The Ramblings of a Morphing PCV

I have had an especially difficult two weeks, as my recent email will attest. A similar event to the one mentioned happened not even 24 hours after the first. Needless to say, I am processing it as best I can and I thank anyone who responded with ideas as to how I could properly deal with the situation. I feel so much support from home and it is invaluable.

Now, on a more positive note:
I can feel it. I am changing. Slowly. I still tango with those what-the-hell-am-doing-here panic attacks, but I also have plenty of I-am-so-glad-I-joined-the-Peace-Corps moments, as well. One in particular was my first visit to church. Those of you who know me well know that church is not something I attend. Ever. However, I respect the faith of others and was asked to join some learners at Seventh Day Adventist services, which are on Saturday. The singing gave me chills. The singing made me cry. I had happy tears falling from my face. Not only do they sing well but there is something about the emotion behind the words that is hard to describe. And they sing loud. I heard it explained in this way: God is far away, so we must reach him somehow. Either way, it reached me. Like I said. I am changing. I have no plans for a conversion, but I do plan to go to the Catholic service on Easter. I figure I need more fits of happy tears. I love my town despite the recent events there. I tried to snap some photos to give you an idea what I see everday. Below is my first attempt at capturing it thanks to Warren and Chris for getting me a digital camera...



















•If you build it…she will shower
The construction of my courtyard and wash area gave me a place to shower and some much needed privacy. More importantly, it confirmed for me the solid foundation of community in my village. The story begins not long after I returned from dealing with my staph infection. I noticed the secondary school learners gathering after school one afternoon and I was curious, and bored, so I eavesdropped. The meeting was lead by one of my fellow colleagues. He reminded the boys from grade 7-10 to each bring one pole the following day (a pole here is simply a small tree trunk). The girls were to bring a certain type of tree branch, which is often used to make a type of rope. I found it odd that this was a homework assignment. How many learners would, in fact, follow through? I giggled thinking of the reaction I would have received from my American students had I ever asked for poles and tree branches. So, the following day kids came to school with the requested items. When I finally asked what it was for I was told the materials where to build my courtyard and wash area. The kids worked together for two afternoons to complete an amazing courtyard and “shower” for me. It was yet another moment since arriving in Namibia that left me feeling humbled and amazed by the people. They work together. They work with a smile on their faces. They work despite the fact there is nothing in it for them, unless you count a clean, freshly bucket-bathed English teacher. I felt uncomfortable as I watched them work because I wanted to repay them for working so hard on something for me. However, it is a built-in feature of small village life. Everyone is taken care of in some way. Everyone is family. Here is a photo montage of the event...


















•The hut is done...inside and out.
I finally have a working fridge and stove to go with a finished courtyard. Here is the inside of the hut...













•In four months, she has had an infected eye, an infected foot and now this!
Ashley and I hiked to the river one Saturday, which is about 6k from our huts. The rainy season is coming to an end, which meant we could linger outdoors for a few hours in the bright, warm sun and endless blue sky. Actually, it is like someone hit the off button because it has not rained a drop in weeks. Anyway, back to the Saturday hike. It was a relatively easy walk and Mo, our adopted village mutt, accompanied us. The river turned out to resemble a marsh area, as you can see for yourself in the pictures. There were handmade canoes dotting the shoreline. We hope to convince someone in our village to take us out on one. Although, I have my reservations since I have heard some frightening stories about crocodile attacks in the area. Speaking of attacks, on the walk back home, I was startled when Ashley yelled out, “Oh my God, there is a snake.” I turned in time to see a baby snake slithering away. I commented on how small it was as I moved in to get a better look. So, let me pause for a moment to explain that I do have a healthy respect for snakes, but I have never lived in a place with a high percentage of really, really, really dangerous ones, so the act of moving towards the snake was habitual behavior. As I got closer, it reared up and showed me its hood. It was a baby cobra: brown with black speckles around the neck area. At that point, I said, “Oh my God, it is a cobra.” I promptly took a few steps back. It was satisfied with my retreat and slithered into the bush. I was pumped. I had just seen a cobra. A cobra. Ashley has always expressed a sincere hatred of snakes. She abhors everything about the reptile, so the experience was less exciting for her. Once we calmed down, Ashley informed me that I stepped right over it and it came an inch from striking me on the back of my leg. Yeah, a baby cobra almost clocked me on the back of the leg. I am not sure what kind of cobra it was, even after extensive Internet research, so I can’t be sure what might have happened had it made a direct hit. However, I am certain it would not have been pleasant. Needless to say, I have a much more direct understanding of just how careful one must be when one lives in the African bush. Lesson learned.







