tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88623519098310257682024-03-12T18:33:50.083-07:00Paka in AfrikaPeace Corps Namibia 2008-2010Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-24424277767939414312010-11-21T11:34:00.000-08:002010-11-21T13:03:47.618-08:00The last post in Namibia?I officially have my flight home booked and I will arrive at Seatac airport at 10:51 am on December 16th!!! I doubt I'll be coming to town again so quite probably this will be the last post until I get home. Appropriately, here are some goodbye pictures:<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl5SZXPNzI/AAAAAAAAD9A/ByaZUcmr3W8/s1600/IMGP6108.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl5SZXPNzI/AAAAAAAAD9A/ByaZUcmr3W8/s400/IMGP6108.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542094173409064754" border="0" /></a><br />Johannes and Bonifatius both in grade 8<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl5SH1KPdI/AAAAAAAAD84/CEN32xFHwR0/s1600/IMGP6133.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl5SH1KPdI/AAAAAAAAD84/CEN32xFHwR0/s400/IMGP6133.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542094168702729682" border="0" /></a><br />Grade 7 girls: Johanna, Auguste, Ingrid, Linda, Emma<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl27qvYJuI/AAAAAAAAD8w/s0krhx-TOnE/s1600/IMGP6134.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl27qvYJuI/AAAAAAAAD8w/s0krhx-TOnE/s400/IMGP6134.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542091583913469666" border="0" /></a><br />Alina and Justina both in grade 8<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl24OJ9knI/AAAAAAAAD8o/OPPO4gNx2uk/s1600/IMGP6226.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl24OJ9knI/AAAAAAAAD8o/OPPO4gNx2uk/s400/IMGP6226.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542091524700738162" border="0" /></a><br />Sir at his desk in the library. Note the M.C. Escher calendar pages on the wall, my chess set (I've been studying so Grant and Evan watch out!), the completed colorful puzzle (another donation), and the mishmash of books and papers strewn about.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl22XSawTI/AAAAAAAAD8g/INnuP1y5g0g/s1600/IMGP6270.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl22XSawTI/AAAAAAAAD8g/INnuP1y5g0g/s400/IMGP6270.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542091492792385842" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Mr. Percy Marumani is the English teacher for Grade 8, 9, and 10. He speaks the best English out of all the teachers (besides me), and has been a great friend for the last two years.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl21xG7QhI/AAAAAAAAD8Y/FmPSetvG8Wc/s1600/IMGP6126.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl21xG7QhI/AAAAAAAAD8Y/FmPSetvG8Wc/s400/IMGP6126.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542091482543637010" border="0" /></a><br />Meme Emilia in her flashy new dress courtesy of yours truly.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl21vI3jWI/AAAAAAAAD8Q/AnnrUnAt8VI/s1600/IMGP6120.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl21vI3jWI/AAAAAAAAD8Q/AnnrUnAt8VI/s400/IMGP6120.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542091482014911842" border="0" /></a><br />America! Angula, Meme Emilia, and Mwiingona holding up their omapandela<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2C3IiftI/AAAAAAAAD8I/NpfpFXTKlSw/s1600/IMGP6143.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2C3IiftI/AAAAAAAAD8I/NpfpFXTKlSw/s400/IMGP6143.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542090607987687122" border="0" /></a><br />The grade 7 class photo. Top to bottom left to right with my favorites in bold: Mr. Simeon Musilika (teacher for English and Social Studies), Frans, Titus, Monica, Hertha, Emma, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Johanna</span>, Leticia, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Genesia</span>, Peneyambeko, Mr. Marumani, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ingrid</span>, Bertha, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Auguste</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Johanna</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Vistorina</span>, Hilma, Ndasilohenda, Lukresia, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Emma</span>, Sir Paka, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Frans</span>, Fanuel, Selestino, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Simeon</span>, Japhet, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ileni</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Leonard</span>, Joseph, Timoteus, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Linda</span><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2CObw1iI/AAAAAAAAD8A/36woFucDbp0/s1600/IMGP6145.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2CObw1iI/AAAAAAAAD8A/36woFucDbp0/s400/IMGP6145.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542090597062465058" border="0" /></a><br />Grade 7 again but this time 'funny style'<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2Bnj78nI/AAAAAAAAD74/jcbfwVpazBQ/s1600/IMGP6190.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2Bnj78nI/AAAAAAAAD74/jcbfwVpazBQ/s400/IMGP6190.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542090586627764850" border="0" /></a><br />The grade 8 class photo. Top to bottom left to right with my favorites in bold: Sir Paka, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Junias</span>, Titus, Malakia, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Sakaria</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Uushona</span>, Wilbard, Petrus, Iipuleni, Tomas, Sir Marumani, Kaarina, Sylvia, Tusnelde, Magano, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Alina</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Justina</span>, Helvi, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Mwiingona</span>, Rautia, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ester</span>, Sylvia, Martin, Ndili, Andreas, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Johannes</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Abner</span>, Sem, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Bonifatius</span>, Kashongwi, Jason<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2BSWenyI/AAAAAAAAD7w/AC9_gm4HB-A/s1600/IMGP6229.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOl2BSWenyI/AAAAAAAAD7w/AC9_gm4HB-A/s400/IMGP6229.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542090580934172450" border="0" /></a><br />The grade 9 class photo. Top to bottom left to right with my favorites in bold: Sir Marumani, Rauna, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Erastus</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Nepando</span>, Andreas, Aino, Alweendo, Soini, Vendelinus, Sir Paka, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Susana</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Leta</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Aina</span>, Gertrude, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Erica</span>, Enguwa, Rosalia, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Ndakulilwa</span>, Evelina, Rautia, Maria, Simson, Marti, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Menas</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Festus</span>, <span style="font-weight: bold;">Markus</span>, Alfeus, Hosea, Lukas<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Thursday was the last day of teaching and actually there was no teaching because I declared Thursday to be picture day! I rigged up a tower of desks for a platform for some self-timer shots and arranged each class so we would all fit in the picture. We did three photos as a group with two formal smiling shots (to increase the chances of getting a quality picture) and the third one funny style. Then we all went to the library for individual portraits. I decided since these kids don't have much to begin with, don't get many presents, and absolutely love photos, that I would give them all two photos: a class picture and also a self portrait. They were pretty happy when I told them and in return I am asking them all to sign in my memory book a la high school yearbooks. And I am making sure they put their full name: first name, surname, oshiwambo name, and nickname. For example:<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOmCCF87TeI/AAAAAAAAD9I/HTIlrM-6IKU/s1600/bj.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TOmCCF87TeI/AAAAAAAAD9I/HTIlrM-6IKU/s400/bj.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542103788925177314" border="0" /></a>Bonifatius, Japhet, Dimba, Rooney Boy (after famous soccer star Wayne Rooney)<br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Also for my 'favorites' I am giving them the photos like the ones I posted above where they are standing with me. But that will be a surprise for them on the last day of school! Exams started on Monday and they take the math exam on December 2nd. After that I have to wade through piles and piles of papers that need grading and then I say goodbye to everyone, head down to Windhoek, have my exit interview, close my bank account, and get on the plane! Wow! December 16th I will be back home after 26 months away and I cannot wait for the reunion with friends and family, snowboarding in snowy forests, cold damp drizzly walks with the dogs, drinking eggnog by the fire, Christmas!, Thai food feasts, fast internet, hot showers, Canadian islands, the Pacific Northwest, cuddling up on the couch with my cat and watching movies, playing the Wii, riding my bike, playing some pickup soccer/frisbee, and generally enjoying America.<br /><br />Until then,<br />Paka<br /></div></div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-34518247010071438992010-10-22T16:39:00.000-07:002010-10-23T09:43:23.758-07:00A Village Variety<div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMInhYOMg7I/AAAAAAAAD6s/TN7ceRPht44/s1600/IMGP5617.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026746755548082" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMInhYOMg7I/AAAAAAAAD6s/TN7ceRPht44/s400/IMGP5617.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Just call me Link! (the star of the Nintendo Zelda series) Hunting is a favorite pastime of village boys and I often see them carrying around bows and arrows made from wood scraps and various other bits and pieces. Another popular method is to send out the dogs to flush out the rabbits and then a knotty wood club is employed with a surprisingly high success rate.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMInhN8AXvI/AAAAAAAAD6k/8q8-Ons-x3k/s1600/IMGP5546.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026743994900210" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMInhN8AXvI/AAAAAAAAD6k/8q8-Ons-x3k/s400/IMGP5546.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The mammoth cactus plant on the neighboring homestead. Meme told me the English word for the fruits was ‘opickalipah.’ It didn’t ring a bell at first but I eventually figured out she meant ‘Prickly Pear’ like the one from the famous Disney Jungle Book song. I don’t know how indigenous it is because they are not so common but there is a word for it in Oshiwambo: efauena.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIng9uBX3I/AAAAAAAAD6c/r_Vdj3pR9F0/s1600/IMGP5548.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026739641278322" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIng9uBX3I/AAAAAAAAD6c/r_Vdj3pR9F0/s400/IMGP5548.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The fruit is covered with those bumps and extremely small hairs and give your hands quite a prickling if you don’t first soak it in water and rub them off. Inside is the seedy pulp which is very sweet and tasty. You can see a few unripe fruits at the tippy top of the plant. The others were all snatched up by the kids who consider anything remotely sweet an utterly mesmerizing delicacy.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIngP5JifI/AAAAAAAAD6U/ule0yWESO6E/s1600/IMGP5580.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026727339919858" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIngP5JifI/AAAAAAAAD6U/ule0yWESO6E/s400/IMGP5580.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I stumbled upon these small plasticky old toys that Uncle Tom gave me in my ‘monkey basket.’ I gave them to the kids and literally within 5 minutes after this picture, they had ripped out the inside stuffing and bitten holes in two of the noses. Most toys do not survive long in Africa. For supporting evidence to this claim, see also the countless (20+) soccer balls that have popped on thorns.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIngJ8w7YI/AAAAAAAAD6M/2qsS_9v7C8Y/s1600/IMGP5950.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026725744471426" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIngJ8w7YI/AAAAAAAAD6M/2qsS_9v7C8Y/s400/IMGP5950.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Sunrise with an early appearance of clouds. But it’s just a tease. There won’t be rain for another month I bet and that will make at least six months with no precipitation. Did I mention that these days it is regularly pushing 100 degrees?<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm6y3C1qI/AAAAAAAAD6E/9f5WZWcmQmc/s1600/IMGP5615.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026083891304098" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm6y3C1qI/AAAAAAAAD6E/9f5WZWcmQmc/s400/IMGP5615.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Me and our neighbor Meme Berita also secretly known as Bad-Eye Meme. She made me that sweet little basket and says it’s where I can keep my money. So in return I’m printing her this picture and a couple others. Such nice people in this village!<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm61GYOVI/AAAAAAAAD58/d_6TKDXyeXY/s1600/IMGP5949.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026084492491090" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm61GYOVI/AAAAAAAAD58/d_6TKDXyeXY/s400/IMGP5949.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here is some genius engineering. The kids are very resourceful with whatever scraps they find and whip up these fantastic contraptions. This car even has a workable steering wheel! I’ve seen a couple different steering mechanisms and this one utilizes some thin rubber strips connected to the wheels which are made out of old pop cans.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm6XaWvHI/AAAAAAAAD50/RP3VhHubtpc/s1600/IMGP5944.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026076523215986" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm6XaWvHI/AAAAAAAAD50/RP3VhHubtpc/s400/IMGP5944.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here’s Egumbo preparing for the Grand Prix. I don’t know who actually made this car but he borrowed it for the week.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm6OmnHsI/AAAAAAAAD5s/T2YXWdzlmZA/s1600/IMGP5743.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026074158702274" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm6OmnHsI/AAAAAAAAD5s/T2YXWdzlmZA/s400/IMGP5743.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Egumbo always looks so innocent but the next day he burnt the fence down! He and some other kid were playing some make-believe game with matches and the fire got out of control and spread and consumed a huge swath of the wooden fence. And what did they do? They just ran away! But luckily some neighbors saw the flames and came running to help put it out with buckets of water. Now there is a big black charred area and the goats have an easy escape. Meme and other altruistic villagers will have to hack down some mopane trees to get poles to repair it.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm59tyF4I/AAAAAAAAD5k/Dfw7zKERE_E/s1600/IMGP5638.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531026069625378690" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIm59tyF4I/AAAAAAAAD5k/Dfw7zKERE_E/s400/IMGP5638.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />This is Leta and Aina who are both in grade 9. Leta used to be Retta according to the school roster. But she kept writing ‘Leta’ on all her papers. So I finally asked her and apparently they made a mistake on her birth certificate. Anyway, she is one of my smartest and most creative learners but unfortunately she is still so reserved with me. I try to initiate as much conversation with her and when I do her English is great! So one day I saw this thing on her desk and asked her what it was and she told me it was a stethoscope. More genius innovative creativity: some bits of foam stuck onto the ends of an old piece of wire. I had to get a picture of Doctor Leta and Aina, her best friend, agreed to be the patient. The next week she brought her homework for me to check and also in the book (I think she secretly wanted me to see it) was a model bird made from cardboard, colored paper, and chicken feathers! I’ll sure miss her.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl8QnkNkI/AAAAAAAAD5c/eqor89fWdyI/s1600/IMGP5667.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531025009547687490" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl8QnkNkI/AAAAAAAAD5c/eqor89fWdyI/s400/IMGP5667.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here is grade 9 taking a quiz on the Cartesian Plane. Leta is in the pink jacket. She got a 9 out of 10.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl7xzOiuI/AAAAAAAAD5U/gDIjOgyzWOA/s1600/IMGP5715.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531025001275099874" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl7xzOiuI/AAAAAAAAD5U/gDIjOgyzWOA/s400/IMGP5715.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here is grade 8 holding up their dry-erase boards. These and a bunch of markers were graciously donated by a friend and they helped immensely when teaching coordinates, area, perimeter, and countless other topics so here’s a huge thank you!!<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl7YZ94QI/AAAAAAAAD5M/bnpV5X-kp_g/s1600/IMGP5692.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024994458263810" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl7YZ94QI/AAAAAAAAD5M/bnpV5X-kp_g/s400/IMGP5692.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />This is the aftermath of a lesson on probability that I taught to grade 10. Isn’t my handwriting and organization superb?<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl7HMrDAI/AAAAAAAAD5E/th9Bk-3pUhg/s1600/IMGP5646.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024989839100930" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl7HMrDAI/AAAAAAAAD5E/th9Bk-3pUhg/s400/IMGP5646.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here’s grade 7 playing multiplication bingo, another awesome donation from a friend! They sent over a whole set of boards, counters, and tiles for the announcer and it has been a huge hit with all the grades.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl64f_D9I/AAAAAAAAD48/tPRsPyouV0Q/s1600/IMGP5648.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024985893572562" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIl64f_D9I/AAAAAAAAD48/tPRsPyouV0Q/s400/IMGP5648.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">BINGO!!!!<br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlLuyCM-I/AAAAAAAAD40/tb8Xe2NQf-c/s1600/IMGP5754.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024175831069666" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlLuyCM-I/AAAAAAAAD40/tb8Xe2NQf-c/s400/IMGP5754.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Any guesses? What you are seeing is a pot of boiled cow skin being served up for an afternoon snack! In other words, spiced leather! It’s a common item sold at the village cuca shops. One piece cost N$1. I tried two bites and that was enough. A bit like eating sautéed slug.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlLAgy6iI/AAAAAAAAD4s/v5hIJc7K8jY/s1600/IMGP5757.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024163410733602" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlLAgy6iI/AAAAAAAAD4s/v5hIJc7K8jY/s400/IMGP5757.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Meme chowing down<br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlKsjqeNI/AAAAAAAAD4k/rE2bEOp_VzA/s1600/IMGP5759.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024158054054098" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlKsjqeNI/AAAAAAAAD4k/rE2bEOp_VzA/s400/IMGP5759.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Tate Ananias the bike guy! He’s about 80 years old I think but still rides his bike everywhere and has the best laugh ever.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlKsZAyoI/AAAAAAAAD4c/oUCTZjggdp8/s1600/IMGP5800.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024158009379458" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlKsZAyoI/AAAAAAAAD4c/oUCTZjggdp8/s400/IMGP5800.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />With the lack of rain, all the wells (or pits dug in the ground) have run dry. There are only a few places left where you can find standing water and they become meccas for all the village cows. Notice that the water is about the color of pencil lead.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlKb3AshI/AAAAAAAAD4U/cHx8cCQzRbc/s1600/IMGP5807.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531024153571799570" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIlKb3AshI/AAAAAAAAD4U/cHx8cCQzRbc/s400/IMGP5807.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />This is the water hole. It’s called Omuwandi which is the name of that type of tree which is one of the coolest, tallest, stateliest tree in the village. I’ve read that is called a jackalberry tree in English and it produces some sweet, slightly gritty, plumlike fruit.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIkmAiEebI/AAAAAAAAD4M/D1eybNECG2M/s1600/IMGP5788.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531023527760918962" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIkmAiEebI/AAAAAAAAD4M/D1eybNECG2M/s400/IMGP5788.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Meme and Tate Makwani at his cuca shop – The Namib Straker 02 which you can see is open 7 to 7. It sells nothing but homemade alcoholic drinks.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIklzZFAaI/AAAAAAAAD4E/Gl5mJ6XvlM8/s1600/IMGP5867.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531023524233544098" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIklzZFAaI/AAAAAAAAD4E/Gl5mJ6XvlM8/s400/IMGP5867.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here is the other type of cuca shops that is made from mopane poles, palm tree branches, bark ties and other natural materials. This particular shop was built just last week by Meme Emilia herself with some help from the neighbors. I’m not sure what prompted her to enter into the liquor business but now a lot of her time is spent brewing okanyatau, epwaka, tombo, omalovu, which she sells for a dollar or two a cup.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIklUm9CII/AAAAAAAAD38/yBUlwwsYLvk/s1600/IMGP5865.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531023515970242690" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIklUm9CII/AAAAAAAAD38/yBUlwwsYLvk/s400/IMGP5865.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The brewing process: the very pinnacle of cleanliness and sanitation.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIkldFyrKI/AAAAAAAAD30/kys2RyRv0T4/s1600/IMGP5864.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531023518247070882" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIkldFyrKI/AAAAAAAAD30/kys2RyRv0T4/s400/IMGP5864.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Meme handing me a mug of okanyatau which looks and tastes like sour wine infused with barnyard sediments. Actually it’s fairly palatable and I’ve never gotten sick yet.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIklItCyqI/AAAAAAAAD3s/CKdTJn3800Q/s1600/IMGP5879.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531023512774560418" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIklItCyqI/AAAAAAAAD3s/CKdTJn3800Q/s400/IMGP5879.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />My desk in my room. Notice the ubiquitous jar of peanut butter, my infallible book of crossword puzzles, and the mega mug of oshikundu.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjovT-mMI/AAAAAAAAD3k/HGfr2k9DaUY/s1600/IMGP5678.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531022475166390466" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjovT-mMI/AAAAAAAAD3k/HGfr2k9DaUY/s400/IMGP5678.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />My parents sent over a bunch of Frisbees and one day I gave them to grade 7 and they went wild. It was complete chaos before I showed them the proper technique and towards the end most were starting to get it although I think they had more fun just flinging them every which way.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjoR1zZVI/AAAAAAAAD3c/3V_5bHpWjEY/s1600/IMGP5836.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531022467255199058" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjoR1zZVI/AAAAAAAAD3c/3V_5bHpWjEY/s400/IMGP5836.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Here are some more donations: Yoyos! I certainly have some very generous and compassionate friends and my most sincere thanks go to all of them! The yoyos quickly became favorites, and I’ve taught a number of kids to do the basic up and down and the power throw. They haven’t mastered walking the dog or the around the world but are amazed when I show them my limited skills.