This is the end. This is the beginning.

This is the end. This is the beginning.

 

I have changed. Maybe it’s not abundantly apparent, but I can feel it in my chest as I go about my day. I feel older and more realistic. I lack trust in others. I notice different details in my surroundings, little things that are beautiful in their simplicity. And finally, I would not say that I am broken, but I think that I have lost my general positivity about the world.

 

I’m an idealist at heart. I look at all the good in a person and tend to ignore the bad; embellishing their strengths perhaps a wee bit further than reality. I do this with all the world. And when it finally sinks in that someone or something isn’t living up to my expectations, it is quite literally devastating.

 

I’m having a hard time coming to terms with this new earth I’m seeing; this earth outside of my village. Of course, nothing is really new at all, but for me it is. I’ve started to allow all the pain to rush in and it hurts.

 

Our world is not inherently bad but neither is it good. It is everything all at once. To love it is to accept all of it. To hate it is to fall into darkness.

 

One might think my feelings are a product of my two years in the Peace Corps but I think it’s much more than that. If anything, my service is keeping that spark of joy burning, somewhere deep down.

 

Idealism is a powerful trait as a teacher and mentor. When my students see that I truly believe in them, they work harder and treat each other better. They feel encouraged and cared about. Naturally, some fall short, but I’m able to give them unlimited chances because I love them and have undying faith in their potential as young humans. I feel my influence. I feel my worth.

 

I live with the animals and the stars and the wind and am reminded daily of what beauty we have swirling all around us. It resonates peace. I will never lose this as long as I’m living because it is life itself. This gets me by, moment to moment, when I feel overwhelmed.

 

I feel legitimate fear about disconnecting from this little world where I have a purpose and the capability to brighten someone’s day. I fear leaving my friends who have supported me every step of this journey. I fear saying goodbye to my students who have become my own children; my pride and joy. I fear being swallowed up by the pain of the world.

 

Yet, I also feel that my life is calling out to me and that there is a path to follow. I can see a life filled with love and a career where I can continue to give to and nurture others.

 

Living abroad gives you a new perspective of what you came from and where you want to go. I feel gratitude like I never have before. I also feel loss at all the things I cannot change. It simultaneously causes joy and pain, but they say you can’t feel one without the other anyways. We should all seek to live every version of life that we can.

I am

What do you know about me?

 

my face

my voice

my passion

 

Do you know my type

or am I hard to categorize?

 

What do you see in me?

 

I’m beautiful

I’m scared

I’m free

 

Do you see our differences

or how we are the same?

 

What do you think about me?

 

I’m kind

I’m priveledged

I’m silly

 

Do you think that I am good

or bad?

 

What do you want from me?

 

my money

my body

my time

 

Do you need me

or can you help yourself?

October 2016

I’m taking this time to write a new blog post because

A.                It is overcast and beautiful which is sparing me the misery of the heat.

B.                 My mood has seemed to even out and I don’t feel so angry at the moment.  No one wants to read angry words.

Where am I right now?

I am in the staffroom on a Friday.  I don’t have any classes until the afternoon and I’ve prepared a listening activity for them that should keep their attention, more or less.  You see, learners in grade 10 have to take national exams and today is the first day of testing.  They are writing Entrepreneurship as I type this.  The rest of the school is fairly sedentary because they don’t want to get in trouble for disturbing the grade 10s on this important exam. 

This is all good and fine but I have the pleasure of teaching them in the afternoon…when the learners will be running wild and not want to listen to a word I say.  Many of the teachers at my school are out in meetings or workshops. The others are scrambling to prepare grade 10s for their examinations. 

The result?  I asked 9A how many lessons they had had that day and they told me 0.  We were at lesson 7 by that time.  This bothers me greatly because the learners don’t have the self-discipline to study in this free time.  Like I said.  They are wild. 

Let me clarify that I don’t really blame anyone for this situation.  It’s not like all of the teachers are sitting in the staffroom drinking beer and playing games.  We’re working.  And we care about the kids.  The circumstances just aren’t ideal.  In the US, there would be plenty of administrators taking the reigns on testing.  We don’t have that in the village schools.  Our principal is also a teacher.  We have one administrative worker.  These teachers are taking turns staying at school until 10 pm, including weekends, because the grade 10s are camping at the school and need supervisors.  I doubt our principal has been able to spend any time with his family this month because he never leaves.

