Namibia and Back - from July 2012

The animals actually come in groups, then when another group 

comes, the first group leaves. 

I'm on likizo, vacation. In Tz we get two 6 week school vacations, in July-August and December-January. I was invited back to Ghana to visit friends, so purchased a ticket for July 6. I went into Dar to get new pages for my passport and to fix my visa for Ghana. The border guys are starting to complain there's not enough room for stamps, and it pays to keep those guys happy.I know this from personal experience, having gone the other way on a few occasions.



I usually stay at the Safari Inn, it's a dump, but it's cheap, the staff is friendly, and it's near everything I need to be near to. I didn't book far enough in advance, and they were full so I called my alternate dump, Jambo Inn, conveniently located around the corner from Safari. Full also. Hamna shida, I got online and found the New Bondeni Inn, farther from town and about twice the price.

forgot the name

When I got there it was bigger and a little cleaner, but not 23,000 ths better (about 14 USD). I got to the room and was still unimpressed, although there was a TV. It was late afternoon and there wasn't much to do, so I decided to rest and catch up on some TV, perhaps a movie. The first channel was soccer. Usually in Dar you get from 5 to 10 channels, many of which are sports or Hindu soap operas. So I switched the channel and found out why this dump was so much more expensive. Free porn.

Cheetah

I'm old enough to have seen most things by now, and I'm rarely surprised, but I have to tell you, this was a surprise. Not the porn itself, but the body parts being used . I had no idea that the human foot was so versatile. Just for research I watched for a bit, and I just don't get it. After dinner I turned on the TV again, hoping for a movie, but it must have been some kind of foot fetish marathon. I will say this, she had beautiful feet, little stars tattoed on her big toes, a great pedicure. I looked down at my village feet and decided not to quit my day job.

Outdoor coffee house. German coffee is strong enough to

straighten your hair. You should have seen the looks I got 

as I doctored my coffee so I could drink it without my eyeballs

popping out.

Even less endearing than the free porn was the shower water, which I noticed smelled like sewer water. It was a short shower. The next morning as I left for the Embassy I told the receptionist about the water. I was trying to be delicate about it, she was such a sweet, polite little thing, so I just said the water smelled bad. So she looked up at me with her innocent face and asked me " It smells like sheet?"  Yes, exactly like sheet. She assured me they would either fix it before I got back or switch my room.

Amazing dunes on the walk. Pictures just don't do it justice.

I went to do battle with the Embassy and came back to find they had switched my room. The water no longer smelled like sheet but the Dr Scholls Porn A Thon was still going on. They seemed to have come to the end of their repertoire though. I guess, in the end, there's only so much you can do with a foot.

Sossouvlei is a big basin of dead trees, very beautiful, but

again, you had to be there.

Trying to get to Ghana proved more difficult than I had anticipated. First they want a letter of invitation, even for a two week visit. These guys are severe. Many countries will give you a 90 day stamp on arrival. Ghana has a whole laundry list of stupid crap they want you to do. So about two days before I was to depart I got fed up and decided to go to Namibia, which will give a stamp on entry.

We took a 6 km walk to a place called Sossouvlei, probably

my favorite part of the trip.

Namibia was wonderful. First, it's the cleanest place I've ever seen. Namibia was colonized by the Germans, and it looks like pictures I've seen of the Alps. No kidding. As I had come on the spur of the moment I had no idea what to do first, so I talked to folks and got some ideas. People are usually happy to tell you the best places to go. I spent the first night in the capital city, Windhoek, and travelled the next day to Swakopmund, which is on the beach. More surprising than the cleanliness was the cold. It's winter below the Equator, and I was so cold I had to go buy warm clothes. This was easy to do as Swakopmund is a tourist town and has malls and coffee shops and German bakeries...

These trees are hundreds of years old, but because of the

climate, are not decaying.

Found a nice hotel for 380 ND. The rate is 8 to 1 in my favor so I had a great room with a shower AND a tub, plus coffee in the room, and a TV. No porn though, just movies.
So I spent a few days relaxing, taking tours, eating pastry and meat, and taking baths. Then back to Windhoek for an actual safari. All this time in Africa and I finally went on a safari. It was great. I went with this company called Wild Dog Tours and we camped and went to see the animals, and the desert. Namibia is mostly desert.

