“In spite of everything, I still believe people are really good.” ~Anne Frank

Is it really July already? June felt like stepping off of a five month roller coaster. I was wobbly on stable ground at first, but thankful as hell to be still. That’s some culture shock, man. Finally over the self-isolating solitude, I reached out this month and spent more time with colleagues, families, and even another volunteer or two.

A place as quiet and slow as this, seems like it never changes, like it has been the same for a century. Spending time at the homesteads, keeping warm next to a garbage can functioning as a stove, (it is unacceptably cold right now) it’s nice to listen to the old memes (women/mothers) chatter. It’s even sweeter when they occasionally try to fill me in through broken English, pantomimes, or a child/interpreter.

“Jenny, we get donkeys with wood before. Donkeys take men to town with goat and mahangu. I member tar road. I member no car … These people too fast now.” Yet another recent car accident spurred the memes’ conversation about life before the paved road. They remember when it got paved. They remember a lot. Many of them remember colonial raids or have family members who were kidnapped in the night and never seen again. Most of my learners’ parents were either not allowed to attend school or offered only limited education.

“…but now they follow foreigners more often than cattle, roaming between bars rather than beehives.”

Listening to the elders and hearing stories from various people, including students, about Namibia’s still very recent history, really made me realize how much the country has grown in just a speck of time – in my lifetime. There is still a lot of room for improvement and development, but sometimes I forget to give Namibia credit for what it has been through and its many accomplishments. I also forget about the shadows that accompany the bright lights of this desired “development.” “We belong to a time in which culture is in danger of being destroyed by the means of culture.” As the oral history recedes and the culture gets tweaked by the youth and the west, will the family also fade? How much will the pace pick up? Twenty years ago, in the northwestern town of Opuwo, the Himba people used to roam with cattle between beehive-hut settlements, their hair, faces, bare breasts all caked with red earth, ochre and animal fat. Must be great for the complexion, but they never wash it off, so who would know? Today, the Himba still roam Opuwo and they still dress traditionally, but now they follow foreigners more often than cattle, roaming between bars rather than beehives. Some still live traditionally, but a large number are trying to make money in a developing town, selling jewelry and photos or begging and stealing. In all of Namibia, (and most of sub-saharan Africa) alcoholism is a major problem and now, for the Himbas, so is prostitution. In 2006, the national newspaper reported the first ever suicide by a Himba woman. Coincidence?

The Owambos are the highest numbered tribe in Namibia though, and seem to be coping fairly well with their country’s changes … other than the alcoholism, car accidents, and HIV of course. On the bright side, HIV numbers are diminishing and drivers licenses are now accompanied by tests. Unfortunately, alcoholism is just as debilitating as ever. I would guess that all the drinking is a result of hopelessness or maybe isolation. Imagine living in a village of less than 100 people and you’ve never been further than 30 minutes away. They have no idea how much more is outside of the boundaries of “Owamboland.” And although I admire the African sense of extended family, I’ve mentioned before their atypical lack of affection and warmth between each other. I’d probably drink too.

“Her situation is infinitely more challenging than mine.”

This month, I also visited my friend Erica in her village. Erica is an inspiring Californian love child. She, unlike my cynical self, is what every volunteer should be. If I didn’t admire her so much, she might make me sick. But in the distant village where she was placed, her sugary-sweetness is exactly what those kids need. With a freshly painted school, reward store, clothes, books, organization, decoration, hugs and endless kisses, she tirelessly pours all her beautiful being into her kids, making every effort to give them some hope. Her situation is infinitely more challenging than mine. It is more remote (two hours by car from a paved road) and inhabited by a heartbreaking majority of orphans and vulnerable children, clothed – quite literally – in dirty rags and deprived of any shred of self esteem. Erica greets them each day and tucks them into their cots each night with the only reliable smile in their lives.

She had plenty of culture shock of her own, of course, and I remembered her struggling specifically with the emotional absence of her kids. She was discouraged by their lack of gratitude and shocked by how uneasy they were in an embrace, how they’d wince with a kind hand on their shoulder. So I instantly knew what an impact she’d made my first night at her hostel, when I walked in and was mobbed by barefoot girls hugging my legs and kissing my hands, pleading this stranger to pick them up. Most of the kids can’t stay in the small hostel, and so I looked at their skinny frames in awe, wondering where they sleep, who cares for them and how they get to school. But then, we’re just glad they come and now they smile too.