So, the circumstances.  It causes me so much frustration and yet I have to find a way to make it work.  I have to keep my learner’s attention however I can.  Unfortunately, Alice in Wonderland isn’t as fun for them as it is for me.  After 1 paragraph, I have to go around the room to wake up about 5 boys who don’t find the lesson to be worth their time.  A lot of it is their lack of comprehension, I'm sure.

Did I mention it is hot?  Yeah, it’s hot.  You try to stay awake when it’s 100 degrees and there’s no such thing as air conditioning.  I can’t be angry with them.  I have to tell them to go outside, splash their face with water, and return to me refreshed.  They look at me like I’m completely irrational and evil for wanting them to learn during my time with them. 

Today, we’re listening to “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” (The Across the Universe version) and they have to fill in the gaps where I’ve taken out words.  I believe that at least half of the class will be grateful for this fun lesson…the others don’t feel gratitude for anything I do so I might as well stop caring if they like me or are having fun.  Will I actually stop caring? Probably not.

On the plus side, all this out-of-my-controlness is wearing me down to a more easy going sort.

For example, the taxi ride from town to my village’s gravel road is N$10.  Often times, the driver sees a white lady and instantly raises the price unaware that I’ve lived here for a year, am not actually rich, and have brothers who drive taxis and I most definitely know the price.  If I have the exact amount, it’s rarely a problem.  If I need change, they always give me less than what is due to me.  I used to argue with them over N$2; not because I care about this much money.  It’s almost nothing, really.  I would get upset because they were stereotyping me and taking advantage.  It is dishonest and I can’t stand dishonesty.  Well, on Wednesday, I was riding home from town, gave the man N$20 and asked for my change.  He got in the car and drove off. 

I’m still thinking about this experience and writing it down now because I didn’t feel angry about it.  I was left on the side of the road in a cloud of dust and thought to myself “oh well, I guess that’s that.”  Maybe I simply can’t take another ounce of frustration.  It could very well cause me to explode.  Or maybe I just let go of it because it was a nice day and I had chocolate in my bag to eat when I got home and I didn’t feel like being angry with him.  Has it always been that easy to just decide to let it go?

It’s certainly not that easy most of the time but I see that experience as progress.

And now for something fully positive.

In the month of September, Nengushe Junior Secondary welcomed 5 Peace Corps trainees and their language trainer.  At the end of October, they will be sworn in as volunteers and begin their service in the northern part of the country (somewhere around me).  For three weeks I had the privilege of serving as a resource and mentor to them.  This experience was highly beneficial to me, though they may not have realized.  Their energy refreshed me and the rest of the school, for that matter.  Our learners were so silly and excited about their presence.  I had friends from home with whom I could discuss all the crazy stuff that’s going on in the USA (often I’m left to silent confusion and lack of comprehension).  Most importantly, I felt like I had something to offer them; a bit of experience and understanding of how awe-inspiring and excruciating the entire process of leaving your family for a foreign land can be.  I needed to feel useful after a year of struggling as a first year teacher.  Truly, this term has been a difficult one for me as a teacher and as a volunteer who misses her life at home.  I think maybe the Universe knew I needed someone to have my back through this, so it sent me 5 someones.  This is a shout out and a thank you to them, if they ever get a chance to scroll through my blog.

 

Until next time.

Seeking motivation

After a great pause in posts, I have to explain.  I bore myself writing about the day-to-day stuff.  Writing cannot be dull or I won’t give it any time out of my day.  This, however, has been on my mind for a while so it seems like a relevant topic for discussion.

I've been counting down to my year marker.  I don't really know why.  Maybe because it will all seem less extreme if I have actually survived living in a foreign country for a year.  Clearly, if I haven't left yet, I'm going to make it all the way, but I don't know.  It's still difficult to believe. 

