...so you might as well dance

My new bathing area

2008-12-06T00:41:00.001-08:00

Tall reeds are used so when ants eat bottom, you can trim and pull down. Smart, nay?

Chameleon in the garden

2008-12-05T08:36:00.001-08:00

People are really scared of Chameleons!

Chaze and my 'bargain' fish

2008-12-03T07:19:00.001-08:00

I was thrilled to find cheap fish in town today. Unfortunately they weren't fresh, so chaze sliced then open to dry. Waste not, want not!

Bath time for baby doll!

2008-12-02T04:04:00.001-08:00

Minzoze giving doll a bath after helping me clean.

End of the Year Reflections

2008-11-13T23:45:00.001-08:00

End of the Year Reflections

It turns out the Junior High dances are great fun, especially when you
are no longer in Junior High. This week marked the end of sessions for
JFFLS (Junior Farmer Field and Life School), the after-school program
for orphans that I have worked with this year. I wanted for there to
be a sense of celebration, completion and closure, so a party seemed
to be in order.

Never having thrown a party in Namibia, I wasn't sure how all the
activities would go over. This proved to be an unnecessary worry,
since some things are universal. Combine children, waterballoons,
sticky hot sunshine and you will have a good, slightly wet time
whether you are sub-sub saharan Africa or in the mid-midwest of the
U.S. Music and dancing, another two guaranteed elements of a good
party. Unlike in the states, where boys often refuse to dance, it
proved to be the exact opposite here. The girls clustered around,
while the boys danced like their life depended on it.

The weather these days is volatile, with storm clouds building into
huge downpours every day. When I went to the party right after school,
it was pouring rain. I wasn't sure if we'd be able to do the water
balloon toss, bob for organges and have our dance party if it kept on
raining, so I told the kids that we all needed to chant "rain, rain,
go away…" louder and louder….and it worked! By the time we finished
with refreshments, dramas, indoor games and certificates, the weather
had cleared up for our outdoor activities.

My family as usual proved to be invaluable, helping me shop for the
party and fry hundreds of fat cakes. I wish I could have captured the
scenes from the afternoon in photos, but instead they'll just remain
etched in my head.
The faces of the learners receiving their first certificate of
completion; the wet smile of Raunah clutching an orange in her teeth;
the willful face of Masake releasing her water balloon into the air;
Kawanda, who cannot speak any English, but found his place on the
dance floor.

These children have tested every ounce of my patience this year. Often
I have left sessions feeling utterly defeated and ineffective in how
to get through to them. Yet, their energy and enthusiasm in the face
of all the challenges they've already faced in their young lives,
gives me a glimmer of hope.

Do I ever want to work with a large group of middle schoolers?
Definitely not. Was this a worthwhile experience? Without a doubt.

--
Thea Neal
Peace Corps Volunteer
Caprivi Region, Namibia
Cell: 081-364-2891

Around the Village-photos

2008-11-06T08:14:00.001-08:00

Women's Work

2008-10-22T07:50:00.001-07:00

I've heard occasional grumbles from men who feel that the women's
health group and child growth monitoring discriminates against men.
Men like to complain whenever they are not included, even though the
reverse is often true (men are able to do things that women are not
included in and you don't hear the women complaining). I usually
explain that women are typically the caregivers, so it's important for
them to know how to take care of themselves and in turn, take care of
their children. Men wanting to learn about health are welcome too, I
always stress. But other than two men who bring their babies to be
weighed, no one has taken me up on it yet.

The reality is that family health is seen as "women's work."

But women already have work.

They already grow most of the developing world's food, market most of
its crops, fetch most of its water, collect most of its fuel, feed
most of its animals, weed most of its fields.

And when their work outside the home is done, they light the third
world's fires, cook its meals, clean its compounds, wash its clothes,
shop for its needs, and look after its old and its ill.

And they bear and care for its children.

The multiple burdens of womanhood are too much.
(from: Facts for Life, UN)

So am I being unfair in not targeting the men? No, that's not what's
unfair about this situation. What's unfair is that women are doing
everything, yet don't have a voice.

--
Thea Neal
Peace Corps Volunteer
Caprivi Region, Namibia
Cell: 081-364-2891

Visitors in the village!

2008-09-26T04:07:00.001-07:00

It has been a couple months since I last sent out an update.
June-September has been a full and rewarding time for me as a
volunteer. A new project in the village and a month-long visit from my
mother are the big highlights, which I will report on. After a
surprisingly cold winter, requiring long underwear and multiple
blankets at night, the heat of summer has arrived full force.
Productivity ceases during the afternoon hours, as humans and animals
alike seek solace in the shade of a tree. I find myself looking to the
horizon each morning, hoping for rain clouds, but alas, rainy season
is still months away with nary a cloud in sight.

Lutusane: Let us help each other

In July, in a 24-hour period, our community experienced the deaths of
two young people, a 24-year-old woman and a 2-year-old girl, both from
the same extended family. Their deaths were attributed to witchcraft
and God's will, respectively, even though all signs pointed AIDS.
While funerals are a routine occurrence in my community, given the
high prevalence rate of HIV/AIDS and lack of health services in rural
areas, these were the first deaths that touched me first-hand. The
baby girl was the daughter of my main counter-part for the garden
project. It was decided to combine their funerals, canceling church
services and bringing the whole community together to attend. Because
the baby's death was so abrupt, no time or money could be pulled
together for a coffin so she was buried the traditional way – wrapped
in a reed mataka (mat) with all of her clothing. It was heart breaking
to watch the old mashembeli (women) of the community tucking her into
a tiny grave. We went from one grave to the next sprinkling ashes and
singing hymns.

In the days after their deaths, women kept coming to me to talk about
their deaths. It hit home, with many women having kids similar ages.
Out of our grief, came the idea for women to start meeting to learn
about health issues. At first I thought it would focus mainly on
maternal and child health topics, but the women were adamant that in
order to take care of their children, they first needed to take care
of themselves. We decided to meet twice a month for sessions and weigh
babies at the same time. The purpose of Child Growth Monitoring
(weighing babes) is to make sure that babies are growing and healthy.
If the weight flat-lines or goes down, monthly measuring can help
catch these patterns early on, so we can see what might be causing
weight loss (diarrhea, stopping breast feeding, poor nutrition, other
illness, etc.). We pitched the idea to the community at a weekly
community meeting; it was excitedly received by the council of headmen
and women, who began clapping when Chaze and I talked about how hard
it is to be a mother and raise kids, acknowledging the important role
women play as both mothers and caregivers.