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjoBf5GmI/AAAAAAAAD3U/d5CGIC0_ZCQ/s1600/IMGP5854.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531022462868331106" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjoBf5GmI/AAAAAAAAD3U/d5CGIC0_ZCQ/s400/IMGP5854.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Some grade 5s enjoying puzzles and toys.<br /></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjoCm6t5I/AAAAAAAAD3M/sEsG8r1WPB0/s1600/IMGP5860.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531022463166232466" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjoCm6t5I/AAAAAAAAD3M/sEsG8r1WPB0/s400/IMGP5860.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Me and my four favorite grade 10 learners. Rautia, Linda, Monica, and Lusia<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjn9oIjAI/AAAAAAAAD3E/bb0_d65gRwE/s1600/IMGP5890.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 300px; display: block; height: 400px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531022461829155842" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIjn9oIjAI/AAAAAAAAD3E/bb0_d65gRwE/s400/IMGP5890.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Grade 7s playing with Rush Hour, yoyos, and Rubik’s Cubes.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi-NdxvDI/AAAAAAAAD28/8OJcGw9mw8M/s1600/IMGP5899.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531021744526179378" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi-NdxvDI/AAAAAAAAD28/8OJcGw9mw8M/s400/IMGP5899.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Linda contemplates her checkers move against Emma and behind them, Genesia and Timoteus fight over my photo album full of picture of home (they can’t get enough of the picture of me as a 7 year old)<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi9v9aSyI/AAAAAAAAD20/DhHg9HmaVXo/s1600/IMGP5931.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531021736605797154" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi9v9aSyI/AAAAAAAAD20/DhHg9HmaVXo/s400/IMGP5931.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Erika and Ndakulilwa puzzle over the sliding numbers. I don’t think anyone has been able to solve it yet! Except me that is… my best time is under thirty seconds<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi9YEI1kI/AAAAAAAAD2s/LH12DrnPL9s/s1600/IMGP5933.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531021730191562306" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi9YEI1kI/AAAAAAAAD2s/LH12DrnPL9s/s400/IMGP5933.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />More yoyo madness. Simson, Martti, Evelina, Aino, Markus, Nepando<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi9OXSfXI/AAAAAAAAD2k/wcK55Ls1Nzc/s1600/IMGP5941.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531021727587532146" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi9OXSfXI/AAAAAAAAD2k/wcK55Ls1Nzc/s400/IMGP5941.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />The four starlets again. Completely on their own volition they came to sweep out the library and organize all the books and games. “It’s our lucky day!” was their comment after I gave them all a bunch of stickers, candy, and a pen and pencil.<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi8925Q9I/AAAAAAAAD2c/htCNedFJxs0/s1600/IMGP5957.jpg"><img style="text-align: center; margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; display: block; height: 300px;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5531021723156693970" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TMIi8925Q9I/AAAAAAAAD2c/htCNedFJxs0/s400/IMGP5957.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />And finally, the Grade 10 class picture. There are a few missing, namely the two girls who got pregnant, one who dropped out last month, and two boys who didn’t want to be in the picture for whatever reason. Top to bottom, left to right: Selma, Hilka, Evelina, Salmi, Hilma, Rautia, Titus, Linda, Olavi, Tomas, Ileka, Sir, Bartholomeus, Solomon, Johanna, Monica, Jacobina, Lusia, Asser, Lempie, Leena, Aino. I printed a copy for all of them<br /><br />I say goodbye to all the Grade 10 on Monday as it's their last exam of the year. I will probably see the ones that stay in the village occasionally and I do have some plans to go visit their homesteads. For the other grades, there is only a week or so left of formal teaching then the long protracted extremely inefficient exam schedule starts. The school year ends December 9 and then I have a few days left before heading down to the capital and getting on the plane.<br /><br />Whew! That was a long internet session after a month in the electricity-less village. But a stretch of time like that goes by fast as it is filled with soccer games, village visits, reading, crosswords, and of course, teaching. Speaking of crosswords, I finally took some time to accomplish a longtime goal of constructing my own puzzles and after some seriously difficult word weaving, I have two completed grids with a couple more in the works! I now have to get some snappy clues whipped up and then I'll send them to Will Shortz for his all-important approval.<br /><br />I'm in town for the weekend catching up on some errands, stocking up on food, and hanging out with some volunteer friends. Time for burritos! Hope you are all well. Prosperity, Puzzles, and Peace. ~ Paka<br /><div> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-46586751742460508112010-09-25T01:03:00.000-07:002010-09-25T20:59:28.109-07:00The times are tricklingHere's a bit of a recap of the last month or so:<br /><br />Three awesome Israelis came to visit my homestead via couchsurfing.org and stayed for two nights with me and my family. It was such a great visit and it was very cool to meet these free like minded travelers. They have plans to come to USA someday so we will meet again.<br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2wIDZ3-CI/AAAAAAAAD1k/SkXJ9OenoB4/s1600/IMGP5127.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520762370625370146" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2wIDZ3-CI/AAAAAAAAD1k/SkXJ9OenoB4/s400/IMGP5127.JPG" /></a> They cooked us a wonderful meal of fresh pita bread accompanied by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shakshouka">Shakshouka</a>!!!</div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2wH-N1cWI/AAAAAAAAD1c/JweDUBjpgug/s1600/IMGP5203.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520762369232695650" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2wH-N1cWI/AAAAAAAAD1c/JweDUBjpgug/s400/IMGP5203.JPG" /></a> Tillie being lifted by Rom, Meme, Grizzly Adams, Ran, and Lia</div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2veWdsE2I/AAAAAAAAD1U/MjjcVLA-3Yk/s1600/IMGP5265.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520761654187135842" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2veWdsE2I/AAAAAAAAD1U/MjjcVLA-3Yk/s400/IMGP5265.JPG" /></a> </div><div align="center">After term 2 ended, I went down to Okahandja to meet the new group of Peace Corps volunteers. Good luck to them as they start out on their two year odyssey, I know how they feel! Then it was time for vacation so I made my way up North to Rundu and met up with my Israeli friends again. We drove in their car to Livingstone, Zambia and spent a few days chilling at Victoria Falls. I forgot my juggling balls at the hostel but still managed to get my obligatory juggling picture. I eventually made my way back to Windhoek (they continued on to Malawi) and attended the last Peace Corps function before our Close of Service in December. All the logistics were worked out and I will be getting on the plane home on December 15!</div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2veLEbvcI/AAAAAAAAD1M/xMbf3f-iAEc/s1600/IMGP5207.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520761651128417730" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2veLEbvcI/AAAAAAAAD1M/xMbf3f-iAEc/s400/IMGP5207.JPG" /></a> Here is a typical view of what's in the fridge: Lucky Star canned pilchards, Savannah Dry (alcoholic cider), and a freshly caught rabbit in a bag<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2vd0dMvJI/AAAAAAAAD1E/177ZmAJEGaQ/s1600/IMGP5501.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520761645058276498" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2vd0dMvJI/AAAAAAAAD1E/177ZmAJEGaQ/s400/IMGP5501.JPG" /></a> Nightly dinner scene: the kids covered with dust and smoke and ash, Meme sitting on her blanket cracking jokes, and the porridge-stirring spoon being passed around for everyone to get their licks.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2vdg3BWbI/AAAAAAAAD08/KMN2ubXioms/s1600/IMGP5410.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520761639797873074" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2vdg3BWbI/AAAAAAAAD08/KMN2ubXioms/s400/IMGP5410.JPG" /></a> Egumbo climbing the massive termite mound outside our homestead<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2us_xzY_I/AAAAAAAAD00/hqbTbJbl4_0/s1600/IMGP5418.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520760806283895794" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2us_xzY_I/AAAAAAAAD00/hqbTbJbl4_0/s400/IMGP5418.JPG" /></a> When I went to Cape Town for the World Cup a very gracious friend-of-a-friend donated some soccer balls for the kids. I can assure you that they are a huge hit!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2ussujPlI/AAAAAAAAD0s/pTyadP5UjQM/s1600/IMGP5455.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520760801169981010" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2ussujPlI/AAAAAAAAD0s/pTyadP5UjQM/s400/IMGP5455.JPG" /></a> Donkey Cart 64. See how strong that girl in front is!?!? I could have used one of these on the hike from Epupa to Ruacana!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2usIY3VpI/AAAAAAAAD0k/yAwCCFi0tAI/s1600/IMGP5464.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520760791415346834" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2usIY3VpI/AAAAAAAAD0k/yAwCCFi0tAI/s400/IMGP5464.JPG" /></a>Me and the local soccer gang before our evening pickup game at the school field. (Me, Nepando, Namindi, Shikongo, Johnny, Biangi, Ileni, Amwaama, Dangi, Evelina [the cutest little girl you've ever seen] and Egumbo)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2ur4ERLfI/AAAAAAAAD0c/cPbgjggK7kU/s1600/IMGP5472.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520760787033992690" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2ur4ERLfI/AAAAAAAAD0c/cPbgjggK7kU/s400/IMGP5472.JPG" /></a> Sunset as the ball makes its inevitable way towards goal<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t7R3rqII/AAAAAAAAD0U/sqYxumGOqqs/s1600/IMGP5518.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520759952146933890" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t7R3rqII/AAAAAAAAD0U/sqYxumGOqqs/s400/IMGP5518.JPG" /></a> Tillie with ondunga (palm tree fruit). This is a prime example of how kids look after a day of playing in the dirt and dust.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t7EbOFhI/AAAAAAAAD0M/QDbxbFh4v7g/s1600/IMGP5529.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520759948537894418" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t7EbOFhI/AAAAAAAAD0M/QDbxbFh4v7g/s400/IMGP5529.JPG" /></a> Meme after finishing her stunning basket. It took about four days of hard work before it was complete<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t6--9LgI/AAAAAAAAD0E/jO0OitUyvPg/s1600/IMGP5359.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520759947077168642" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t6--9LgI/AAAAAAAAD0E/jO0OitUyvPg/s400/IMGP5359.JPG" /></a>Don't I just look like a drunkard? Actually the jar contains oshikundu (a refreshing slightly alcoholic brew of millet, sugar and accidental ants). And I'm reading Ishmael which I highly recommend.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t6slWoDI/AAAAAAAADz8/wvFUI21rs7c/s1600/IMGP5070.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5520759942137946162" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TJ2t6slWoDI/AAAAAAAADz8/wvFUI21rs7c/s400/IMGP5070.JPG" /></a> Top to bottom left to right: Magano, Tusnelde, Sylvia, Bonifatius, and Thomas</div><div>I have about a million of these pictures of kids where they are striking some sort of 'cool' pose. This year I started offering to print pictures for kids (one photo is N$4) and they have jumped at the opportunity. </div><div></div><div align="left">Now it is my last term of teaching at Elamba Combined School! I am busy trying to make sure the Grade tens are prepared for their important exams which determine whether they can continue on with grade 11 and 12. Trying to teach Trigonometry in one week is not so easy. You would not believe how packed the syllabus is and compounding the difficulty is the fact that many of the kids are still having problems with material covered during the previous years (be it that they didn't study enough then or that the teachers didn't teach it). So it has been a struggle but I think/hope that at least half of my kids will pass the math exam which is actually a pretty good percentage compared to most rural schools. </div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">With only two months or so left in Namibia, I am trying to live it up and do as much as I can before I say goodbye. I am taking pictures of everything and anything and trying to get in some last visits to neighbors and learners. I cannot describe how much I will miss my Namibian family and my learners, and will be very sad to leave Elamba, the place that has been my home for the last two years.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-20878087041210940172010-08-07T08:19:00.000-07:002010-08-08T04:46:30.664-07:00Life in the Village<div align="left">Here are a few more snapshots from the homestead. </div><div align="left"><br /></div><p align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502998300768831298" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6TzGTnh0I/AAAAAAAADzI/-4olzxF2gMQ/s400/IMGP4986.JPG" /><br />This is what the cupboard in my room looks like most days. I compartmentalized all my foodstuffs: candy, vitamins, peanut butter jars, apples, granola bars. Apples and Peanut Butter for breakfast, apples and peanut butter for a snack after school, and if dinner wasn't fulfilling, apples and peanut butter for late-night noshing. </p><p align="left"><br /><br /></p><p align="left"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6Uj_YB6gI/AAAAAAAADzY/XF78fXhTPII/s1600/IMGP5019.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502999140721879554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6Uj_YB6gI/AAAAAAAADzY/XF78fXhTPII/s400/IMGP5019.JPG" /></a> </p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"></p><p align="left"><br />In Oshakati there is a big open market. The vendors don't really sell crafts because there are rarely tourists, but instead you can find for sale, live chickens, second-hand bras and underwear, goat meat 'fresh' off the barbeque, and several memes who sew dresses. On a whim one day I stopped there before getting a taxi back to Tsandi and bought a dress for meme Emilia for N$100 (about $15 USD) which was one of the best purchases I've ever made. She absolutely loved it! She made a big show of appreciation and even did the traditional ululation reserved for very joyous occasions. So I think I'll be stopping there again some time before I leave. One of her friends is on the left and Meme Emilia is on the right in her new digs.<br /><br /><br /></p><p align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502998297584694802" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6Ty6cddhI/AAAAAAAADzA/r0cQZkEkBjY/s400/IMGP5008.JPG" /><br />One Saturday afternoon, Meme Wakamba (a neighbor who has at least 5 kids in various grades at Elamba) came over to visit and also to help Meme Emilia brew omalovu, the traditional beer. Lunch was included and I had her pose with a nice juicy piece of pumpkin.<br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502998289499773986" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6TycU3XCI/AAAAAAAADy4/_F2fdWmdP_4/s400/IMGP5009.JPG" /><br />I love this picture: Both memes are in mid-speech as they work together on their craft. They are using flexible wet bark strips to tie together dried grass that will eventually produce a funnel-shaped device. After boiling a mixture of water, sugar, and sorghum flour, they pour it into the strainer so as to remove the pulpy sorghum leaving behind the drinkable alcoholic beverage loved by many a villager. </p><p align="left"><br /><br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502998281131348706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6Tx9JrUuI/AAAAAAAADyw/wSayp-gE1Sk/s400/IMGP5012.JPG" /><br />Here are the two methods of straining in action. The left one is an example of the traditional grass strainer that they were making. The one on the right is just an old sack that does the trick quite nicely although I like the traditional method better.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6UjTiglXI/AAAAAAAADzQ/Wvc6s0PAnMc/s1600/IMGP5014.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502999128954672498" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6UjTiglXI/AAAAAAAADzQ/Wvc6s0PAnMc/s400/IMGP5014.JPG" /></a><br />Meme Wakamba and some buckets of omalovu. She is my favorite meme besides Emilia and she comes to visit often. She also wove a really nice basket for me as a gift so in return I'm printing out some of these photos for her.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502993262154054706" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6PN0APfDI/AAAAAAAADyA/yCTSg6U2wsg/s400/IMGP5038.JPG" /> <p align="center">After school one day, here is what I saw when I came home: Meme and Hare</p><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502993259804163458" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6PNrP-_YI/AAAAAAAADx4/H4wGZavfpNE/s400/IMGP5043.JPG" /><br />One of the village boys had caught a hare in a snare and meme paid him N$20 for it. So as I was walking up the path to the front door I saw Meme and Niita surrounded by all this white stuff and didn't realize it was fur until I was close.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502993251838923666" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6PNNk7E5I/AAAAAAAADxw/TzACYYpTe7U/s400/IMGP5044.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">Look at those ears!!<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><p><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6POsha4XI/AAAAAAAADyI/sdLhi59qhao/s1600/IMGP5063.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502993277325599090" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6POsha4XI/AAAAAAAADyI/sdLhi59qhao/s400/IMGP5063.JPG" /></a><br />First they pull out as much fur as they can and then roast it on the fire to burn off the remaining tufts. Then it was chopped up and cooked. I have to admit, that as much as I love the Redwall books where hares are my favorite characters due to their comical and heroic nature, that as many fond memories I have of my pet rabbit Hopper, that as much of an animal lover I am, I was fascinated by the whole process and the final product was the best meat I have ever had. That one hare provided for three sumptuous nights of meaty feasting.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502991552778622354" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6NqUFYVZI/AAAAAAAADxQ/PxFewGcUTTs/s400/IMGP5050.JPG" /><br />Tillie (till ee ay) with the latest puppy. I am trying not to get attached to the cuddly little bugger because I don't have much hope for it's survival as this is the seventh or eight in a series, none of which have lasted for more than 3 months before they've bitten the proverbial dust due to malnutrition and general lack of attention. (Hah, I just reread that and I want to make sure you all know I was talking about dogs and not children) Tillie is just fine except that the other day she fell on a brick and cut her face. That black spot under her eye is fireplace residue that they put on in a medically misguided attempt to heal the wound.<br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502991571005698882" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6NrX_Dc0I/AAAAAAAADxg/k-ZkY-ZaAXw/s400/IMGP5057.JPG" /><br />We have tabacco plants all over the homestead. Meme picked some to dry and she will sell a handful to neighbors for N$1. Some people smoke others snuff. Here's a bunch drying on the roof of a hut.<br /></p><p><br /><br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502991559662169666" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6Nqtui7kI/AAAAAAAADxY/DaYcNvWsy_c/s400/IMGP5069.JPG" /> <p align="center">Here are some plants in the 'hallway' to the front door .<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6NrnHU8LI/AAAAAAAADxo/xJmgaD3wEXY/s1600/IMGP5056.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502991575066931378" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TF6NrnHU8LI/AAAAAAAADxo/xJmgaD3wEXY/s400/IMGP5056.JPG" /></a><br /><br />Girls spend hours and hours on their hair, braiding and rebraiding it in various styles. It always amuses me to see girls at school midway through the process with half of their hair in nice neat rows and the other half in a semi-tamed afro. Methano ndino, Mwiingona ota panda Petrina<br /><br /><br />Peace, PakaPakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-16079482034232825532010-07-05T05:10:00.000-07:002010-07-05T05:50:29.503-07:00World Cup Fever<div align="left">It was amazing! Being surrounded by rabid avid crazed soccer fans who are decked out in wacky costumes and chanting along with drums and vuvuzelas is a goosebump inducing experience. I felt quite underdressed with my two intertwined USA and Argentina scarves. My adopted team got crushed but it was still an awesome game and I have to admit that Germany (with their Polish players) played extremely well. Great atmosphere but I wish I could have seen the USA Algeria game! Donovan is my hero. Here are some pictures from my first world cup (I say first, because, for something this awesome I will obviously have to attend again. Anyone want to go to Brazil in 2014?) :<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490399567451142210" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHRUTTiOEI/AAAAAAAADu8/uq8Roc8ImG8/s400/IMGP4857.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Notice the Argentinian fairy and aviators</p><p align="center"><br /><br /> </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490399573553807186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHRUqChf1I/AAAAAAAADvE/ZEYbawx9JsQ/s400/IMGP4868.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Pregame parade<br /><br /><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490399581241508866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHRVGrahAI/AAAAAAAADvM/9WsGXGYk8wg/s400/IMGP4883.JPG" border="0" /> </p><p align="center">Los locos</p><p><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490396220136724242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHORdlllxI/AAAAAAAADu0/b9hPYP113cc/s400/IMGP4891.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Juggling at the stadium<br /><br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490396211941064530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHOQ_Dlv1I/AAAAAAAADus/u0bRT60l0jA/s400/IMGP4908.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">The flags come onto the field</p><p align="center"><br /><br /> </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490396200931730322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHOQWCwo5I/AAAAAAAADuk/jZwgxiBFKME/s400/IMGP4916.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Germany in black and Argentina in white<br /><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490396192242696626" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHOP1rIgbI/AAAAAAAADuc/ieus2o_YwqE/s400/IMGP4925.JPG" border="0" /> </p><p align="center">First half: Argentina plan their free kick</p><p><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490399591856703938" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHRVuORicI/AAAAAAAADvU/k-jIkr2_UNM/s400/IMGP4931.JPG" border="0" /> </p><p align="center">Second half about to start</p><p><br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490396184526026914" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHOPY7VeKI/AAAAAAAADuU/-QP-nuT8Jmo/s400/IMGP4929.JPG" border="0" /> </p><p align="center">Zakumi the mascot<br /><br /></p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHRWdvnVTI/AAAAAAAADvc/I6m2BawMnzY/s1600/IMGP4932.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5490399604613010738" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TDHRWdvnVTI/AAAAAAAADvc/I6m2BawMnzY/s400/IMGP4932.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"></a>Some disappointed Argentina fans agreed to snap one last juggling shot</p>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-25503107654458807352010-06-30T14:13:00.000-07:002010-06-30T15:30:45.712-07:00Threshing Thresholds<div align="left">Last week I got a surprise. The principal organized a thank you ceremony to show appreciation for the work I've done fixing up the library. All the learners were lined up outside the library and she told them in oshiwambo ('so that each and every learner can get what I am saying') that she had some gifts for me for the 'good good job' that I did. She had asked me earlier to give her a picture of myself and I was kinda suspicious something was up. It turns out that she wanted the photo so she could print it on a shirt. On the front it says, Mr: Parker Lewis captioning my semi-blurry enlarged picture, and on the back it has a message about the improvement of the school library and how they will 'aways remember me and never forget.' I also got a certificate and a big container of omashuku (nuts from the marula fruits).