This was not a path I ever envisioned myself to follow.  I still have moments when I look around in wonder, surprised at my adventurous side.  However, most of the time living feels like it always does.  I’ll always view this life through the same eyes.  Life is just a series of getting out of bed and allowing the time to pass by with your chosen method.  It continues in Richmond.  It continues in Namibia.

They told us we'd start questioning why we're here about this time.  Luckily, I have about 300 students to remind me why I'm here.  But with all the terrorism and racial protests and shootings going on, I'm beginning to wonder what impact I could possibly have on a world that seems so intent on being a**holes, forgive my speech. 

I’m not questioning my service.  I’m questioning my greater purpose.  How do I stay optimistic and retain the belief that what I do and say matters?

Well, this post is dedicated to self-motivation.  It’s a reminder that I’ve got to keep chugging along, whether I’m moving uphill or gliding down effortlessly.

I think maybe the challenge of year 26 is my new found realization that I will never give myself a break after this.  I will always feel a social responsibility to teach or lead as an example.  Their watching eyes never blink and I am continuously in the spotlight.  I thought this was just a part of the job but apparently it is a part of being alive. 

Be the change you wish to see in the world.

How many times do we repeat that statement?  It’s a bit cliché for me in this field.  Yet, I’ve decided to use it as my next essay topic in class. 

I have been using what is happening in America as lessons for my 8^th graders; the Orlando shooting and the racial killings.  I use them because my emotion in the lesson is palpable.  I have pain in my heart as I tell them what is happening at home; my home.  They can see that in me and I believe feelings can teach better than copying sentences.

A 40 minute lesson doesn't seem adequate to teach my learners to be loving and kind.  I committed to trying though.  Try I will.

I told them of the injustices against our minorities under the law.  I told them about the killings of men who did not deserve to die because of a general fear and divide amongst the police and their citizens. 

My learners are no strangers to racism.  Perhaps it helps them grasp the reality of the world to see a powerful nation, such as our own, succumbing to the same insane issues that they have known being raised in a post-apartheid Southern Africa.  I certainly feel a connection to them.  It doesn’t matter where you were born; we’re the same people facing the same issues.

I don’t want my children to default operate on “an eye for an eye.”  I want them to also know non-violence and love.  The choice always belongs to them in the end, but they should have an honest exposure to both and know the true capacities of human nature. 

Our focus has been on ISIS and extremists these days.  We are constantly thinking of the bad.  Where are our beacons of hope and inspiration at such times?

                                                                                        

Have we already forgotten the teachings of Martin Luther King Jr.?  Mahatma Gandhi?  Have we elevated these men to the status of saints?  Forgotten that we all have the same power and strength within our own hearts? 

They are not my superiors.  They are my equals.  They believed in our goodness.  They didn’t hate their attackers and they didn’t think those who opposed them deserved to die.

I am the raindrop falling into the river.  I am insignificant, yet, essential to the cause.  I may not be leading a nation in peaceful protests, but I learned a thing or two from them and will pass those lessons on where I can.

I will continue living the way I want the world to live.  Not because I’ve joined the Peace Corps but because I feel personally responsible for the mark I leave on everything I touch. 

As a human, I will never be perfect.  I am a first year teacher and I screw up.  I do feel worthy of the responsibility placed in my hands, though.  I love talking with the kids and making them smile.

Just this week, a learner asked me what I wanted to be when I was a child.  I listed off my archeologist, astronaut, pilot, and rockstar phases.  Then, I told him that, most comically, a teacher was never something I had considered.  Naturally, he wanted to know how I ended up in his classroom.

My answer?  I just believe it is where I am meant to be.

I’m not big on fate and I wouldn’t choose to use that word here.  However, it’s rather strange to note that at precisely the time when the world rears its ugly head and makes me feel like I’m completely powerless, I find myself as a mentor and role model to a few hundred vulnerable teens.

If anyone else has been feeling like I do, find comfort in the fact that I am one person who cares.  We're not alone as we try to make the world a better place.