We hold sessions at the kuta (where the headmen and community gather
for meetings outside under a tree) and weigh the babies at the meat
market on an old fish scale. The meat market is not in operation right
now due to fear of foot and mouth disease, so I tell people that
instead of selling meat, we weigh babies in Mubiza! It's really quite
the sight to see. We started with ten women, but quickly grew to
thirty women and now have over 50 women registered. It's been fun to
work on a project that is not only needed by the community but also
wanted by the community. The best community projects are initiated by
the community, which has definitely been the case with this Lutusane
group. My two best friends in the village, Chaze (my neighbor who I
share meals with) and Mpambo (one of the few 20 year olds with no
babies) are my partners in crime for this project and really
understand that we do this together, it's not one translating for
another. No, we all are teachers and learners. Dinner conversations
now focus on the latest chapter we've read in our trusty Where There
is No Doctor book, as we talk about what foods are good sources of
iron, foliate and potassium!

A Trip of a Lifetime

Wednesday, my mom and I said a teary good-bye after spending a month
together – and what a month it was! I met my mom in Windhoek following
my mid-service medical exam, where we spent two nights at Penduka, a
women's TB cooperative in Katatura, the township outside of Windhoek.
During apartheid, black Namibians were forced out of their homes and
made to live in Katatura, which means "the place we do not want to
live." The ethnic groups were divided into neighborhoods as part of
the government's divide and rule strategy. We visited local markets,
graveyards of freedom fighters, museums and saw a very different part
of the capital than I had experienced before.

Next, we set off in a little Kia rental car to do a 7 days loop,
touring central Namibia. We headed south on a gravel road, navigating
around baboons, warthogs and driving on the left side of the road to
reach Sesriem, where the mountains hold back a sea of sand at the
entrance to the Namib Desert. We woke early to make the last leg of
the journey, arriving at the Soussusvlei dunes in time for sunrise.
There we sat and watched people climb the much-photographed Dune 45,
while sipping cups of coffee. The dunes change color depending on the
position of the sun, so we wanted to see the shifting shadows, casting
light on the apricot colored dunes. The wind picked up, causing a
severe sandstorm, which apparently is not common. The wind didn't stop
us from trekking over the dunes to visit Hidden Vlei, where a lake
once created an oasis in the desert. The scenery in the desert looked
pre-historic; we half-expected to see dinosaurs walking towards us!
The heat of the day, gave way to a frigid night. We even had to take
the floor mats out of the rental cars to keep us warm in my little pup
tent!

The next day, we traveled through the Naukluft Mountains to where the
desert meets the ocean, on our way to the Bavarian coastal city of
Swakopmund. We spent two nights on the coast. One day we kayaked with
a seal colony and saw dolphins nearby in Walvis Bay. It's hard to
believe how diverse Namibia can be. It would be easy to forget that
you are in Africa at all when in Swakopmund, where German architecture
dominates the landscape.

From the coast, we traveled inland, overnighting in Otjiwarongo on our
way to Etosha, Namibia's biggest national park. Along the way, we
stopped in Outjo to visit another health volunteer, where we saw our
first group of Himba women. The Himba are a nomadic group and are
recognized by how the women cover themselves in red ochre butter from
head to toe, caking it in their hair and don't wear anything on top.
Up until this point, my mom hadn't felt like she was actually in
Africa yet, but Himba women grabbing your wrists to put bracelet after
bracelet, getting ochre butter all over your arms, made it official.
Welcome to Namibia ;)

We camped right inside of Etosha at Okakuejo, one of the three rest
camps inside the park. Jackals roamed a little too close to our tent
for a peaceful nights slumber, but being able to walk to the nearby
watering hole and sit and watch a parade of animals coming to parch
their thirst made it the perfect camping spot. We sat mesmerized as
elephants lumbered to the watering hole, shortly after we arrived;
next came a whole family of giraffes, then zebras. The next morning,
we were up with the sun to drive through the park, on our self-guided
game drive. We saw more animals than we could count, having to stop
for herds of hundreds of zebras crossing in front of us. Upon leaving
the park, a long drive back to Windhoek awaited us.

Returning the rental car, we took off again the next day, only this
time with PC driving us up north. After passing Grootfontein, you
cross the "Red Line" where most of the population lives in the north.
This time, crossing the line, I was struck by how different the
northern part of the country is from the south. And the least
developed. It's too long of a drive to go from Windhoek to Caprivi, so
we stopped in Rundu to break up the trip. Rundu is on the bluffs
overlooking the Kavango River that separates Namibia from Angola. The
next day, we crossed the Caprivi Strip, seeing ostrich but no
elephants. In the short time I had been out of the region, I was
struck by how many trees now had green leaves (the result of it
heating up, no rain). Winter's definitely "ovah-ovah" (as the popular
Zambian song goes).

We spent two full weeks in the village, breaking up our time with a
weekend camping trip on the Okavango River, where we stayed in tree
houses overlooking the river. Being in the village (especially your
first week) can be pretty over stimulating, so it was nice break to
relax on the water. We went on a sundowner pontoon ride and did a
half-day mokoro (traditional dug-out canoe) trip from Poppa Falls down
the river. They even had an outdoor bathtub overlooking the river and
a swimming pool cage in the river to protect you from the crocs and
hippos!

In the village, my mom really got to experience my life as a
volunteer. She ate meals with my family, taught life-skills for grade
5 and 7 at the school, helped with my after school activities, garden
demos, sports activities, baby weighing, hygiene sessions, visiting
friends, cooking over the open fire, community meetings under the big
tree, field trips to the market in town and various Ministry offices
where I pound the pavement each week to find support for the
activities I work on, Project Hope (the young women's micro-finance
group that I work with) sessions on gender and tradition, carrying
water on her head, washing clothes by the pump, making traditional
beer, distributing soccer balls that had been donated, giving my puppy
rabies shots, drying meat on clothes lines and so many more daily life
scenes. She was able to capture a lot in pictures, which I appreciate
since I've taken so few. I felt bad at how busy we were in the
village, there really was no downtime, but such is my life here. I
think my mom was very touched seeing the way my family takes care of
me and how I've become a part of my community. Friends were over til
late every night, wanting to spend time with us.