<br /><br /><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488684630037732658" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5lzmLnTI/AAAAAAAADt8/iuxse-NbaPk/s400/IMGP4693.JPG" /> <p align="center">Meme Principal showing off my new shirt </p><p align="center"><br /> </p><p align="center"></p><p align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488682529248091986" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3rhi5n1I/AAAAAAAADtE/46DLjjCl7S0/s400/IMGP4701.JPG" /><br />You can see my picture on the shirt and the big container of omashuku - I joked with the learners that now I can watch them with four eyes<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488682539804504562" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3sI3vsfI/AAAAAAAADtM/yHocysHwNxg/s400/IMGP4688.JPG" /> </p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p align="center">The learners lined up in their classes</p><p><br /></p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488694729234898706" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCvCxqCa3xI/AAAAAAAADuM/8-OKquYCBn0/s400/IMGP4836.JPG" /> <p align="center">Susana and Ester playing checkers; Gertrude and Helvi enjoying some literature; And look at all those books on the nice new shelves I bought with your generous donations!<br /><br /><br /></p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCvCxNQU4WI/AAAAAAAADuE/tSZQPcwb8Io/s1600/IMGP4834.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488694721508598114" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCvCxNQU4WI/AAAAAAAADuE/tSZQPcwb8Io/s400/IMGP4834.JPG" /> <p align="center"></a>Justina and Alina working a couple puzzles </p><p align="left"><br /><br /><br />And here are some more pictures from the homestead. After all the millet is gathered from the fields, they pile it up in the oshipale which is the place where they thresh the grain from the stalks. Some stems are raked out to the middle and they just start wailing on it with old palm tree branches. After it's separated then they sweep it up into the ever growing pile of threshed grain. When it is all beaten, they then have to sift out the unwanted parts and it is stored in one of the few huge grain baskets they have within the homestead. The threshing took about two weeks of sporadic work and all the while trying to shoo off the marauding birds.<br /><br /></p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5lZ4j8aI/AAAAAAAADt0/SDz_WxzdxBE/s1600/IMGP4769.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488684623135502754" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5lZ4j8aI/AAAAAAAADt0/SDz_WxzdxBE/s400/IMGP4769.JPG" /> <p align="center"></a>Corn cobs, ground nuts, and millet<br /><br /></p><div align="center"><br /><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5kyyL_QI/AAAAAAAADts/hXkwu6O9WVM/s1600/IMGP4764.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488684612639784194" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5kyyL_QI/AAAAAAAADts/hXkwu6O9WVM/s400/IMGP4764.JPG" /> <p align="center"></a>Meme and Tillie observing the millet pile<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5ku3_5DI/AAAAAAAADtk/JPF0nxR9Z0c/s1600/IMGP4757.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488684611590415410" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5ku3_5DI/AAAAAAAADtk/JPF0nxR9Z0c/s400/IMGP4757.JPG" /></a> Mwingona and Niita midthresh<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5kBoMFzI/AAAAAAAADtc/HMNhb5xUxA8/s1600/IMGP4752.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488684599444510514" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu5kBoMFzI/AAAAAAAADtc/HMNhb5xUxA8/s400/IMGP4752.JPG" /></a>See the grains fly<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3su0-TXI/AAAAAAAADtU/2Hym4KbIu3o/s1600/IMGP4733.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488682549993426290" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3su0-TXI/AAAAAAAADtU/2Hym4KbIu3o/s400/IMGP4733.JPG" /></a> Homestead in the background<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3rEPxNxI/AAAAAAAADs8/W8PnaOq8mTc/s1600/IMGP4798.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488682521383221010" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3rEPxNxI/AAAAAAAADs8/W8PnaOq8mTc/s400/IMGP4798.JPG" /></a> Meme with headwrap, corn, and cell phone pouch<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3qmdbzBI/AAAAAAAADs0/gVVarrVEMXA/s1600/IMGP4797.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488682513387473938" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TCu3qmdbzBI/AAAAAAAADs0/gVVarrVEMXA/s400/IMGP4797.JPG" /></a> The pile post-threshing</div></div></div></div><br /><br /></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-57996270199588471072010-06-05T07:06:00.000-07:002010-06-05T10:15:35.864-07:00The first term ended at the end of April and I was very ready for the upcoming month long vacation. Before traveling around Africa, I attended Camp GLOW with five of my learners. GLOW is another Peace Corps sponsored camp much like the Diversity Tour I wrote about last year. Peace Corps Volunteers across Namibia had some of their best and brightest learners apply, and a total of 80 kids, ranging from grade six up to twelve, made the trip to Windhoek for a week full of activities. Each day covered a different topic which included: team building, HIV/AIDS, character building and self esteem, careers and future, gender, and leadership. Some of the highlights include a trip to the Namibian Parliament, a tour of Polytechnic Institute of Namibia, presentations from various professionals (pilot, chiropractor, firefighter, geologist, veterinarian, entrepreneur), and a visit to the cinemas where we watched a cool animated movie about Vikings and dragons. The kids had a great time and I was so impressed by their personalities, ambition, humor, and overall intelligence.<br /><div><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApsakSzuGI/AAAAAAAADsc/2LjFJQIMaTc/s1600/IMGP4461.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479311100324591714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApsakSzuGI/AAAAAAAADsc/2LjFJQIMaTc/s400/IMGP4461.JPG" border="0" /></a> Me with my learners at Camp GLOW (Asser, Lusia, Aina, Rautia, and Leta)<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApsaCZRagI/AAAAAAAADsU/iWESQKT26RA/s1600/IMGP4400.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479311091224898050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApsaCZRagI/AAAAAAAADsU/iWESQKT26RA/s400/IMGP4400.JPG" border="0" /></a> The night of the dance party (Rautia, Asser, Lusia, Leta, and Aina)</div><div> </div><div> </div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479299394787771026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphxNxWgpI/AAAAAAAADrc/CiXkVvxYRsk/s400/epupafalls.jpg" border="0" />Epupa at dawn<br /></div><div align="left"><br />After that wonderful but exhausting week, I met up with my buddies Greg and Nate and we set off to Opuwo in Northwest Namibia. This area of the country is home to the Himba people who have a very distinctive style and are seen on almost every guide book cover. Opuwo (which means ‘finished’ or ‘the end’) is also the gateway to the much hyped Epupa waterfall. Our plan was to follow the river, and walk from Epupa until we reached the next waterfall called Ruacana, a distance (we were told) of 100km. We stayed for a night in Opuwo with some friends who had hiked it the previous year, and then left early the next morning to try and make it to Epupa. At the edge of town, the tarred road ends and the gravel road starts and we quickly (in Namibia that means after a few hours) found a ride for N$50 to the next ‘town’ along the way, Okangwati. Then came the real wait. The farther away from Opuwo, which is by no means largely populated, the roads and towns become smaller, quieter, emptier, and more and more remote. So in Okangwati we got dropped off on the dirt road under a nice shady tree and saw less than 10 people the whole rest of the day. For about 7 hours we sat around waiting for a ride and not one car passed. As the sun sank lower and lower, we decided to cook up some lentils for dinner, prepared to set up our tents and settle down, resigned that we would just have to try again tomorrow. But out of nowhere, a truck half full of Himba villagers and corn cobs pulls up and says they’ll take us to Epupa. So we piled in and drove off into the sunset eating our dinners and enjoying sundowner beers while watching the Himba kids herding their livestock home for the night. It was quite a unique day.<br /><br />We arrived to the small town of Epupa (a collection of tourist lodges and scattered houses) and were graciously allowed to set up our tents in the yard of our driver. In the morning, we caught the sunrise at the edge of the waterfall, which was beautiful, but to be honest, a bit of a letdown after all the hype. So we packed up all our bags and started walking along the dirt road following the river upstream. About midday, our heavy packs were beginning to wear on us, and already some blisters were starting to develop from our infrequently used hiking shoes. It was then that we decided to buy a donkey. We had been joking about the idea before but never gave it serious consideration. We happened to meet a learner traveling home to his village and he directed us to a small riverside collection of shops where he said someone might be willing to sell us a donkey. We bought some ice cold sodas and made some inquiries. The shopkeeper could speak fairly good English but the rest of the villagers were Himbas who speak Oshiherero. So we discussed the matter for a bit but for a while they thought we wanted to hire the donkey along with a guide to take us up to Ruacana. I finally said in Oshiwambo, “Otwa hala okulanda ondongili” (we want to buy a donkey) and the chorus of ‘ohhhhhs’ meant that they finally understood. After that I figured that my Oshiwambo was somehow good enough to communicate with Oshiherero speaking people due to the similarities between the two languages. So we forked over N$500, loaded up two of our bags (the third we took turns carrying), and led our new donkey away by his improvised rope bit. We named him Olaf and he was our companion for the next five days.<br /><br />Now accompanied by our equine friend, we traveled easier and were able to take in the amazing landscapes as the river wound its way through a mix of terrain as rocky hills gave way to palm trees, and grasslands blended with mopani scrub forests. For five nights and six days we marveled at our remoteness, soaked in the serenity of nature, and wondered how the Himba people still manage to live their traditional lifestyle out in the middle of nowhere. Each morning we would rise with the sun, cook up some oats, pack up our bags, and saddle up Olaf. Then we would walk along the trail stopping at our leisure for photo shoots, snack breaks, the odd conversation with locals, or for anything that struck our fancy. Each night we would find a nice camping spot by the river, unburden Olaf, tie him up to graze, hurriedly take a bath in the river while watching our for crocs and hippos, make a fire, cook up some grub, and hit the hay. There were many memorable moments. One evening Nate had inadvertently taken the wrong fork and we were separated. It was getting dark and luckily a Himba dude comes walking down the path with his cattle so I have a successful conversation with him, me speaking Oshiwambo, and him speaking Oshiherero. Mr. Himba told me that the other white guy had taken the other path up the mountain and then he drew me a map in the sand showing where the paths diverged and then reconnected and told us where we could meet up with our lost comrade. We backtracked for a few minutes and sure enough that’s where we found him, so we thanked the cattle herder and he went on his way.<br /><br />Another day as we were breaking for a snack, we met four small Himba kids on the path. We took the opportunity for some photos and I showed them some juggling with the smooth river rocks which they immediately tried to imitate. As we drew closer to Ruacana, what to do with Olaf was the question at hand. He had certainly helped us carry our load thus far, and had been a pretty good donkey overall, but he had certainly had his upsides and downsides. None of us knew much about tying cargo on pack animals and several times a day we had to stop and fix the bags because they had shifted or fallen off completely. He got spooked a few times and Greg and I ended up with a few scrapes from being pulled through the brush as he raced away. If we weren’t constantly walking next to and behind him, he had the tendency to gradually slow down to the slowest of walks. By the fifth day, we figured that we had bought the oldest slowest donkey and that he was just plum tuckered out. So we began looking for someone to sell him to, and what do you know, we happen across a couple of teachers who speak perfect English and were driving out to a campsite they are building. They agreed to buy him for N$200 and then asked us for the papers. It turns out that when buying any sort of animal in Namibia, you need the proper documents signed by the owners, the buyers, and the village headman, so it’s possible that we were walking this whole time with an illegitimate and possibly stolen donkey! But they consented to our ignorance and led Olaf off to new pastures.<br /><br />We weren’t quite sure how much further we had to go because our map wasn’t very accurate or detailed, so we just kept walking. At dusk, we happened upon a bunch of people clearly getting ready for something. So we ask if we could set up camp there, and they tell us that it’s a mobile church and that tonight they are going to be showing a movie! They had a projector and screen all set up and screened an old ‘70s movie about the story of Jesus which was dubbed into Oshiherero. So after bathing in the river (while our new friends threw rocks in the water to scare off crocodiles), we sat with a whole crowd of Himbas way out in the bush, watching this movie under the stars with intermissions for singing and dancing.<br /><br />The next morning, the trail turned away from the river so we just powered through at our fastest pace yet and after a few particularly tall rocky steep hills, we sighted Ruacana falls in the distance. It was still another few hours but we eventually arrived and reveled in the misty air and soaked our tired bodies in a sheltered pool at the base. The total distance ended up being 150km (about 90 miles) which was significantly more than the original 100km and we felt quite accomplished that we had done it, even with the help of Olaf. We wanted to get to Outapi (another couple hours away by car) and serendipity was on our side once again. The parking lot was deserted but as we were getting ready to walk down to the main road, a family pulls up, looks at the falls for a few minutes, and offers us a ride all the way to town. We celebrated with pizza and drinks and began preparing for our next adventure.<br /></div><div align="left"><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479311109255011714" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApsbFj_HYI/AAAAAAAADsk/ndwFR8Y0IEQ/s400/IMGP4487.JPG" border="0" /> <div></div><div></div><div>Juggling in the Epupa mist</div><div> </div><div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApjtvkSWZI/AAAAAAAADsM/a2neuByDE2o/s1600/valleyview.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479301534163556754" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApjtvkSWZI/AAAAAAAADsM/a2neuByDE2o/s400/valleyview.jpg" border="0" /></a> A river runs through it<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApjtZ5cMcI/AAAAAAAADsE/wBePYi88qCM/s1600/trekkin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479301528346702274" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApjtZ5cMcI/AAAAAAAADsE/wBePYi88qCM/s400/trekkin.jpg" border="0" /></a>Nate and Olaf with me leading the way<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApjs8-of1I/AAAAAAAADr8/WMe6id4gN_s/s1600/okulanda.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479301520583851858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApjs8-of1I/AAAAAAAADr8/WMe6id4gN_s/s400/okulanda.jpg" border="0" /></a>Buying Olaf<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphyGvr76I/AAAAAAAADr0/V-17EwItVBE/s1600/rockhimbajuggle.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479299410081607586" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphyGvr76I/AAAAAAAADr0/V-17EwItVBE/s400/rockhimbajuggle.jpg" border="0" /></a> Juggling with the Himba kids<br /></div><div><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphxqx2kBI/AAAAAAAADrs/X1vSY5qUI18/s1600/himbavillage.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479299402574499858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphxqx2kBI/AAAAAAAADrs/X1vSY5qUI18/s400/himbavillage.jpg" border="0" /></a> Coming down from the hills<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphxaYivyI/AAAAAAAADrk/YnQiKajmqtI/s1600/himbaguide.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479299398173376290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphxaYivyI/AAAAAAAADrk/YnQiKajmqtI/s400/himbaguide.jpg" border="0" /></a>A Himba lady shows us where we can stay<br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphwvjA52I/AAAAAAAADrU/BBNwVYJAf64/s1600/donkeyjuggle.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479299386674571106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAphwvjA52I/AAAAAAAADrU/BBNwVYJAf64/s400/donkeyjuggle.jpg" border="0" /></a> Maybe my best juggling picture yet<br /><br /></div><div align="left">We hitchhiked down to Windhoek and then into Botswana and made our way up to Old Bridge Backpackers in the town of Maun, near the Okavango Delta. After crossing the border into Botswana, we were riding with a nice guy who was driving us to the town of Ghanzi, and all of a sudden the wheel of the car just falls off! We were going about 70 mph and sparks were flying and our insides were in our throats but he was able to hold on and we skidded to a halt. We helped him to fix the tire and then we slowly made it to Ghanzi and he kindly let us sleep at his house on the couches. The next day we caught a legitimate bus to Maun and it was very safe. The delta is amazing. The river just empties straight into the land and the water piles up and makes Namibia look even more like a desert. The water varies from 2 to 6 feet deep and we sat back and floated around in the abundant water in mokoros (traditional Botswanan canoes carved from tree trunks). For three days, through the reeds and between the islands, our two guides steered the mokoros around with long poles while telling us about the trees and wildlife. Unfortunately, we didn’t see many creatures besides spiders, frogs, and birds. But it was a nice relaxing time and much less intense than our last week. <br /><br />We still weren’t finished with our wanderings. After we hitchhiked back from Botswana we traveled up to the Waterberg Plateau. It’s a very strange earth formation as a massive plateau rises from the completely flat land with rocky cliffs lining the edges. For four days we tramped around on top of the plateau, climbed rocks, made bonfires, and completed the 42km trail. Again, we didn’t see many animals but we did see a roan (maybe a sable), a few klipspringers, a dead eland, and we tracked some squabbling baboons through the bush. The views were incredible and we were completely alone. Not one single other human on that rock besides us three. It was pretty great. I haven’t been able to get the pictures from Greg and Nate so stay tuned to their blogs (Greg’s: <a href="http://greginnamibia.blogspot.com/">http://greginnamibia.blogspot.com/</a> and Nate’s: <a href="http://natebloss.blogspot.com/">http://natebloss.blogspot.com/</a>) </div><div> </div><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479311118629843506" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TApsbofHsjI/AAAAAAAADss/_FnDPAUp8gQ/s400/IMGP4506.JPG" border="0" /> A critter from Waterberg<br /><br /></div><div align="left">Alright that’s it for now. More photos to come. World Cup is upon us and a trip to Cape Town for the quarterfinals is in the works! Hope it pans out!!<br /><br />Peace, Parker<br /></div><div> </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-12089794909409054262010-05-29T04:28:00.000-07:002010-05-29T05:49:09.232-07:00Creepy CrawlersThere are almost two months to recap so here goes...<br /><br />After the snake incident I was very wary for a while but thankfully there have been no more reptilian encounters. The bats in the toilet, however, are another issue. Every time I go to sit down on the pot, the squeaking and fluttering of wings sends shivers of apprehension coursing through my body because I really don’t want bats flying up my bum. A fellow volunteer friend described his experience with a bat that did just that, and it surely would be memorable but not necessarily a memory I would want to have.<br /><br />The interactions with wild creepy crawlies do not stop there. Skinks and geckoes hide in the cracks, spiders scurry up the walls, and every so often there will be a giant ongongololo (millipede) undulating its way around the homestead. And during the end of the rainy season, the Mopani trees are rife with omagungu (caterpillars) chomping away at the distinctively angel-wing-shaped leaves. The appearance of these finger-long spiny creatures is a huge deal for the Owambo people. For the whole of March and April, Meme Emilia and the kids were out in the bush veld every day harvesting the delectable ‘worms’ as they are called. The caterpillars don’t have eyes and just blindly munch their way through the leaves, leaving swathes of bare trees in their wake. But it’s a good thing because the caterpillars grow incredibly fast and that means more good eats for the people.<br /><br />It’s extremely easy to find them in the trees and all you have to do is just pluck them off while avoiding the surprisingly sharp spikes that adorn their redwhitegreenblack backs. The next step is to squeeze out the innards along with the partially digested leaf juice, so you pinch the head and run your fingers down the body which expels some lovely green jelly. In a single afternoon, pails upon buckets are gathered and then the cooking can begin. Sometimes they are just boiled in a pot over the fire, but the preferred method is to bury them in a pit in a sandy treeless stretch and roast them by making a huge bonfire on top. They make for quite a tasty snack and are sold, bought, given, transported, and of course, eaten for the rest of the year. After the caterpillars are cooked, they keep very well, but I much prefer the fresh ones, although the day I decided to eat 30+ of those babies was a sad day for my digestive and excretory systems.<br />Another item for the Namibian menu is right out of The Lion King from the scene where Pumba is showing Simba what non-meat things are to be had: GRUBS! I really don’t have any idea what an enkagali is, but it suffices to call it a grub of some sort. One evening I went with Mwingona and Egumbo to put the goats in the corral and then they showed me what was for dinner that night. They proceeded to take some hoes and dig around the cow pie-caked dirt and unearthed a bunch of these pale white goobers that were so fat as if they were about to burst. Which is exactly what they then did, helped along by two strong hands and a sharp stick. The jelly this time wasn’t a pleasant lively green as in the caterpillars but instead it was an inky deathly black. When it was time to return to the homestead to cook up dinner, the puncturing block was slathered with the aftermath of a massacre. Fried up with some salt and tomatoes, they were actually quite tasty if you could forget about their origins.<br /><br />I just returned from a month long vacation but my internet time is up now so I will have to write about it next time. Brief overview: bought a donkey, walked 90 miles, showed Himba children how to juggle, sold the donkey, swam in the river, hitchhiked to Botswana, floated in traditional mokoros (canoes) for three days in the Okavango delta, hitchhiked back to Namibia, real hiked up Waterberg plateau, deathdefyingly climbed some boulders to capture some awesome juggling pictures, tracked baboons, and made it safely back to village in time for school.<br />More to come… stay tuned<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIrur5CcI/AAAAAAAADrM/AE1DOo7GG7w/s1600/IMGP4364.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476668169218755010" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIrur5CcI/AAAAAAAADrM/AE1DOo7GG7w/s400/IMGP4364.JPG" /></a> Meme Emilia all gussied up</p><p><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIrdw3ZRI/AAAAAAAADrE/2lC-z06yifA/s1600/IMGP4360.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476668164676216082" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIrdw3ZRI/AAAAAAAADrE/2lC-z06yifA/s400/IMGP4360.JPG" /></a> Emilia, Niita (grade 8), and Tillie (Niita's daughter - more on that later)</div><div align="center"><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIq4qu8qI/AAAAAAAADq8/G0nss0GDBJw/s1600/IMGP4342.