•Talk about a language barrier…
School is hectic. The kids make it worthwhile, though. I know they struggle to understand my English. It is an ongoing problem. Since the start of the year, I have been reading the novel Holes aloud to my 8th and 9th graders and one of the reasons why is so they can get used to my accent. I gave them a listening comprehension quiz a few weeks ago primarily to check if they are beginning to understand my accent. Some of their answers will give you insight on how well they understand my English.

1. What is a homeless shelter?
• a home near a town
• mountains, rocks, trees
• something that you can see or you can touch
• a tree behind a tree
• it is in the shower
• money
• it is a police

2. Describe Stanley’s shower
• Stanley’s shower was to prevent the body
• tall, shoes, bread
• It was cold. There was no loaf.

3. How did Stanley end up with the shoes?
• toilet
• bread, guava juice

4. What crime is Stanley charged with?
• fun
• money
• backets ball
• eating bread
• he walk along with his foot
• someone stole his notebook

5. Who did the shoes belong to?
• Clie who was living is stone (the correct answer? Clyde Livingston)
• the shoes

•Ngoma Bridge to Botswana
We traveled the meager 16k to the Botswana border recently to check the status of the rising water on the Chobe River. I snapped a few photos and saw some water buffalo from a distance. Ashley and I have tentative plans to head over the border real soon to check out Chobe National Park and then head to the Okavango Delta further in Botswana. Stay tuned because the Peace Corps adventure continues…

PIctures from Ngoma...

Chris Visit 2008: Remarkable. Memorable. Awesome.

A personal “thank you” to Chris for making time to hang with me and giving me the opportunity to explore my new country. He allowed me to experience things that I would not have been able to on my own. I feel grateful to have family that will do such things. Speaking of my family, a million thanks to anyone who had anything to do with the rather large bag of goodies that Chris carried with him. It was like Christmas is February. It was rejuvinating to get some of the things I needed and a few awesome suprises, as well.

The staph infection is healing nicely and I will be heading home at the end of this week. No worries.

I made a video of me chatting about my foot and my village, another showing off my hut and one other of varied images. Should you have an interest in getting a copy of the video, please email me and I will see that you get one.

Some thoughts from “Chris Visit 2008”…

Next time, Chris should rent a car not a tin can on four bike tires. Despite its shortcomings, it was the “little car that could”. It performed well in the off-road/on-water conditions we encountered during our visit to Etosha National Park. Bravo tin can.

We spent the night in Etosha in a room that is that exact replica of how I want my future home to be decorated. It was simplistic. See photo for a visual of the bed.


“Namutoni” is the name of one of the rest camps in Etosha. Chris thought the park employee who was helping us find a place to spend the night called it “number 20”. Chris proceeded to call it “number 20” during the whole conversation. Silly American.


There are no hiking trails in Etosha. In fact, you can’t even get out of the car unless you are at a rest camp or a toilet. I suppose it cuts down on fatal interactions between humans and the wildlife. Would not want a silly tourist trying to snap a close-up of a Leopard.



Chris wanted to see Giraffe. The first thing we saw after passing the gate into the Park? Giraffe. The last thing we saw before leaving the park the following day? Giraffe. And not just one or two or even three, but more than 20. We also saw zebra, zebra babies, springbok, wildebeest, female lions, birds, tree stumps that we thought were animals, rocks that we thought were animals sleeping, beetles, chameleon, owl. We were in the tin can when we saw much of this stuff. It was Jurassic Park, except we were in a car more suited for an episode of the Flintstones.




I think the most useful time I have ever spent in a car occurred Friday night when we took a night game drive. We began at 8pm and ended near 11pm and there were no other people or cars to be found anywhere. The rainy season is the low season for tourism in the park because the animals are more difficult to find. However, we were lucky to see quite a few. There is a magical quality to experiencing wildlife at night. I felt more vulnerable. Exposed. Our guide swept a light back and forth in search of life as we traveled in an open-air SUV. He had an amazing eye for wildlife and we were fortunate to witness jackals, springbok, giraffe, black-faced impala, several species of birds, and a male lion.