 

 

Dear Mr. McPherson’s 7th grade class

It makes me feel happy to know that my blog is actually sharing a small piece of the world with those who may never get the chance to experience it firsthand.  The Peace Corps encourages us to keep blogs for precisely that reason.  I started it as a way to let my family and friends know what I’ve been doing since it is difficult to individually write each person, but I’m watching as it expands to those I’ve never met.  The pressure is on to express things accurately.

When I was in grade 7, I knew what the Peace Corps was but I don’t think I ever considered myself to be the right kind of candidate.   I didn’t have much confidence in myself and couldn’t see my own potential.  I think many of us feel that way as we navigate through our teenage years.  I had never traveled outside of the United States, though I wanted to.  Africa was never a continent I planned to visit, except for maybe the pyramids of Egypt, something I learned about at a young age.  It was a scary place.  I actually felt that way until the day I received an email from the Peace Corps telling me I was being considered for service in Namibia.  I had to Google search it because I was so ignorant about this place and what they were looking for in me.

I am a person who feels that the Universe or God gives us experiences to expand our knowledge; broaden our horizons.  What an amazing opportunity to learn about our world and break the stereotypes which so naturally attach themselves to the things we know little about.  I would have learned in any country, but this seems like the place I was meant to be; the place that has the most to teach me right now.  I never stop seeking knowledge, even when I teach for a living.

Probably the most important lesson I’m learning is the universality of the human experience.  Sure, we are all different, culturally, but we also all experience joy, heartache, love, rejection, insecurity, and ambition.  When we fear others for their differences, we miss the opportunity to connect on our similarities.  When you move away from everyone and everything you’ve ever known, it is very important to search for the similarities so that you can begin to create a home away from home.  In all honesty, this has been a very difficult piece of my journey.  It is a daily struggle with highs and lows at every turn. 

It’s easy to fall into an “us versus them” mentality since we naturally gravitate towards that which is familiar.  In my case, this is the other Americans living in my region.  In the United States, this can be the community you grew up in and the culture of those people.  New Kent, Virginia is quite different from Downtown Richmond, and even further from Compton, Los Angeles.  Here, the Americans are from every background, yet, we are united by our 1 commonality.  If I traveled in a spaceship to an alien world, I’d gravitate towards other earthlings (whether they were Namibian or American) since we’d both identify with humanity.  As I try to step out of my comfort zone, I hope you do the same.  No matter where someone comes from or what they look like, you have more in common than you imagine. 

People often tell us (myself and other Peace Corps Volunteers) that we are brave.  It is a flattering thing to hear but almost always makes me chuckle because I am afraid.  I am only human, after all, and most of us would not be able to do this without fear.  Here is what I learned that led me to apply for service and what I still feel is true today:

Change is terrifying. 

Sometimes it is exciting and fun and sometimes you are met with failure and heartache.  You never know which path you are about to travel.

Do you know what I believe to be even more terrifying than this?

Staying in a place that does not bring you joy because the alternative “might” be worse. 

It also might be better.  One thing is for sure though: change, no matter how difficult, always builds a better you.  We cannot grow or learn new things without experiencing the new.  I always try to remember this on my darkest days.  Something may be painful but I’m going to be stronger at the end of it.  In this sense, we can say thank you to all experiences, good and bad, because we can know it will shape us into who we are meant to be.

We must stretch to our furthest limits of joy and sorrow to know the truth of life.

I certainly still have a long way to go and my growth won’t end with the Peace Corps, though I’m curious to see the woman I am as I touch down in the United States next year.

I think of this experience as a shortcut to growth that the world had intended for me anyways.  You don’t have to move to Africa as a volunteer to expand, you just need to find your own ways of challenging yourself and the beliefs that you hold.

I will share your letters with my learners and I'm sure they will be so happy to receive them.  I will have them respond as soon as we have the class time.

Good luck with all the learning you will encounter this year!

Term 1 - Year 1

Hello, once again.  I’m sure you’re wondering what I’ve been up to lately; how my first term of teaching is going and all that.

Well, let me start by saying I have been a bit of a mess.  Mostly on the inside, as I do not like to let my emotions be seen by others.  I am curious as to just how far a person can go bottling up their emotions before they crack. 