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476668154718384802" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIq4qu8qI/AAAAAAAADq8/G0nss0GDBJw/s400/IMGP4342.JPG" /></a> Mahangu bending under the wight of its nutrition<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIqaQCH7I/AAAAAAAADq0/wKocen1oPTM/s1600/IMGP4341.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476668146553331634" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIqaQCH7I/AAAAAAAADq0/wKocen1oPTM/s400/IMGP4341.JPG" /></a> Collecting fully grown stalks so the birds have less access<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIp2PEGII/AAAAAAAADqs/ZTJAIsmqofE/s1600/IMGP4334.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476668136885590146" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEIp2PEGII/AAAAAAAADqs/ZTJAIsmqofE/s400/IMGP4334.JPG" /></a> Notice the headwrap, ostrich eggshell necklaces and waistlaces, leather belts, etc.<br /><br /><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGxbC_gXI/AAAAAAAADqk/4tD4dFq_jFI/s1600/IMGP4332.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476666068002898290" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGxbC_gXI/AAAAAAAADqk/4tD4dFq_jFI/s400/IMGP4332.JPG" /></a> Pump Plumpkins</div><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476666044722699090" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGwEUj21I/AAAAAAAADqU/_GkOPEprv18/s400/IMGP4271.JPG" /></div><br /><div align="center">The star of the latest horror movie</div><div align="center"></div><div><br /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGxNN1hiI/AAAAAAAADqc/HVazTFdP5FI/s1600/IMGP4282.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476666064290285090" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGxNN1hiI/AAAAAAAADqc/HVazTFdP5FI/s400/IMGP4282.JPG" /></a> It's on the attack!</div><br /><div align="center"><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGvjFFK9I/AAAAAAAADqM/nQcSzM4IGpM/s1600/IMGP4241.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476666035799403474" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGvjFFK9I/AAAAAAAADqM/nQcSzM4IGpM/s400/IMGP4241.JPG" /></a>Mwingona with caterpillar<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGvB4VNwI/AAAAAAAADqE/RlezydSTHls/s1600/IMGP4226.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476666026887558914" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEGvB4VNwI/AAAAAAAADqE/RlezydSTHls/s400/IMGP4226.JPG" /></a> Pails upon buckets<br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEE9hiOCzI/AAAAAAAADp8/c0gvLAuQsao/s1600/IMGP4218.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476664076879661874" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEE9hiOCzI/AAAAAAAADp8/c0gvLAuQsao/s400/IMGP4218.JPG" /></a> Hexagonal egg balls</div><div align="center"><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476664066277819506" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEE86CixHI/AAAAAAAADp0/8dqU_V2-iPw/s400/IMGP4201.JPG" />Squeezing the leaf juice</div><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEE8jDxXlI/AAAAAAAADps/5pxKztxsGiM/s1600/IMGP4194.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476664060108955218" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEE8jDxXlI/AAAAAAAADps/5pxKztxsGiM/s400/IMGP4194.JPG" /></a> In the Veld<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEE8FIgEvI/AAAAAAAADpk/Vcm96sMymJk/s1600/IMGP4190.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476664052075729650" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAEE8FIgEvI/AAAAAAAADpk/Vcm96sMymJk/s400/IMGP4190.JPG" /></a> The spiked ones<br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476661330321120274" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAECdpzonBI/AAAAAAAADpM/tCY3Fm-hhWg/s400/IMGP4182.JPG" /></div>Caterweelpillar<br /><div></div><div></div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAECetS00SI/AAAAAAAADpc/uRcjg1BUwt4/s1600/IMGP4187.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476661348437119266" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAECetS00SI/AAAAAAAADpc/uRcjg1BUwt4/s400/IMGP4187.JPG" /></a> </div>Stretch bodystrong<br /><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476661336686110194" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAECeBhKpfI/AAAAAAAADpU/YM0-81VHjqE/s400/IMGP4184.JPG" /></div>Peanut butter and green jelly<br /><br /><div><br /><br /><div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476656202483724402" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAD9zLH7cHI/AAAAAAAADos/PO1hkFxeDcQ/s400/IMGP4126.JPG" /></div><br />Boiling up a snack<br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div><div><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAECdfVjYoI/AAAAAAAADpE/4lvsr2jJnm8/s1600/IMGP4171.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476661327510594178" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAECdfVjYoI/AAAAAAAADpE/4lvsr2jJnm8/s400/IMGP4171.JPG" /></a> The massacre in action<br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAD9zwzRlpI/AAAAAAAADo8/dB418313X34/s1600/IMGP4167.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476656212597642898" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAD9zwzRlpI/AAAAAAAADo8/dB418313X34/s400/IMGP4167.JPG" /></a>Grubtacular<br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAD9zYtu9PI/AAAAAAAADo0/wlbyPH2zFkg/s1600/IMGP4156.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476656206131950834" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAD9zYtu9PI/AAAAAAAADo0/wlbyPH2zFkg/s400/IMGP4156.JPG" /></a> How appetizing is that?<br /><div><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAD9yjM2qlI/AAAAAAAADok/3g6n448G-YI/s1600/IMGP4100.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5476656191766964818" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/TAD9yjM2qlI/AAAAAAAADok/3g6n448G-YI/s400/IMGP4100.JPG" /></a> Meme Emilia and Niita on their way to church<br /><br /><div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-50465548048337236082010-04-04T04:21:00.000-07:002010-04-04T05:00:06.768-07:00Elyadhila - The Bird EaterI had a bit of a run in last week... I was readying myself for an afternoon game of soccer and walked into the toilet building only to hear a strange raspy hissing noise. Looking down, my vision <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">immediately</span> recognized the slithering coils of a huge snake lurking along the base of the wall and set in motion my rapid retreat. I moved so fast as I jumped back out of the building that I might have set a new land speed record! Putting some distance between myself and the snake I regained my composure. The other teachers had all left so I called over the learners since they were more likely than I to have had snake encounters. And as the crowd gathered, two of the more confident (or foolhardy?) boys grabbed an arsenal of sticks and stones intending to break some snake bones. Then ensued a battle to the death, and I was worried someone would be bitten and I would be pinned with the responsibility. But I didn't know what else to do and the kids were intent on destroying the danger. So I urged caution and had the crowd maintain a semi-safe distance as the war was waged. In the end, a few well placed strikes put some dents in the scaly beast, and though still writhing, the danger was averted. After the excitement, we played our soccer game, and I came back a few hours later to snap some pics. The next days, I showed my colleagues and they were impressed with the size and determined it to be some sort of highly <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">venomous</span> cobra. One bite would probably be lethal! So I thank my adrenaline and reflexes for my safe escape. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6gFePKSI/AAAAAAAADoc/SpfB7BzJvvs/s1600/IMGP4249.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456245640202758434" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6gFePKSI/AAAAAAAADoc/SpfB7BzJvvs/s400/IMGP4249.JPG" /></a><br /></p><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6f8k8vUI/AAAAAAAADoU/LW06nb2IXmc/s1600/IMGP4247.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456245637814992194" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6f8k8vUI/AAAAAAAADoU/LW06nb2IXmc/s400/IMGP4247.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6fcTKC8I/AAAAAAAADoM/yVV_LGCy3UY/s1600/IMGP4245.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456245629150432194" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6fcTKC8I/AAAAAAAADoM/yVV_LGCy3UY/s400/IMGP4245.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6fLGHRpI/AAAAAAAADoE/KFIE_M5QYEY/s1600/IMGP4253.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5456245624532321938" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S7h6fLGHRpI/AAAAAAAADoE/KFIE_M5QYEY/s400/IMGP4253.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-40324493395603630262010-02-26T17:02:00.000-08:002010-02-26T17:55:47.979-08:00Phruitphul<div align="center">A few more pics of the plowing process and from an afternoon in the fields...</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442734144093646882" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h53gGXcCI/AAAAAAAADn8/lwAPO6QBH84/s400/IMGP4081.JPG" border="0" /> <div align="center">The recently-plowed fields with our homestead in the background</div><div align="center"> </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442734142997017218" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h53cA6MoI/AAAAAAAADn0/E-AnQfmCbO0/s400/IMGP4086.JPG" border="0" />The donkeys plod along<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442734138648940434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h53L0Pz5I/AAAAAAAADns/CL1F1W8PZbo/s400/IMGP4091.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center">Sad sackers...<br /><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h2KGcdv9I/AAAAAAAADnc/WySUwVxbS2Y/s1600-h/IMGP4062.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442730065578016722" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h2KGcdv9I/AAAAAAAADnc/WySUwVxbS2Y/s400/IMGP4062.JPG" border="0" /></a> Meme Emilia with cow horn and ongongo</div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442731263226962530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h3P0COYmI/AAAAAAAADnk/HQAIs7w8Hyg/s400/IMGP4059.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"> Demonstrating the method of singular consumption<br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h2J9J4pOI/AAAAAAAADnU/RzxnsWBKUcM/s1600-h/IMGP4068.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442730063084168418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h2J9J4pOI/AAAAAAAADnU/RzxnsWBKUcM/s400/IMGP4068.JPG" border="0" /></a> The bountiful tree and its fruitspring<br /></div><br /><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h2JW3h01I/AAAAAAAADnM/ASjCVEBwbOE/s1600-h/IMGP4071.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442730052806628178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4h2JW3h01I/AAAAAAAADnM/ASjCVEBwbOE/s400/IMGP4071.JPG" border="0" /></a> That bucket weighs about 50 pounds<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4hzCcPXesI/AAAAAAAADnE/AFvxJruAUp4/s1600-h/IMGP4051.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442726635454823106" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4hzCcPXesI/AAAAAAAADnE/AFvxJruAUp4/s400/IMGP4051.JPG" border="0" /></a>My artistic close up on the post-liquidized fruits<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4hzCHH76LI/AAAAAAAADm8/mqzPn2sMScg/s1600-h/IMGP4052.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442726629786511538" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4hzCHH76LI/AAAAAAAADm8/mqzPn2sMScg/s400/IMGP4052.JPG" border="0" /></a> Kola-ing in action<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4hzBmnbn9I/AAAAAAAADm0/iTdfBWS3gbk/s1600-h/IMGP4055.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442726621060243410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4hzBmnbn9I/AAAAAAAADm0/iTdfBWS3gbk/s400/IMGP4055.JPG" border="0" /></a> The workstation that produces the sweetly-sourly alcoholic omagongo</div></div></div><br /></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-62882026876429994342010-02-20T11:33:00.000-08:002010-02-20T11:52:41.577-08:00The fruits of their labor<div>Cultivation time has come to Namibia. The rainy season is here but compared to last year it is much more mild. At least so far... People in villages all across Owamboland are busy tending the fields and working like mad in all aspects of farming. It's a never-ending process. One of the first steps is to clear the leftovers from last years crops. Old corn husk, sorghum stalks, and other rubbishes are rounded up, dug out of the ground and burned. Burning has something to do with nitrates are other minerals (agriculture is not my gig) as well as clearing the slate to start afresh with clean fields. With the first rains, they gauge whether it's time to plant. Sometimes the rains can be deceiving and if they decide to go for it but then the sweet nourishing moisture disappears for weeks, they are sadly out of luck. So when they take the plunge, they go whole hog, or should I say whole donkey. If there is no money to hire a tractor, plowing is done the old fashioned way: with donkey and rusty old metal plow.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4A7d83Q_gI/AAAAAAAADms/4LZV5SHwO-g/s1600-h/IMGP4079.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4A7d83Q_gI/AAAAAAAADms/4LZV5SHwO-g/s400/IMGP4079.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440413735603731970" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Shitaleni and Egumbo plus donkey workers</div><div><br /><div>When the fields are furrowed and ready to go, planting is the next step. I've helped out with this a few times this year but I really can't take any credit because planting a few rows of corn is equivalent to about 1% of the total work that goes into a successful harvest. With corn, they plant two two two in hoed holes and then cover each hole with the previously excavated dirt. With mahangu (millet), they scatter a small handful every few feet or so. With bean, it's one one one. With iishenda and omatanga (two kinds of gourds), it's a few seeds of each in holes dug close to the fence which acts as a trellis for the skyward-bound creepers. All the while, the capering chickens, guileful goats, boisterous birds, and marauding mice are an ever-present threat. The chickens are difficult to control but once the seeds have been set in the ground a few days, those clucking featherbags are no longer a problem. The fences are kept secure so those nimble goat fiends can't find a fortuitous foothold. Pots and pans are banged, scarecrows are erected, and voices call out with bird-curdling shrieks to keep the flying chattering beaked ones at bay. Mice are tricky buggers and the most people can do is give the cats a lot of encouragement. Traps are mildly effective but sometimes non-targeted prey becomes the victim. That's how I found myself feasting on rabbit last year. My view towards most all creatures is to leave and let live, but these people who depend on subsistence farming do not have the luxury to make that sort of humane decision. They need to eat, they need food, and they will not sacrifice their crops so that nonhuman animals can eat instead. So the battle wages on...<br /><br />Once the seeds have been sown, lots of attention is directed towards the clouds. Too little rain and the crops will wither and die under the relentless rays. Too much rain and the crops could drown, which is what happened last year to all the omatanga. But somewhere in the middle is just right. It's kind of a Goldilocks situation, but more real, and with less bears. The rains this year have been about perfect. Once every few days there are some light showers during the night and about once every ten days is a big thunder and lightning storm that gives the earth a good soaking. Let's hope it continues in this manner. As the water energizes the plants and the lush greenery begins to cover the fields, the unwanted plant cousins invade. Some common intruders are onjohwa (a thorny spiny monstrous weed that actively seeks out any bare feet),etse lyakuku (the grandmother's head - a colloquial name for a rather innocuous weed),omwidhi (common grass), and onyanganyanga (an onion like bulb that apparently is poisonous if eaten. Hoes are the trusty weapons used in this floral combat zone by warriors of all ages, from grandmothers bent with age to toddlers who can hardly lift their implements of plant defense. It is a daily chore and Mwingona, Meme, and Egumbo (along with any generous neighbors) can be found in the fields twice a day: from before dawn until time to go to school, and again from a little before dusk until time for supper.<br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4A7cteXz_I/AAAAAAAADmU/sNYZNd7wJLE/s400/IMGP4044.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440413714292920306" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Egumbo, Niita, and Mwingona hoeing the floral intruders</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>On top of all the work that goes into growing maize, mahangu, sorghum, beans, gourds, and ground nuts, there is also the fruits of the omuye and omugongo trees to be had. The omuyetrees yield thousands of yellowish pinkie toe-sized berries called oombe that are a definite village favorite. They are quite sweet but unfortunately have a pit inside so there is not much actual fruit to eat. But the taste is exquisite. I choose to anagrammatically spit the pits but most people just swallow everything. In my oshiwambo dictionary, oombe is defined as a bird plum so maybe it's on the internet somewhere. From the omugongo trees come the wonderful and bountiful oongongo fruits commonly known as marula. They are golf ball-sized and also have a large pit inside. The soft juiciness around the pit though is a prized commodity in the village. They can be eaten one by one and the best way to do so is to soften up the insides before biting a small hole in the semi-thick skin and sucking out the sweet tangy juice. I like this method but after five or so, your tongue feels as if you have eaten a whole bag of super sour candy. The more common way though is for a family to spend an entire afternoon sitting out in the field under one of their omugongo trees gathering the fallen treasure into piles and kola-ing. Kola translates as 'liquidize' which is basically what happens. An old cow horn is used to pierce the yellowed orbs and the squirting juice is collected in buckets which when consumed in large quantities can be quite intoxicating. A watered down version is much more palatable and is called oshiwa. The thousands of pits from the used oongongo are poured into piles around the homestead and saved for many months. By August the remnants of the pulp is completely gone and all that is left is a marble-sized nut. They are cracked open day after day in endless tedium but the result is large bowls filled with white nuts (omashuku) which can be eaten plain or pounded until a nice nut oil forms which is then poured on various side dishes. It is so much work. You have no idea. I could go on and on about how much work people do in Namibia but it is late. I have had several conversations about this topic with meme and one such encounter could go like this in which I say, "Oh, meme, moNamibia okuna iilongaoyindji! KoAmerika ongele aantu oya hala iikulya, otaya yi </div><div>kositola okulanda" = "oh, my mother, in Namibia there is so much work! In America if people want food, they just go to the store to buy." And she says "oh aiyaiyai eeno, iilonga oyindji. </div><div>Onda vulwa shinene na otandikulupa." = "(sounds of distress or annoyance) of course, there is so much work. I get very tired and I am getting old." But she says it with a smile and her constantly positive and joking attitude. She is 54 and has had 5 kids and I will be very sad to say goodbye. She doesn't speak any English but is probably the closest Namibian friend I have. I started talking about cultivating but got sidetracked about my host family, some really great people who I should write more about. Next time. Arrividerci!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4A7dZMQeeI/AAAAAAAADmk/Ei7z9wj2qoo/s1600-h/IMGP4050.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4A7dZMQeeI/AAAAAAAADmk/Ei7z9wj2qoo/s400/IMGP4050.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440413726028102114" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Niita, Tillye, Mwingona and Meme liquidizing the marula fruits</div></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4A7czdfReI/AAAAAAAADmc/Zj1_9L6LBFg/s1600-h/IMGP4047.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S4A7czdfReI/AAAAAAAADmc/Zj1_9L6LBFg/s400/IMGP4047.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440413715899827682" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Meme ota kola</div><br /></div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-90716392502695323232010-02-20T10:56:00.000-08:002010-02-20T11:32:48.604-08:00Messy OnesiPronounced as if you were consoling the famous Scottish loch monster - Oh nessie<br /><br />Two weeks ago marked the start of after school training for athletics, which we would refer to as track and field. When classes finished for the day, almost the whole school could be found out on the sports field whether they were running or not, enticed by the novelty of something different than their regular walks home through the bush. Mr. Musilika, the teacher directing the show, would vainly try and round up the runners in each age bracket for the various events which include the 100m, 200m, 400m, 800m, 1500, and 5000m. The young kids were completely uninhibited and eager to go, but as the age groups progressed, reluctancy to step up to the starting line began to seep into the collective mindset of the potential athletes as the fear of failure and the merciless teasing of their peers wrought havoc on their confidence. More than that though, was the complete and utter disorganization that seems to plague events of all kinds that occur in Namibia. Musilika would manage to corral a few of the 400m girls, but then while trying to find the other kids he knew to be strong runners, the original group would disperse and the gathering process would have to start again. Despite these setbacks, some training did get accomplished albeit with no warm up jogs, no equipment, and no formal coaching on running technique or strategy. The next day I brought my running shoes and managed to instill more enthusiasm in the masses by going on a longer run with a large group who were suddenly raring to go. It almost killed me though. I hadn't played soccer, juggled, or done anything active for almost two months, so I was later ruing the decision to go on a thirty minute run in the 100 degree heat without satisfactory hydration. I managed to run the whole way but probably could have been diagnosed with heat stroke and lactic acid overdose. Let me tell you, those kids smoked me! They are so amazingly fit that when they arrived back at school, well before me I might add, they continued doing a few more laps around the field! The fact that they are so tough must be that they grew up living, working, and playing in this constant heat, not to mention that their stringy muscular bodies carry them upwards of 10km every day as they walk to and from school. And most probably eat just one meal a day at dinner. Very Impressive. I survived the first day and now that I know how blazingly merciless the African sun can be at two in the afternoon, I have run a few more days since then with a marked improvement in my endurance and stamina. Less than one week of training was all we got before Musilka, who can be quite a spacey character, came to me on Friday afternoon at 1:30 (20 minutes before school ends and everyone goes home) with the information that Saturday is the zonal competition for schools in our region. <br /><br />Me - This Saturday? (incredulous at the timing)<br />Musilika - Yes it must be (obviously, what's the big deal...?)