tasted so good and was so cheap at the time, was not worth it on Christmas. Thankfully I brought a stick of my favorite Christmas movies to share. Unfortunately Buddy the Elf couldn’t make me stop sweating. Eventually I hit a breaking point, and thanked my family profusely for hosting me for Christmas but all I wanted was to go home and lay on my tiled floor naked with my fan on me for the rest of the night. I even slept with frozen sachets of liquor I picked up in Malawi for the purpose of an ice pack (my kids like to punch walls in their free time). Had anyone walked in the morning after, I do not want to know where their thoughts would have gone…

January

Anxiously awaiting Mike Riley’s arrival on January 2 I decided to spend New Years Eve in the capital with a few friends. We found some silly string at the mall, had KFC for dinner and purchased a bottle of Champage for midnight. No I did not spell that wrong, either our hostel did, or it was a clever marketing scheme to spark interest. Whatever it was worked, I managed to get the last bottle and I did pronounce it as it was spelled on the board. Hello can I have a bottle of Champage? Yes the big one. We shared a coffee cup with the security guard at midnight.

New Years Day Peace Corps Namibia experienced a tragedy which was an unfortunate reminder that life is beautiful, however it is short. It just made seeing Mike Riley all the more great J

Our first stop was this super cool place called Africat. It is a rehabilitation and education center for wild cats that come into contact with farmers and their livestock. We had a beautiful room overlooking grazing oryx, giraffe, and warthog, took a night drive where we found a cheetah, jackals, giraffes, and oryx by spotlight, and the next morning tracked leopards (of which we found 2 and 3 wild dogs!).

Key moments from Africat:

·      While walking to the reception from our room (we are in the middle of a conservation area where wildlife roams free) a giant male kudu almost runs us over out of nowhere and gives Mike Riley a minor heart attack. We also came upon a warthog and some young and he wondered if we should turn around and go another way. Pumba is not a killer, Dad.

·      In talking to the man at reception I mention my father and I are what what. Reception man goes Oh that’s your father? Uhh yeah… later in the day Dad goes up to ask a question and the reception man asks if Mike Riley prefers an elephant or a lion, essentially for me…upon further questioning the man hesitates a bit and Mike Riley was not impressed. Sorry dude.

·      Mike Riley kept alluding to the various electric fences we were going through to Jurassic Park. I did not find that amusing, as we were in an open aired vehicle off-roading looking for wild cats.

·      In his first 24 hours in Namibia, we see giraffe, zebra, oryx, kudu, springbok, cheetah, leopard, wild dog, and jackal. Not bad for a days work.

·      My uncivilized, village-girl self licked the plate at dinner by candlelight. Mike Riley was so unimpressed and did not let me forget it the rest of the week. I’m sorry, who would let monkey gland sauce go to waste? Not me.

Following Africat we traveled to the real world animal kingdom of Etosha. We stayed at the same place my mom and I stayed. After the luxury of Africat, our air conditioned tent, flushing toilet, and hot water shower was termed “roughing it.” In comparison to the only two places seen in Namibia, fair enough. However Mike and I frequented the bar much more.

Key moments in Etosha:

·      Our trusty guide Ishmael took us on three spectacular game drives where he made my dreams come true and we found elephants. Shannon cried the whole time.

·      Mike Riley conquered the rest of the animal kingdom seeing lions, elephants, and a rhino. African safari: Check.

·      I commented on how much I loved the Nivea hydrating spray sunscreen. Dad agrees but goes “yeah but I wish it smelled like coconut…”

·      In viewing the various water holes and finding lions and elephants, we learn the hierarchy of the animal kingdom and that all antelope were at the bottom. At every water hole we went to, the zebra were just sitting there waiting and watching. Mike Riley’s commentary, “Man, if I were a zebra, I’d be pissed.”

·      A mating lion couple will mate every 15 minutes for like 3 days or so, they call it the “honeymoon” As we gazed and waited for this couple to get it on Mike Riley nodded off, I tried singing “Can You Feel The Love Tonight” cause it obviously worked for Simba and Nala. I think my singing worked.

·      In making friendly discussion with the new bartender, Mike Riley gives him tips on new drinks.

