So, this is a story about a really tiny thing that made me feel good. If you don't like smiling, sorry not sorry.
Every day during our 30 minute tea break I sit on the front stoop of the office and read. This has been my exact routine every day for the past six weeks: get out of class, refill my coffee, open my book, and eat my orange. Like goddamn clockwork. A lot of learners see what I do but continue playing. But one learner, Jerold, came and sat down next to me and started reading his bible. I couldn't help but smile. Then a little later he asked me to help him on a speech - the kids were supposed to prepare speeches on a famous person. So we went to the library and I helped him look up Nelson Mandela in the encyclopedia. We ended up having a pretty solid discussion about apartheid.
Aside from warming my little heart, the point is that being a role model works. I've had the same tea break routine for over a month. Yesterday was the first day I saw any positive consequence of doing that. It takes so much time and the results seem kind of tiny - I mean one kid? Where are his friends? - but if you get one kid, I think you can get more.
Also, not only was he comfortable enough to sit down next to me and read, he also felt comfortable enough (and cared enough) to ask for my help. Not in a "Miss, do this for me" type of way, but a genuine "hey, help me out" sort of way. Before he gave me his speech he flashed me a smile and gave me two thumbs up. So, yesterday was a good day.
Saturday, 2 November 2013
TIA
My town, as my friend Shannon puts it, is like a jenkyass beach town. All the boys have on board shorts and YMCMB (=Young Money Cash Money Billionaire, Mom) hats when they don't have their school uniforms on. A lot of the girls look like they're on spring break in Miami. All we would need is an ocean and a legit beach, and we could easily be somewhere near the shore of a random American beach town.
As soon as I found out what town I'd be in, I received constant shit about it. I've heard quite a few people say that because I live in the town that I do, I'm "not really in Africa". People also say "TIA" (=This Is Africa) when talking about one of the downsides of life here as compared to back home. There are a couple problems with this, and I don't think people realize how malicious that comment really is.
It's akin to someone saying "you don't really live in America because you live in the projects" - you know, because in America chocolate flows out of faucets, and everyone wipes their asses with gold tissue. Pretty absurd, right? You caricature life in America, and you flatten out the experiences people have. Saying "you're not really in Africa" is actually worse because Africa is a continent with dozens of countries. Is it not "really" Africa because there aren't mud huts in my town? Is it not "really" Africa because I have electricity and hot water? Is it not "really" Africa because many people I've met here aren't poor? Whatever the answer, you're pigeonholing the lives of millions of people into categories that you delineate in a pretty insidious way.
Yes, Sara and I make salsa with the fancy schmancy food processor I bought. We also have a toaster and a hand blender that makes delicious smoothies. There are some wealthy folks here, but most of our students are in extremely poor living situations. Soooo, not really the same sort of experiences across the board. That's Africa, folks.
As soon as I found out what town I'd be in, I received constant shit about it. I've heard quite a few people say that because I live in the town that I do, I'm "not really in Africa". People also say "TIA" (=This Is Africa) when talking about one of the downsides of life here as compared to back home. There are a couple problems with this, and I don't think people realize how malicious that comment really is.
It's akin to someone saying "you don't really live in America because you live in the projects" - you know, because in America chocolate flows out of faucets, and everyone wipes their asses with gold tissue. Pretty absurd, right? You caricature life in America, and you flatten out the experiences people have. Saying "you're not really in Africa" is actually worse because Africa is a continent with dozens of countries. Is it not "really" Africa because there aren't mud huts in my town? Is it not "really" Africa because I have electricity and hot water? Is it not "really" Africa because many people I've met here aren't poor? Whatever the answer, you're pigeonholing the lives of millions of people into categories that you delineate in a pretty insidious way.
Yes, Sara and I make salsa with the fancy schmancy food processor I bought. We also have a toaster and a hand blender that makes delicious smoothies. There are some wealthy folks here, but most of our students are in extremely poor living situations. Soooo, not really the same sort of experiences across the board. That's Africa, folks.
Tuesday, 1 October 2013
My Thoughts on Short-Term "Development" Work (You thought I couldn't be serious, didn't you?)