<br />Me - You mean tomorrow? (still incredulous)<br />Musilika - Yes they changed the date and I just remembered today (his spaciness on display)<br />Me - But it's too late now, how will we get there? (the American way, bent on full preparation and precise planning)<br />Musilika - Ahh maybe I can ask Amputu (a fellow teacher with a pickup, but alas he is not available tomorrow)<br />Me - Maybe Meme Maha? (another teacher with a truck, but again, no luck)<br />Musilika - Well, I know some people in Tsandi who I can try to ask tomorrow in the morning (the string of hopeful ideas continues)<br />Me - Ok, so which learners can we take? Will we meet you there? (trying to formulate an orderly plan)<br />Musilika - Yeah just start walking to Tsandi in the morning and I think you will meet the learners on the way (the Namibian version of a plan)<br />Me - Ok see you tommorrow then (after a year plus in Africa, I have learned to go with the flow)<br /><br />This is a very typical example of how things works in Namibia: last minute information, countless unknowns, and a lot that is left up to chance, yet it usually seems to work out in the end. We quickly told the learners before school ended, and the ones that wanted to go said they would walk the 8km to Tsandi in the morning and that some would be meeting at the school at 6am. I suggested 6:30, counting on the requisite lateness due to African Standard Time, and planned to meet them at 7. So the next morning I arrive at the school at 7 and of course no one is there yet. A few show up at 7:15 and we start the two hour walk to town. Along the way, more and more learners join our entourage and by the time we reached Tsandi, we had amassed 14 kids, which seemed like quite a good turn out considering the situation. The competition was to be held in Onesi which is a small 'town' about 30km from Tsandi. The idea behind the zonal competition was to invite the relatively nearby schools to a central location and send the qualifying runners on to Oshakati to the regional meet for all athletes from all four regions of Owamboland (Oshana, Oshikoto, Ohangwena, Omusati). Elamba is just one of many schools that were invited to the Onesi meet, which was one of several zonal meets for all schools in the Omusati region. <br /><br />Musilika managed to convince one guy to drive all of us to and from Onesi for a fee of N$260, so we two teachers squeezed into the cab and the learners piled into the back of the pickup truck and perched themselves around the edges in a way that would make any American mother sick with worry. But that is how things are done here and, rest assured, we all arrived safely in Onesi around 10, late for only the first race, which fortunately, none of our kids were running. The 'track' at the school where these qualifying races were being run turned out to be no more than an overgrown field rife with dead plants, animal dung, bottles and other rubbish. What an ideal and pristine location! We quickly learned that several of the other schools weren't as resourceful as we were, as only half of those invited were able to make it. Apparently we were not the only ones informed at the last second. I assume you all have been to, or participated in, a junior high or high school track meet and maybe you are picturing that scene, only in Africa. That image is definitely as far as could be from a Namibian track meet at a rural village school. <br /><br />No lanes and curved corners for the track - instead a few spectators stood at what seemed to be to the right distance and physically created the corner for runners to go around. Several runners got confused and were disqualified for going on the wrong side, several collisions and falls resulted when runners tried to turn the sharp corners too fast, and a few times the corner-marking spectators fled in fear when the older stronger faster boys came bearing down on them at full speed. I just had to laugh at how ridiculous those moments were. <div>No measurements were taken - the 'organizers' just estimated the distance of 100m by taking 100 long strides 4 times to form a large squarish space. Not exactly the Olympic-regulation-sized ovals we are used to. I have no idea how they measured the 5000m course. </div><div><br /></div><div>No equipment whatsoever... </div><div>No starting gun - one guy was the designated starter and yelled "Ready?! On your marks! Go!" without any real consistency or rhythm, and oftentimes he didn't even check to make sure that all the runners were ready. I can't tell you how many false starts there were. </div><div>No starting line - they just cut a wavy line into the scrubby grass with hoes. </div><div>No starting blocks - instead the runners knelt behind that nonlinear line and tried to get a grip on the dusty ground. </div><div>No finish tape - they tied a bunch of skinny palm tree leave together to form a rope of sorts, but more often than not they forgot to hold it up for the finishing runners. </div><div>No megaphone to make announcements - the organizers just shouted results across the field and a few kids missed their races because they didn't know when they were starting. </div><div>No stopwatch - the top two runners from each heat, regardless of their times, moved on to a final heat which determined the two kids from each category that qualified to go to Oshakati. </div><div>No changing rooms or bathrooms - both activities took place behind distant bushes. </div><div>No running shoes or uniforms - running barefoot is the norm and they just wore whatever clothing they had that approximated loose lightweight apparel. Some kids had nothing, or forgot it at home, and chose to run in sweaters, long skirts, and even jeans! </div><div><br />But none of that mattered to the kids. They had a blast and so did I. I bought some bread and juice concentrate for our midday snack and we commandeered a bucket of unknown cleanliness from a neighboring school and mixed in water from the nearby church. Cups were created from plastic bottles cut in half with a rusty knife and we reveled in sticky orangey sweet happiness. I forgot my umbrella but braved the murderous sun to provide moral support and encouragement for my fledgling athletes. They were understandably exhausted after their races and I helped them deliriously navigate their way back to the shade tree. It was also a chance for us to see another community, as most of my learners had never been to Onesi even though it is only 30km away. We were able to walk through the 'downtown' which consists of a finitely countable set of shops and bars, and our conversations about what we saw were more free and open than classroom math lessons. Johannes Niilenge says to the others, "with sir you must talk English and also you must laugh in English!" When I asked if they get blisters he says, "oh! sir, when the ground is too hot, my feet are so hot!" Walking back from the shop, Sakaria Sheehama says, "sir, your English is ok, we understand you, but oh!, when your mother was here, no we can't understand." At the end of the day, we left in good spirits and even had six kids qualify for the larger regional meet. I will make sure to bring my camera next time as unfortunately I have no documentation to give a better sense to my wordy descriptions. The meet in Oshakati is happening next weekend, and although I'm predicting better facilities and hoping for a bit more organization, I'm sure it will be another memorable experience.<br /></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-77871777658849206962010-01-29T03:20:00.000-08:002010-01-30T16:01:31.201-08:00Phurther Fotografs<div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123827811471986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH1zyjUnI/AAAAAAAADlk/D9lbhqmFYtc/s400/elar.JPG" border="0" /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center">Kristofina Iitembu - my favorite grade seven who transferred schools :-(</div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><p> </p><blockquote></blockquote><blockquote></blockquote></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432124250015943426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LIOYn8SwI/AAAAAAAADl0/WZFoFTNBsDs/s400/sonkeys.JPG" border="0" />Shaningi Simson (Gr 9) and Bonifatius Jafet (Gr 8) with their donkeys<br /></div><div align="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123834595054450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH2ND4k3I/AAAAAAAADls/_WCDYUcLq6A/s400/learns.JPG" border="0" /> <p align="center"><br />Titus Frans, Sheehama Sakaria and Johannes Nilenge (all Gr 8)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH1kWIsHI/AAAAAAAADlc/KjLX02BCkf8/s1600-h/two+sis.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123823665754226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH1kWIsHI/AAAAAAAADlc/KjLX02BCkf8/s400/two+sis.JPG" border="0" /></a> Sister Katelyn from USA and sister Mwingona from NAM<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH1fP4TUI/AAAAAAAADlU/2DgCtA3i_bg/s1600-h/two+meme.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123822297337154" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH1fP4TUI/AAAAAAAADlU/2DgCtA3i_bg/s400/two+meme.JPG" border="0" /></a> Meme Emilia and Meme Judy<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH1VKDWgI/AAAAAAAADlM/GkIhCR6thtE/s1600-h/p+boy.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123819588540930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LH1VKDWgI/AAAAAAAADlM/GkIhCR6thtE/s400/p+boy.JPG" border="0" /></a> Asser Ndinondjene (Gr 10)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LHW9iK6FI/AAAAAAAADlE/gEqn7-U2JvM/s1600-h/pk+vineyard.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123297851172946" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LHW9iK6FI/AAAAAAAADlE/gEqn7-U2JvM/s400/pk+vineyard.JPG" border="0" /></a> Perusing the fancy lunch menu<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LHW2EUwYI/AAAAAAAADk8/TLivKrk6qqI/s1600-h/pj+wine.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123295846941058" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LHW2EUwYI/AAAAAAAADk8/TLivKrk6qqI/s400/pj+wine.JPG" border="0" /></a> Pretending to be connoisseurs<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LHWkSLF8I/AAAAAAAADk0/ptqojBYBt64/s1600-h/jk+wine.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432123291073189826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LHWkSLF8I/AAAAAAAADk0/ptqojBYBt64/s400/jk+wine.JPG" border="0" /></a> Classy<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGtn_VrrI/AAAAAAAADks/693C9OyLov8/s1600-h/pk+hiking.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432122587693297330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGtn_VrrI/AAAAAAAADks/693C9OyLov8/s400/pk+hiking.JPG" border="0" /></a> Intrepid explorers in sync<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGtUygrlI/AAAAAAAADkk/Cp-0OqppRWI/s1600-h/tsi+jug.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432122582539218514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGtUygrlI/AAAAAAAADkk/Cp-0OqppRWI/s400/tsi+jug.JPG" border="0" /></a> I am not dropping in this picture<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGtMh86kI/AAAAAAAADkc/dKe4bXlhE3c/s1600-h/bridge.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432122580322282050" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGtMh86kI/AAAAAAAADkc/dKe4bXlhE3c/s400/bridge.JPG" border="0" /></a> Tsitsikamma splendor<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGs7Q32ZI/AAAAAAAADkU/5NffcAY2g54/s1600-h/ost.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432122575687244178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGs7Q32ZI/AAAAAAAADkU/5NffcAY2g54/s400/ost.JPG" border="0" /></a> A pause in the mating mambo<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGsohzlwI/AAAAAAAADkM/MLqLleG50ck/s1600-h/ellies.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432122570657994498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LGsohzlwI/AAAAAAAADkM/MLqLleG50ck/s400/ellies.JPG" border="0" /></a> Ellies<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMtijcYI/AAAAAAAADkE/_pSyb7q_Oqg/s1600-h/lion3.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432120922735866242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 235px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMtijcYI/AAAAAAAADkE/_pSyb7q_Oqg/s400/lion3.JPG" border="0" /></a> Lounge lions<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMUMZFrI/AAAAAAAADj8/7t1-lPGYkoo/s1600-h/lion1.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432120915932026546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMUMZFrI/AAAAAAAADj8/7t1-lPGYkoo/s400/lion1.JPG" border="0" /></a> Feline feelings<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMHxKs7I/AAAAAAAADj0/JPYBVRAuoFY/s1600-h/meerkat.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432120912596612018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 325px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMHxKs7I/AAAAAAAADj0/JPYBVRAuoFY/s400/meerkat.JPG" border="0" /></a> Huh?<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMJrDrOI/AAAAAAAADjs/Fa04DJ87gy0/s1600-h/zeb.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432120913107856610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFMJrDrOI/AAAAAAAADjs/Fa04DJ87gy0/s400/zeb.JPG" border="0" /></a> Zeeba neighbors<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFLlTtgwI/AAAAAAAADjk/xsOg600K4WQ/s1600-h/leo.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432120903346258690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LFLlTtgwI/AAAAAAAADjk/xsOg600K4WQ/s400/leo.JPG" border="0" /></a></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div><br /></div><p align="center">My Elementary school mascot come true</p><p> </p><p> </p>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-17720781301460992402010-01-28T08:47:00.000-08:002010-01-31T15:54:23.938-08:00Library Logistics<div align="left">This is a tangi unene (big thanks) for all of you who donated games, toys, cash, books, and school supplies for me and my learners. Opening up the two huge duffels my mom and sister brought over and seeing all the great things inside made me nyanyukwa momwenyo (happy in my heart). I really mucho shinene appreciate your generosity and thoughtfulness. I set everything out on a table in the library to show the other teachers what is now available. Some didn't really care and just wanted to take a piece of candy (I've already told you how I feel about them), but others were really interested, though they didn't know exactly how to play the games and use the various supplies. This week I'm going to show them after school all the neat materials they can now use for teaching. When the kids come in with a math question and they see that table glittering with colorful fun, their eyes light up and they say, 'sir are those things for us?!' and I tell them 'yes, my nice friends from America wanted to give these to you and this year I will teach you how to play them' which sends them on their way with huge smiles. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431837873165511794" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2HDxDuLLHI/AAAAAAAADgE/wyMF9EF6sQw/s400/IMGP4018.JPG" /> <p align="center">The table that glitters with colorful fun: checkers, sliding number game, yoyos, jigsaw puzzles, Rubik's cubes, magnets, calculators, various thinking toys, and much more that is not pictured<br /><br /><br /></p>I moved my teaching operations center (desk) into the knowledge dispersement headquarters (library) and am still getting the instruments of logophilia (books) and tactile learning mechanisms (games) arranged and organized because last year the room was a complete mess. This year I want the library to be a functional place where kids can come ask me questions without hesitation and also a space where they can read books and use the games so these donations don't just gather dust.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432037127876349122" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2J4_NXNjMI/AAAAAAAADis/wgId2n8pgLo/s400/teacheroffice.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">I was able to escape this building, the teachers' "lounge", which the learners are afraid to enter</div><br /><br /><br /><br />Last week the principal and I made a trip to Oshakati to Benz, the Home Depot of Namibia and bought materials to build shelves to install in the library. It's enough for six sturdy units with three shelves each which will easily accommodate the books and games. Any cash contributions that were sent my way went towards the purchase, so know that your donations went to a good cause which I will make sure doesn't go to waste. I'm not asking for more but if anyone is feeling extra generous these days, I could buy dictionaries. I previously bought the school one Oshiwambo/English dictionary and it's a major favorite of the learners.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431837867851409810" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2HDwv7MaZI/AAAAAAAADf8/mL3ErfhJkfY/s400/IMGP4015.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="center">Three shelves are constructed thanks to my erector set skills</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432037130375159714" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2J4_Wq-X6I/AAAAAAAADi0/4FsvJfB1j00/s400/lib+before.JPG" /><br /><br /><p align="center">Before<br /><br /></p><br /><br /><div align="center"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431837879937096002" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2HDxc8pWUI/AAAAAAAADgM/ja-xmd137YQ/s400/IMGP4016.JPG" /><br />After (still under construction)<br /></div><br /><br />Thank you again! From Namibia with love, ParkerPakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-29934050430815353852010-01-28T07:52:00.000-08:002010-01-31T15:15:00.714-08:00Sojourning in South Africa<div align="left">It seems so long ago, that first leg of my extensive holiday travels. So before too much more time passes, I'd better tell you about it... The election happened. We survived. Then it was back to Elamba for a frantic two-day rampage of marking exams and finalizing the grades. On the last day of school, all the learners came dressed to the nines and tens. They weren't required to wear their uniforms and wanted to look nice while they received their report cards, a single sheet of paper which shows the end product of a yearlong effort. Or lack of effort in some cases. I do not have a registered class so I didn't personally hand out any reports, but if I had, I certainly would have done it differently. The class teachers ranked the learners and called them up in front of the class from first best to last worst. It was really moving to see how happy the top learners were when they saw their high marks. My stoic facade crumbled just a tad as a few joyous salty drops of relief escaped the ducts. The kids who had worked hard all year were justly rewarded and I felt proud. Things went downhill from there. For each learner, the class rank and the total number of points (the equivalent of a GPA) was publicly announced. Not exactly confidential. The teacher kept calling names, and as the cutoff between passing and failing drew closer, the tension and fear escalated. The last few learners who passed were obviously relieved and then came the sorry kids who were condemned to failure and a repeat of the same grade next year. It was awful watching them fight back tears amidst the happiness of their successful peers. They also had to endure the taunts and laughter of a few of the more heartless/thoughtless/ruthless kids. For some that failed, it was no surprise given their effort and performance, but it was still a tough scene to swallow. Overall I was happy with the results, relieved to have completed my first year, and very ready for a vacation. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432027538472095218" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2JwRCDEzfI/AAAAAAAADgk/mszS-57ow6k/s400/pakaelamba.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="left">If I was to make it to the Windhoek airport for my afternoon flight on the 12th, I had to leave the village on the 10th. Three days of road movement just to get to the capital might seem crazy, but because this country is so huge and my lack of a personal car, it is necessary to allow so much travel time. First I have to walk to the school and wait and hope that someone is driving out of the village to town. Usually it is a rusty old pickup truck, and I pay N$7 to sit in the open bed for a perilously bumpy ride to Tsandi. After a few taxi rides, I arrive in Ongwediva where I stay with a friend who lives close to the magic speed bump. I'll have to write a separate entry about this sublime section of cement, as numerous times it has aided me in the quest to find a ride South to Windhoek that is fast, safe, and oftentimes free. The ride I found this particular day was extremely fast (160+kph), semisafe (they had been driving all night so I kept a watchful and wary eye), and semifree (N$40 =negligible compared to the standard price). Not the best of luck, but I arrived in record time (430 km in 3 hours when it usually takes 6). I jumped out in Otjiwarongo and met up with my buddy Greg and his lovely parents who gave me a lift the last couple hours to Windhoek and deposited me right to the front door of the hostel. A quick sleep and then I caught my flight to Cape Town, South Africa to meet my mother and sister! I had not seen them or traveled out of Namibia for over a year!</div><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432031613391798146" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2Jz-OTo_4I/AAAAAAAADiM/MYTRU08Rr5E/s400/ct+aerial.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432033637693750242" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2J10Da1e-I/AAAAAAAADik/JizRcAaqTug/s400/ct.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">We picked up the rental car and, as the driver, I was immediately thrown into the maelstorm that is Cape Town. In reality it's not the hugest or busiest city in the world, but it sure seemed like it after a year of living at the poky village pace where donkey carts and ambling are the mode. It was overwhelming, the swarms of people buzzing their way from shop to shop, the multitudinous neon lights blazing their boastful electricity, the honking cars packing the narrow streets like M C Escher's tessellating geese. We ticked off the standard items on the tourist's Cape Town agenda: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robben_Island">Robben Island</a>, the prison where Mandela was incarcerated, and the Aerial Cableway up <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Table_Mountain">Table Mountain</a>. Both were worth the visit and worth enduring the pushy crowds. On the island, we spotted some penguins but no robins. No robbings either. The guide, a former prisoner, had some unsettling stories of prison life when we asked him between presentations and made us interested to read more about Mandela and his cohorts. His book, Long Walk to Freedom, is circulating around the volunteer libraries but is in hot demand so it's fairly hard to come by. Later that day, on the top of the table, our eyes feasted on the sumptuous landspread complete with forking trails, knifelike ridges, and spoonfuls of wind-scultped brush. But can you believe it, I forgot to get a juggling picture at the top of the mountain! Maybe I'll have to go back sometime, but hike up instead of taking the tram.<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432033631259515570" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2J1zrcy2rI/AAAAAAAADiU/LjP2rRQTUUU/s400/tm+dinner.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432031613690125090" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2Jz-PaxGyI/AAAAAAAADiE/jIxIjruZzeQ/s400/momp+tm.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">We were relieved to leave the crowded city chaos and head down South to the actual cape. We spent a night in Boulders Beach where hordes of robotic penguins congregate in their realistically manufactured environment. I'm pretty sure it's all a big conspiracy designed to dupe unsuspecting tourist from their foreign dollars. I went along with their animatronic antics but couldn't help thinking that their wing flaps, waddle hops and head shakes were preprogrammed onto cleverly concealed circuit boards. That much cuteness can't be natural. </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432031599506620370" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2Jz9alJ_9I/AAAAAAAADhs/hLCjIeRdBfs/s400/peng1.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432033635895499970" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2J1z8uGXMI/AAAAAAAADic/JmjTPMgs_EY/s400/peng2.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">We also spent a morning exploring the national park which contains the Cape of Good Hope, the rocky outcropping mistakenly believed to be the most southern tip of the African continent. Ostriches danced the mating mambo and dangerous baboons frolicked about looking for a handout.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431826761410927634" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2G5qRNb3BI/AAAAAAAADf0/8Sfftdgg6uY/s400/Cape_Point_07.jpg" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432117513575857042" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LCGRbd-5I/AAAAAAAADjU/c6n3u_Tgf3E/s400/babs.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432115346920544754" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LAIKAlmfI/AAAAAAAADjE/fVTznL52ri4/s400/swim.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="center">The beach will always amaze me, and the ocean calls with its relentless roar</div><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432115339258156978" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LAHtdu17I/AAAAAAAADi8/pk6NIHM0arM/s400/cape+juggle.