·      Dad tries every game meat possible, however they are all extremely lean and on the final night he goes for a lamb chop with a nice, nice bone full of marrow attached. The lady at the grill smiles and laughs when I refer to my meat as a nice, nice piece of braii meat (what the locals call it). I eat with my fingers, dad eats with a fork and knife. At the end of the meal I see the marrow is still sitting in the bone as he cuts the last piece of flesh away. I tell him if he doesn’t pick it up like a man and suck the marrow out of the bone, I’m going to pick it up off his plate and do it for him. (He knew I would too after my licking the plate with my finger at Africat a few dinners before.) He delicately gets it out and consumes it with a fork and knife. I was not impressed, but he showed me.

After viewing all there was to see at Etosha we made our way to the coast at Swakopmund. On the way we made a small detour to a small farm where they had fossilized dinosaur footprints! We had to do a bit of hiking to get there and back to the car, as well as follow some interesting, often times misleading signs, but for 2 USD each, we couldn’t pass it up!

Once in Swakopmund we arrived at our super nice beach hotel, overlooking the ocean and Shannon’s favorite bar. We indulged in seafood, fresh oysters, beer, and adrenaline. It. Was. Awesome. Our first day we went quadbiking over the sand dunes, having a personal tour guide as the high-holiday season was over. We pretty much had full range of all the sand dunes and two hours to spare. That evening we shopped and went to a nice dinner at a fancy seafood restaurant. Our second day was all sand and sea as we did a dolphin and seal cruise in the morning. The seals and pelicans joined us on the boat as we sipped on sherry, followed dolphins, learned about oyster harvesting, and then ate fresh oysters. That afternoon we did a 4X4 land rover cruise over the dunes to some of the most remote parts of the Namib Desert. Our driver was a professional stunt driver and we shared our time with three Russian ladies. Lunch there included more Russians in speedos, more oysters, and plenty of beer to quench the thirst. Our third and final morning we visited the craft market, picked up some wood carvings and heading through the desert and mountains to our small lodge in the middle of nowhere Namib desert.

Key moments from time in Swakopmund:

·      Dad this is the best ice cream place, we should get some! Shannon you just ate breakfast. Yeah well no one was telling me that two weeks ago when I was here alone!

·      Our tour guide on the quad bikes, since it was just two of us, took us to a look out point up a dune that other tours don’t go to. He said he had never taken a tour over there, and then started asking me questions very casually such as “So you left your boyfriend in America, ne?” Smooth dude. I wanted to give him a nicer tip for taking us to different places than the normal tour. Dad says he probably tells that to all tour groups with young girls. Whatever Dad it made me feel special and he wasn’t sleezy about it. Afterall, you WERE there too!

·      On our seal and dolphin cruise there was an American tourist all-alone. He knocked back 8 glasses of sherry after asking what it was and then slurping down close to twelve oysters himself. Save some for the rest of us dude…He was also rocking a fanny pack.

·      One of the Russian ladies in our 4X4 was MSU President Lou Anna K Simon’s twin, but Russian, traveling in Namibia, going on a 4X4 tour through the sand dunes, and wearing a sideways baseball hat. The hat was multicolored striped that you would find a pinwheel on top of. This hat was sans pinwheel but she was pretty bad ass.

·      There were two Land Rovers on the 4X4 tour with us and communicated through a radio. At different adrenaline rushing events they would turn on their radio so the screams of the people in front of or behind you were heard. At the very end, the second vehicle (also full of Russian tourists) was not taken down a steep sand dune going forwards, but instead backwards. Our vehicle went nose to nose with the other down the dune and the faces of those tourists were something I wish I had a picture or video of for the rest of my life.

·      While at a fancy candle-lit dinner at a waterfront restaurant, we decide to watch the sunset on the deck with some Windhoek beers. I walk inside to reserve a table for us for dinner and come back to say its ready whenever we want (Dad and I each had about half a beer left in our fancy glasses). We are in no rush but he knocks back the whole glass in a few chugs as I just stare, wondering why, in such a classy place he is doing this? He looks at me and goes, “I don’t know why I just did that. You can take your time.” He’s a classy date.

·      A few times around town we decided to drive and where ever there is public parking there are “car guards” which will look over your car, help you park and make sure no one tries to break in. Especially with a fancy rental car, this is a good service to have and you tip them as you leave. We pulled into an empty parking lot and the girl comes up to me and says “would you like me to watch your car.” I said yes but then thought to myself: If I would have said no, and someone DID try to steal or break into my car, would you just stand there and watch? This question still puzzles me.