Swakopmund beach

Some differences between Namibia and Tz

Swakopmund hotel.

1. Clean streets. It's as if little elves come out at night and sweep the entire town. There's also rubbish bins, which are lacking in Tz.
2. A bus with 14 seats takes only 14 passengers. This same bus in Tz would carry 35 people, plus luggage and assorted wildlife.
3. Delicious bread, cakes, anything bakeable. I did my best to work my way through all the carbs on offer. You'd be proud.
4. Pathological punctuality,  the polar opposite of Tz, which is pathologically late.
5. Drinkable water. I was told, but unable to actually drink it. I've been trained like a lab rat to steer clear of tap water and cant bring myself to use it.
6. Chewable meat, tender and juicy rather than hockey puck hard.
7. Price tags. Very little bargaining done here, and never in the stores.

Desert rock. These particular rocks have a high iron content 

and clang like pots when you bang them together. They also 

decay

The only problem I had was with my American bank. This is the second time the Bank of America has denied my card. The first time was when I got to Tz. I told them before I left America to expect transactions from Africa, as I would be living there, yet they denied me my own money. When I finally reached them, and it wasn't easy, they said there was suspicious activity from Africa. Where I live. I reminded them of this and they pressed a button and all was ok. So like an idiot I thought this would carry over to my vacation. Nope. Denied again, and after some tine, and about 300 ND, I got an actual person on the phone who said there was suspicious activity on my card from, you guessed it, Africa. That night at my hotel I overheard, then joined in on a conversation with other travelers about their own personal banking horror stories. From what I heard, Chase Manhattan is worse than BofA. Nothing better than my bank protecting me from myself. Time to change banks, but from what I heard in Namibia it won't be any better anywhere else. I'd be better stashing it under my mattress.

Love the name. These guys need to learn to let go. 

So I'm back in Berega again, where the water is salty, the meat is tough, the buses overcrowded and everyone is late. It's good to be home.

finally saw lions. They're actually reclusive so this was a good day.

Pelican catching a fish.

About 20,000 seals live here.

Swakopmund beach

Downtown Swakopmund. Namibia has been described as

Africa for beginners. I have to agree. Bit it's a nice place to

visit.

The wildebeasts leave, the zebras come. Amazing how 

orderly nature is.

L

Door Number Three

Sometime in the 60's there was a game show called Let's Make a Deal, hosted by Monty Hall. Anyway, contestants vied for the chance to win prizes. They could choose a prize on stage, or one of three prizes hidden behind doors numbered 1, 2 and 3. One door would be a fabulous prize, a cruise, or a car. Another door would be a good prize, but not the great prize, maybe a washer or furniture. The third prize was a joke, frequently it was a mule with a hat, or a pile of old tires.

Contestants would agonize over their choices,"Do I take the sofa or go for the mystery door? It could be a car, but then it could be a mule." Personally I always went with the mystery door. I figured if I showed up with nothing, even a mule with a hat was an improvement. It took me years to figure out that the mule and the tires never actually left the studio, a rip off if you ask me.

You're wondering if there's a point here. Every Friday we have a review test. I divide the first grade into two or three groups, depending on class size that day. We have team captains and team names. Dani is captain of Manchester (Berega is rabidly pro Manchester), Mbuli leads the Lions, and Vicent heads up Brazil.

Showing off math tests. Everyone passed, 

70% or better. Mbuli got 100%.

We have math drills, spelling tests, fill in the letter... and all the kids score points. At the end the winners get prizes. For our first contest I spent a good while gathering books, blocks, jump ropes, cards, all the stuff I figured they'd like. I had them all attractively displayed, showing them off like an aged Vanna White. There were also some pencils, pencil sharpeners, small stuff just in case.




I forgot who won the first game, but every kid picked a pencil and sharpener, except Jenny who took a jump rope. And I think she only did it because she felt sorry for me pimping the good prizes while everyone went for the mule with the hat. Go figure. Manchester won last week, and they went nuts, jumping around, hollering, holding up their erasers like Olympic Gold medals. The week before it was madaftali (exercise books).

Biker baby. Note lack of helmet, also lack of supervision. 

