This is Africa

Driving down the highway, windows down, radio blaring Africana music in a Toyota cargo truck that’s probably older than I am, driving to the village to interview women about empowerment- it hit me, this is the moment, this is Africa, this is what I came here to do.  This is satisfaction, this is summertime, this is sublime. 

Wide open spaces, with long grasses and sparse trees.  Three men pushing a car through the dust.  We’re packed tight into the cab of the truck, and we keep stopping to drop people riding in the back at various locations.   There’s either Chinese or Japanese characters all over the truck, and the driver reminded me to at least pretend to wear my seat belt before we pass the police check point- I had completely forgotten.  I had no idea what was going on, I didn’t speak the language, and I didn’t care.    

That morning, the manager at the women’s cooperative that I wanted to research called me and said that they were going out to collect the product from the village, that they had a translator, and that a truck would pick me up in 10 minutes.  And then she hung up. 

The truck showed up 20 minutes later.  I tried to ask when we’d be back, but they didn’t understand me and they didn’t know.  I just got in.  We stopped twice on the 10 minute drive to the cooperative to drop people off.  We stopped briefly at the cooperative, I spoke 2 words to the manager, and we left.  We stopped for KFC, we stopped to collect money from someone, we stopped to buy a prepaid phone card, we stopped to get the mail.  This is Africa, and you just go with it. 

These are some of the women I interviewed.  As we passed, this was just too picturesque for me not to document. 

Homelife

We passed a cultural parade, and my translator, Lena, tried to explain, but all I got out of it is this is the traditional dress and it looked like a  parade.  

After our stop at KFC, Lena insisted that I eat some, "In Africa, we share."  And then she told me that eating too much KFC would give you worms.  I asked if she knew that KFC was American.  She didn't.  

 Tourchy asked if I wanted to see her laptop yesterday, and then she showed me this.  It was too cute to not take a picture.

 

My host mother insisted that I try liver tonight.  She has offered it to me before, and I just could not do it.  But today I did, because she said, “This is liver.  You must try it.”  At first, I thought it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be- it’s not nearly as tough as other traditional meat and the flavor was good, but the texture and the thought that it was liver got to me.  I gagged.  I’ve gotten really good at chewing something until I can’t handle it anymore, and then taking a big sip of water to swallow it.  Why couldn’t I do research in a vegetarian culture?  Why did I have to land someplace where they eat meat the way I drink water?

The city also turned off the water today.  Apparently they do it frequently, and it’s the third or fourth time they’ve done it since I’ve been here.  And life just keeps going on.  

Kukumbe

Last night, I had a very long conversation with my host mother about the differences between Namibian weddings and American weddings.  The big differences- the couple starts at the front of the church, instead of the bride making a big entrance, there are usually 15-20 bridesmaids, people cheer, and (this part I’m not quite sure of) your namesake, who is traditionally on your father’s side, gives you a cow when you get married.  I’m not sure how or whether this translates into town-life, but my host family does not own any cows.  Unless their relatives in the village keep them?  This morning Patrina said when I get married, I must invite them. 

Anyway, we had spaghetti for dinner! My host mother put ketchup, what they call tomato sauce, on the table, but I ate it with traditional beef and green pepper sauce.  Together with potatoes and carrots, we could have been in the U.S.  Except, as we were having dinner, Patrina was telling me about different family members’ food preferences; Tourchy loves spaghetti, but Samuel doesn’t like it, or rice, or something else.  All Samuel likes is porridge, meat, cabbage, and kukumbe.  I said I have never heard of kukumbe, and she described it for me.  Innocent said that it was like an apple, except you cook it sometimes, but you can eat it raw.  Patrina said it wasn’t like an apple, it was hard and long like a carrot, but it was green.  I said I would have to try it some time, and I asked how to spell like- with a c or a k? They said c- C U, and I said like cucumber?  Patrina said What?

And then I realized- In Namibian English, the word cucumber would sound to me like kukumbe.  Patrina realized at the same time, and we all had a great laugh. 

I’m listening to my music as I write this- for the first time since the plane.  I’m in a great mood.  Dare I say this might be a turning point?

Daily Schedule

I feel a little bad that some of my updates have been less than chipper, but adjusting can be uncomfortable.  I  also realized today that I'm trying so hard not to offend people, and trying not to be a stereotypical American, that I'm making myself uncomfortable!  Maybe if I relax a little, I'll have a better time.

Today, while I had beautiful internet access, I caught up with some good friends and Africa travelers- and it did wonders for my mood!