We left the beach and traveled into the desert. Our route was a single lonely road with no civilization for nearly 250 kilometers and that town at the end was essentially a gas station. We barreled across the flat land desert and wound our way though mountain passes listening to the Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Hits. We followed one car until it turned down another road towards Windhoek as we continued further south. About 5km from our lodge we pulled over to look at a map, thinking we might actually be lost on this one lonely road, you think this is impossible, its just one road right? Here though there are no signs for really anything. The roads are all labeled well but if you’re trying to find a specific lodge like we were, you wont find it till you’re next to the gate. Well we found it and was lovely, we promptly signed up for a sundowner drive, where they took us to the top of the petrified sand dunes (yes they are petrified sand dunes) over looking the lodge and everything beautiful about Namibia, and served us gin and tonics. The next morning on our way to back to Windhoek, we made a detour through Schlip J

Key moments from Soussesvlei (Namib Desert)

·      We arrive and realize our lodge is actually pretty far form the iconic Soussesvlei red sand dunes. We also realize that the activity offered there is to climb the largest sand dune in Namibia after walking 3km through sand and around other dunes to get to it. Ummmm, probably not for us… We chose to stay at the lodge and take the driving tour that came with complimentary drinks.

·      The lodge owned by a German based company so Dad and I shared the pool that afternoon with some lovely German men on vacation together all sporting the latest and tightest swimming attire Europe had to offer.

·      Not much other that I remember, it was pretty chill

·      For those wondering, the iconic red sand dunes of Soussesvlei have iron in them (hence the red color). The petrified dunes at this lodge were once those same red sand dunes however, once exposed to rain and moisture, began to solidify like a rock. So what we thought was just another mountain cliff was actually a million year old petrified sand dune. It was actually super cool.

Soussesvlei (or lack there of) was technically our last stop, Mike Riley was leaving the next day so we needed to make our way to Windhoek. Conveniently, there were a few back roads that would take us to Schlip where Dad could see where I live, I could drop all my stuff off, and he could meet the people in my community who take care of me. Driving to Schlip was an adventure itself, as the roads we took traveled through privately owned farms. About 15 times I had to jump out of the car an open cattle gates for us to cross through. We traveled among the cattle, through washed out riverbeds, and up some really rocky inclines (our trusty pickup was a trooper) but we finally made it to Schlip and to my lovely little flat. Once again I was “roughing it” although I have running water and electricity, I can only imagine what he would have thought if I’d taken him to a traditional homestead with a hut. He saw my school, toured my library, and met my host families and we were on our way to the Hilton for one last night of luxury for Shannon.

Key moments from Schlip and Windhoek

·      Dad and I walked from my school down a small street, passing three plots of land and he was already sweating, welcome to the “real” desert dad.

·      He made sure to tell me to leave most of my stuff here when I come home, in particular my linens, they are not the bright white and pink they once were in college.

·      He told me that he now understands how I’ve read over 50 books in the past year or so.

·      The Hilton in Windhoek sports a wonderful rooftop pool, lounge area, and SkyBar. It’s a beautiful sunset over the mountains and the best cocktails Namibia has to offer (mostly because they don’t do cocktails here). We get up there, order our drinks, and it starts to thunder storm. Like the one time we actually want to be outside this whole trip and it rains. We enjoyed our drinks from the second floor sports bar balcony.

·      I ordered an African Ginger Collins which was a Ginger Collins but with African spices. I ask what those are and the bartenders go “Umm, I don’t know, I think sugar and water.” So. African.

·      The Hilton was so nice and such a contrast from Schlip he wants me to go there once a month cause I’m gonna need it.

In My Time of Absence

 I honestly cannot believe that I have not written a blog post in about 6 months. I guess it’s a true testament to how I kind of consider this “adventure” my life now. Day in and day out becomes routine, sometimes boring, mostly busy and one day you sit down and go Shit, when did it become 2014? Wait, no, it’s definitely 2015 now. This moment actually happens quite often in my life as my tiny little Samsung stupid phone constantly is victim to gravity and I have to manually reset the time and date from Jan 1 2007.

Anyways, let me jump into a time machine as I take you all back through the last six months of Shannon’s crazy, although not really SO crazy life.