My mom was not the only visitor we had during her time in the village.
The head of the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR),
Ambassador Dybul, along with the heads of every big health
organization (CDC, USAID, PEPFAR, UNAIDS, Catholic AIDS Action) came
to my village to see the health projects that I'm working with on our
second day back in the village. For me it was neat to see those making
policy come face-to-face with the on-the-ground realities in the
village. I think it was quite eye opening, as it was their only visit
to a village (they were on a junket tour to places like Swakopmund and
Etosha!). I had interned with an AIDS organization in Washington
during the time Dybul was appointed, and was able to attend his
confirmation hearings on the hill. A full circle, indeed. As I
prepared the kids who they met with, I told them that important people
were coming to the village, but they're coming because YOU guys are
important. Their visit was brief, but they were able to tour the
garden, hear about the after-school program with orphans and talk to
the women involved in the Lutusane Group. Back in Windhoek, Ambassador
Dybul told my supervisor that Congress needs to hear more about the
kind of work I'm doing in my village. No kidding.

The following week, the U.S. Ambassador to Namibia came to visit
Mubiza, to meet with Griffin and I and see what we are doing in the
village. My dog tried to bite her – he doesn't care who's entering my
house – he's protective! She seemed pretty detached from seeing the
village, but we did our best to tell her what it's like. I told my mom
that most weeks don't contain these types of visits!!

My good friend Mpambo was so saddened by my mom leaving the village
that she visited every single night so she could spend as much time
with us as possible before she left. She told my mom that she's had a
hole in her heart ever since both her parents died, so saying good-bye
was especially difficult. Chaze loved having my mom around too
(really, we all did!), and kept saying that if she had money, she'd
come with us to Livingstone so that she could spend every last minute
with us before Linda boarded the plane!

Instead of traveling back to Windhoek, Mom and I went to Livingstone,
Zambia for four days at the end of her time here. Despite being only 2
½ hours away from Victoria Falls, it was my first time going to see
them. It was the perfect way to end our time together. We spent a day
at Victoria Falls, where we were able to climb along the edge of the
falls. During rainy season, the water volume is too high to do this. I
swam in a rock pool on the edge called the Arms of Angels, which was
glorious. Mom was a trouper to go right up to the edge, despite her
fear of heights. We also did a day-trip, crossing the rickety ferry
between Zambia to Botswana, where we went on a game-drive in Chobe
National Park and a private boat trip on the Chobe River, complete
with a picnic on the water. Chobe does not disappoint when it comes to
seeing elephants! Oh boy! We saw sooooo many animals! Even a lion
guarding a recently dead elephant! Our final full day together was
incredibly special: we took a boat out to Livingstone Island and swam
to the edge of the falls (the big, big part with the thundering rising
mist!) before diving off the edge, in this little basin right at the
brink of the falls. If we had known what we were to do, I don't think
either of us would have voluntarily done it. But diving in and
swimming to the ledge was the most exhilarating thing I think I've
ever done. The rest of the day we spent visiting a local market (where
I was delighted to find how many people understood my Silozi!) to buy
setenge cloth and lounging by the pool. The pools, rivers and ocean
had been too cold to swim when traveling in Namibia, so it was nice to
swim our hearts out in Zambia. We really are water babies ;)

There's so much more to tell, I feel like I've only skimmed the
surface. But I'll leave the stories for my mom to tell. More than
anything, I feel incredibly privledged to be able to share my
experience with my mom. We talked like magpies and laughed til we
cried. Not every part of my life is easy, and my mom was incredibly
supportive of some of the challenges that I'm facing in my work and
life. I've been inexcusably behind in responding to emails/letters
(ie. I just haven't for months now), but I do love hearing from you
and will try my best to emerge from the pit of not hitting reply.

Peace and love,
Thea

--
Thea Neal
Peace Corps Volunteer
Caprivi Region, Namibia
Cell: 081-364-2891

Karate Kid Comes to the Village

2008-08-09T02:27:00.000-07:00

The other week, my friend Paddy, a volunteer for the Ministry of Youth in Luderitz, came to facilitate a three day self-defense workshop for the older girls at school. Leading up to the workshop I was nervous: in theory, I thought that knowing how to protect yourself is an empowering and important thing for girls to learn, but I was nervous that it would come across as “fighting lessons,” which I didn’t want to encourage. The kids fight a lot, often times just because they are bored and have nothing else to do. In an effort to prevent this from happening, I asked my friend Mpambo to come and toloka – translate. She readily agreed and was still enthusiastic about the upcoming workshop when I saw her at church on Sunday. Come Tuesday, though, no Mpambo in sight. This happens all the time, you set something up, follow-up, think everything is in place and ready to go and then when the time comes, it falls through at the last minute. Fortunately, we are used to improvising and a few of the older girls with good English translated for the other girls whenever a new concept was introduced.

The workshop ran after school for three hours each day. On the first day, we went over what self-defense is and the difference between protecting yourself and attacking. Little scenarios go a long way to get a point across! Avoiding dangerous situations, saying “no,” running away to safety and using the buddy system were underscored throughout the workshop. One thing I really liked about the workshop was that it was really hands-on. The girls were taught how to get out of wrist-grabs, chokes and practiced their newly learned maneuvers in pairs. Paddy and Brooke supervised the pairs, so things never got out of hand and to ensure that everyone understood how to do each move. The transformation in the girls over the three days was apparent in their confidence. Women here are conditioned to be reserved and submissive, so it was fun to see them speak up for themselves. On the last day, after a discussion on healthy relationships, each girl had to do a practical test. Without telling the girl what maneuver she’d have to do, they would do one of the moves and she’d have to get out of it. The girls proved to be quick learners and had no difficulties. Each girl received a certificate at the end and a hand-out with all the moves they had learned.

It was fun to have Paddy and Brooke stay with me for a few days to experience “village life.” Living in Luderitz, a coastal city in the south, is a far cry from how we live in the village, so I think they enjoyed pretending they were “real volunteers” by carrying water on their head and playing with my millions of brothers and sisters. I bought extra maize meal, fish, beans and veggies at the market, which Chaze outdid herself preparing traditional food for us to eat. On their last night in the village, I pulled out a bag of marshmallows as a treat and we taught kids how to roast marshmallows. The temptation to eat them raw prevented many marshmallows from being roasted. In an effort to curb this pattern, I told the kids they must sing to their marshmallows. I wish I had a recording of us, bellowing in all keys and cadences, “MAAAAARRSHMALLLLOOOW” over and over. It was so cute. Even the adults got into it.

