Impressions of living in a hut during the rainy season and other random thoughts...

An interesting note: It is raining as I write this and has been every day for the past five days. It’s not just a slight, dreary drizzle but a commanding downpour that attacks and retreats on a constant loop.

I am teaching 7-9th grade English, 5-7th grade reading. Teaching English here is a professional, personal, physical and emotional challenge. I also run the library and I am excited about how often learners come to check out books.

A period at the end of a sentence is called a “full stop” and an erasure for a chalkboard is called a “duster”.

I never realized how loud rain is as it falls on a tin roof until the other day as I tried to read a book in class and I could barely hear my own voice. Plus, the learners that are lucky enough to have a desk were huddled on the opposite side of the room to avoid the leaks in the roof.

I never realized how loud complete silence is until waking up night after night to the sound of complete silence.

My house is lit with candles and my headlamp. When it rains, which happens quite a bit right now, it takes me 4,032 matches to light one candle.

The alternative to lighting candles is going to bed when the sun goes down. I have done that, too. It saves candles and matches.

I don’t expect my clothes to actually dry from washing until the rainy season ends, which I am told is in April.

I don’t expect my clothes to actually be clean until my Peace Corps service is over and I just buy new clothes.

My feet are always covered in mud.

When it rains, my roof leaks (luckily, none of the leaks are above my bed). When the roof is dry, I have some sort of yellow powder (looks like pollen) that falls from the roof. It covers everything. Everything. I am told it originates from the type of wood used to create my beams.

Currently, there is no place outside to hang my clothes to dry, so they are hanging all over the inside of my hut, and are now covered in the aforementioned yellow stuff.

I am irritated by what humidity does to, well, everything. After living in Colorado for so many years, I had forgotten.

Have you ever had the feeling that something was crawling on you only to realize it was nothing? If you have that sensation in Africa, something is really crawling on you.

A Poweraide (yeah they sell Poweraide in Namibia) bottle works well as a power wash when taking a bucket bath.

One rethinks how badly one must go to the bathroom in the night when it requires that you leave your home and walk across the village.

One rethinks how badly one wants to take a shower when you have to bathe with water you must carry yourself.

One rethinks how badly one wants to cook dinner when you have to cook your food and wash your dishes with water you must carry yourself.

One rethinks how badly one wants to wash clothes when you have to wash clothes with water you must carry yourself.

One rethinks how badly one wants to hydrate when you have to drink water you must carry yourself then dump into a filter and wait for it to filter it.

Are you sensing a theme here? Luckily, it has been raining so much I catch rainwater and using it to bathe, cook and clean.

The barefooted kids in my village run faster than me with my fancy Gortex running shoes. They are awesome.

Ashley and I went to town our first weekend here to shop for food. At the grocery store, I bought a pastry. I was on the final bite when I realized the inside was covered in mold. I survived. I consider that a success.

I buy Soymilk knowing there is no way to refrigerate it. I figured it might last a few days before it goes bad. I don’t know if or when Soymilk is considered bad. So, I designed a two-part test: Does it smell and did I get sick today? I guess that same logic could be applied to buying pastries, too.

There is a small bottle store in my village that sells “cool drink” which is how Namibians describe a cold soda. On Wednesdays, Ashley and I have a cool drink, which is the only one of the week. It accompanies our elaborate dinner (elaborate for us is noodles with garlic and perhaps some carrots and tomatoes) and a weekly malaria pill. Interesting dreams follow ingestion of said pill.

At night, Ashley and I spend time at the school recharging phones, laptops or ipods. One night, I thought it was raining and looked up to realize the noise was from the multitude of bugs hitting the overhead lights.

African people have the absolute best and most resilient attitudes. I am grateful to be around it.

I have fallen in love…with a skinny village mutt that I named Mohinder (after the dude from Heros, which is a flawless show). I call him Mo for short. Ashley and I have adopted him as our pet. He is a puppy. He follows us around and has even come to class with me.

I was reading a novel the other night when I came across a scene in a restaurant. The author described the meal and I nearly ate the page in a vain attempt to have a hot roll with butter on it.

A typical diet for someone who does not have a stove, refrigerator or oven: Cereal (until the Soymilk stinks or makes me sick), peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, tuna on crackers, apples and granola. Sometimes, I borrow Ashley’s propane stove and cook some noodles or lentils. This should change once I get my own stove and fridge (which are in my hut right now) hooked up to either propane or electricity. Yes, I have a fridge and a stove/oven combo sitting in my mud hut collecting Africa's version of pollen. And, yes, I might get electricity. It must be said that electricity in a small village in the bush looks and acts drastically different than electricity at your house, but I am not complaining. A cold fridge is a cold fridge no matter where it’s plugged in.