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">I didn't forget documentation this time! </div><div align="center">Juggling duo with my sister, Katelyn</div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Grape country was next and although my Mr. Yuck poison face emerges every time I sip wine, I still had a good time gawking at the scenic luxury and the luxurious scenery. The countryside is rife with grape fields and vineyards, wineries and grape-aging operations, wine tastings and opportunities to sample fermented grape juice. As I said, I am by no means a connoisseur so the subtleties of the jargon escape me. </div><div align="left">We stayed at an awesome old estate and I had a nightcap of an exquisitely aged, balsa barreled, dry yet wet, minty bodied zesty Cabfanlot with just a hint of sarcastic fruitiness on the nose. </div><div align="left"> </div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432117519433023410" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LCGnP7P7I/AAAAAAAADjc/CvLsB_CWXFU/s400/all+wine.JPG" /></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left"></div><div align="left">After our two nights at the Hawksmoor House we made the long drive to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tsitsikamma">Tsitsikamma National Park</a>. The beautiful green forests and rocky seashores brought me back to the Pacific NW and provided a much-welcomed change from the dry bleak desertous stretches of Namibia. We worked our car-weary muscles and enjoyed a couple strenuous hikes in the greenery. The next two days found us on safari in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Addo_Elephant_National_Park">Addo Elephant National Park</a>. It is much smaller than Etosha and there are a few differences in the animal populations: no giraffes or Zebras or springbok but that lack is made up for by the amazing number of elephants. We could hardly go ten minutes without seeing another herd, and several times a lengthy line of the big-eared long-trunked shufflers lumbered by mere feet from our car. I hope my mom and sister can pick out the few best pictures from the thousands that they took because those shutters were snapping nonstop racking up the future National Geographic photographs of the decade.<br /><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432027530444534354" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2JwQkJJ8lI/AAAAAAAADgU/tF_YortUfQk/s400/Elephants.JPG" /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432030519128244050" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2Jy-h24P1I/AAAAAAAADhM/AB8fbjbivj0/s400/ellie+profiles.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Thrilled, elated and euphoric with our Addo experience, it was time to depart South Africa and head to Namland. Two flights and six hours of driving made for one long day of travel, but we arrived safely in Otjiwarongo, Namibia. Our adventures with the African wildlife were not finished as we had two more days in Etosha National Park and they didn't disappoint. There was not such a preponderance of elephants and instead we were inundated with springbok, giraffes, wildebeest, zebra, and surprisingly, lions. Two different times we came across a large group lounging in the shade and also spotted a couple solo felines prowling the grasslands. On Christmas day we were lucky enough to chance upon two frisky leopards crossing the road, and at night a lone and extremely wary rhino at the watering hole.</div><div align="left"></div><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432115349067451090" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2LAISAcytI/AAAAAAAADjM/fNAmAooIG7w/s400/leop.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="left">Owamboland was our next stop, and we arrived in Okatha Kombago around dusk and spent a nice three days in the village with my host family, Meme Emilia, Mwingona, Angula, and Egumbo. Unfortunately most of my learners had gone elsewhere for the holidays so we were only able to see a few when we made a visit to Elamba Combined School. We played with the new frisbees, balls and jumpropes and I learned a traditional game which is accomplished with a series of scripted symmetrical movements within a 4x4 grid.</div><div align="left"></div><br /><div align="left"></div><br /><br /><div align="left"></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432028485043579058" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2JxIITTaLI/AAAAAAAADg8/OV2q52DU3Qo/s400/foursquare.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432027537573729922" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2JwQ-s41oI/AAAAAAAADgc/yH548LNaw4k/s400/paka+soccer.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432028489706408786" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2JxIZrAi1I/AAAAAAAADhE/mzXG9HX88ac/s400/jumprope.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432030535473620258" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2Jy_ev65SI/AAAAAAAADhk/x9DAO-60PEU/s400/frisbee.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432028481841527234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2JxH8X3-cI/AAAAAAAADg0/R7euvtAHVhE/s400/fris2.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432028477407544034" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2JxHr2uwuI/AAAAAAAADgs/t9LVJ1ePatE/s400/netball.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432030528858764930" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2Jy_GG0NoI/AAAAAAAADhc/vdC0VaSEVfs/s400/reading.JPG" /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">We said our goodbyes to the homestead and spent our last night together in Tsumeb. We almost bought out the craft center there snatching up the must-have wooden carvings and woven baskets. Being the tetris master that I am, their bags were packed extremely efficiently and of course I left the long straight pieces for last to obtain the optimal score. In the morning they dropped me on the side of the road where they continued on to Windhoek and I was able to hitchhike home. </div><div align="left">It was sad to see them go of course but I am so glad we got to travel together and that they were able to come visit where I live and work. It was a most excellent vacation. One year can be a very long time, and two years is even longer so this visit was rejuvenating, refreshing, replenishing, and revitalizing. Thank you again Mom and Katelyn! Love, Parker-- </div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432030527384471378" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2Jy_AnUR1I/AAAAAAAADhU/6yNBbEelzzI/s400/mompaka+elamba.JPG" /></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-51606136622866053402010-01-27T11:43:00.000-08:002010-02-07T11:55:53.108-08:00Keen on KeensYou can almost always spot a Peace Corps Volunteer by their footwear. Keens or some other type of sturdy sandal are a dead giveaway and it almost seems as if it is an unwritten requirement. After countless adventures, my Keens have kicked their final bucket, walked their final steps , and trekked their final trail. They had carried me up mountains, across rivers, over bridges, and to remote locations all over the African continent:<br /><br />-The Riruta slums of Nairobi<br />-The relaxing beaches of Zanzibar<br />-The narrow twisting alleyways of Lamu<br />-The ancient ruins of Gedi<br />-The mosques in Mombasa<br />-The traditional bomas in a Maasai village<br />-The salty mudflats of Lake Natron<br />-The caldera in the Ngorongoro Crater<br />-The grasslands of the Serenghetti<br />-The safaris in Tarangire National Park<br />-The hunting trails of the Hadza people<br />-The tropical reefs of Pemba island<br />-The base of Mount Kilimanjaro (unfortunately the cold was too much for my trusty Keens and I had to revert to hiking boots for the summit)<br />-The misty torrents of Ruacana Falls<br />-The 85 rugged kilometers of Fish River Canyon<br />-The massive dunes of Sossusvlei<br />-The peaceful village paths in rural Namibia, where they will be laid to rest<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><blockquote></blockquote><br /><blockquote><p></p><p></p></blockquote><br />After all that, it was time for them to retire and bring in the new friends for my feet. I am very thankful that my mom brought me a brand new pair so I can continue right where I left off.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Here are some pictures which serve as a testament to their longevity:<br /><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432623943216931282" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2SOsW26IdI/AAAAAAAADl8/7TfS-mxcXIM/s400/IMGP4007.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">Two years of wear and tear</div><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432623956411029938" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2SOtIAoGbI/AAAAAAAADmM/UfEq5CmBnck/s400/IMGP4012.JPG" /><br /><br /><div align="center">Reinforcements arrive</div><br /><br /><br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432623953487915282" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/S2SOs9Hs6RI/AAAAAAAADmE/tYM83LytqFk/s400/IMGP4009.JPG" /><br /><div align="center">The contrast between veterans and tyros</div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-7318525376648321842009-11-28T22:21:00.000-08:002009-11-28T22:35:15.340-08:00Esiku LyokupandulaMy learners have finished taking their yearend exams and the only thing left to do before I go on vacation is to grade approximately 500 pages of math answers! I'm not very eager to get started but it's not because of the quantity. I'm reluctant to start because marking wrong answer after wrong answer is bound to be depressing and will tell me exactly how ineffective I was at teaching these learners. Judging from their performance on the exams from the previous two terms, it will not be pretty. However, it's not all gloom doom and despair. I might not have been able to make every learner understand how to simplify fractions or how to plot grid coordinates, but there were a few instances that made me feel like my presence here is actually doing some good. A couple of teachers have commented that the learners in grade seven are 'free' with me, meaning that they aren't afraid to come ask me questions and don't hesitate to speak their broken, but improving, English. One example - I was looking at an encyclopedia of the human body with Festus and Hosea and there was an x-ray drawing of a pregnant woman and baby.<br /><br /> Hosea - "But how does the baby eat food?" <br /> Me - "There is a tube called the umbilical cord, like a pipe, that brings food from the mom to the baby. The mom eats and some of the food also goes to the baby."<br /> Festus - "now what happened if I put food here? (pointing to his belly button)"<br /> Me - "(laughing) ah no you cannot eat like that"<br /><br />Marumani, the English teacher who I like the most, actually said that he wished I could teach English to grade six and seven because the current teachers are not doing a good job and that he could see a definite improvement with the grade sevens who I spend the most time with. Another instance was during after school study when I talked with the learners about the What When Where Why of preparing for exams. I really wanted them to study and do well on their finals so I tried to give them some guidelines about effective studying habits. They seemed interested and were very willing to give some ideas and answers which is a big difference from the start of the year when and were hesitant to participate in class and they couldn't understand my American English (I have since developed a highly Namibian stylized accent). So it was encouraging even though it probably too little too late. This year I don't think I did as much as I could. I plead guilty with the excuse that I was trying to find my feet as a first time teacher, but now that I have developed my teaching style and know my learners next year I have no excuse. I'm writing it here for everyone to see so that you can hold me to it and not let me wimp out. Besides teaching math, I also teach Life Skills which is a class that doesn't really count towards a grade but is an opportunity to address other issues in life: HIV/AIDS, relationships, study habits, how to use a condom, how to take a test, etc. This year I didn't do much except letting the kids go to the library to read which was good because none of the other teachers have anything to do with the library besides going there to sleep when they should be teaching. Next year I want to utilize the Life Skills time more wisely and actually do some activities with the aim of imparting my knowledge and experience. Four girls at my school got pregnant this year and dropped out so I feel that I should do a little more than just teaching math.<br /><br />Apart from school, I am quite comfortable in the village and am learning where some of my learners live. Most homesteads in the village have the same basic setup with an outer fence made from largish logs dug vertically into the ground enclosing a mazelike series of fenced areas. In the larger open spaces are the huts for sleeping and storage. These huts are constructed completely with natural organic materials. The walls are bricks made from dried mud and the roof is a pyramid made from saplings tied together with palm fronds and then covered with intricately woven grass. It's amazing how watertight they can make it! Another area of the homestead is called omashisha named after the large containers woven from strips of tree bark and branches which are used for storing flour. The elugo (kitchen) is an open space with some huts for storing food, and maybe a hut for cooking when it's raining. The oshithima (porridge) eaten with every meal is cooked in a pot that rests on top of three bricks that are arranged in a circular formation around an open fire. The oshithima is eaten with the right hand and dipped in the side dish which varies from night to night: oshigali (crushed beans), omboga (spinach), catfish, or the favorite of every Namibian, meat (beef, goat, pork, chicken). Another section of the house is the oshini for which there is no real English translation because do you know any English speakers who pound their homegrown grain into flour by hand? The oshini is an area with several 8-inch-deep cylindrical holes formed and hardened in the ground. The mahangu (millet) is systematically poured into the holes and is then pounded over and over with a heavy branch in a mortar and pestle style. The rhythmic pounding can be a solo job or a team effort but either way it is not an easy task. I've tried my hand at it a few times and it left me with much admiration for all the Owambo daughters and mothers who do this on almost a daily basis. The grain is periodically sifted with flat baskets woven from palm fronds in a process that sorts out the sufficiently-pounded flour from the flour that still has a ways to go. This is just one step in the year long cultivation process which converts latent seeds into nourishing sustenance: hoeing, ploughing with donkey power, sowing, weeding, hoping the rains are enough so that the plants can grow but not too much that they drown, protecting the crops from marauding birds and goats, harvesting, removing the grain from the stalks by beating them with branches, pounding the grain into flour, burning the stalks and clearing the fields for next year. And all that just for some millet flour!<br /><br />I wish I had pictures to go along with my descriptions but my camera has finally kicked the electronic bucket after five years of trusty service. I will once again refer you to my buddy Greg's blog and his awesome photography: www.greginnamibia.blogspot.com<br /> <br />The last few months, I have been staying in the village more often on the weekends. I've been trying to visit with my learners outside of the classroom setting, so my host sister Mwingona has taken me to other homesteads in the village. Most of them are quite similar to the homestead where I live, but you can get a sense of the comparative wealth depending on the presence of cement buildings, a water tap, plastic chairs, or more accurately by Namibian standards, the number of cattle and goats. It has been really neat to see where my learners live and to get a glimpse of what their home life is like. Alina in grade seven lives about an hour's walk away with her grandparents on a relatively large homestead house. We played jumprope, cards, and ondota (a game similar to jacks). A couple weekends ago she came to visit me at my homestead so I showed her a bunch of pictures of friends and family in America. She kept mistaking my mom for my sister, so Mom you should take that as a compliment! Asser in grade nine lives with his mom, siblings, and cousins. It is a smaller homestead with not many luxuries but they do have papaya trees and brought one for us to eat both times I went to visit! One day he had asked me to come visit and the plan was to go visit Monica and Rautia who live another couple miles away. He didn't openly tell me, but secretly I think Asser wants one of them to be his girlfriend. They are all great kids and are at the top of grade nine. Unfortunately Asser wasn't at home when I came to visit because apparently some crotchety old neighbor lost his donkey and sent him to go retrieve it from where it had wandered, probably about 5 miles away. So instead I went with Asser's older sister (not my learner) who took me to visit the two girls. Rautia lives with her parents and younger brother and cooked us some nice oshithima and chicken for lunch. Rautia is the best learner in math but pretty shy and is reluctant to speak English with me even when I try to ask questions and start conversation. I hope she opens up a little more next year. After lunch Rautia walked with us to Monica's house which was quite a stark contrast. Apparently Monica's mother worked in Windhoek, the capital, for several years as a nurse and only moved back to the north two years ago. She must have done well with her profession because the house is much different than the rest of the village: the outer fence is made with painted white bricks, there is a garden with flowers, the buildings are all cement and completely furnished, and she drives a fancy SUV. But they still brew oshikundu (a traditional drink made from millet) so we sat inside and drank chatted for a while before the two girls walked me home. <br /><br />Another learner I've seen a few times on the weekends is Kristofina in grade seven. She is probably my favorite learner at Elamba Combined School, and wouldn't you know it, she's transferring to another school next year. She lives her Grandma and is the oldest child at the house which means she is in charge of cooking, cleaning, and taking care of the small kids. I will really miss having her in class but I can't really blame her because some of the other teachers have made her cry (refer to a previous blog entry about my wonderful colleagues). Anyway, Kristofina is excellent in both math and English and has the best smile which she flashes at me all throughout the day. She is an avid reader and isn't afraid to ask me questions about words she doesn't know. Basically she is an ideal student because she is curious and wants to learn, she can make intuitive mental leaps, she is diligent about her homework, and she is an all-around friendly person. I am sad she is leaving, but she promised to come visit me. <br /><br />I am spending more time with my learners now because in the village I have no friends and sitting around the homestead can get boring. I am friendly with the neighbors and they are friendly with me but I wouldn't say I have friends my age with similar interests and similar values. It's always nice to chat with some old kuku (grandma) or drink omalovu (traditional sorghum beer) with meme, but I can't talk to them about stuff most 24 year old American guys talk about. So when I need a break from the village (even though the low key daily life is enviable) I have some close friends in the PC volunteer community that I can visit. Halloween weekend I traveled to Ondangwa and hung out all day at a water park with some friends where we lubricated our esophagi, grilled hamburgers, and snuck into the waterslide after it got dark. Then last weekend, Greg and I hitchhiked to Rundu (about 8 hours away in NE Namibia) for a Thanksgiving party. On the way there we got picked up by six supermodels from Norway (seriously no joke) who took us to Tsumeb where we got picked up by an old Afrikaaner (white person whose first language is Afrikaans) who gave us a lift to Otavi where we ran into another volunteer, Kaitilin, who helped us all get a ride in the back of a truck the rest of the way. And all for free! In Rundu there is a former volunteer who married a local woman and now lives in Namibia and owns a lodge. Every year he cooks up a feast of turkey and gravy and hosts any current volunteers who want to come, providing they bring the other necessary Thanksgiving side dishes. In all there were about 30 volunteers and we gorged on stuffing, sweet potatoes, corn bread, green beans, and mashed potatoes. It was an excellent meal and it was great to visit another part of the country and some other friends who I never see because they live so far away. Leaving early Sunday morning, Greg and I caught a ride with an Afrikaner truck driver until Tsumeb and then made an unwise snap decision to take a free ride not realizing how cramped and uncomfortable the back of the truck would be. We survived though and celebrated with ice cream. Happy Thanksgiving by the way! <br /><br /> This weekend I am away from the village again, but this time not by choice. The voting for the national election concludes today and Peace Corps management decreed that all volunteers would be safer clustered together rather than spread around at their respective sites. There have been a few violent encounters between RDP and SWAPO supporters (the two main political parties in Owamboland where I live) but I felt perfectly safe in my village. Better safe than sorry though, so five of us have been bunkered down in Outapi, riding out the political storm, entertaining ourselves with pirated movies and TV shows, scrabble games, The Legend of Zelda, juggling, and enjoying American foods that are most certainly not porridge.<br /><br />It's been a nice break but I'm going home this afternoon. It's just a N$14 taxi ride to Tsandi and then a N$7 for the last 8 kilometers into the village. Then there is less than two weeks until I trek to South Africa to meet my mom and sister! I hope everyone enjoyed Thanksgiving and gave thanks for family, friends, and all the amenities America can offer.<br /><br />Mucho amor, PakaPakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-33237940214844704862009-09-25T18:22:00.000-07:002009-09-25T18:58:42.490-07:00Do the Dune<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It would have been very convenient for me end my travels after Ruacana since it it only about 90km away from my village, but this vast country has much to see! Four of us volunteers on the tour met up with a fifth friend in Windhoek, rented a car, stocked up on camp food, and set off towards the dunes of Sossusvlei. At times disastrous, our weekend getaway ended up being quite fulfilling. We weathered an exploded tire, a languid day of waiting for a replacement car, and twisty undulating dirt roads completely lacking directional road signs. It was worth it, though, for we were ultimately rewarded with the spectacular stark landscapes of the Namib Desert. Massive dunes of red, orange, and yellow sands surround sparse plains. Dead trees, hundreds of years old, stand sere and withered in barren pans. Ostrich and oryx scrounge for what little sustenance is to be found. We trekked up dunes, baked in the sun, tromped through vleis, and pondered nature's power.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1vGHoJrxI/AAAAAAAADec/vkDv1SxbLzY/s400/9418_638920101894_6302581_36165478_7215452_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385582880322334482" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1vHM7c2WI/AAAAAAAADe0/ldXL6sGg6LE/s400/9418_638920181734_6302581_36165493_2853308_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385582898925328738" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1vGo47hUI/AAAAAAAADes/R04F-VVe374/s400/9418_638920176744_6302581_36165492_1731425_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385582889251079490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:Georgia, serif;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1vGcIUp0I/AAAAAAAADek/FcYxnZIzUtk/s400/9418_638920141814_6302581_36165486_6706294_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385582885825980226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Having had our fill of sandy stretches and dusty dunes, a celebratory overpriced ice cream bar was in order before we traversed even more treacherous dirt roads. We chose the shorter path this time but it seems all distances in Namibia are deceptive and we arrived in Swakopmund just in time for some delicious and revitalizing pizza! After a last stroll by the ocean, the return trip to Windhoek, an overnight in Okahandja, and another successful hitch-hike northward, I safely reached the village and concluded my extended holiday. I don't plan on leaving the village any time soon as I've had my fill of traveling for the time being. After all that extravagance and excitement, it's back to apples, peanut butter, and porridge. The final term of my first year as a teacher is underway and things are going swell. But where did September go? Time has a ruthless and unyielding agenda.... I will leave you to ruminate on a few riddles.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What lives if you give it food but dies if you give it water?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">What comes twice in a week but only once in a year?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There are ten birds on a fence. If you shoot one, how many are left?</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Set those digit-fingers a-typing if the answers spring bidden or unbidden your minds. Guesses, clarifying questions, hint inquiries and counter-riddles are most welcome. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Eewa amushe, onde mu hole shinene. Hamna shida, ku hande, oshi li nawa, fine, good, ok, alright, peace.