Yeah, you read correctly. A male lion. It was sleeping 15 yards off of the road. We pulled over and the guide cut the engine. We were close enough to hear him lick his impressive paws after yawing several times. He was about ten years old and was waiting patiently for the pride to make a kill so he could fill his belly. The highlight was when the lion decided to show us he was the king of the bush by growling and roaring at us. Each time, our guide would turn the lights off and allow us to experience the intensity of the lion’s roar in complete darkness. It pierced though the night with a commanding tone. Wicked cool. Humbling. Goosebumps. At one point, some hyenas joined in, but we never saw any of them. It was intense. Enough said.



Namibia is gorgeous. Mountains. Desert. Super-sized Sunsets. Tremendous Lightening.

Since when do I look German?

All Gold Tomato Sauce is not Ketchup. Hence the name.

I inhaled all the Snickers that were in the package from home in a 24-hour period.

The Dr. Pepper was like gold running through my veins. More please.

The hotel played the Zamphere Greatest Hits album on repeat. “Unbreak My Heart” is flawless when performed by Zamphere, Master of the Pan Flute. Not familiar with Zamphere? Google.

“Keep it left.” Chris uttered this quite frequently when driving the tin can rental car so that he would not have a head-on collision. It worked. Let’s hope he does not go back to America and “keep it left.”

Anyone ever seen this movie about a Scottish drug addict, meals on wheels volunteer who steals money from her dead boyfriend’s back pocket and travels to Spain with her best friend? It was playing on the hotel TV and we did not catch the ending (nor the name of the film) because the electricity went out.


Random thoughts about being in stuck in Windhoek for the second week in a row…

I started to run since my foot has healed enough. There are hills in Windhoek. There are no hills in all of the Caprivi Strip, which is where I live and run normally. I bonked.

The Cultural Center is big city cool. It’s a slick building with various local artists selling their stuff. It has trendy coffee/internet cafes.

How can you call it a “meat pie” if it only has spinach and cheese in it?

I went to “King Pie” and ordered a combo meal: cheeseburger meat pie, chips and a coke. Ate the chips. Drank the coke. Tossed the cheeseburger meat pie. Well, I ate the breading on the outside. Tasted like a croissant.

Two weeks in Windhoek has reminded me that I am a small town girl at heart. I am ready to head back home to my village and my hut.

I miss Mo. Cute, huh?

Who will be my Valentine when my foot is oozing multi-colored puss?

Yeah, my foot is a wreck, and I felt I should give those concerned a medical update. A week or so ago, I began to notice a tremendous amount of bites on my feet. Despite my best efforts, I did not have the willpower to stop from scratching the bites on occasion. As a result, I opened some of the bites enough and it was exposed to bacteria at some point. Towards the end of last week, I was running a fever and my foot began to swell. The infected areas began to ooze and were extremely painful. It progressively worsened through the weekend until Saturday when I was told by the Peace Corps medical staff to get on a bus for Windhoek as quickly as possible. So, I hobbled my way onto a 15-hour, overnight bus ride to the capital city. I can’t recall a time recently that I have been more uncomfortable. At that point, my entire foot and part of my leg was swollen and there was an infinite amount of pain. On top of that, it was oozing multi-colored puss and I was running a fever. Very sexy. I was happy to arrive Monday morning in Windhoek and receive medical care. It turns out I have a staph infection, which was not a surprise to the Peace Corps nurse when she heard where I lived. I am on antibiotics. I have to soak my foot in hot water and other stuff every morning for nearly an hour, and then it is wrapped up after being covered in medicine. I was on crutches for two days, but I can walk on my foot now because the swelling is down. However, I am told I will not return to my site until the infection is completely cleared, which means I might be here for another week or so. I must say, the “sick bay” (the apartment where sick PCVs are kept) is a treat. There is hot running water, air conditioning, a full kitchen and a TV. I took two showers yesterday. It was fabulous. I made myself a cheeseburger. It was mouthwatering. I watched soccer on TV. It was exciting.

On top of that, Chris arrived in Namibia this week and I will see him tomorrow. The Peace Corps nurse said I could go with him for a few days, but I have to change my own dressing and take it easy. We are making plans to lounge at the pool, which sounds perfect.

So, for all those wondering what exactly was going on with Tina’s foot, you now know. I am healing. Keep in mind that I am new to village living and I must learn how to maintain my health in a different way than I did in Colorado. It’s a learning process, for sure. I am bound to make mistakes, and I do not plan to make this particular one again.

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.