September

Post Diversity Tour I returned to school only for a few weeks before I had to be back in the capital for my Mid-Service conference. Yep, the middle of my service. While I had been in Namibia for over a year at this point, September marked the middle of my two year commitment to my community. It was nice to see everyone in one place, some of the people who my life revolved around for those first 2 months in country I then hadn’t seen in a year. I went to the dentist and went through the annual medical evaluation. Turns out most of us had high-blood pressure due to the traditional diets consisting of meat. My nurse lectured me about how she wanted me to regularly monitor my blood-pressure and not stress so much because she didn’t want me to have a stroke in class. I thought this was perfect ammo to guilt my students into behaving in class as the year comes to an end. Instead of Yes Ms. Riley we love you and don’t want you to die, their response was: Miss, just go home, these children won’t stop. Well, at least some of them cared a little bit. Thanks guys. So instead, I decided to take up yoga. More on that later...

September also brought some new visitors to the school. Well I don’t know if you can call them visitors, that’s putting it way lightly. In a nut shell, there were demons at the hostel for about 2 weeks in September. While I tried to stay as far away from it I will inform you of what I understood happened. It all began with a boy who wanted to start a Bible study group, which is wonderful. Religion is a huge part of the Namibian lifestyle and many of my students are religious themselves, which I think also played into the craziness that ensued over the next two weeks. Anyway, one of my girls wanted to join the Bible study after school study but was acting strange (I got mixed stories) and long story short the boy who’s idea it was to start the Bible group turned out to be a self-proclaimed prophet, called upon the spirits of the Illumaniti to reveal themselves, and then a book that was under a pillow fell on the ground. I don’t exactly know the specific details of these events, this is what I pieced together. Pardon my French, but that’s when shit hit the fan. I heard the screams coming from the hostel on the Thursday night but I didn’t go investigate, I just thought girls were being girls. The following morning I learned that some girls had been possessed, rolling on the floor as if they were snakes, growling like lions, eyes rolling back in their heads, and someone vomited out of nowhere. No one slept that night and the priest from one of the churches was called in in the middle of the night. The first girl who jump-started it was “saved” I think is what they called it and her and the prophet boy who saved here were making googly-eyes at each other the whole next day. I was a bit peeved. That weekend they brought in priests and other religious groups from the surrounding towns and even the capital. But things weren’t over.

There were two girls who were consistently absent from school, causing problems in school, and having “episodes” in the middle of the night at the hostel. They were sent home for a week to see if maybe time with family would help them (exams were coming up so this was a crucial time not to be missing school). One came back, the other did not. Now in my past experiences of tragedy and sad or difficult times, I find that more often than not a sense of normalcy is what is best for some people. So I tried to provide that because I see every kid in the school every day of the week for English class. Now my kids are smart and their conniving and sometimes I like to think I have had a positive impact on that part of them. For example: “Miss can I sleep?” “What, are you kidding me? No you cannot sleep. Why are you asking me that in the middle of my teaching you about vocabulary” “But Miss you are letting her sleep, so why can’t I sleep? Its because you hate me isn’t it?” Um no I’m letting her sleep because she has been possessed by demons for the past 3 weeks and walks around like a zombie, when that happens to you I will let you sleep in my class too… so I tried my hardest to get this poor girl to lift her head and at least pretend like she was a part of the class. Well she certainly picked up her head but then proceeded to glare at me never moving her head or her body but following me with her eyes. I tried my damned hardest to keep in the teacher mode and ignore it thinking that if I don’t fuel her with attention it will go away. It didn’t cause now she’s clenching her fists and breathing heavily, near to the point of hyperventilation. Tears are pouring out of her eyes and all I can think in my head is I have some mark on me and if I make the wrong move I am dead. She is sitting in the second row and if she comes at me with all the force of the demons inside her the boys in the back will never get to me in time. I can just see the headline “Peace Corps Volunteer Killed By Demon-Possessed Student in Class” I eventually break out of teacher mode and ask the class point-blank if this girl is okay or if I need to be worried or try to take her to the sick room. They tell me to ignore her because it happens but now I’m just straight up unsettled. I was literally saved by the bell as she packed up her things and slowly made her way out my door and onto her next class.

Unfortunately she did not return after that. Thankfully both her and the other girl were able to work with the Ministry of Education and finish their assignments and take their exams off-site in town and I believe they both passed. I also believe they are both continuing their schooling at other schools in the towns where their families live.