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Love, PAKA (not to be confused with pakapaka which is the onomatopoeic oshiwambo word for motorcycle)</span></span></div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-81001294495714318982009-09-19T20:59:00.000-07:002009-09-25T18:21:51.141-07:00Diverse Diversions<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1rh1g3PYI/AAAAAAAADeM/mTs5dtOlS30/s1600-h/2009-09-01-2.jpg"></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>The other day I did some calculating and figured that over the course of 21 days during the August-September holiday, I traveled a total of 5645 kilometers, about 3508 miles!<br />It was an epic trip full of innumerable memorable moments,<br />so I will try and recount the highest highlights which hopefully will do the journey justice. After a flurry of exam-marking and submitting the final grades for term two, I left the village and headed down to Okahandja to meet the new volunteers. The timing was such, that I had to travel the nine hours south on my birthday, but this time the unpredictable hitch-hiking worked out for the better. A nifty German guy and his Owambo wife picked me up in their van and we made a quick jaunt into Etosha National Park where the giraffes sang me their muted songs of birthday happiness and the twelve Oryx displayed their horns in a show of symbolic birthday candles. The unexpected nature visit, combined with snacks and intelligent conversation, made for quite a unique and fortunate experience. Arriving safely at the training center in Okahandja, I stayed for five days with the brand new arrivals to Peace Corps Namibia, answering questions, weighing in with my experiences so far, and explaining my role as a Volunteer Support Network member. I've been in Namibia for a little over ten months now, so in the eyes of the fresh-off-the-planers, I was sometimes regarded as the all-knowing expert, which is only true relative to their newness. There is always so much more to learn!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div align="left"><br />And then came Diversity Tour which definitely provided ample learning opportunities for kids and PC volunteers alike. The Diversity Tour is akin to a huge field trip, where 40 of the best learners from schools in all 13 regions of Namibia get to travel with ten lucky PCVs to the far corners of the country. The learners applied for the tour by writing essays about the diversity of gender and the different male/female roles in their cultures. Forty learners were chosen, and were provided transportation to Windhoek where the tour began. The tour is funded through donations from various sources: NGOs, PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief), families and friends of PCVs, etc. In Windhoek, we went to The American Cultural Center; the memorial for war veterans called Heroes' Acre, and had an excellent tour of the international airport. All 50 of us were granted special access to go through security and out onto the tarmac where we watched a plane takeoff and then got to tour the inside of an airplane. The kids were really excited about the movie screens, the complementary blankets, and the barf bags! Some of these learners had never traveled farther than 50 kilometers (or less!) from their village so the capital city, the planes, the different landscapes, and most experiences throughout the next eight days were completely new and eye-opening. At least that was the goal! </div><div align="left"><br /><br /></div><div align="left"><br />We capped off the day in Windhoek with a visit to UNAM, the University of Namibia, which hopefully exposed these kids to the possibilities that exist outside of their rural villages, and inspired them to keep up the hard work in school. It must be said though, that the 40 kids, ranging from grades 6 to 10, were already excellent students, the cream of the crop. We had kids from almost every tribe in Namibia: Kwanyama, Ndonga, Mbalantu, Kwaluudhi, Damara, Nama, Herero, Himba, San, Baster, Tswana, Mbukushu, Subia, Mafwe, and probably more that I'm forgetting. They were required to speak English so as not to create tensions between the kids speaking different home languages. But they were all great and gave us no problems. We basically took every volunteer's favorite, smartest, funniest learner and mixed them together with amazing results. Their English was great, they could think outside the box, solve riddles, tell jokes, and even do math in their heads! As much as I love the kids in my classes at Elamba, it was hard not to wish for a classroom full of these superstars.<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383415166956148530" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 170px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrW7kmDfFzI/AAAAAAAADdk/IZ4TYdAx1U8/s320/diversity+tourbus.jpg" border="0" /><br /></div><div align="left"><br />The next morning we watched a movie at the cinema and they loaded up on junk food. G-Force was a ridiculous ninety minutes of animated guinea pigs masquerading as FBI agents but the kids loved it and repeated their favorite lines throughout the rest of the trip. Then we spent a day at the coast in and around Swakopmund. The first stop was the snake park where some of the braver individuals got to hold a python. At the aquarium, we saw a scuba diver feeding turtles and sharks along with some prickly rock lobsters. The kids didn't believe that people eat lobsters and recoiled in horror when we told them to reach in the water and take one because it was on the menu for that night's dinner! After romping and climbing all over Dune Seven in the desert heat, the cold foggy beach didn't seem so appealing, but that didn't dissuade the majority of the kids, who jumped right in and frolicked in the waves! </div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1oaruz2LI/AAAAAAAADeE/p8mM-HQfkyE/s400/2009-08-29-6small.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385575537029929138" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /><br /></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383396287809614514" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrWqZrwMcrI/AAAAAAAADcc/HvHZZbkGQHM/s320/kids+swimming.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383401768407955314" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrWvYskqd3I/AAAAAAAADck/TTzCuJLWz3I/s320/smile+on+beach.jpg" border="0" /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p align="left"><span style="font-family:arial;font-size:85%;">All fabulous photos courtesy of Greg, Parker's friend and fellow PCV</span><br /><br /><br />The next morning we had bus trouble which forced us to miss the Cheetah Conservation Society, so instead, we used the spare time to play lots of games and squeeze in some other activities. Throughout the tour we planned various interactive presentations designed to address certain topics such as positive team building, HIV/AIDS education, cultural acceptance, horizon expansion, all with an overarching theme of enjoyment! The Wall and Snap Judgment demonstrated how stereotyping is neither fair nor accurate. Myth-Fact promoted HIV/AIDS awareness and prevention. Sex or Gender addressed the difference between physical characteristics and habitual actions. The Human Knot and Trust Falls stressed cooperation and teamwork. But we also had some games from the pure fun category like Sharks and Minnows (renamed to Lions and Springbok), frisbee, soccer, and a speed-counting game called 7up. The long bus rides were perfect for wordsearches, hangman, riddles and songs. But we began to rue the day that we taught them 'Who stole the cookie from the cookie jar?'! The bus was finally fixed and the next interminable 30 mph drive deposited us right inside the gate of Etosha where we stayed the night. Early in the morning, we began the all-day trip through the park.<br /><br /><br /><br /></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383417044931535570" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrW9R6DtYtI/AAAAAAAADds/_1d95HKdAvc/s320/giraffe.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /><p align="left">Within 5 minutes the ubiquitous springbok, oryx, and zebra were sighted and we couldn't help but see them in droves the rest of the day! For the whole tour, the 40 learners were divided into four teams: Giraffes, Rhinos, Zebras, and Elephants. Colleen and I were the leaders for the giraffes and when the first of our long-necked mascots appeared, the kids on our team went wild, calling out 'My brother! My sister!' And then all of a sudden we came across two huge male lions lounging in the dewy dawn not five yards from the bus! We were stunned by our luck and for a few brief moments, we marveled at their might. Then the bus driver inexplicably started honking the horn and the two maned beasts abruptly rose from their grassy beds and prowled away into to the endless acres of Etosha. This was just one of the many infuriating incidents involving our driver but I won't go into it so as not to ruin the reverie or mar the memories.<br /></p><br /><br /><br /><p align="left"></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383410295455301122" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrW3JCTLPgI/AAAAAAAADdE/e4sKbuB-gIU/s320/lions.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><p align="left">We continued on and stopped at Okaukuejo Lodge where there is a man-made watering hole. Jackals, kudu, wildebeests, and ostrich were added to the list. From then on, most animals were hiding from the intense midday heat, so we only chanced upon a few faraway elephants, some scattered giraffes, and the odd ostrich. The next destination was a town called Opuwo in the northwest, and we were given a special permit to exit the west gate of the park where only guided tours are usually allowed. We arrived in Opuwo early enough for a few activities before dinner followed by a screening of the desert episode of Planet Earth which contains several scenes of the Namibian deserts. The next day, we paid a visit to the cattle-centric, bare-breasted, hut-dwelling, ochre-wearing OvaHimba people. They live quite an amazing life and the visit was truly enlightening. Two of the learners on the tour were OvaHimba and it was amazing to see them come out of their quiet shells and answer questions posed by the other learners. Uapiaruka later said how surprised he was by the genuine respectful interest everyone showed in his culture, and it was moments like that that made the whole tour worth it. </p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383410525237268258" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrW3WaTdzyI/AAAAAAAADdM/KxGXHUfx0AI/s320/Himba+women.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br /><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1rh1g3PYI/AAAAAAAADeM/mTs5dtOlS30/s400/2009-09-01-2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385578958449753474" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 400px; " /></span><br /><p align="left">That night we showed the inspirational movie Akeelah and the Bee, and had some impromptu spelling contests. The final day of the tour found us clambering about on the boulders and crags of Ruacana Falls. There was hardly a trickle where in May there had been a torrent. We missed out on the spuming spectacle, but instead descended the shaky spindly staircase to the depleted river below. It was probably not the best idea to let all those rambunctious kids loose on the rocks, but a dip in the cool green water was irresistible. Everyone survived with only one girl freaking out on some steep rocks and one scary moment in the water. Kauarive told me he could swim and proceeded to jump in and almost drown me with his clawing arms and adrenaline enhanced strength. But I was able to deliver him safely to the other side thanks to my years of swimming lessons and my equally adrenaline enhanced strength. He wrote me a thank you card later that day be called me his 'hiroe''<br /></p><br /><p align="left">That night we had our closing ceremony talent show with all sorts of<br />acts: songs, dances, dramas, skits and one beautiful poem. David was the oldest learner and won over all the volunteers with his unfailing good humor, his wit, his caring behavior towards the younger kids, and his unequalled maturity and intelligence. He was the perfect role model for the rest of the learners (besides us volunteers of course!). His poem was an excellent metaphor depicting how the water (PCVs) nourished the scattered desert plants (learners from all parts of Namibia) and they grew into one continuous lush flourishing forest. My other favorite was a girl named Ningire who had the greatest laugh and played a shrewd game of hangman. She was a natural with the juggling balls so we did a short performance of some passing tricks we whipped up the previous day. I'm hoping to send her some juggling balls soon.</p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sr1r--o-QNI/AAAAAAAADeU/EiQL4s7ttf0/s400/9418_638917362384_6302581_36165334_4016303_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385579459115892946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></p><p align="left"><br /></p><p align="left" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383414381737702402" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrW62440dAI/AAAAAAAADdc/_J2KezgqqKc/s320/juggling+girl.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />Geraldine and Kristiana, two of the quietest learners, surprised us all with a stellar duet. Katunavawo passed around some of his amazing drawings of village scenes. The rest of the program was filled with original songs, intricate dramas, and a striking lack of stage fright. After the talent show ended, we handed out certificates and a group picture to everyone for a tangible memento of the successful tour.<br /><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5383417591850980450" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SrW9xvfd1GI/AAAAAAAADd8/Xkk5OyHoPLs/s400/diversity+tour+group.jpg" border="0" /><br /><br />Alas, the tour had to end sometime, and the entire next day was spent driving the B1 south to Windhoek, intermittently dropping off learners along the way. Eight or so learners lived too far south to make it home in one day so we overnighted with Shawn, the volunteer who lives in Windhoek. Those lucky few were treated to pizza for the last hurrah and we saw them off in the morning after procuring transport to their respective homes. Thus ended the Diversity Tour, which will definitely be in the top highlights of my two years in Namibia. I'll sure miss those great kids.<br /><br />But the journey was not over yet...<br /><br />To see more of Greg's amazing photos and stories here is his blog <a href="http://greginnamibia.blogspot.com/">http://greginnamibia.blogspot.com/</a><br /><br />I hope all is well with all of you. I appreciate any and all emails from my dear friends and family. Kaleni po nawa, Parker<br /><br />pakalewis@gmail.com<br /><br /><br /><p align="center"></p></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-13232420798144624002009-08-08T22:29:00.000-07:002009-08-19T10:34:16.495-07:00FISH RIVER CANYON'S POETIC COMPANION<div align="center"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sn5jlUGeCYI/AAAAAAAADaw/bPRsI7WIJUQ/s1600-h/river.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367837298574363010" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sn5jlUGeCYI/AAAAAAAADaw/bPRsI7WIJUQ/s320/river.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div align="center"><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sn5ir-58xbI/AAAAAAAADao/WmX78RxCt-o/s1600-h/fish+river.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367836313632163250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sn5ir-58xbI/AAAAAAAADao/WmX78RxCt-o/s320/fish+river.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div align="left">Here's something I concocted recently as I was reminiscing about my trip in May when I hiked Fish River Canyon. (Amazing photos courtesy of Greg) Plus some juggling pictures taken with my less than amazing shotsnapper. </div><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371725098750222994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SowzhEYOopI/AAAAAAAADbg/BqgC_EBOKe4/s320/DSC04421.JPG" border="0" /></div><br /><div align="center">Scaling new heights to get my juggling fix</div></div><br /><div align="center"><br /></div><br /><div align="center"></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371726465395462562" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sow0wnh2EaI/AAAAAAAADbo/4BjPGwr9MQg/s320/DSC04468.JPG" border="0" /><br /><p align="center">Only took a few tries to nail this self timer </p><br /><p align="center"></p><br /><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371727614907916962" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sow1zhy-IqI/AAAAAAAADbw/2iWtyvGXbwI/s320/DSC04441.JPG" border="0" /></p><p align="center">Death does not prevent juggling </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"> </p><p align="center"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5371728927728896370" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sow2_8b4iXI/AAAAAAAADb4/Gn2NaXk3tko/s320/DSC04463.JPG" border="0" />Playing catch with nature<br /></p><br /><br /><div align="left"><br />FISH RIVER CANYON'S<br />POETIC COMPANION<br /><br />One morning in May,<br />our trek had begun.<br />We ten went to play<br />'mongst the sand, rocks, and sun.<br /><br />Entranced were we<br />by the canyon's allure,<br />we pranced with glee<br />like worms in manure.<br /><br />Our bags were full packed,<br />three tons heavy duty.<br />But it didn't detract<br />from Fish River's beauty.<br /><br />The rocky descent<br />was tough on our knees.<br />So hungry and spent,<br />Yum Yum mac 'n' cheese!<br /><br />Through the nights we slept,<br />we'd arise with the dawn.<br />The morning shadows crept.<br />Post-breakfast we'd be gone.<br /><br />Pure nature undefiled.<br />No lights or noise or cars.<br />Enveloped by the wild,<br />sleeping out 'neath the stars.<br /><br />When the tents had been pitched,<br />although nipply of clime,<br />our clothing was ditched.<br />Twas skinny dip time!<br /><br />When diving in the water,<br />beware of sunken rocks.<br />Though you may swim like an otter,<br />a neck's weaker than an ox.<br /><br />Energy conservation,<br />we cut right through the shorts.<br />Avoiding dehydration,<br />gulp down the pints and quarts.<br /><br />To cross the river with flair,<br />leap and jump and hop,<br />from stone to stone with care,<br />or in the wet kerplop!<br /><br />Lentils, pasta, oatmeals,<br />apples, cheese, and bread.<br />Is this how a goat feels,<br />but stuffed with grass instead?<br /><br />Though our fuel ran low,<br />we didn't despair.<br />Wood fires aglow,<br />in the brisk canyon air.<br /><br />Twixt cranny, crag, and rock,<br />brown hyrax lithe and spry.<br />Danger, careful, look!<br />There's an eagle in the sky!<br /><br />Hoofprints between the stones,<br />their spoor strewn 'cross the place.<br />Some dusty sunbaked bones.<br />Wild horses? Just their trace...<br /><br />We reached the trail's end.<br />Our joints and muscles shot.<br />Relieved to heal and mend,<br />and soak in springs so hot.<br /><br />Though we started the journey,<br />with our nerves all aquiver,<br />no one left on a gurney,<br />Yes! We conquered Fish River!<br /><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="left"><br /></div><br /><br /><div align="left"></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-90104712919754519072009-08-08T22:24:00.000-07:002009-08-15T21:00:55.831-07:00Elamba’s EdificationTerm two of my first year as a math teacher is coming to a close with exams starting this week. If I were a student in my classes, I would feel confident and prepared to ace the two ninety-minute math papers (tests). But that viewpoint is coming from the perspective of someone who graduated through the American education system and has all of the junior high math indelibly imprinted across the interconnected synapses of the brain. For my learners in their radically different learning environment, the attitudes towards school, the quality of teaching they receive, the obstacles in their way, are all very distant from my experiences as a student.<br /><br />The Owambo culture places an emphasis on respect for elders and this sometimes translates into children being regarded as servants who get the very short end of the stick. Outside of school, kids have an extreme amount of work during the farming season (read: basically year round) but at least all the other family members work just as hard. In school though, it is a very different dynamic. On top of a very high pressure to succeed in their studies, the students have to deal with Namibian teachers, most of whom, from what I've encountered, interact with learners in a way that is sickening to me. They command silence and attention in the classroom by fear and intimidation. They ridicule and abase learners for making common mistakes. They humiliate learners for untucked shirts or uncombed hair. But the worst is when they beat learners with whip-like tree branches, sometimes for the most trivial of offenses such as not drawing a line under a completed assignment. It's completely ridiculous and I hate to sound so negative but this rant was bound to spill out sometime. It appears that the reason for their behavior is that now that they have survived childhood and school under apartheid (which was most likely much worse than the current situation), they have these power positions as adults and want revenge for the suffering they endured. Many emulate the treatment they received and thus they teach how they were taught, which perpetuates this dismal cycle. I am struggling a lot with my attitude toward and relations with other teachers. As colleagues and friends, most are nice and friendly and funny but it is so hard to reciprocate when I see how they are with the learners. I would much rather be friends with all the learners but I'm supposed to be their teacher and a certain distance has to be maintained. It's a paradox to be sure. <div><div><br /><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370406543286846930" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SoeETCgLxdI/AAAAAAAADbY/Y5VKGOsU2PY/s320/7School13.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div>But slowly I think my learners are realizing that I'm on their side and just want to help them learn math in a fun, encouraging, positive setting. I've tried to teach some topics with interactive lessons rather than just lecturing with chalkboard examples. For area and perimeter, I had the kids go physically walk the boundaries of places at school (the outer fence, the soccer field, the teachers' building). For rate and speed, I timed them as they covered a 100 meter distance with different styles of movement (walking, running, skipping, frog jumping - which got some pretty good laughs). For relating circumference and diameter, we found both measurements for various circles (buckets and lids and cups etc) and then divided, which would have ideally resulted in pi, but inaccuracy was rampant so I don't think they were convinced. For coordinates on the xy plane, I had them plot points that would eventually draw four shapes revealing a smiley face. For volume, I borrowed Greg's idea and had them fold origami which in the end can be blown up as a 3D box. For bar graphs, they counted the animals at their homesteads and made a chart of the results. Hopefully some of these activities achieved the goal of actual understanding and not just rote memorization and regurgitation. I'd like to think that the majority of my lessons were clear and followed logical steps, and that my learners were telling the truth when they said they had no questions. But this is a very subjective viewpoint and probably not realistic. Often, I'm sure what's obvious to me goes right over their heads, not to mention the fact that they are being taught in English which is not their mother tongue! Just this week I had one learner call me over to his desk and say 'I don't understand this' and as I explained, my mental celebrations were going wild because that means some students feel comfortable enough to ask questions!<br /><br />Also keep in mind that Elamba Combined School has the most basic of supplies. Textbooks written after 1992 that actually cover the topics on the syllabus? Not for grade eight and nine.<br />Electricity? Nope.<br />Photocopies? Only when the resource office has blank paper and the machine isn't broken.<br />Cubic blocks to teach volume? Nope.<br />Most days all I use is the chalkboard.