Yes, I do want to be this ideal volunteer who carriers herself with grace and kindness, passing out smiles to all who cross her path, some swearing they could see a golden halo of light illuminating her face…but let’s face it: I am human and humans experience stress, anger, sadness, and fear.  This is all mega-intensified by the fact that I miss my mommy (and everyone else from my world in the United States).

The bottling has resulted in dysfunctional tear ducts which refuse to produce any kind of emotional relief.  Another consequence is a frequently irritable and sometimes volcanic personality which then leaves me feeling guilty for not being the angel I want myself to be.

Anger and guilt.

But fear not, dear friends.  There have been beautiful moments within the madness. 

Those of you who knew me through high school and college years know that I never wanted to be a teacher.  In fact, I would get angry when anyone made that assumption based on my choice to be an English major.  The truth is, I would never want to teach teenagers English in the United States. What I’m doing here is a bit different, however, and I believe it to be a fruitful 2 year experience.

I’m in a small school of around 300 learners.  I know each of their faces and I’m slowly getting there with names.  They are at an age where they think for themselves and act like young adults, yet they still look to me for guidance.  I have an opportunity to model love and kindness; strength and understanding. 

I rarely use my anger on them.  Naturally, they can drive me nuts and bring out my grumpy, stiff side, but I usually manage to keep my cool.

They are the brightest part of life these days and I find myself saying prayers of gratitude every now and then for getting to spend my day hanging out with them.  I’ve also found that I am more myself with them than I can manage to be anywhere else.  I have no shame, embarrassment, or insecurities around them.  I can sing, dance, make silly faces, and act like a complete idiot in their presence.  I don’t care in the slightest if they think I’m weird.

Now, to share a few of the good parts:

Humming Homonyms 

I was teaching synonyms, antonyms, homonyms, and homophones.  I know they know there are names for those things but they are clueless on how to remember which is which.  I mean, how are you going to teach a word like “homonym” to a group of teens who don’t understand half the words that leave your mouth?  My mood was cheery and they were awake and alert enough that I spontaneously produced a song, sang it to them, wrote down the lyrics for them to copy, and made them all sing it with me.  They were humming the tune for the remainder of the day.

Motivational Miss 

I was teaching a poem on body image called “I am looking for myself” in which the poet discusses looking for some model or movie star who looks like them so that they can be validated.  I was particularly moved by the poem, especially since I recently survived my own teen years in which I never felt OK with myself as I was.  My class discussion turned into a motivational speech by Miss Bailey.  I would have cut it short but they were so engaged.  The boys who usually sit in the back trying to sneak a nap were wide awake, eyes glued to me in interest.  One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, the entire class was chanting “I am awesome!” as I held a boy’s hands over his head in victory.  I tend to get a bit cheesy at times, but what can I say?  I am cheesy. 

Nobody Nose How Awkward I Can Be

Same day, same class:

I wanted to explain the concept of plastic surgery to get them to talk about whether or not changing yourself to look like someone else qualifies as self-acceptance.  I often illustrate words on the board to assist their understanding.  I decided a nose job would be an appropriate example so I quickly scribbled a before and after shot of the profile of someone’s face.  The first nose was long and drooping, rounded at the end…an exaggeration of a nose someone might want to get ‘fixed.’  The second looked fairly normal.  The back row of boys erupted into laughter.  I watched as their eyes bugged out of their faces in shock of my art skills.  “Yeah, yeah, I’m a terrible artist,” I thought to myself, “but their reaction is a bit extreme, isn’t it?”  I looked back to my drawing only to discover, in horror, that my pre-surgery nose looked very, very much like a feature of the male anatomy.  Yes, folks, I had just drawn a penis nose on the chalkboard in a room filled with teenagers between the ages of 13 and 18. 

Maybe in rare, unfortunate times like these, plastic surgery would be acceptable?

And Then There Was Girl's Club

I decided that I wanted to start an after school club so that learners could have a little bit of fun between all the work.  I, myself, was a member of a dozen clubs throughout my teenage years and I consider those experiences to be the most memorable.  I decided upon the Girl’s Club after seeing the same qualities in these girls that I exhibited at the same age; insecurities, bashfulness, and uncertainty mixed together with great beauty, intelligence, kindness, and potential. 