Growing up we had a junk drawer in the kitchen, I'm sure there's one in every First World house. Pencils, erasers, tablets, scissors, you name it, it's there. But as it's a junk drawer, it's all entwined with old shoelaces, so sometimes it's not worth untangling everything to get to a paperclip. Point being there was a place to find all the piddly things you needed.

Two kids checking out their reflection in the chrome bumper 

of our car. I wonder if they knew it was them.

Lunchtime. We used to eat inside

 on the tables but what a mess.

No junk drawers here, or drawers for that matter. If kids needs school supplies,  they have to hope Mama or Baba or Bibi will cough up 100-250 shillings (6 to 17 cents respectively). Some parents buy supplies, some don't. So this is why they pick the mule, because for them, it's the car. Freddy dropped his pencil down the choo last week, so now he shares a pencil with his mom (one of my adult students).

Kids choir practicing for Sunday.

I try not to give out free supplies, I just don't have enough, plus if I give a pencil to Freddy, Mzee wants one... But only the winning team gets prizes, so I try to move the kids around each week so everyone gets a chance. Sometimes the kids who don't win sit at their table and cry, which is tough to watch cause it's just a mule. Like a Massai who measures wealth by by the size of his herd, for us it's school supplies. Jenny walked up to me the other day and said, "Teacher, I have 2 pencils now."  I'm not in Kansas anymore, that's for damn sure.




Some of the kids have to wait a week or longer for mom or dad to give up the money. So we've gotten creative, when the exercise book is finished, we flip through and find half pages and empty spots and use them for our practice tests. I suspect that most of the parents have the 250 tsh, but they figure if they wait, I'll take care of it. Which, in essence, I do, but the kids have to work for it.




The world is the world, we have some parents who are actively involved in their kids progress, and others who think it's entirely up to the teachers. And a kid's progress is directly proportional to the degree of involvement. Like everywhere.

the same.

So get ready to empty your junk drawers, and don't be shy, even small pencils are good, the kids have small hands. We import lots of things from China, the current country denuding Africa of it's resources in the name of friendship and development. I'm sure China has some good products, they just don't send them here. Chinese pencils are garbage. They must use broken lead pieces, which is why you can sharpen a pencil down to the chewed up eraser in about two days.

Atukuswe. He's only three, and not a student, 

but he shows up at lunchtime and eats his share. 

Mom is probably at the farm. 

My friend Jeannie in Michigan is a tutor and sent me a bunch of books. Thanks Jeannie. I was looking at an ESL book and one chapter was about "How we get Bananas" Very interesting. It mentions the bananas being picked, packed, sent, displayed, bought, all the way to the actual eating, a good English lesson. I had to laugh because that's not how we get our bananas here. What usually happens is during Math or English I might see a woman walk by the school with about 200 bananas in a basket balanced on her head. At that point I go to the window and ask "Mama, unauza?" (are you selling?) If the answer is ndiyo, she walks in and I buy them right there. much simpler. I may use the same ESL book format for class, but will substitute batteries or pencils from China.

Teacher Martha giving Kiswahili test.

So, if you'd like to empty your junk drawer, I'd like to receive all your junk. There's a saying here, hamna ni takataka, nothing is garbage. Send all your mules and tires to Brad Logan MD, Director, Hands4Africa.Inc,13046 RaceTrack Rd., Suite 242,Tampa, Fl. 33626. He can bring them on his next trip, which is Aug 8. Thanks.




The kids. Vicent and Jackie are starting to show signs of, if not superior intelligence, at least an ability to learn. I was worried for a bit, it's not easy for orphans. I don't see them becoming doctors or CEOs, but there's no reason they can't do just fine. When I asked Vicent what he wants to do when he grows up, he said he wants to herd goats. So fine, but maybe he can learn enough be a very savvy goat herder. Little Gile just turned five and she's crazy smart. She's  flying through the work. She's a hoot because she's our smallest kid but she's got a voice like Betty Davis. Sounds like she's been a pack a day smoker for all her (short) life. She's one of our scholarship kids, and I'm so glad we have her.

Gile on her birthday, complete with beads, 

earrings, fancy dress and eyebrow pencil.

Enrollment is up to 26 now, from six when we started in Jan of 2011. We got five new kids this month. One is a 12 year old we had to start in preschool. He's an orphan and hasn't been to school in about two years. He knows nothing, but he will. Martha will teach him, because Martha rocks. She's so patient, and they learn so much from her. Two hours with the preschoolers and I want to poke my eyes out. I take them in the afternoon when it's mostly games.