Measuring and filling time

2008-07-23T02:53:00.001-07:00

I can measure time with my water filter. Each week, I scrub iron-red
slim off the porcelain cylinders as part of my chores. I always want
to put it off until the thought of the week's accumulated slim grosses
me out enough to motivate me to action. When I buckle down and do it,
it only takes ten minutes, leaving me to wonder why I would put off
such a little task. The six-month at site mark also was noted, as it
was time to exchange the cylinders for bright new ones. These little
tasks give me a chance to stop and evaluate progress and revel in how
quickly time passes. Stegner writes, "let two years pass – and they
literally pass, like birds flying by someone sitting at the window."
The individual days can seem slow and long, but the weeks and months
go by quickly.

As a health volunteer, my schedule has very little routine to it, but
rather goes in fits and spurts. A busy week, followed by a low-key
week, form cyclical patterns. Recognizing this pattern is key to
feeling productive, even if you aren't running around with meetings
and mile-long to-do lists. This is just such a down-week, hence
multiple entries in the same week. For someone with a tendency to
overdo it and take on too much, it's good to allow myself to rest and
prepare for the next project.

Last week, I completed a Cash For Work proposal through the Ministry
of Rural Development to finish the poultry barn and fish pond that we
started as part of the Junior Farmer Field and Life School. It took
three weeks of meeting with my colleagues and builders for these
projects, obtaining quotations for needed inputs and trying to get
accurate plans put down on paper. Like with most things, doing it
alone would have been more efficient, but I needed to rely on my
builders since building structures is not my expertise, as shown in my
estimate of how many bundles of grass are needed to make a roof (100,
200, 250, 500, 1000? This question alone took many conversations and
going around to 10 different poultry projects in the region to look at
other poultry house designs. Final answer: 500 bundles). I also
believe strongly in the capacity building nature of my job. When I
leave, I want my colleagues to be able to write and submit their own
proposals. So, I made sure I took someone with me to show them how to
collect quotes from the three hardware store in town and meet with
Regional Council office. Our work seems to have paid off and I was
told on Friday that our proposal was approved to receive $11,000 ND to
finish these construction projects. This was not an endeavor I was
particularly optimistic about but I'm learning to follow my
colleagues' leads when they tell me they want to do something.
Afterall, it's not about what I want to accomplish. There still
remains a lot of follow-up and the work must actually be done now, yet
it's looking more and more within reach with the help of this grant.

Fat Cakes and Fat Cooks

2008-07-23T02:52:00.001-07:00

All throughout Namibia, you can find woman selling fat cakes. Along
the street, in the open markets, after church and during break-time at
school. These fried balls of dough are Namibia's equivalent to a
doughnut and make a cheap snack for a poor PC volunteer. When we first
landed in Windhoek, current volunteers greeted us as we stepped off
the plane and passed out fat cakes from a big tub as our first taste
of Namibian cuisine. I just received a cooking lesson on how to make
them this past weekend, so I thought I'd share the recipe.

Fat Cakes

5 cups of self-rising flour (if you don't have, just use cake flour
and add an additional two teaspoons of baking powder)
1 Tablespoon of salt
3 big spoonfuls of sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
3 cups lukewarm water

• Combine dry ingredients in a big bowl. After thoroughly
incorporated, slowly stir in water, stirring to form an elastic
consistency.
• Cover bowl with a plastic bag and set out in the sun for 45 min to
an hour. This gives the dough time to bubble and rise.
• Heat a couple inches of oil in a cast-iron pan. To test if it's hot
enough, drop a few drops of water and they should "dance" on top of
oil when hot enough.
• Dip a big spoon in water before scooping spoonfuls of dough and
plopping them in the pan. Dipping the spoon in water in between scoops
will keep dough from sticking to the spoon.
• Fat cakes will puff up while cooking; turn with a fork when one side
is golden brown.
• Tap off excess oil into pan before placing done fat cakes in a bowl.
Store fat cakes in a plastic bag to keep tender.
• Serve with sugar, jam, honey, chicken or mince meat. Best eaten warm!
Makes enough to share with your neighbors and friends and trust me
it's better to share than to eat too many!

Namlish Word of the Day

2008-07-22T02:45:00.001-07:00

It's taken me a while to adjust to the different speech patterns
unique to English in Namibia. One of them being asking where someone
"stays" when you want to know where they "live." This idea of where
you stay seems like a much more practical way, given the impermanence
of home here. Floods, draughts, HIV/AIDS, moving due to work,
rebuilding temporary huts, leaving kids to stay with other relatives
all contribute to a fluid community in the village. So too, I find it
easier these days to answer the question of where I'm staying than
where I live. Where I live changes, but I know how to answer the
question of where I'm staying. Your home shifts throughout your life,
leaving you with many places you consider home. Instead of picking
between homes I have shared, I prefer to consider them all homes, that
way I'm never far from home. So when you ask where I stay, I can
answer unequivocally that I stay at the Sabuta village in Mubiza. Just
ask where the makua lady that runs on the road towards Ngoma lives and
anyone will be able to help you find my house.

Micro-progress and healing steps

2008-05-28T08:43:00.000-07:00

It's been a long recovery period and I'm finally feeling my energy levels rise again, making me anxious to return back to my village family.It's been a long convalescence Being ill does serve as a good reminder of our human limitations. We've had this conversation before, about how there's so much pressure to do more, exceeding what is humanly possible! How drastically counter-cultural it can be to try and reverse go,go,go,burnout patterns (no spaces to signal the urgency!), but that is my ever-present life-work at this moment.

Boredom is not something I experience, ever. This is a good thing. Still, my busyness cannot be equated with true progress. Brenda Ueland writes,

"These people who are always briskly doing something and as busy as waltzing mice, they have little, sharp, staccato ideas, such as: "I see where I can make an annual cut of $3.47 in my meat budget." But they have no slow, big ideas.”

