Namlish or English spoken by Namibians

Here are a few gems I have run across in this beautiful country of strange phrases:

Categorically clear: as in "Let me make it categorically clear." I am not sure to which category we are referring. This is a favorite of my principal and the other teachers find it very funny to mock him in front of me because I cannot refrain from giggling, or full out fall on the floor laughing, at this phrase.

Mingling someone: as in "Are you mingling Johanna?" Besides the fact that mingling was not the word they wanted to use to describe the occurrence, this just sounds dirty (it was not meant to be).

"Good morning." or "Hello." answered with "Fine.": This used to confuse me to no end but makes sense with the understanding that in their language this is the translation of the greeting they use.

"Can you borrow me a...?": without the 'a' this is funny. The opposite of "Can I borrow you?"

Not a word, but they keep writing me birthday cards as greetings. I am not sure why, and may never know. But it is charming in its own way. At least they are writing me some sort of card.

Just thought I'd get in some short notes before bed. As I type it is raining on my clothes. Luckily I probably did not rinse out all the soap so they are just getting better washed. I would bring them in except I'm not sure where they would go.

Peace, love and giraffes,
Jenn

“You are too white, Miss.”

Being white in a mostly black country has been interesting. I have not encountered racism among the blacks of Namibia, though I am often met with curiosity. I have not met any Afrikaaners, though I have heard stories from people that this is where the racism in the country still lies.

The learners find me strange. The community finds me strange. Outside of the community I am stared, grabbed and yelled at. Most people do not ask me what I am doing here. They tell me they love me and ask me to marry them. One man touched me and when I turned to tell him to stop he said, “I just wanted to touch white skin. I have never touched it.” I replied, “It is the same as yours.” He simply said, “Is it?”

My strange fascination with the everyday things also makes them laugh. I am in love with the baby donkey that lives nearby and grazes outside my house. I was asked by a taxi driver if I was planning to buy a cow. When I told him I wouldn’t know what to do with a cow he was appalled. “You milk it, you eat it.” It is as if I was asking him how to eat.

One learner asked me if we had the same subjects in American schools. I told her that we did, except some of the things they are learning, such as business and accounting, are elective or taught in college. She asked, “What about agriculture?” It didn’t even occur to me to include that subject, though to them it is one of the most important as it teaches them their livelihood.

Often I feel inept, but it is nice to need help with something just as much, or more, maybe, as they do with things. I helped one colleague with her computer today and in turn she made for me traditional porridge and fish. She is also patient with me when I ask her to repeat, usually for the fifth time, a word in oshikwanyama. It is nice to be able to exchange skills and not perpetually feel as if I am taking, taking, taking or being taken from.

Peace, love and giraffes,
Jenn

PS. The title is what one of the learners told me the other day. I agree.

Dodging Donkeys

Ohaingu, Namibia

Journeyed to Oshakati Wednesday to get my tax ID number. I say journeyed because in a country where few people have cars it is a process to get anywhere. the principal informed me Wednesday morning that I would be going to get the number and I was to leave at 8:30 with my escort, a colleague named Johanna.

At 8:30 we met and walked to the end of the village to wait for a ride. We waited under a tree at the gravel road, looking for any vehicle going in our desired direction. the sun was already strong, even so early in the morning. While we waited she shared some pictures of the previous volunteer with me.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, the principal drove by. He agreed to take us to Ondangwa where we could get a taxi to Oshakati. Minutes after hiking up my skirt and climbing into the bed of the bakkie (pick-up truck in Namlish) we saw a car going our way. After a brief exchange between the driver and Johanna, all in Oshikwanyama, we climbed out of the bakkie and into the backseat of this man's SUV.

I will not pretend that I was completely comfortable riding in some strange man's car. I am happy that I had someone with me my first time. I'm sure in time it will become normal, as it is the main form of transport for all Namibians, but it definitely is strange. It is what we are warned against doing all our lives in America.

The trip to Oshakati was amusing. The guy picked up more and more people as we went on, and a few times people shuffled around to make better room. At one point the driver switched places with the other man who was in the car with him when we got in. I did not understand any of these changes, as they seemed completely unnecessary, however it made everyone else happy. Aside from the strange game of musical chairs happening every few stops, there was the strange music playing and the donkeys.

Now I have experienced elsewhere the tendency for foreigners to listen to American music made decades ago that Americans in that decade didn't listen to and no one has heard of in my generation. It is that terrible music that might be playing in the background at a Caribbean resort to keep the guests in an uplifted mood, however it should never be played louder than white-noise level. I suspect it is the only music they can get on cassette tape, as all the good artists are now collectors items for music fanatics.

Someone once told me that donkeys were stupid. I could not have imagined the level of stupidity of which they are capable. Donkeys walk down the middle of the road here, and the cars must go around them like an elaborate video game. Were I a game programming genius I would definitely create a game for the Namibians based on the real life donkey dodging occurring everyday here. And these roads are not terribly great either, making it all the more precarious.

The man dropped us in Oshakati and we crossed the street to the Ministry of Finance. the paperwork was done in five minutes and I began to feel even more like an inconvenience to the other teacher than i had before, although she was very gracious.

I did not realize that the reason she seemed inconvenienced was that she had not been informed with enough time to prepare things for her classes or for the shopping excursion we then embarked upon. We went everywhere. At one store we heard a woman tell the cashier that there were straw floor mats for 10 dollars Namibian at some store. The woman behind the counter did not believe her, but the woman assured her that that was the price. About an hour later we were coming out of KFC and saw a huge queue of people outside some store. All the people were waiting for their 10 dollar straw mats. I have to admit they were nice and the price was great (10 Namibian is about the equivalent of $1.40 USD, or something like that). Anyway, we went over to investigate, but it appeared they were all sold out. Later on in the taxi, we heard another passenger make a remark about the mats again. News sure does get around here.