Have added papaya to the lunch menu, once a week, hopefully more later. And double the veggies with their beans and ugali. Just so you know, when you put twenty six kids in a room after lunch, at any given moment three will be passing gas. Just so you know.

L

Poultricide in Africa

Fowl wise, May was a good month for me. Jenny Abduli and Blandina's parents each gave me a chicken. It's a big deal, and I'm grateful. On the other hand, have you ever watched someone saw the head off a chicken?

For most of us meat comes  cleaned, wrapped, gutted and featherless. We remove ourselves from the actual homicide, no guilt, no lingering mental images of cows and goats pleading for their lives, just tasty legs and thighs. Not here. It's hand to hand combat in Africa, if you want meat, you either kill it yourself or go to Monday Market and have the nyama guy hack off a hunk he's got hanging from a tree, flies buzzing around above and skinny dogs hanging around below. Neither of which I find overly appetizing.

I've mentioned the African Nine Step Program, how it applies to all aspects of life here in the village.

Here's how we do Colonel Sanders in Berega.

1. Chase down the chicken.




2. Lay it down and stand on its wings and feet



3. Pluck some neck feathers right where you plan to make your incision.






4. Dig a small hole in the ground to catch the blood that will all too soon be gushing from its stump.




5. Hold the chicken by the head with one hand and commence sawing with the other.






6. Hold the neck over the hole as its life blood oozes into the dirt.



7. Remain standing on the wings for a bit while your dinner twitches and seizes
8. Tuck the headless neck under the wing for transport to the pot.




9. Immerse in hot water






10. Remove and pluck.






11. Cut off feet and gut chicken, saving all the choice bits for your friends. (Mbuli likes the liver)






That's two extra steps, but I just opened an account at Barclay's Bank and it only took four trips to town, so it evens out over time.




That's how Chenai and Mbuli, Ruth's sons, killed my bird. The only problem was after they finished the gory little episode I couldn't eat it, and I gave it to Teacher Martha.

That's what happened to Blandina's chicken. Jenny Abduli's chicken is still happily pecking around in Ruth's yard. When I get a chicken I board it at Ruth's, as she has chickens and I have no idea how to care for one. Also I have no other chickens, and I think they're happier in a group. But fortunately for Jenny's chicken, the last killing was traumatic enough that it may live a good while, it may even die of old age.

In the meantime, I eat eggs, although a village egg can be just as traumatic. Sometimes it doesn't look or smell like an egg when you crack it, and sometimes there's pieces of the baby chick inside. In Ghana, the chickens were fed fish meal and they smelled and tasted like fish. 
And the yolks were white. I think I ate 3 eggs the entire seven months I lived at that orphanage.
I eat lots of fruit and vegetables. I can still get parasites, but I don't have to stand on a mango as it flaps around in its death throes.

This may be the most ridiculous blog I've written. But then, in Africa you can go from sublime to ridiculous at light speed.

Strange but true, I have begun eating small lumps of ugali. I know I said I never would, but by lunch time at school sometimes I'm just too hungry. What I do like is the greens, Mama Dani makes good greens. So I put some greens on a   small bit of ugali and it's ok. It has no real taste of it's own, so it's just a means to get the greens into my mouth. It's very filling though, a little goes a long way. But then it reconstitutes in my descending colon and there it stays. Something to remember the next time I'm planning a long bus trip.


The kids are great. You should hear them reading English and Kiswahili. Spelling is still an issue, but slowly they improve. English is a ridiculous language. The rules make no sense, and things don't sound like they look. Ough has six sounds, and I dread the day I introduce it to the kids. Then there's silent letters, if it's going to be silent, why use it in the first place? I never really thought about all this crap until I started teaching,

Martha teaches the preschool in the morning, while I teach English and Math to the Standard 1 kids. We switch after lunch. She does a great job, the little guys are chattering away in English, and narcing off all the kids who slip into Kiswahili or Kaguru.

The school year ends in December, so by January we will have preschool, St.1 and St.2. We're going to need a Standard 2 teacher, o yeah, and a classroom. I'm less worried about the classroom, it's a small class and we will find a place, we can use my house if we have to. The teacher is going to be another matter. Anyone interested? I'm beginning the search now, things take time here. But it's a sweet deal.