A lot of volunteers come through my town, many of whom are missionaries. Even though I'm at the beginning of my service, I noticed immediately a difference in mindset between myself and other young do-gooders. I had a talk with my roomie over smoothies (as always) about the nature of development, and figured it was interesting enough to rehash it here. There's a difference between developing for people and developing with people. One is myopic and decidedly idealist. The other is potentially sustainable and clarifies why I'm dedicating two years of my life to service here.
So there's short term development/development workers, right? These are the missionaries, community development workers and so on. I'm talking about the bleeding heart types that stay for a few weeks or a month (not for short term, targeted missions) and then leave. This type of development simply doesn't work. It mostly makes you feel good. You get to come here, take pictures with African children, and then go home. You get used to those types coming and going. Being here is a novel experience you get to have... for a little bit. The thing is, you can see a specific end point. You know that after 6 weeks you'll be on a flight back home. More importantly, you don't see the failures, so you're less likely to learn from them. So yeah, maybe you spent a lot of time getting new windows for a school. What you don't see is how soon they get broken after you leave.
Development needs to be long term. It needs to be a partnership between you and your host community, so that your community has a vested interest in the projects with which you can assist them. I live modestly in the community. I'll see people day in and day out. I know the children the short term workers take pictures with. I'll be there to stand beside them through all the successes and failures. I'll be there to try things out, see if they work, and try something else if they don't. Yeah, I'm only here for two years. But I'll use my entire first year to actually know the community in which I'm serving. I'll be able to understand the people I'm trying to help, see why things are done the way they're done, and effectively work with them.
There's a good chance that my work for these two years won't be sustainable. But the willingness to build a longterm partnership with a community for its betterment in accordance with their needs and wants? I think it's a damn good first step. That's the sort of thing that will have a lasting impact. I joined Peace Corps because I believe in that particular approach to development.
Boom.
So there's short term development/development workers, right? These are the missionaries, community development workers and so on. I'm talking about the bleeding heart types that stay for a few weeks or a month (not for short term, targeted missions) and then leave. This type of development simply doesn't work. It mostly makes you feel good. You get to come here, take pictures with African children, and then go home. You get used to those types coming and going. Being here is a novel experience you get to have... for a little bit. The thing is, you can see a specific end point. You know that after 6 weeks you'll be on a flight back home. More importantly, you don't see the failures, so you're less likely to learn from them. So yeah, maybe you spent a lot of time getting new windows for a school. What you don't see is how soon they get broken after you leave.
Development needs to be long term. It needs to be a partnership between you and your host community, so that your community has a vested interest in the projects with which you can assist them. I live modestly in the community. I'll see people day in and day out. I know the children the short term workers take pictures with. I'll be there to stand beside them through all the successes and failures. I'll be there to try things out, see if they work, and try something else if they don't. Yeah, I'm only here for two years. But I'll use my entire first year to actually know the community in which I'm serving. I'll be able to understand the people I'm trying to help, see why things are done the way they're done, and effectively work with them.
There's a good chance that my work for these two years won't be sustainable. But the willingness to build a longterm partnership with a community for its betterment in accordance with their needs and wants? I think it's a damn good first step. That's the sort of thing that will have a lasting impact. I joined Peace Corps because I believe in that particular approach to development.
Boom.
Sunday, 29 September 2013
Peppa Spray
I should probably preface this post by explaining the significance of the end of the month in Namibia. The end of the month is when everyone gets paid, so people get buckwild that weekend - like people tend to do anywhere in the world when they get paid. With that being said, I saw a dude get tased and experienced pepper spray for the first time.
I'm really lucky to have my roomie, who has been in town for a year and has made some pretty interesting/crazy/fun friends. We went out to a club in town last night. As a group of us were walking from the bar area to the dance floor, we got split up by a crowd at the door. I saw two guys arguing pretty loudly. Then, all of the sudden, one guy just started wailing on the other. Everyone started backing up as one guy was on top of the other, beating the crap out of him. One of the them broke a bottle and was about to use it when I heard the "zzz zzz" of a taser. A police officer was making his way through the crowd, and people started running away when they heard it. I couldn't see everything, but apparently the two guys were still brawling while they were being tased. As the guys were leaving the bar, they were still fighting. One of the them ending up kicking a glass pane out of the door on his way out. At this point, it was chaotic. The all-out pandemonium came next.