<br />But despite everything that is stacked against them, most of my learners are really great. Now here are some more personal anecdotes and details about these kids who I spend so much time with: </div><div><br /> </div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5370406289750118642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SoeEESAUUPI/AAAAAAAADbQ/v0XS7uRoAFE/s320/7School14.JPG" border="0" /><br /><div></div><div></div><div>In grade nine there are 32 kids and most are 15 years old but some have repeated multiple grades so who knows how old they are. This is the class I have the most trouble with and I think it mostly has to do with the age gap and that even though I'm the teacher, I still look pretty young. That's why I've taken to shaving only every two weeks. Although there are some kids that constantly have that glazed look in their eyes and find the goats outside are far more interesting than polygons, the others are diligent students. Impartiality towards the learners is too difficult for me, however I do my best to conceal it. My favorites are Linda, Nangombe, Lusia, and despite their ridiculous names, Asser and Lempie. [Sidenote on names: Everyone in Owamboland has three names: the traditional first and last names plus the Christian name given at church. The missionaries were mostly Finnish so there are a lot of people with names like Rautia, Rauna, Titus, Andreas, Martin, Elias, Evelina... I'm not sure if those are really Finnish or not but there sure are a lot of kids that share the same name. To add to the confusion, many of the traditional names are variations on common Oshiwambo nouns. Amutenya = someone who was born in the afternoon. Angula = someone who was born in the morning. Ausiku = someone who was born at night. Egumbo = house. Kadhila = small bird. Ashipala = the place where they thresh millet. And some more unfortunate examples: Uushona = something small. Kangulu = small pig. Nangombe = cow.<br /><br />Back to my favorite grade nine learners. Besides being quick and clever and in possession of mathematical intuition, Asser is a complete jokester. One day I had asked everyone to measure some part of their house and find the area and then some were sharing their drawings on the chalkboard the next day. I was asking what the pictures were and there was a sleeping hut, the kitchen area, the maize field and then on the last one, Asser pipes up before the other kid answers and blurts out 'the toilet' and the class erupted. Lusia, Linda and Lempie aren't the brightest students but they try really hard and have the best smiles. Nangombe is the ideal learner for a teacher. She understands before the explanation is finished, always has her homework complete and correct, and consistently aces the tests.<br />Grade eight has 25 learners. There are no super-scholastic-stars (besides the repeaters) but I do get the most questions in this class which is great because then I know what things are easy and what things to spend more time on. My favorites are Retta, Susana, Ileka, Erika and Aina all of whom like to answer questions in class (no matter how many wrong answers they give) and can throw a good punch when the boys are being jerks. Only girls on that list because the boys usually zone out and goof off in the back. They are great soccer players but less than great students. I am partial to Hosea, however, because he talks to himself while he does his homework... 'page one hundreds twenty fives... Multiplication by two... Base times height...'. Also he comes up with some very ingenious incorrect answers which helps put me inside the learners' minds so I can see where the errors originate. The latest example was plotting two points for each coordinate. (2,-3) prompted him to make two points at (2,0) and (0,-3).<br /><br />As usual, I left the best for last. Grade seven has the best mix of personalities and most days my lessons go well. My host sister Mwingona sits in the back and several of the kids live on neighboring homesteads. Most are crazy about reading but the combination of a limited selection and a mild fear of chapter books, leaves them with the same beginner books over and over again. They are the most eager to answer questions in class and show me their completed work. I like to give a problem and then walk around for individual help. One day we were practicing writing our own multiplication story problems and Abner had copied my previous example: If a dog has four legs, how many legs do six dogs have? So I asked him to expand and write more. When I came back I saw 'If a dog has 17 legs, how many legs do six dogs have?' My definite favorite in this class is Alina. She is the smallest, spunkiest, sassiest, sneakiest sprite in the room. Even when I catch her reading a book during class, I don't have it in me to dole out any more punishment than just taking the book away. In fact, I really have no punishment system in place which is probably why some kids have learned to take advantage of my laxity. My reward system has some motivating power though. The best ten test scores get a piece of candy and there are prizes for memorizing the times tables. Grade seven is always saying 'Sir, we want multiplication!' Demonstrating mastery over the 4s, 5s, and 6s gets them a new pen or pencil sharpener or ruler.<br /><br />One last story involves Johannes who cannot stop smiling despite his mathematical shortcomings. We were studying pictograms and the key said one big body = 10 people and one small body = 1 person. The chart showed four big bodies and I asked the class how many it was and everyone was snapping and squirming and screaming to answer and when I call on Johannes a disappointed silence settles as they all wait for the seemingly obvious answer of forty. But then, with the happiest grin, he shouts 'FOUR!' which is met with an uproar from the rest of the class. Don't worry Johannes, you'll get it next time!</div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-81819108371041356152009-06-29T13:56:00.000-07:002009-07-05T16:12:13.339-07:00Two Weeks with PakaWhat an experience to be able to visit Parker (I had not seen him since he left back in November) and see not only his home and teaching environment but share traveling to several areas of Namibia that neither of us had ever seen. <br /><br />I arrived in the capital city Windhoek and met Parker at the guest house we had reserved. After one night and a good meal with two of his fellow Peace Corps volunteers, we headed to the west coast to visit Swakupmond and Walvis Bay where we spent 2 nights. We had a fantastic kayak tour of a seal colony where a couple of hundred thousand seals reside. It was great fun paddling and watching how curious of us they were. Many would swim right next to us and nibble at our paddles and then splash us and swim away.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SkkrkOMLhII/AAAAAAAADaA/9KoyMAA_Q8M/s1600-h/parkerseals.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SkkrkOMLhII/AAAAAAAADaA/9KoyMAA_Q8M/s320/parkerseals.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352857533391012994" /></a><br /><br />We headed up to climb the vast great sand dunes and then northeast to Damaraland to hike to see the White Lady Paintings. These ancient paintings and carvings are 5000-6000 years old. Then it was on to Etosha National Park to tour the water holes for 2 days viewing animals. We were able to see antelope, elephant, giraffe, zebra, jackal, hyena and lion. Absolutely amazing to see these animals in their natural habitat from the safety of our truck and have so many walk right by us. Off to Ovamboland where Parker lives in northern Namibian near the Angola border, to stay with him in his homestead and visit the school for 4 days before having to leave for home.<br /> <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Skkr3iTK55I/AAAAAAAADaI/sLSIZ8-v2uE/s1600-h/dunes.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Skkr3iTK55I/AAAAAAAADaI/sLSIZ8-v2uE/s320/dunes.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352857865206556562" /></a><br /><br />I have to be the proud father now and brag about my son and how absolutely proud of him I am for what he is doing and the conditions he works with.<br /><br />Parker is five miles from the closest electricity and in the homestead where he lives there is one water faucet. It’s bucket bathing each day and when the sun sets it is definitely lights out- other than the brilliant stars, it is pitch black.<br /><br />The school is a 15 minute walk from home and is also without power. The learners all respect Parker and seem to enjoy his teaching, humor and soccer skills- although they are so shy and reserved. The school has minimal supplies and resources. With no electricity there are no computers, no copy machines, no music and no video opportunities. Lesson plans are written on the chalk board and copied on paper or sometimes practiced in work books. That said, the kids seem happy and watching them interact together at break time or recess, its like watching kids in any school- laughing and playing with patched jump ropes, chasing and the little boys wrestling.<br /><br />I was able to bring with me several soccer balls, basketballs, jump ropes and some school supplies. The principal assembled the students and told them of the gifts from several friends back home. They were so excited to have new things. School was basically called off the rest of the day and they all played with the jump ropes and balls. They are able to check them out from the principals office for recess and also after school for soccer practice.<br /><br />The school has a soccer team which Parker coaches after school, and through a donation from Lake Washington Youth Soccer I was able to bring about 2 dozen jerseys for the team. They were so excited and so ready to use them in the upcoming games as they have never had official jerseys.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SkksE-KXd2I/AAAAAAAADaQ/D07NAMgxneY/s1600-h/school.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SkksE-KXd2I/AAAAAAAADaQ/D07NAMgxneY/s320/school.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352858096024123234" /></a><br /> <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SkksPmotf5I/AAAAAAAADaY/nOdny3Fv_gM/s1600-h/jumprope.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/SkksPmotf5I/AAAAAAAADaY/nOdny3Fv_gM/s320/jumprope.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5352858278687506322" /></a><br /><br />It’s amazing to listen to how fluent Parker is in the native language of Oshiwambo. Life in the homestead and surroundings is quite simple and the family he lives with along with the neighbors seem to really enjoy having Parker in their lives. <br /><br />You’re doing a good thing Parker and I am so proud of you. I miss you and am so thankful that I had the opportunity to visit and spend time with you. <br /><br /> <br /><br />Love DadPakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-74136840301502183572009-06-16T05:54:00.000-07:002009-06-16T06:10:37.833-07:00Multitudinous Meanderings<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CVOLUNT%7E1%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="State"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="PlaceType"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" 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</w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if !mso]><object classid="clsid:38481807-CA0E-42D2-BF39-B33AF135CC4D" id="ieooui"></object> <style> st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } </style> <![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} a:link, span.MsoHyperlink {color:blue; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} a:visited, span.MsoHyperlinkFollowed {color:purple; text-decoration:underline; text-underline:single;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.25in 1.0in 1.25in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal">A <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">bonafide</span> fully equipped computer sits in front of me hooked up to a legitimate <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">internet</span> source so hopefully I can whip up a comprehensive update about the last month before I leave for my next adventure.<span style=""> </span>Term one ended in late April and my learners did well by Namibian education standards.<span style=""> </span>Maybe I was too lenient with my marking or maybe I made the final exams too easy, because there was quite a large discrepancy when I compared the math results for my learners with their results in other subjects.<span style=""> </span>If I erred, at least my error boosted their confidence.<span style=""> </span>My last day of school found me scrambling to finish up grading and completing various forms, and then I waved goodbye to the homeward bound learners as I sped by in the back of a pickup truck on the way out of the village.<span style=""> </span>A series of taxis brought me to a fellow volunteer’s homestead where I stayed the night before continuing on to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Windhoek</st1:place></st1:city> the next morning.<span style=""> </span>Did I mention that in addition to my full backpacking pack, I was lugging around an extra bag of books and a huge 20 pound squash?<span style=""> </span>It’s the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Owambo</span> style to give gifts for the dinner table and already in my short time on the homestead, I’<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">ve</span> received countless chickens, squashes, pumpkins, ears of corn etc. from village families.<span style=""> </span>So on the day I was leaving to go south, Meme brings me this massive gourd and tells me that it’s a gift for the Peace Corps staff.<span style=""> </span>I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">didn</span>’t really fancy the prospect of traveling for hours toting this extra weight around so I tried to ‘forget’ it at home.<span style=""> </span>But I had forgotten something else at home (for real this time) so I had to go back, and then there was no escape from being squashed by the squash.<span style=""> </span>Luckily the taxis <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">didn</span>’t charge me extra for my big bags and child-size vegetable.<span style=""> </span>My friend and I woke up early the next morning and tried our luck at hitchhiking the rest of the way to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Windhoek</st1:place></st1:city>.<span style=""> </span>Our first attempt was soured by a crafty truck driver who, after a miscommunication, ended up charging us for the slow ride to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Tsumeb</span>.<span style=""> </span>But then we hit the jackpot when two German-Namibians picked us up in a nice SUV, treated us to lunch, and dropped us off at the front door of the hotel!<span style=""> </span>The two of us came down early because we successfully applied for the Volunteer Support Network and had our inaugural meeting to attend.<span style=""> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">VSN</span> is a service for volunteers to use when they need a break from the ridiculousness that life in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Namibia</st1:place></st1:country-region> can sometimes be.<span style=""> </span>We were trained in ‘active listening’ with the idea of providing a venting source for volunteers with frustrations, concerns, questions, or quandaries.<span style=""> </span>The other part of being a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">VSN</span> member is that we get to help welcome the new volunteers to the country and lead sessions during their training.<span style=""> </span>After a couple days, the rest of the volunteers arrived in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Windhoek</st1:place></st1:city> for ‘reconnect’ after our initial three months at site.<span style=""> </span>What followed was two weeks of refresher courses including Peace Corps policies, information about funding sources, secondary projects, more language training, and tips for effective teaching.<span style=""> </span>It was a lot to take in all at once, so although it was great to see friends after such a long absence, I was more than ready to hit the road especially since the destination was the much-hyped <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Fish</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">River</st1:placetype> <st1:placetype st="on">Canyon</st1:placetype></st1:place>.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Just the word ‘river’ has such a strong attraction after three months in sweltering normality, and the rave reviews from previous expeditions sent the anticipation meters to record levels.<span style=""> </span>The five days we spent trekking (double k words are pretty rare) in the epic Namibian wilderness <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">didn</span>’t disappoint.<span style=""> </span>It was as if the nature dial was turned to maximum, and we took full advantage.<span style=""> </span>Beautiful panoramas, secretive wildlife, brisk skinny dips in the river, exotic juggling, and plenty of try-not-to-get-your-feet-wet river-crossing problems, all combined to send to the overall experience to the top of the camping charts.<span style=""> </span>I managed to take lots of scenic juggling pictures but they don’t quite do justice to the natural splendor so I will direct you here to view and be envious: <a href="http://greginnamibia.blogspot.com/">http://greginnamibia.blogspot.com/</a> </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p>
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">There was a slight interruption in this post. I just now returned from a weekend getaway in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">Tsintsabis</span> and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Tsumeb</span> and before the tales keep on piling up, I must write down some more stories before the memories fade. A reversal of the timeline is now in effect so I will start with this last weekend and work backwards to where I left off. One kilometer outside the small town of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Tsintsabis</span></st1:place></st1:city> is the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Treesleepers</span> campsite (<a href="http://www.treesleeper.org/">http://www.treesleeper.org/</a>) <span style=""> </span>named for the traditional tactic of the San people who slept in certain trees to avoid curious predators. Some friends and I spent a couple days in the bush where we went on a nature walk to learn the basics of traditional hunting and gathering which included how to catch guinea fowl with a rope snare, how to identify poisonous plants and use them to lethally enhance arrows, how to read and identify animal tracks, how to start a fire without matches or a lighter, and how to utilize trees for meat storage and defense against rogue lions. That same night we were privileged to see some traditional dancing and singing around the fire with the accompanying traditional instruments and dress. Previously, my cursory knowledge of the native people of the <st1:place st="on">Kalahari Desert</st1:place> was gleamed from the classic movie, The Gods Must Be Crazy. The portrayal is true to some extent but much information is left out. There are many parallels between the San people and the Native American: various tribes with different languages, intimate knowledge of flora and fauna, expert survival skills, countless deaths at the hands of foreign invaders, and the loss of traditional practices as modernization spread. The name 'Bushman' is the derogatory equivalent of 'Indians'. San is the more commonly accepted term nowadays but even that isn't totally correct, as the San are only one tribe of the many. It was a fascinating weekend but as usual with those types experiences, we were left with mixed feelings of awe and sadness. Then, when it was time to leave, serendipity once again pulled through and we instantly found a free ride for all eight of us back to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Tsumeb</span> where we went on a spree that demonstrated how different modern times are from the eons of traditional life. We treated our taste buds to avocado-laden burgers and chocolate milkshakes for lunch and real Italian pizza for dinner. All of that culinary extravagance was followed by a night at a hostel with satellite TV and hot showers. The quintessential necessities for a perfect break from porridge, sand, and isolation.
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Now it is time to return to <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Elamba</span></st1:placename> <st1:placename st="on">Combined</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">School</st1:placetype></st1:place> in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">Okatha</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Kombago</span> village. Last <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">Friday</span>, our school soccer team played it's inaugural game in the newly donated uniforms courtesy of the Crossfire select team from <st1:state st="on"><st1:place st="on">Washington</st1:place></st1:state>. The learners loved showing off the new kits and were able to celebrate with a 3-0 win over some local village boys. Huge thanks to the generous donors and to my dad for transporting all the gear to rural <st1:place st="on">Africa</st1:place>. After the jaunt in the canyon, I met father in Windhoek and we began our great two-week trip all around <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Namibia which culminated in a</st1:place></st1:country-region> visit to the homestead, village, and school. In a brief recap, we kayaked with seals on the coast, climbed huge sand dunes, avoided bright green chameleons on the road, tracked hyenas and giraffes in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">Etosha</span> National Park, navigated the endless shebeen-infested towns, had translated conversations (thanks to my language prowess) with my host family and other village elders, and spent a few days with the incredibly shy learners.<span style=""> </span>I won't go into great detail as I'm hoping that my dad can add his input about our trip and give a different perspective. He also has plenty of pictures to share which will hopefully make up for the lack in this post.<span style=""> </span>I would like to comment though on the two huge duffel bags he carted all the way here and how appreciated they are. I am completely loaded with all sorts of goodies including Time and Newsweek magazines, candy bars, running shoes, and a hammock! I'm reveling with all the abnormal luxury. Maybe a little too fast though as almost all the candy has been consumed... Overall the visit was wonderful and it was hard to say goodbye.<span style=""> </span>But I am back into village mode now and ready for school again tomorrow.<span style=""> </span>Hope all is well in your various locales and that you can find enough time to zip me a quick email: pakalewis@gmail.com
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=""> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">Iyaalo</span>! <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">Tangi</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">Tangi</span>!<span style=""> </span><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Kaleni</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">po</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">nawa</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26">Paka</span><span style=""> </span></p> Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-82827939348680422612009-04-10T14:37:00.000-07:002009-04-10T15:20:17.205-07:00Aalongwa = The people who are being taught<div>Finally here are some pictures of those endearing learners that I keep mentioning. Each grade has its own classroom which they stay in all day while the teachers rotate every class period, the end of which is signaled by a cow bell rung by a grade 10 learner. I stay in the homestead with the Grade 7 girl with the neon green sweater.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd_EiST5eyI/AAAAAAAADZ4/FHyQiGLzXL4/s1600-h/DSC04300.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd_EiST5eyI/AAAAAAAADZ4/FHyQiGLzXL4/s320/DSC04300.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323189377885109026" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Grade 9</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd_CLvlnanI/AAAAAAAADZw/mNlTVdOwA_M/s1600-h/DSC04288.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd_CLvlnanI/AAAAAAAADZw/mNlTVdOwA_M/s320/DSC04288.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323186791583804018" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Grade 7 </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd--GpLQYUI/AAAAAAAADZo/qr8KqKhgJQQ/s1600-h/DSC04271.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd--GpLQYUI/AAAAAAAADZo/qr8KqKhgJQQ/s320/DSC04271.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323182305916772674" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Grade 8 + my Caprivian colleague (can you spot him?)</div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8862351909831025768.post-77056021831946583802009-04-10T13:34:00.000-07:002009-04-10T14:10:38.702-07:00Ruacana is Falling!<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd-06qVr8WI/AAAAAAAADZg/mCC53AKD7wU/s320/_MG_1068.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323172204465877346" /><br /><div><div style="text-align: center;">The intrepid juggler braves the onslaught that is Ruacana Falls</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd-zezHZOcI/AAAAAAAADZY/1UzAHEHjWQ8/s1600-h/_MG_0997.jpg"></a><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd-zezHZOcI/AAAAAAAADZY/1UzAHEHjWQ8/s1600-h/_MG_0997.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"><br /></span><img style="text-decoration: underline;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px; " src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_AUITyFxKqVc/Sd-zezHZOcI/AAAAAAAADZY/1UzAHEHjWQ8/s320/_MG_0997.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323170626273884610" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Zombie Juggler!! Look out!!</div></div></div>Pakahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18092657885018360148noreply@blogger.com2