There's a free place to live, a stipend, plane fare, lots of perks. Electricity and running water (cold, but running). And freedom. Africa will let you do almost anything you want. All you have to do is say you will. The folks here are just great, very welcoming. They'll even kill your chickens for you, and you can't ask for much more than that. The food isn't all that tasty, and it's the same thing all the time, but you don't have to worry about your weight. Hard to get fat when there's nothing tempting and the cookies taste like pesticide.

I'm trying to give an honest assessment of life here, I wouldn't want anyone to think they've been conned. It's good and bad, like everywhere, but definitely more good. The monkeys have been raiding the shambas and stealing the maize, but that won't be a problem for you. Living in Africa is definitely a positive experience.

So if anyone is interested, let me know. I can talk you through how to get here,what you need, what you don't. Oreos, dental floss, maybe a knife sharpener.

Christina got sent home the other day for telling Freddy "kuma kwako" which is Kiswahili for the C word. We had her go home and bring back her mom, who asked to speak to some witnesses (the entire class). Than she asked Dani to go out and select a likely looking stick so she could beat the daylights out of Chris. She was hoping to do it in front of the class, as an example, but I insisted she beat her outside the school, so she said she'd wait till after work. I can't believe some of the conversations I have here.

L

Ze Lain in Spain

Don't know the name of this bird, but it's a beaut.

In case you didn't know, and even if you don't care, R and L are not interchangeable. In Tz, and other parts of the world, people have difficulty saying and apparently hearing the two sounds. To them, either one is ok. I've seen people spell their OWN name using either one on different days. It's been me against them in this vicious consonant war, but I will prevail, despite being the only person in Berega who can differentiate between rock and lock. 





This is a true story.

A few years ago Carlee and I were at our favorite, actually only, bar in Kyela, a little border town between Tz and Malawi. We were having a cold Safari, which comes in a larger than usual bottle as well as having a larger than usual alcohol content. So we were happy girls and more than ready for a guffaw or two. Our friend Gody, Zambian by birth but living in Tz, was busy ignoring us and engrossed in the newspaper, so we weaved over and asked him what was so interesting.

Gody: I'm reading an article in my home newspaper.

Me: What's it about??

Gody: Zambias big erection.


Me: Oh really, that IS interesting, and what about it?

Gody: Well, its going to be a very big erection, and everybody will come from all over Zambia.

Me: Well I imagine they will. I might even go.

Gody: Everyone is talking about it, it's very exciting. It's a very important erection.

Me. I guess so.

Well this went on for a bit, he dug himself in deeper and deeper, egged on by us two giggling half drunk wazungu. After a while I dried the tears from my eyes, and attempted to explain that he was actually talking about an election, but as he doesn't hear the difference between r and l, he never caught on, and village folks dont like to talk about sex, so I gave up. l also never found out any more about Zambias giant erection, although I hope all went well.

We have a spelling test everyday, and I begin by saying a word, after which the kids ask me to repeat it about five times, until Teacher Baraka says it. He has the same accent they do, so if I say hop, he says hope, and they spell. But if these kids hope (or hop) to go on to university, they're going to have to get this straightened out. People with good jobs making good money have had to do it, and so they will as well. I expect a lot, but being here would be pointless if I didn't.

As well as the r and l issue, Tanzanians are totally incapable of ending a word on a consonant. I am Teacha Lizzi, look is pronounced and spelled ruku, hip is heepu, rat is lati. We've been studying letter combinations and have started with sh, which they get, but can't spell ship or sheep unless I translate first into Kiswahiki. " Teacha Lizzie, sheep meli or sheep kondoo?" (boat or lamb).

This and these are turning into a real migraine, from either end. Both come out like zeez. I feel like such a hardass sometimes, but they asked for a native speaker so this is what happens.
The kids with English speaking parents do better, but everyone is catching on slowly, even Samweli is improving. He doesn't spit on me anymore when he says TH, for which I am grateful. It helps that his front teeth have grown in.

Vicent getting his picture taken with the WV soccer ball. 

Normally no kid has a ball, they make them from plastic bags

and twine. I like them, they don't pop.