“Could the answer to all of society’s ailments be so simple?”

Someone smarter than me once wrote that the greatest truths reveal their wisdom in the guise of simplicity. Another person smarter than me once wrote, “All you need is love.” Could the answer to all of society’s ailments be so simple? Humanity has been suffering from, and punishing one another with a shameful case of love-deficiency? Can you think of a problem that doesn’t start there? No, baldness isn’t a real problem. You keep thinking on it…

In the meantime, I returned to my own village with a little more flower power in me and the kids responded instantly. The more smiles, conversations, effort and attention I give them, the harder they try to please me and the better they eventually perform. It’s just that simple.

Love,

~Jennifer White (See also Peace, In April)

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” – Charles Darwin

Once a week or so I wander over to one of the light switches, lean absent mindedly against the wall and flip the switch a couple of times … just in case. Everything is, after all, wired and ready to go, and every week they say it will be here next week. Maybe they hooked up the electricity and forgot to mention it. I’ve heard that the definition of insanity is to repeat the same act and expect different results. So I wonder what the difference is between insanity and hope.

“I wonder what the difference is between insanity and hope”

April took her sweet time escorting me to May, but now I have finally arrived at the much needed school holiday. A month to go and to do whatever the wind and my whims might suggest. And a month to reevaluate what I deem to be success at the end of this year. So far, in these updates, I’ve tried to focus on Africa, Namibia and the kids. Rightly so. But in the meantime, Jen has sometimes struggled to keep it all together. This month, especially, was a challenge.

I couldn’t put my finger on one particular trigger – ha! That is, one particular cause of my discouragement, mild depression, and disinterest. There were the personal health concerns, the inconsiderate, selfish and weasly colleagues, the disheartening daily encounters, the disappointing Term 1 results and the departure of my closest friend back to the States all combined to make me a bit on edge.

Frankly, I was quite confident that I didn’t want to be here. There are many, many different African cultures (almost 10 alone in Namibia) and I look forward to encountering some of them during the upcoming vacation. The Oshiwambo culture of northern Namibia, however, is not easy to embrace. They are, as a rule, unaffectionate, unappreciative, distrusting, and discriminatory (toward tribes and races). I wish this weren’t my opinion as well as theirs. My sustenance is the exceptions to the daily affirmations of this unfortunate rule. Exceptions like many of my students, like the smiling, wise old woman whose kindness is unwavering, and like the man who gave me a ride to town and shocked me into speechlessness when he said “Thank you for coming here. Thank you for helping.”

“But I realize that is not a sustainable lifestyle.”

You see, I didn’t want to be here anymore and, being the young, impulsive, result-driven American that I am, when I don’t want to do something – I don’t. And vice-versa. But I realize that is not a sustainable lifestyle. I realize that to grow up I have to suck it up. Because, as I keep having to remind myself, this is not about me.

When my friend Dia had to return to the States, she was heartbroken. I was jealous. The hardest part for her, of course, was telling her students that she was leaving.

“Now we’re definitely going to fail!” a few cried.

“Who will teach us now?”

“But Miss, I don’t want another teacher this color,” one girl said, pointing to herself. “They’re all selfish!”

But, soon enough, they resigned to reality and returned to what they were doing.

“Really, they weren’t that upset,” my friend told me. “That’s the worst part. They’re used to disappointment.” When it comes down to it, I don’t want to be just another adult reinforcing this rule.

Anyway, I’m doing better now and I’ve regained my focus. I’ve also developed some coping mechanisms, like nightly jogs with Prudence through the vast fields of “mahangu” (which resembles corn), African dance class in town on Wednesdays, and writing every evening at the village shop rather than holed up in the house. As I spend the next month traveling across the continent to Tanzania, I’ll also have some time to clear my head before I get it back in the game.

I truly appreciate everyone on the other end of these messages. Thank you for being so supportive, I need it.

As my students say, Peace In.

Jen White

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