I think it's time to slow down and percolate. Instead of pulling teeth to get people involved in the garden project, I would rather step back. Spend some time hanging out. Working on my language skills. And wait to be approached by people who WANT to work on projects. This seems like a more organic unfolding than being thrown into an existing assignment that simply won't work if it's not wanted. I'm simplifying project design management to the level of a friendship.

A perceptive friend asked me recently, "what if your biggest accomplishment while in P.C. is reading with your host sisters on the weekends?" At first I was dismayed by this line of thought -- after all, two years seems like enough time to accomplish at least a few substantive projects, nay?! But, upon further reflection, some of my most meaningful work as of late has been spent reading by candle-light with two 10th graders, " Runaway Ralph and the Motorcycle," trying to explain what water hydrants are and the importance of wearing helmets! I guess it's necessary to re-evaluate expectations of progress and success, especially in a place still coming to terms with the legacy of apartheid.

If I were to design a t-shirt to worn daily, it would read: YOU CAN! This is the perpetual message that I'm constantly championing with those I work with. [I don't mean to merely repeat a campaign slogan, chanted at many a rally right now!]

The ethos in my community is one dependency. Unfulfilled promises. Waiting for the government to come through. Waiting some more. Placing some blame. We are powerless. We have many problems. The white people have the answers. We need someone to tell us what to do (often me, not the local expert).

STOP!

Before any development, transformative or otherwise, can take root, people must believe that they are even capable of being a part of this transformative process. Maybe my work here is then to come alongside, offering quiet and sometimes loud encouragement. You can. Together we can. To teach those I work with to take initiative, develop leadership skills and help find local resources. Easier said than done. While all of this seems quite daunting at times, I have to believe that my presence, persistence and patience will gradually help break down some of these prevailing attitudes. Baby steps.

A few of my favorite things in Windhoek...

2008-05-24T09:16:00.000-07:00

~The Green Market: a mini-farmer's market held every Saturday morning. Fresh produce, home-made cheese, honey comb, crafts, outdoor cafe featuring wonderful quiches and strong German coffee. Instead of paying each vendor as you shop, you collect slips from each purchase and pay a common cashier, thus, saving you from having to carry around a wad of small bills. Then, you bring your receipts and collect your purchases on the way out. Smart system.
~The Craft Center: Located in the old brewery building, the Craft Center as it's name implies features hand-made crafts from the different regions. Upstairs, is a lovely cafe, where you can sit on the deck and drink coffee from big pottery mugs. The food is wonderful, if you can get past ordering the apple crumble.
~The French-Namibian Cultural Center: This is the ONLY place where you can read the New York Times in all of Namibia. Sunny window reading nooks provide afternoons of reading/dozing pleasure. They also show French films on a regular basis.
~The American Cultural Center: Again, library access! The American Cultural Center has a wide range of fairly current periodicals and journals from the States.
~Fruit and Veg: Your one stop produce haven. They even have strawberries. 'Nuf said.
~I like it when the directions to the homeopathic doctor include turning left at one castle and right at the next castle. Where am I?

My extended convalesence in the capital has provided me time to hunt down other "luxury" items such as tofu, whole wheat pita bread and aluminum-free deodorant and homeopathic clinics.

As comfortable as I am here, I feel it's time to head back to site soon, soon. I miss my host family and my hut. There's no place like home.

The world is my classroom -- a mud hut is theirs

2008-03-04T01:01:00.000-08:00

Part of my ever-evolving job description here in Mubiza is to assist with teaching life-skills classes both in school and as part of the JFFLS after-school program that I’m working on. Grif and I decided to team teach life-skills for grades 5-7. Each class meets forty minutes once a week, which isn’t very much time to cover the list of topics that we need to teach during the school year! Especially when the grade 5 learners hardly understand a word we say. Grade 5 is the first year taught exclusively in English; up until that point, classes are taught in a mixture of mother-tongue (Silozi) with English lessons given to prepare them for the switch. Even still, you will find that most Caprivian teachers will revert back into Silozi even with the higher grades – an option that Grif and I don’t have. There are times when it would be helpful in order for them to know what’s going on to briefly give an instruction in Silozi before switching back into English, yet I guess they will just have to adapt to our “English-only” teaching style.

Classes did not start until a couple weeks into the term, due to the schedule not being ready and the principle’s continued absenteeism. In the end, Grif and the other new male teacher were instructed to draw up the time-table for the entire school, even though they are the new teachers with no experience ever having done it. I should mention that there’s a host of much more qualified female teachers that could have done this, except for the fact that, oh yeah, they’re women in a male-dominant culture. Quite frustrating! Even now, a month and a half into the school term, notebooks have arrived, so learners are not able to complete any work or take notes, which is a very ingrained system here due to rote copying/memorization being the primary method of teaching.

The school is made up of three cement block building and two mud huts used for additional classrooms. Grif exclusively teaches in the mud huts (teachers rotate classrooms while each grade stays in their classroom), one of which is currently flooded with 45+ broken desks crammed inside. It’s the most squalid learning environment I have ever seen and more than slightly overwhelming to step inside to face 42 grade 5 learners, who haven’t eaten breakfast and then be expected to teach them.

Haven't we been friends for ages?

2008-03-04T00:59:00.000-08:00

There are some friendships that start fast, with one person doing most of the initiating and just jumping into the friendship like you’ve been fast friends forever, even though you just met. Usually, I’m the one caught pleasantly off guard when this happens. Yesterday, I was in Katima trying to get a million and one things accomplished, things were taking longer than I expected (like usual) and I kept running into people that led to getting further behind schedule. A woman who works for the Ministry of Fisheries (yes, there is a ministry dedicated to raising fish here in Namibia) had been in Mubiza the previous day and Griffin had passed along my contact information to her, saying that I would have lots of questions for her (a kind way of saying that I haven’t the slightest clue how one raises tilapia). She called me up out of the blue and said that when I had a minute later in the day to give her a ring and she would pick me up so we could meet for a bit. Since I was behind schedule, I didn’t call her back until close to 4:30 and asked if we could meet next week since I just wanted to get back to the village (I had been hoping to get back by 2 to work in the garden for the afternoon). She seemed genuinely disappointed and told me that she going back to Rundu (where she is based) and wouldn’t be back for at least a month. She then added that she was hoping to have Griffin and I over for a braii that very evening! Even though she had never met me, she seemed really nice and so I said sure. Afterall, I’m learning to be flexible. So, 10 minutes later she drives up and we load my groceries and hardware supplies into the boot and proceed to complete several errands – picking up her daughter who was shopping for food, dropping her off at home where several Afrikkaner girls were waiting, picking up cakes and then driving back to the village so I could drop off my bags and pick up a surprised Griffin. She seemed so apologetic that we might have plans for the evening. Little did she know that once the sunsets, our activities diminish to playing games like “who’s candle will burn out first” or reading out-loud to each other. Why ever would we turn down a braii and helping with a slumber party for a group of 10 year old girls? It was nice to relax and enjoy an evening filled with new friends, good food and even live-entertainment! It’s not every Friday night that one gets to be a judge of a talent show. This encounter came right when I was feeling the effects of having to start yet again building a new social network in a new place. A good jumpstart and reminder that we aren’t alone here. Even though we are still new in town, Grif and I always run into people that know us in Katima. Usually our hikes in and out of town come from folks who have seen us on television (a lingering perk of the swearing in ceremony being televised