Someone asked what it is I do all day, and after a week of traveling and meetings, I have finally settled into a schedule.  This week is a little odd, because my host father/supervisor is in Windhoek on business, but the following weeks will follow a similar rhythm.   


6:30 (ish) my host mother wakes me up, and the "lady" (housekeeper/babysitter) gives me buttered bread, super salty namibian eggs, and tea.  As I eat breakfast, I help my host sister finish her homework that she never finishes the night before


7:15- host mom & siblings & I leave the house, drop kids off at school (along super bumpy sandy roads and in the midst of traffic), and my host mom drops me off at work


8:00 work starts- right now I'm working on a grant proposal to hopefully get this organization more funding.  I try to lay the groundwork for research interviews, meet people, not commit social faux pas, and write papers for my summer credit/research

9:00- tea break

9:30- back to work.  I spend all day in the office, in the boss's chair no less, when other people are spinning and weaving.

12:00 lunch

4:00 the work day ends, people say good bye to me, and I stay enjoying the internet while I wait for my host mother to "knock off"- get off work- and pick me up.

5:30- host mother picks me up, we run errands- yesterday we bought groceries at Pick & Pay
If we get home quickly, I help the kids with homework or tell them about America or watch TV before dinner.

7:00- dinner, usually meat and traditional meal.  They still serve me with a plate and utensils they wouldn't use, and brush me aside every time I try to tell them this is unnecessary

8:00- shower, say good night, and go to bed.  This is quite early for me, and I always think that I will get more unpacking/rearranging done or some other work, but I'm always super tired and go to bed!

Interspersed throughout the day are intercultural interactions and questions that I've partially included in other blogs.

What is your mother tongue?

Do you live at your mother's house?  Why do you call it your house if it is her house?
Do you know how to drive?  What's your traditional dress?  In America, what is your traditional food?  Do you have DSTV in America?  Is this what your winter is like?

Since I am the first American many Namibians have met, they ask me a lot of questions.  A lot of them are easy, but yesterday in two different contexts I was asked about American traditions.  Both times, I bumbled through a very lengthy answer, because while we have American traditions, they are not universal nor very old.  Native Americans have differing traditions, but they are not a complete representation of American tradition.  Every immigrant brings tradition, but they change and merge with others.  There are certainly practices that come from American culture, but I hesitate to call them traditions.  It's not a very satisfying answer.   


The person who asked about traditional dress showed me a picture of the Queen of England and asked if that was my traditional dress.  Sort of, but not really.  

Updates

Just a little sample of Ondangwa- it's a city of 35,000 people, but it's very spread out.  This is a Chinese-owned mall (Namibians are very quick to tell you that China Shops are poorly managed), but I just like that they called it Times Square.  

 Me, my host family, and Georgia outside their home.

Also, in Oshivambo, when people talk others often respond with an eh or a mhm, kind of like a yeah or ok or I see in English.  It's much easier for me to pick that up than actual words!

What was I thinking?

This is a long one, but I have a lot to say!

It came time for Georgia to go to her hotel room and for me to go home with Samuel, my host and supervisor for the next month.  All of a sudden I was incredibly nervous about spending the night with a Namibian family. I had no idea what to expect.  Georgia suggested that I spend the night at the hotel, to give Samuel time to prepare.  She was my savior until Samuel said that his children were excited to meet me, and that they were prepared for me.  And so we left, making awkward small talk.  My anxiousness grew as we drove off the paved road onto a very bumpy sand road, past metal shacks and bush and fields of kids playing soccer. 

We drove up to a tile and concrete house, and parked.  The yard was completely sand, because everything is sand here.  Once inside, the house seemed perfectly comfortable.  Samuel showed me my room, and mentioned they had polished it for me.  It smelled like fresh paint, and I was sure that they had.  It seemed like he was a little uncomfortable with the room, but it was fine for me- honestly, I’m used to a dorm room, and this is not far from it.  Later, his wife made a point of showing me that both the wardrobe and the door had locks for me to use.  I hope they did not install locks just for me, because if I don’t trust my possessions in their house, I really should not trust my life or stomach there either.  I don’t want to seem like I don’t trust them, because I do.

Anyway, the kids came home, and I met them.  There is a boy, Innocent, who is 9.  The girl, Lanternia, who is 8, had to write down her name before I could begin to pronounce it correctly.  Luckily, they both have nicknames- Morning and Tourchy, respectively.   After awhile Patrina, Samuel’s wife came home and I met her as well.  They are all very nice, and speak English.  The kids are more comfortable with it, but everyone can communicate.