Last week the kids were all squirmy and excited about old division. I'd never heard of it, and frankly we're having enough trouble with two digit addition and subtraction. Shouldn't we add first, then maybe subtract, then divide? Is there new division? So I asked Teacher Baraka, our volunteer third teacher, but then his accent is thicker than the kids (he's had it longer). After much discussion, I found out that old division is World Vision.They have a chapter here, down the road a mile or two, and occasionally give the kids stuff. 

Signing up for their zawadi (gift).

Over half our kids are helped by Old Division, not financially but with needed items. Sometimes school supplies, or food. After it became obvious I wasn't going to get anywhere teaching, I asked Abdallah to drive us down to Mgugu School so we could collect our stuff and move on with our day. They were so cute, so excited, visions of exercise books and pencils dancing in their little heads.





A big crowd had gathered, the kids  showed their Old Division ID cards, and had their pictures taken with a soccer ball. Then they gave each kid a container of body oil and we went home. The kids looked like Ralphie on A Christmas Story when got a pink bunny suit from his aunt. I asked if this is what usually happens, and they said WV was good while they were actually here, but they are gone, and now the local people in charge sell off most of the stuff or give it to their friends and family then give the kids just a small portion of their intended loot.

Sick kid at giveaway, we took him to the hospital when we 

returned to school.

They weren't blaming WV, they just said that everything is corrupt here, and so they don't complain. Besides, who would they complain to, and if they did, maybe they wouldn't even get the oil.This just strengthens my belief that large organizations, while trying to do a good thing, just get too big to manage. When all the people who work for an NGO start driving around in fat white Land Rovers, you know the money is finding other destinations.

Note girl with orange hair. Not a fashion statement, this is a 

sign of malnutrition.

Small organizations, while they do smaller projects, and have less money and don't go on TV trying to guilt you out of money by showing pictures of emaciated kids with flies in their eyes, are more conscientious with your money. It's all well and good to put thousands of kids in school, but if the school is so bad that less than 10% of the kids pass, what's the point? Better to work on the school itself. All my evening students finished Standard 7 but didn't go on because they didn't pass. This is the reality here, so why not focus on improving the system rather than adding more kids to a class that already has over 100 kids crowded into one room? That's been sticking in my throat for a while, it's a relief to get it out.

Went to Mikumi with my adult class. Philipo,Amon,Abdallah 

and Frank.

We've been having a problem with parents not paying school fees. Christina and Susy are in St 1, nice kids, but very poor and definitely hungry. Susy's shoes are about worn through, and the heels are gone.They eat their uji every morning, then sit patiently waiting for the kids who can't finish theirs to pass it over. Then for lunch they eat theirs, the littler kids leftovers, and whatever is left in the food bucker Mama Dani brings.

Happy, Esther, Aissa,Teacher Martha and Jeska

Suzy's mom owes 385,000 ths and Chris's mom owes 270,000 tsh. Isaac and I sat down with the moms to try to figure something out. Mama Susy (s and z also interchangeable), makes 30,000 tsh monthly and Mama Chris makes about 65,000 tsh. She has 5 kids and Mama Susy has 4. I asked them how they figured they could make those payments, they said they hoped to try. But the math just doesn't work (it can't), so they owe big. They also don't always eat in the evening, which is why C and S hoover up all they can at school. But they're good kids so we're keeping them.

Zebras aren't small, so imagine the size of this giraffe. 

After much discussion it was decided that the families would sweep both classrooms every day, and clean both choos. They will mop every Friday. I'm too happy about this, I still pay, but we're getting something done in return. The mamas are happy as well, and hopefully they can buy more food for the house. It also explains why the kids never complain about the monotonous menu, they're too hungry to care. They're lucky girls, though, lots of kids here live like this and don't get school lunch.

The park roads were rocky and twisty so we had no idea

how long we drove on this, but we found it when we 

left the park. 

A friend of mine just wrote and said sometimes he doesn't believe what I write. But then he's never been to the Third World. Long ago, I worked in an Alzheimer's Unit, and here are similarities. Some things are sad, some things are funny (because you might as well laugh), and some things just don't make sense. But it's all true. You can't make this stuff up, so, you just go along with it, because you have to. Like the time one of my patients walked up to me and said "Dear, this is such a lovely boat".

Guys all over the world. One fixes, all the others stand 

around and watch.

L