Re: blog update

2008-01-11T08:15:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year's! I love waking up on New Year's morning with the
knowledge that it is a new beginning, a fresh start of another year.
It seems pregnant with possibility, replenishing my optimism. After
much hullabaloo, I have figured out how to hook up my phone to use the
internet, so I now have access to email and as one can deduce from new
blog updates, a way to update you all on my life here in Namibia. I've
put the two group emails up on this site to catch up on training thus
far.

I just finished a month-long home-stay that was part of our community
based training. I was with a wonderful family, who lived in the town
part of Grootfontein and had two kids (with more relatives coming over
the holidays). They were encouraging of my language skills and wanted
to teach me how to do everything, from handwashing my clothes to
cooking buhobe, hard porridge. Even still, I find it stressful being a
guest in someone's house. By far it was the best homestay experience I
have had, far smoother than France or Senegal. I think this was
partially due to the fact that my family all spoke English fluently
(or Namlish, as we say here), so there was less of a communication
barrier.

Grootfontein is an urban city, but we found it necessary to readjust
our expectations of what a city is here in Namibia. There was not a
lot going on in Grootfontein, even though it had a military base,
prison, a few grocery stores, tons of shabeens (bars) and three
locations. There is a big divide leftover from apartheid between town
and the locations. When I refer to the "location" it is the equivalent
as talking about townships in South Africa, or the communities where
black Africans were forced to live during the apartheid regime. The
economic inequality is still pretty much divided along racial lines,
leaving the living arrangements still intacted. We were surprised at
how this affected our training. Those of us in town felt very isolated
from the rest of the trainees who lived in the black and coloured
locations. And when we put on a community health workshop as part of
our technical training, it was difficult for us to reach out to those
that did not live in the location, since families living in town or
even the coloured location would not be willing to go to the location.
Racism and tribalism are very ingrained here, even amongst the
numerous black ethnic groups. My host family only hung out with fellow
Caprivians and tried to distance themselves as much as possible from
those living in the location. I have yet to know what language to
greet people in because I do not want to offend anyone by greeting in
the wrong language, so usually I stick to English unless I know for
sure that they speak my target language. (on a side note, there is
less baggage with speaking Afrikaans to Namibians, despite the fact
that it was the language of oppression under apartheid. This is a big
difference from South Africa. I had been weary of learning Afrikaans
and was surprised to find this difference. Most Namibians that I've
talked to about this hold very little ill-feeling towards Afrikaners
and seem to have moved forward since Independance).

We continued with technical training sessions during CBT, in addition
to four hours of language instruction each day. Some days we traveled
to Tsumeb (about 45 minutes from Grootfontein) to have joint sessions
with the other group of health trainees. These sessions mainly focused
on statistics and did not provide a lot of strategies for behavior
change or actual stuff that would be useful to our jobs, so it was
frustrating at a time to sit through hour after hour of how AIDS is a
problem in Namibia without a lot of emphasis on ways to reduce
transmission and spread in our work in our communities. Even still, we
were able to practice facilitating workshops, which proved to be the
most useful part of training. I led sessions on healthy
decision-making, risk-taking and nutrition/hygiene. Despite having
very little time to prepare and resources to put together our
sessions, they went quite well. I was afraid that the information I
had was too basic and was afraid of coming across as condescending
when talking about the food groups and hand-washing, but the
participants really ate it up and offered a lot of positive feedback.
We did a lot of interactive activities, role-playing and games to make
it as engaging as possible. Namibians love attending workshops since
it provides something to do, free food, and most importantly
certificates.

A big difference between Senegal and Namibia that I have noticed is
how much more of a problem alcoholism is here in Namibia compared to
in Senegal, a predominantly Muslim country. Yes, in Dakar, the
capital, there were lots of clubs, bars, and people drank, but it was
not near the extent and amount consumed here. The shabeens (bars) are
full by 7 am and stay full all day/night. Even our host siblings (as
young as 2!) drank beer by the glass-full and would cry until they got
more. The concept that alcoholism is a disease is not recognized here,
and the government is just beginning to initiate programs to raise
awareness, recognizing that alcohol is one of the main drivers of
fueling the AIDS epidemic here.

blog update

2008-01-01T07:04:00.001-08:00

Mu tozi cwani!

I can now say that I have seen a bit more of Namibia than just the
training center in Okahandja. For the past two weeks, I have been up
north, visiting my permanent site in the Caprivi Strip and shadowing a
current health volunteer in the Kavango region. The Caprivi Strip can
be found in the far northeastern section of the country; this narrow
finger pokes its way in between Zambia and Botswana, touching Zimbabwe
and Angola as well. The region is pretty distinct from the rest of
Namibia, namely as a result of two rivers that sandwich the region,
making it a lush, fertile area. Well, other reasons set it apart too.
Nutshell history lesson: Namibia was colonized by the Germans, who at
the Berlin Conference (where much of the continent was carved up like
pieces of cake for the taking) were vying for a route inland to try to
connect what is now Namibia to another of their territories, Tanganika
(they weren't successful), which explains why this funny stretch is
actually a part of Namibia and not one of the neighboring countries.
So, the borders were rather falsely drawn and much conflict has
simmered over the years (the area was active in the freedom fight;
Angolan civil war and has had a separatist movement). As a result,
Peace Corps volunteers have not been in the region since 1999, so I am
part of the first group to back into the region and the first health
volunteer in the region (before there were only teachers). It's quite
safe there now, so no one should worry.