All in all, the trip was nice. I got a few things I needed for my apartment, though I am returning tomorrow to get some more things and to meet up with another volunteer. The water has been off and on for the last two days. you always forget how useful and essential water is until it is gone. We at least have a tap where we can fetch water, but i just deal until morning mostly. it's interesting to learn what you can go without.

Peace, love and giraffes,
Jenn

Spiders and Lizards and Goats, Oh My*

Ohainga, Namibia (not quite Oz, but magical and terrifying all the same)

So I arrived safely in my village after a very long day of travel. My principal arrived at the drop point 45 minutes after everyone else left, so I practiced my patience (apparently the most important virtue in Namibia) and talked with the police a little, caught up on some reading. On the way we stopped about 5 times to do various errands, also apparently a common thing in Namibia, including visiting a lottery machine and stopping for directions (I was taken part of the way by a relative of the secretary to my school).

My apartment is small, but nice. I quickly unpacked things and made it quite homey if I do say so myself. I have hung maps and pictures and have become very innovative when it comes to kitchen utensils since I only have plastic knives, forks and spoons, one pot, two ceramic mugs and a few tupperware containers. The leatherman has come in handy (thank you Dad for taking care of that).

When I arrived I met the two teachers who live next door. I was surprised to learn they were males, but I am quickly learning that this could be a great advantage. They know how to use the gas tanks for the stove and how to kill spiders. Which brings me to the teachers' first impression of me...

Almost immediately upon arrival I was confronted by the nature of Africa. I was in my room staring at all my things and the unofficial greeting committee (two of my female colleagues came to greet me, which I found extremely nice and calmed my nerves a bit) when I spotted a very large spider out of the corner of my eye. He was hanging out just above the curtain rod, looking very menacing. I'm not sure I can fully express how scary this spider was. He had very long pointy legs and a flat body. I am pretty sure it is a wall spider, which I have been told a few times, by a few different people, are harmless. However, at that moment I just freaked about having the spider on my wall just looking at me. So the guys tried to kill it, but they are speedy little suckers and he dodged the broom just enough to fall off the wall, injured, but still mobile, and run into one of my bags. So they hunted him down, killed him and left me to fend for myself.

All was fine until I went to go take a much needed shower at the end of my unpacking. There, sitting on the wall, was another one, this one definitely scarier than the last since I knew he was living behind the broken tiles on my shower wall. Trying to hit him with a broom proved fruitless, and only caused greater frustration when I accidentally smashed a tile on the floor and had to clean that up.

At this point I actually almost considered not taking a shower, but the idea of crawling into bed sweaty and gross was worse than having to face the spider. So I showered, but never did I turn my back on the tile I suspected him to be under. I have a terrible feeling he is just lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to pounce on me while I'm shampooing my hair. I suppose I will just get used to him.

Hygiene ties in perfectly with the story of the goats. Today after school I decided to try and finally rid my white pants of the terrible orange stains caused by my efforts to try and rid them of coffee and dry them quickly using my brand new orange towel. It was an extremely ingenious thought, until it just wasn't. So I went out back to my laundry sink to try and bleach the pants (which worked by the way, YAY!) and I'm busy scrubbing away when what should just meander by but a few goats. I am not sure how they got into the school yard, but I do know both our gates are open, giving them the perfect opportunity to find some unsuspecting American girl by surprise. I felt like I was a part of Little House on the Prairie but with better clothes.

So the goats walk through the backyard, I told them just to go on their merry way, that's right, I talk to the goats. And then I realize, goats are like bad children that get out of your eye line because you told them too and wreak havoc on everything and everyone. I peaked my head in to my back door, and sure enough the goats are on my front porch looking in longingly at the shelter my apartment would offer from the sun. So I start walking through and two of them have stopped to have a headbutting contest on the porch. I shooed them away and they wandered out our gate and back around the school.

Soon after this I was sitting at my desk and saw something quickly moving across the floor. I have become used to the size and speed of the cockroaches that are constantly walking around, and this was different. I look toward my bed and what do I see but a little lizard hanging out by the leg. However, he ran away quickly when I moved toward him. I managed to find him under the large box I have in my room, but he escaped again and I have a feeling he is in the closet hiding in my shoe. Jocie recommended I call him Carlos, which I feel is an acceptable lizard name. I want to make him my pet and have him eat all the yucky bugs, namely the mosquitoes...which oddly I have not seen many of tonight. I know when I turn out my light to sleep I will hear them buzzing ready to bite.

Someone told me the creatures in Africa were exotic, but I was counting on giraffes and elephants. I suppose I'll settle for my house pets.

Peace, love and giraffes,
Jenn

*Although this is a completely fitting title to this post, it is also a nod to the card I opened this very morning from my wonderful NRLP. She is my Glinda, bringing home just a little closer with each envelope.

Coffee

Windhoek, Namibia

I drank a bowl of coffee today. Yes, you read right, a bowl. We went to the Namibian Craft Center for lunch and one of their specialties is coffee in a bowl. I felt like a cat. Anyway, I had a great time. I bought an elephant pendant from one of the craft companies that sells their goods there. The nice thing about this craft store is that everything is guaranteed to be made in Namibia. Many of the things sold other places are not made in Namibia.

The coffee here is nothing to write home about. Most people drink mix coffee and sometimes you can get ok coffee in a restaurant. Nothing like Starbucks. I have been privileged to enjoy two cups of coffee made in a French Press by one of the volunteers.

Another drink that is sorely lacking in quality and variety is beer. There are two main brands sold here, Windhoek Lager or Draught and Tafel Lager. There are a few others but they are harder to come by and I have seen no advertisements for them.

They have plenty of juice, though.

Peace, love and giraffes,
Jenn