I showed them the pictures I had brought of snow and my family, and they all gathered around me to see.  They can’t imagine the cold, but they put on blankets for 50 degree weather, and they do not heat their homes.  I gave them my gifts- maybe syrup for everyone, a piece of pink woven fabric for the girl, and a football picture frame for the boy.  I had to explain everything, but the girl put the fabric on, the boy put his picture in the frame, and the maple syrup is half gone the next day.

They sat me down to tell me that they had discussed my living with them as a family, and that they welcomed me into their home with all their hearts.  I am free, and should not feel shy or weird about things, because we are all people.  Just thinking how Samuel said it, with such depth and sincerity and ceremony, warms my heart.  Samuel also said he had met an American Peace Corps volunteer who did not eat meat, and asked if there were foods that I did not eat. 

They served me first, starting with a bowl of steaming hot water with towels on the floor.  It must be polite to serve your guest first, but it’s a lot less embarrassing when you can copy what other people are doing instead of admitting that you have no idea what to do.  Somehow I washed my hands, and then they gave me a plate and flatware as Patrina told me she was giving me a knife and fork, for the way I eat.  I soon realized that they eat their traditional porridge and beef with their hands- some food is easier to eat by hand.  In the end, I just ended up getting my hands AND silverware all full of food.  I spent half the meal trying to figure out how to eat the fatty part, and wondering how wise this whole Africa trip really was. 

Patrina also made a point to show me where the toilet was.  Samuel asked if they should prepare my bath water, and I said no- more out of a desire not to put them to any trouble than not wanting to bathe.  That gave me the impression that they did not have running water.  Well, that and the fact that the house and everything around it was built on sand. 

I was dreading the moment when I would have to use the toilet.  I went to my room, with a inner monologue of, “I’m a terrible person and I have too many things.  I’m a terrible person and I have too many things.”  There incredibly nice people had gone to such lengths to welcome me, and I was so uncomfortable.  They painted my room, bought locks, and bent over backwards.  Only Samuel has met an American before; they had never had one in their home.  I have a grant to pay for room and board, but I don’t know how much to give them because I have no idea what things cost, but I for sure do not want them to spend money on me.  They would never ask for any compensation.  I obviously have so much more stuff than they do, it’s embarrassing. 

What was I thinking?  To waltz into Namibia, with only the slightest of knowledge of it?  I do not know the language, customs, normal living conditions.  I was so naïve, and so brazen and arrogant to think of this experience as intercultural and educational.  It certainly will be educational- an education in how silly and rash I can be. 

Before dinner, Lanternia and Innocent taught me some basic phrases in Oshivambo.  Looking over them makes me feel better.  First nights are usually the roughest.  

Driving North

On Friday, we left Okahandja and drove 6 hours north to Ondangwa, where we had meetings with the cooperatives that I will be researching and will be working with.  Before we drove north, while it was obvious that we were in a developing country, I was surprised at how western and developed my experience had been.  This changed on the way north- at first, I was excited about seeing the wildlife.  In a six hour drive, we saw warthogs, springbok, HUGE termite mounds, eagles, guinea fowl, meerkats, and baboons.  As we were driving along the highway, we just drove past at least 15 baboons chillin in the bush- I just could not get over that.  This is not a very good picture, but we were driving at 120 kph, and I SAW  WILD BABOONS!

We also spent our first rand here, and got Namibian dollars for change.  One U.S. dollar is roughly 8 Namibian, but seeing $120 on a menu can be startling nonetheless. 

There is a line that divides the most northern part of the country from the southern part.  It’s supposedly the hoof-and-mouth line- cattle south of the line have been cleared and are allowed to be sold regionally, but cattle north of the line have not.  However, this line also marks the northernmost point where Germans settled- they never got as far as Ondangwa.  This line also demarks the old homelands instituted during Apartheid- blacks could not cross it.  I’ve heard subtle suggestions that the hoof-and-mouth line is more for socio-political purposes than for health. 

North of this line is the Africa I expected- dry and dusty, with men driving cattle and metal shacks rising out of the bush.  This is where the majority of the Namibian population lives, on less than $2 a day.  

Welcome to Namibia!

We landed in Namibia yesterday!  We’re taking some time to meet business aquantances of my professor, and tomorrow we will drive to Ondangwa, where I will spend the next month working with the cooperative. 