My village is called Mubiza (the b is pronounced like a Spanish b,
cross between a "b" and an "v"), which is located 25 km outside of
Katima Mulilo. The best way I can think to describe it is to say that
it's the stereotypical African village. Yes, that means I am living in
a mud hut, pulling water from a bore-hole, bucket bathing, cooking
over a propane burner/fire and using a pit latrine! It's quite
beautiful – behind my house is a field of mopani trees and cows come
to my window and stick their head in when I cook dinner! Lots of stray
dogs camp outside my stoop and the main gathering point in the cluster
of huts surrounding me is under a big tree where everyone cooks, eats
and rests during the heat of the day. There is another volunteer in
the same village, Griffin, who will be teaching at the school. It's
been nice to have someone who speaks English to process with, but
everyone thinks that we are a couple and is quite surprised to see him
do his share of cooking and other tasks that only women do here.

My assignment is to work with the Junior Farmers Field and Life Skills
Program (JFFLS). It is a trial program through FAO (Farming and
Agriculture Organization, part of the United Nations) and has four
sites in the region, each with a Peace Corps volunteer. Basically, the
idea is to teach gardening, as a way to transfer knowledge about
farming, life skills, HIV/AIDS and have a way to generate income. Our
program has 30 OVCS (orphans and vulnerable children), which is only a
small fraction of the orphans at the school – the school is made up of
over 85% orphans – it's rather mind-boggling. Hopefully, the program
will be expanded, so as not to further stigmatize the kids in the
program. Anyways, I will be training the facilitators, developing
curriculum, teaching book-keeping skills, computers and teaching
life-skills to 5-7 graders, in addition to gardening. Many projects
are in the works, including a fish pond to raise fish, bee hives,
poultry barn, orchard (to grow bananas, guava, papaya and mangos!) and
butcher business. They plan to see the garden produce in the
community, as well as to the grocery store in Katima and local lodges.
The garden has yet to be harvested, even though it was started in
2005, so all of these projects need quite a bit of coordination before
anything will actually come to fruition. There is no clinic or
health facilities in the village of about 2,000 people, so they have
to hitch hike into Katima for any medical care. The region has the
highest rate of HIV/AIDS and TB in the country (over 42% We came
across satellite villages that have an 80% infection rate).

I've already been asked to open a clinic and treat people, which is
probably a natural misunderstanding when they hear that they are
getting a health volunteer! There are a lot of misconceptions in the
area as to how HIV is spread. One of the prevalent beliefs is that it
can be contracted if someone comes to you in a dream while you are
asleep and has sex with you. The traditional healers advocate this as
a way the disease is "witched" on people, and there are even court
cases at the traditional court where people are convicted of infecting
others with HIV in dreams. Craziness. The women I spoke to in my
village, seemed very unsure of whether this was possible or not – and
they were the facilitators teaching the kids about AIDS!

People have been extremely welcoming; adults have been sending kids to
my hut to make sure that I'm never lonely! The white, mukuwa, is a
source of endless fascination for many who make excuses to check in on
me at all times of the day. My hut was built by the community when
they heard that they were getting a volunteer. My visit was mainly for
me to meet and greet as many people in the village – headmen, village
court, JFFLS management committee, religious leaders, traditional
healers and the kids. I am looking forward to going back in January
and settling in to my new home.

We went to Botswana (a mere 30 minute drive from the village!) and
even got to see an elephant – a perk of being surrounded by game
parks. While shadowing current volunteers, they took us to a game park
where we saw lions, hippos, buffalos, giraffes, 2,000 year old trees,
huge lizards, crocodiles, and many more animals. It's pretty
awe-inspiring to see these animals in their natural habitat, meters
away from you. On my hike up the nearby mountains before dinner this
evening I saw a pack of baboons! I have yet to see any snakes, despite
numerous stories of snakes being killed in the village, and that's the
way I hope it remains!

I feel like I have learned more in the past two weeks while having
navigate all sorts of new forms of transport – hitch hiking with
truckers, riding in crammed combies, in the back of pick up trucks
with chickens and with my own two legs – just by having to do it.
Transportation is a huge problem here since the country is expansive,
yet sparsely populated in many parts, making it difficult to get
around with no formal transportation system. I am much less worried
about having to hitch hike than I initially was and won't have to do
it alone, so it's worked out fine so far. The key is to be assertive
and speak up if you get in an uncomfortable situation.

I'm sorry this is so long. I haven't had access to the internet in
three weeks and wanted to share with you the news about my placement.
Any news from the states is greatly appreciated, despite my lack of
responding up until this point (I have every intention of replying as
soon as I have access).

My body is still on village time – going to bed when it gets dark and
waking up with the roosters at 4:45 am! I have never seen so many
sunrises in my life! I'm a little red from being outside all morning
for World AIDS Day events, and a little sore from hauling manure and
planting in the garden, but I will get used to the manual labor and am
happier than I've ever been. This is my life.

For the next month, I am be living in Grootfontein with a host family
for more language training and technical training. I am one month away
from officially being sworn in a PCV!

Thanks to all who have emailed, i am responding but having trouble
accessing the internet. you can send me messages though on facebook
and \i can check using my cell phone. technology!

love to all,
thea

blog update

2008-01-01T07:01:00.001-08:00

Greetings from Namibia – Land of the Brave!

After a week of traveling and orientation, I arrived in Namibia last
Friday afternoon. We were greeted at the airport with big signs and a
huge group of current volunteers to help with our two years worth of
luggage. We were taken to Okahandja, an hour northeast of Windhoek,
where we will be based for part of our training. All of our Peace
Corps training staff greeted the buses by singing and dancing in 10
different languages, representing the languages spoken in Namibia. It
was incredibly moving. They just kept singing even after we had all
gathered in our meeting room. I wasn't expecting a concert upon
arrival to a new country!

For those of you who haven't heard, I am starting my pre-service Peace
Corps training in Namibia, where I'll be serving as a Community Health
and HIV/AIDS volunteer. In two weeks I'll know my permanent site,
where I'll be for the next two years.

From the plane, the terrain looked quite barren. I tried counting
houses, but never made it past one. Twice the size of California,
Namibia is the second least populated country in the world after Nepal
(the Twin Cities are more populated than the entire country, as a
comparison). So far, it reminds me a little of the Badlands, although
those from Arizona claim that there is a remarkable similarity. Lots
of shrubbery, dry river beds, and mountains pop up all over the
desert-like terrain.