You have heard it before, but I will say it again: This is the toughest thing I have ever done. Ever. It is a harsh place to live, but there are so many reasons why it is worth the hardship. I love it and hate it at the same time, and I could not be happier to be here (if that makes any sense at all).

Thanks to everyone who remains in contact or is sending me packages. I can’t really explain how wonderful it is to get a small piece of America either via email or snail mail. If I have not heard from you, there is still time and I would love to hear from you. Please remember that I can chat on AIM, iChat or Google Talk and its cheap. I get to chat with Chris in person since he will be in Namibia for a business trip in two weeks. I am counting the days to a visit from a member of my fam! Yahoo!

Another photo post....

These first two photos are from our "Swearing In" Ceremony, which was televised in Namibia. The group shot is the CATJAR (the gang of awesome gals I have gotten close with). The gal next to me in the group shot (in the black dress) is the health worker in my village.




The photos below are of my village. The first is the school, the second is the library (Can you call it a library with so few books?) and the final one is my hut that is not complete just yet.

American Football, Namibian Chick-fil-a and a Spanish Telenovela

Happy 2008 to all of you! I hope your new year is starting off well. I spent the first days of the new year watching college football on ESPN International. I did not get to watch all the games I would have wanted to, but I got my fill of college football all the same. In addition, we had a tailgate party at the training center featuring BBQ chicken and the Redskins vs. Seahawks. I also got to watch the Steelers lose to Jacksonville. Bummer. On a happier note, the Peace Corps took us all in to Windhoek, which is the capital of Namibia, for a field trip. We saw the Peace Corps offices then they dropped us off at the mall. Yes, you read correctly, the mall. It was surreal to walk around a mall in Africa. It was as if I was in any mall in America. I had mixed feelings about it. I did almost cry when I ate a chicken sandwich, fries and a soda. It was like African Chick-fil-a. I also bought some fudge, which I ate within a 24-hour period. The purpose for the Windhoek trip was to buy things to furnish our homes at our permanent sites. I did not buy anything because I doubt I will need much for a two-room hut. I did enjoy Windhoek, though.

I officially became a Peace Corps Volunteer on January 9th. Thinking back, it does not seem like it has been two months. It feels more like ten. But, I have created some amazing friendships and I will miss those individuals as we all head off to our permanent sites. I will not see most of these people until April when we attend what is called reconnect. At the top of the “miss list” are my five roommates at the training center. We have named our small group of girls the CATJAR, which is simply the first letters of all our names. This is juvenile, I know, but when you are bored to tears your gauge of what is unique, interesting and age-appropriate shifts dramatically. Each reminds me of my close family and friends in some way. The CATJAR offers me support and a humorous outlet when things are tough. We get hours of laugher from various things including the abnormal-sized creatures that fly around our room. One in particular is the moth we named “both” (pronounced like “moth” with a “b”) because we are convinced it is a cross between a bird and moth. It’s huge. We also eat lots of chocolate and pastries together, and talk endlessly about this adventure we signed up for. Outside of my CATJAR, I have created relationships with other volunteers. Three in particular are Griffin, Jeff and Jay. Griffin and Jeff will be working as teachers in the same region as me. Jay will be teaching in another region, but shares a love for college football. We have spent late nights in front of the TV catching whatever televised bowl ESPN International happens to show. Anyway, an interesting thing happened at our talent show one of the final nights of training. Griffin and Jay sang the theme song to Gardener’s Daughter, which is a Spanish telenovela that is wildly popular here in Namibia. They both speak Spanish and dedicated their performance to me, which was highly embarrassing because I had no clue that was going to happen and the whole room turned to see my reaction. Despite my red face, it made me feel kinda special. One of the best parts was when Jeff came out wearing a dress and sang with them. It was a classic moment. I loved it.

Right now, I am at a hostel in the town closest to my permanent site, which is about 60k away. We left the training center, where I have been much of the past two months, at 4:30 am and arrived here at 6pm. It was a brutal trip, yet we have to pass through a game preserve to get here and we saw a handful of elephants. It made the marathon sitting session easier to tolerate. I will stay here until Sunday when I will finally spend my first night in my home. School begins for teachers on Monday, so I will dive right in to work at that point. I am excited to finally settle in to a relatively normal routine. Stay tuned for exactly what relatively normal means in a small African village.

I miss you all.