A few moments after the tasing situation, people started running from the dance floor to the bar where I'm standing. My friend came up to me, doubled over coughing with tears in her eyes. As I looked around I saw everyone was doing the same thing. Then...it wafted towards me. First my throat felt really dry and irritated. Then my eyes started to burn a little. Then a little more. Then it hurt to open them. I'm not sure if the officer pepper sprayed the crowd to control them, or if we were just in the line of fire. But dozens of people were either running outside, or running in the bathroom.
It was at this point that same friend grabbed me and said, "Those assholes started fighting when Blurred Lines was playing! Let's dance. I came here to fucking dance." I was still kind of worried about that whole pepper spray/bar brawl situation when she said one of the most hilarious things I've ever heard - "Don't worry, all you have to do is put your hand over your mouth and nose, let's dance!" Part of me was like "this girl is crazy", but the other part of me was like "Yes. Let's do it." So, I took her at her word and we went to the dance floor. It was pretty empty - pepper spray does that - but a few other people had our same idea. So there we were, dancing with one hand in the air, and the other hand covering our noses and mouths. After the club a bunch of us went back to the house, and I went to bed when the sun came up.
According to a volunteer who has been here for two years, I've seen more in one night than he did his entire first year. Calling that one a win.
I'm really lucky to have my roomie, who has been in town for a year and has made some pretty interesting/crazy/fun friends. We went out to a club in town last night. As a group of us were walking from the bar area to the dance floor, we got split up by a crowd at the door. I saw two guys arguing pretty loudly. Then, all of the sudden, one guy just started wailing on the other. Everyone started backing up as one guy was on top of the other, beating the crap out of him. One of the them broke a bottle and was about to use it when I heard the "zzz zzz" of a taser. A police officer was making his way through the crowd, and people started running away when they heard it. I couldn't see everything, but apparently the two guys were still brawling while they were being tased. As the guys were leaving the bar, they were still fighting. One of the them ending up kicking a glass pane out of the door on his way out. At this point, it was chaotic. The all-out pandemonium came next.
A few moments after the tasing situation, people started running from the dance floor to the bar where I'm standing. My friend came up to me, doubled over coughing with tears in her eyes. As I looked around I saw everyone was doing the same thing. Then...it wafted towards me. First my throat felt really dry and irritated. Then my eyes started to burn a little. Then a little more. Then it hurt to open them. I'm not sure if the officer pepper sprayed the crowd to control them, or if we were just in the line of fire. But dozens of people were either running outside, or running in the bathroom.
It was at this point that same friend grabbed me and said, "Those assholes started fighting when Blurred Lines was playing! Let's dance. I came here to fucking dance." I was still kind of worried about that whole pepper spray/bar brawl situation when she said one of the most hilarious things I've ever heard - "Don't worry, all you have to do is put your hand over your mouth and nose, let's dance!" Part of me was like "this girl is crazy", but the other part of me was like "Yes. Let's do it." So, I took her at her word and we went to the dance floor. It was pretty empty - pepper spray does that - but a few other people had our same idea. So there we were, dancing with one hand in the air, and the other hand covering our noses and mouths. After the club a bunch of us went back to the house, and I went to bed when the sun came up.
According to a volunteer who has been here for two years, I've seen more in one night than he did his entire first year. Calling that one a win.
Monday, 23 September 2013
I Miss Dirty Rap Music
Since this is my first post, I need to put a disclaimer: The views expressed herein are not those of Peace Corps, they are my own.
Necessary background information: For those of you who don't know, I've been in Africa for the past two months. Phase 1 of Peace Corps is training, which is what I just finished.
Some things I did in Phase 1:
- Ate crazy stuff! Warthog, sheep 'testines, donkey, various goat parts, and mopane worms, to name a few. Check my facebook if you want to see pictures of a goat getting slaughtered.