Namibia's HIV/AIDS prevalence is ranked as the third highest in
sub-Saharan Africa, in the fifth most affected country in the world,
with a prevalence rate of 19.7 percent. Of course, it can vary
dramatically depending on the region. For example, the highest is in
the Caprivi strip at 42 percent, while in Opuwo is 9 percent (I had to
stop myself from typing "only" 9 percent). This is a huge issue in
Namibia and is growing at an alarming rate (in just two years the rate
along one coastal city went from 16 percent to 28 percent). 30 % of
30-34 years olds are HIV-positive. As a result, there is a huge
population of what are called OVCs (orphans and vulnerable children)
and the average life expectancy has fallen to 41 years of age. Namibia
is one of the 15 focus countries targeted by PEPFAR (in a nutshell: in
2003, President Bush initiated what is known as the President's
Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, which is the largest bilateral program
that addresses care, treatment and prevention in a number of
countries). The Peace Corps is a PEPFAR partner, but also works to
build capacity of the Namibian government at all levels and to build
the capacity of non-profits (faith-based organizations,
community-based organizations and international aid organizations).
I'll write more about my role as a health volunteer as it unfolds.

Many of you have asked if I will be keeping a blog while in Namibia.
The answer is yes, but I need to have it approved by our Country
Director before I can start posting anything. I might need to make it
password protected, hence changing my site, so I'll just send another
email once I figure everything out and proceed.

In the meantime, please write! I won't have very much time or access
in the next several weeks of training, but I would love to hear from
you either via email or post.
My address through January 9 will be:
Thea Neal, PCT
Peace Corps Office
P.O. Box 6862
20 Nachtigal St.
Ausspannplatz
Windhoek, Namibia
AFRICA

Depending on where I'm placed, my access to email might improve once I
get to my site and my schedule adjusts.

Until then, I'm just trying to process a multitude of new acronyms and
am anxiously waiting to find out which language I'll be learning
starting this week. There are still a lot of unknowns, but it's great
to finally be here and with 70 other volunteers who are equally
excited to be starting this next adventure.

--
Thea Neal
Hope College 2007
Peace Corps Namibia 2007-2010

Test

2007-10-28T10:50:00.001-07:00

Namibia-bound!

2007-09-15T14:12:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, I received my invitation to serve in Namibia with the Peace Corps. I will be leaving on October 29 to embark on a 27 month stint in southern Africa. Here's a map showing where I'll be. Details are slow in coming, for example, I won't know exactly what part of Namibia I will be living until sometime during the first two months of training, but here's what I know thus far:
~I will be a Health Extension Volunteer in a Community Health and HIV/AIDS program, working with either a government agency (like the Ministry of Health or Ministry of Youth in a particular community), an non-profit organization or a faith-based organization.
~While English is the national language of Namibia, it is not the first language for most, so I will be learning Afrikaans and another local language (otjihereo, oshiwambo and damara-nama might all be possibilities).
~After going through a two month training in language, culture, technical skills, etc., I will officially begin my service on December 28, 2007 and be done December 28, 2009 (which means I'll be home sometime early 2010!).
~for more information, there's a Peace Corps Namibia site with a lot more detais: http://www.peacecorpswiki.com/index.php?title=Namibia

A quick trip to the downtown library provided me with a big stack of reading material, so I'm happily learning more about the history, culture and travel information for Namibia. I'll share more later.

What my business card should read...

2007-05-15T15:05:00.000-07:00

I recently finished reading _The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down_ by Anne Fadiman. It tells the story of one Hmong family's struggle with Western medicine as they try to treat their daughter's epilepsy, operating from an entirely different worldview, one in which the line between the spiritual realm and this world is nonexistent. Epilepsy is their culture is known as what happens when "the spirit catches you and you fall down" and is a sign that the person is more in touch with the spiritual realm. This book had been recomended to me on numerous occassions, and I finally picked it up and found myself engrossed in another culture, learning about the "Silent War" in Laos and an ethnic group that has been forced to flee.

The Hmong have a phrase, hai cuaj txub kaum txub, which means " to speak of all kinds of things." The author describes that, "it is often used at the beginning of an oral narrative as a way of reminding the listeners that the world is full of things that may not seem to be connected but actually are; that no even occurs in isolation; that you can miss a lot by sticking to the point; and that the storyteller is likely to be rather long-winded" (13).

I've always needed a phrase to explain why I sometimes feel the need to take many winding paths in explaining myself or telling a story. At Camp Poem, Jack Ridle talked about different types of story-telling personas one might have (making everyone feel most at ease by giving names to how they relate a story). Mine most accurately would be "to speak of all kinds of things."

Packing while unpacking

2007-05-15T12:35:00.000-07:00

Since google is rapidly taking over the internet galaxy, I figured that I would switch over to blogger at the same time as I switch to gmail, that way I can manage everything from my email account.

The title of this blog comes from a Japanese proverb that we had hanging on the door to our apartment this past semester:
"We're fools whether or not we dance, so we might as well dance."

There comes a point where what people think of you really doesn't hold a lot of sway anymore; when you stop worrying about what others think about you and just go at your own pace, dance when you hear a dancing rhythm, laugh spontaneously, speak the truth and do your own thing. Who you are is complete, not rotating around opinions of others, even those you esteem and hold dear. I'm not sure how this fits in with being in community, which I also value and seek to create. I don't believe that individualism and community are mutually exclusive, though. How does one hold tightly to both? Maybe by letting community be an evolving term, growing with us as we change and move on.

Graduating means moving on and leaving a lot of friends. We are all off to do exciting things in exciting places, but we won't be together again in the unique collegiate greenhouse. This realization brings mixed emotions: happiness for future plans coming into reality; sadness that the faces around the table won't be the same; worry about having folks to talk about "big ideas" with; apprehension of leaving what is comfortable and what we've learned to do well (be students, that's who we are!); a few regrets mixed in with the overwhelming feeling of being ready. Ready for what? I don't know. I don't know the next time I"ll be in a classroom taking lecture notes in top spiral bound notebooks, but this whole learning endeavor is far from over. My bookcases filling up the perimeter of my room remind me that there is still much to learn, discover and puzzle over.