A lesson about pants and other exciting additions...

A few Saturdays ago I was rearranging my hut because, well, there is little to do with my life on the weekends. I was rigging up a new shelf when I had a feeling someone was watching me. It’s a common occurrence when you are one of two white women in a village. I turned to see a learner at my door. He was holding a puppy. He held out the fuzz ball for me to take and said he no longer wanted me to be sad about Moe. I took the little one in my arms and he was warm and needy and letting out those adorable little puppy moans and groans. As much as I never wanted to take in another village mutt, I could not help but accept. The puppy smell alone won me over. Not to mention, it was such a kind gesture from one of my students. So, I am once again the owner of an African dog. That responsibility is a slippery slope but I am just going to enjoy the small one as long as we are together. The following Monday, I had my grade 7 learners pick a name. The list was as follows: Billy, Sky, Mulotu (beautiful), Kununu (feces…because he poops so much), and Lifalsi (earth). The hands-down champion was Mulotu. So, my African family loses a member but gains another. Welcome Mulotu!

A humorous language lesson occurred one night when I mentioned to a learner that he should put pants on because it was so cold. He was wearing shorts. He gazed at me with more confusion than normal. I enquired. A 15-minute discussion in three different languages ensued among the kids in the room. It was chaotic but ended in roaring laughter. It turns out when one speaks of pants here one is speaking of underwear. I am still giggling about this blunder and slightly embarrassed. Nobody I associate with in my village has been exempt from information about my pants. I have made endless observations in the last few months about my pants. Want to know what I have been sharing with my new Namibian friends. Check this out: “The Peace Corps told me not to wear pants in my village.” “I like to wear pants.” “I have chalk all over my pants.” “It’s so cold, I am going to put pants on.” “I wish I had pants on today.” “My favorite pants are stained.” “I need to wash my pants.” It was the most hilarious moment of my time here when the grade 7 opened my eyes to what pants really are. Lesson learned. No more pants talk. Now it’s all about trousers, which is the appropriate word.

I have hit a stride and feel more a part of life in Africa rather than an American in Africa. Does not make me miss people any less, but it has enriched my time here. Thanks for all the love via packages, emails or Facebook messages. All the best. Much love.