- Encountered a questionable (=rabid) dog in a classroom
- Shadowed a current PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) in a small village for 5 days
- Taught boatloads of children how to wobble
- Lived in a neighborhood with so much history that it's almost a crime to write so little about it
So that's a really small list of things that stick out. The truth is, if I tried to document the 350ish hours I spent in training with my group, this blog would be a mile long. With that being said, through those (literally) hundreds of hours, I've started to make myself a nice little home here with some cool people. After all, I'll be here for 2 years.
Anyway, I swore in on Thursday and officially became a volunteer. I had to give a speech in the language that I'm learning in front of my group, each volunteer's supervisor, my APCDs (Associate Peace Corps Directors) and PC Namibia's Country Director, as well as the U.S Ambassador to Namibia. I will never forget Ambassador Nesbitt shaking my hand and telling me how well I did on my speech. Badass.
Now I'm in Phase 2, which will last until December. For me, that essentially means observing Namibian teachers at my permanent site, helping with projects, getting to know my community, and so on. My school seems really supportive of having a volunteer, and are excited to work with me. It looks like I'll be helping out with the computer lab and the library for now. The computer lab is nearly up and running - another volunteer has done a great job on it so far. The library, like any library, could always use more books. Right now, I'm looking at different ways to beef up our book supply and encourage kids to check out books.
...This is a horrible transition, but, I really miss 2 Chainz. That's actually what prompted me to get off my ass, then sit back on my ass and start a blog. I needed the world to know. There are other things I miss, don't get me wrong (small things like family, friends, Knob Creek, and Wal-Mart.). However, as my people can attest, Lau loves her some horrible dirty rap music. One of my biggest concerns is coming back to the states and finding out that I've missed two years of horribly awesome rap videos and dance moves. I heard Trinidad James or whatever the hell his name is at a party last weekend and...I kind of got teary-eyed because I didn't know if he had any more hits after All Gold Everything. Is that weird, Blog? You should stay tuned for the next random thought I have.
Necessary background information: For those of you who don't know, I've been in Africa for the past two months. Phase 1 of Peace Corps is training, which is what I just finished.
Some things I did in Phase 1:
- Ate crazy stuff! Warthog, sheep 'testines, donkey, various goat parts, and mopane worms, to name a few. Check my facebook if you want to see pictures of a goat getting slaughtered.
- Encountered a questionable (=rabid) dog in a classroom
- Shadowed a current PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) in a small village for 5 days
- Taught boatloads of children how to wobble
- Lived in a neighborhood with so much history that it's almost a crime to write so little about it
So that's a really small list of things that stick out. The truth is, if I tried to document the 350ish hours I spent in training with my group, this blog would be a mile long. With that being said, through those (literally) hundreds of hours, I've started to make myself a nice little home here with some cool people. After all, I'll be here for 2 years.
Anyway, I swore in on Thursday and officially became a volunteer. I had to give a speech in the language that I'm learning in front of my group, each volunteer's supervisor, my APCDs (Associate Peace Corps Directors) and PC Namibia's Country Director, as well as the U.S Ambassador to Namibia. I will never forget Ambassador Nesbitt shaking my hand and telling me how well I did on my speech. Badass.
Now I'm in Phase 2, which will last until December. For me, that essentially means observing Namibian teachers at my permanent site, helping with projects, getting to know my community, and so on. My school seems really supportive of having a volunteer, and are excited to work with me. It looks like I'll be helping out with the computer lab and the library for now. The computer lab is nearly up and running - another volunteer has done a great job on it so far. The library, like any library, could always use more books. Right now, I'm looking at different ways to beef up our book supply and encourage kids to check out books.
...This is a horrible transition, but, I really miss 2 Chainz. That's actually what prompted me to get off my ass, then sit back on my ass and start a blog. I needed the world to know. There are other things I miss, don't get me wrong (small things like family, friends, Knob Creek, and Wal-Mart.). However, as my people can attest, Lau loves her some horrible dirty rap music. One of my biggest concerns is coming back to the states and finding out that I've missed two years of horribly awesome rap videos and dance moves. I heard Trinidad James or whatever the hell his name is at a party last weekend and...I kind of got teary-eyed because I didn't know if he had any more hits after All Gold Everything. Is that weird, Blog? You should stay tuned for the next random thought I have.
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