I’ll be completely honest, I truly don’t know what happened to these girls. However, and I tried to explain this to my students, the life I grew up in, the schools I attended, and the culture I am a part of don’t really have much emphasis on demons. Here in Namibia though, demons are very real to many people. I can’t say they are real, nor can I say that they are not real. Where I come from, a kid acting/freaking out in school means that there is something mentally and/or medically wrong with them that can maybe be alleviated through medication, counseling, or a transfer to another school better equipped to handle them. The thought of a demon possession has never been an explanation or a reason for anything in my life that I have witnessed. It’s just the life and culture I was a part of. Here though it is a very real thing and my guess is at the hostel, something freaky happened, it was considered demonic happenings and everything my students have ever known/learned/heard about demons came out. I honestly believe it was like a subconscious thing that none of them had control over.

The two girls that were the most affected though also had other challenges/problems that I saw which others might not have. They both sought attention in anyway they could, talking out of turn, making noise whenever they could and constantly accusing me of hating them when I asked them to follow directions or said they couldn’t go to the bathroom. They would get extremely upset and ask why I hated them and often times brought race into the accusation. I would try my hardest to explain that No I do not hate you, you fail to follow simple directions and then cannot accept the consequences. In the mornings walking to school “Good Morning Miss” turns into “Why does Miss hate me?” “Honey we have talked about this and I am expected at a meeting right now so lets talk again at a more appropriate time”. These girls were far from home, staying at a farm school and only a handful of other students are of the same tribe and language group as them. My true gut feeling was that their actions were a form of depression and possibly some other underlining mental instability that unfortunately will probably go unfound for the rest of their lives. I tried to explain this to my principal, and he agreed with me on some parts. He still feels there were demons because multiple girls in different rooms would wake up in the middle of the night possessed, and that he feels is something you cannot explain or plan.

So that was exciting.

September also brought the Ebola Craze. Chain text messages would fly around the country and between my students declaring that Ebola was in the capital and that everyone was going to get it and die. I tried to explain to them the various procedures that were occurring in airports and at borders to ensure that Ebola was not anywhere near Namibia. Still when I coughed up flem from the back of my throat, the entire class raised their hands and yelled Ebola at me. I also told them that if Ebola came to Namibia I would be on the next flight back to the United States before they even knew about it. Unfortunately after that was when I spent a week in the capital for my Mid-Service conference and some kids legit got worried. Opps…

October

October brought chaos to the school days. The grade 10 final exams are nationalized and thus require specific regulations on supervision and handling. This means that every day at least 3 of our 9 teachers were not in class and as a result Ms. Riley gets to supervise the restless 8^th and 9^th graders. That was not fun but it gave me time to hold extra English classes and give extra assignments. My students told me it was illegal to teach them English when they should be getting Life Science or Geography, so I came back at them and made my English assignments about whatever subject they were supposed to be having at that period. I was then just labeled a terrible person. We needed a vocabulary lesson on what terrible is…

Other note-worthy comments (S*&# My Students Say)

·      “Miss, why do you have so many black dots on your nose?”

“Why are you that close to my face?” – Thanks Allison I know I have large pores

·      Miss I am going to give you my older brother to have babies with.

·      “Miss who were you in high school? I bet you had a lot of boyfriends.”

“Actually boys, I was a bit of a nerd, so no boyfriends.”

“Miss I don’t believe that”

“No seriously I was in the marching band and science club and everything.”

One of the boys actually fell out of their chair laughing; the others just failed to believe such a thing was true.

·      Miss, can you flip your hair like they do in the movies?

I’m glad that is what you are thinking about during my riveting reading lesson.

·      When describing what I wanted to be when I grew up when I was little, I said I wanted to be a princess. Then half the boys in my class and even some girls called me princess. No. I’m Ms. Riley to you.

·      “Miss your kids will be so hot.” This occurred after a spelling test.

November.

I’m not going to put this lightly, the way examinations are scheduled here is unfortunately a waste of time, resources, and people’s patience. To begin with, almost all the content (math, English, science, etc.) subjects have multiple papers (for example: English has a reading exam, a writing exam, and a listening exam). So you can’t just have English on one day and be done with it for 3 months. My students have almost 6 hours of English exams spread out over 3 different days. In total, exams are a month long with one, maximum two papers being written a day.  At least 2 weeks, probably more could be dedicated to in class learning but instead are reserved for 3-4 hour study sessions and 4-6 hour exams. In August when we did this I was peeved, it was valuable time wasted, the kids were restless, I was restless, and I just wanted to be productive. THIS term though, I was expecting it, so I had a nice month of relaxation. To add to my life of general ease, national presidential elections were being held over Thanksgiving weekend which meant all the kids had to be out of the school and home by that Wednesday before. By the time school came back around in January, I hadn’t taught a class in 3 months.  Miss Who???