When we landed, a friend of Georgia’s met us and made small talk.  He insisted that chicken and pork are vegetables- and then handed us biltong, below.  It's like jerky, but less processed.   

The country is beautiful, even though it's winter here.  Our travel has been really interesting, because our business acquaintances are Afrikaans, so we hear their stories and perspectives on history.  They speak English, though Afrikaans is their native tongue, and are descended from Dutch, French, and German settlers.  I'm surprised at how western my experience has been- the home we stayed in could have been in Arizona, and the family dog is really cute.  American television and music are everywhere.  Of course, many things are different- they drive on the right, and people walk and hitch hike way more than in the states.  

I can't believe this is real

My journey to Namibia this summer has begun, and this entire this happened so fast that I don’t think I developed realistic explanations.  Please forgive any poor writing- I am severely jet lagged.

In the midst of preparing for Africa (passport? Malaria meds? Shoes? Backpack? Yellow fever vaccine?), somehow I did not spend much time thinking about the actual experience of the journey.  I did not think much about living in another culture.  What was I thinking?

After an 8 hour flight to Frankfurt, and being mistaken for someone who speaks German several times, as I was puzzling over a German menu, I realized that I was in for a serious intercultural experience.  When I ordered iced Kaffee and received a cup of coffee and a cup of ice, I realized how silly my oversight was.

When I boarded the next plane and sat down, this was outside my window:

When I saw the South African Airways logo, modeled after the South African flag, I got excited about the journey for the first time.  Before, I had been nervous and preoccupied with getting the details taken care of.  It hit me- I’m going to South Africa, completely by accident.

After a ten hour flight, during which I learned that I kind of like turbulence, because it breaks up the monotony of a plane ride, we LANDED IN JOHANNESBURG SOUTH AFRICA!

Willie and Karin (pronounced Villie and Karn), some of Georgia’s business acquaintances, met us at the airport and took us to the guest house in Pretoria where we would spend our only night in South Africa.  We ended up spending the day with them.  After a brief rest, we went to a museum on Afrikaans history followed by the national botanical gardens and dinner at their house.  It was lovely.  It took me a few minutes to understand their accents, but both of them were very nice people (into essential oils and plants, so I felt comfortable).  I tried to get into the driver side of the car because I forgot they drive on the left, and at every intersection I thought we would go the exact opposite direction that we did.

South Africa is gorgeous, and I wish I had more time to spend here.  More updates to come!

I believe eastern Pretoria, at least from where I was standing on the monument.

 The view of Pretoria from the monument.

What? Namibia?

In April, one of my professors asked me if I wanted to do research with her in Africa this summer.  I said yes, of course.  That turned into me spending 5 weeks in northern Namibia (Ondangwa) researching the impact of fair trade cooperatives on women’s empowerment (sense of efficacy).  I will be living with the director of the Dorkambo Teppiche Cooperative, WEBSITE, and interning with them as well.  Hopefully, I will help write a grant (super helpful experience if I go into NGO or nonprofit work).

My professor, Georgia, also does business in fair trade oils, sourced from all over the world, but primarily from Africa.  She will travel with me from Chicago to Namibia, drop me off, and travel to do business while I do research.  I’m super excited, and it doesn’t seem real!

I’ll be using this blog to keep in touch with friends and family, and to reflect on my experiences.  Hopefully I don’t lose steam half way through. 

Quoteables...

I wanted a place to keep track of all the cool things that I experience during my travels.  So far, there are a few quoteables about my travels...

" you're going to Africa...nerves are so expected, even encouraged by many haha. but one you get there...you'll ease in"- my classmate Kidan, when 

chatting about our near miss layovers on our flights out to Namibia and Cameroon.


On my last day working at the Pan-African Association in Chicago, my supervisor (who is from Sierra Leon), cautioned me, "You'd better be careful, visiting Africa. Once you go, your heart may never come back."


"You're putting your parents through the wringer on this little Uganda jaunt, ehh?" -my travel doctor


"Where are you going?  Ghana?" -Asad, Claire, Marlee, all separately.


"In Africa, we share." -Leena, my translator, encouraging me to have some KFC.


"Did you know KFC is American?" "No.  But I've heard eating too much of it can give you worms." -every conversation I've had at KFC in Namibia


"Us African boys, we eat only one meal a day." -Erastus, my coworker at the wool cooperative.   


"Uganda?!? That's real Africa.  Why would you want to go there?" -Charl, a Namibian