I am located in an area of the country with heart-braking rates of HIV infection and a common occurrence of teenage pregnancy.  The government, teachers, and community leaders are continuously looking for ways to intervene at an early age to guide the youth down a better path.  Girl’s Clubs are common across the country and they provide a safe environment for the learners to talk about prevention and how these things already affect their lives.  It is also meant to inspire them to believe in themselves and follow their dreams. 

We have only had 3 meetings at this point, my 4^th being this afternoon.  I’m thinking about teaching them how to make origami today.  I have around 20 girls showing up and the number is growing.  This club is a place where I can take off the teacher hat, and be relaxed.  I can get to know them better and see their incredible personalities shining through while they play games and laugh with each other.  My girls are truly special.  I tell them that too.

The Toughest Job You'll Ever Love

One slogan of the Peace Corps that I had memorized before even receiving my invitation letter is “The toughest job you’ll ever love.”  One day, as I watched the learners studying in my classroom after school, those words popped into my brain and caused me to chuckle to myself.  They keep me going when I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning.  It is the best job I’ve had in my 10 years of being in the working world but definitely the most exhausting.  As the time moves on, I hope to see a more tranquil personal life.

Wish me luck as we approach the end of term 1, year 1.  

Changes

As life slowly becomes more normal, writing about it becomes more difficult.  I do, however, feel that the beginning of a new year calls forth review and reflection and is an appropriate time to organize my thoughts into a journal entry.

Change can be so gradual that we don’t recognize it happening to us.  Much like a dieter takes before and after photos as a reminder of where they started their journey, a Peace Corps Volunteer can use friends, family, and other American travelers as a form of comparison to show their evolution.

I have just returned from a week-long project assisting American college students build a Basketball/ Netball/ Volleyball Court for a village community.  Meeting them was like looking at myself when I was fresh off the plane the first week we arrived; excited, fascinated, nervous, and unsure.  Their reaction to us also showed me that things are different now.

Their first traditional Namibian meal consisted of porridge and Wambo chicken (local farm- raised chicken that tends to be much tougher than what we are used to).  I gave them a quick overview of how to eat the meal with no fork or knife but forgot to mention how intensely people here clean the bone; something I’ve just become accustomed to.  This resulted in the Peace Corps Volunteers saying “are you gonna eat that?” and taking all the left-over bones off their discarded plates and gnawing on them until they reached our satisfaction.  I must say, if I were in their shoes, I’d probably be a little horrified…and their expressions reflected that back to me.  We were mind-blown at all the good stuff they left behind.  This was something I experienced with my host family at community-based training.  My younger brothers devoured whatever I left on my plate looking at me like I was crazy for not wanting it. 

One of them asked us if we ever wear makeup.  I’m constantly sweating and greasy and sandy.  What good will makeup do?  I wear it for very special occasions but I’m starting to know myself better without it and honestly feel very silly whenever I put it on. 

Hair on women is considered beautiful here.  They can’t understand why we shave.  It has been so ingrained in my American view of beauty that I tend to shave when I know I’m about to spend time with other Americans, although I don’t care as much in the village.  For this trip I didn’t even bother.  Armpit hair has always been revolting to me.  Then, there I go in a tank top lifting buckets of sand over my head not caring in the slightest if they think I’m gross. 

I also used to despise camping.  Now all I want to do is sleep outside under the stars…but I don’t because I’ve heard too many stories about snakes and scorpions. 

It sounds like the stereotypical Peace Corps Volunteer, doesn’t it?  Outdoorsy hippie child.  I still miss all the fashionable clothes I left in my mother’s spare closet.  I miss getting dolled up with my friends and cousins before going out on the town.  But it’s quite relevant to mention that it didn’t have to end with me coming here.  The Namibians I know are some of the best-dressed people I’ve ever met.  There’s a part of me that wants to spend my entire living allowance at the mall because their style is killin it.  I just also recognize that it has no effect on who I am or what I’m here to do.  I can be an effective friend and teacher in a burlap sack. 

My favorite change, however, is the way that I interact with people.  I remember being afraid to go to the grocery store my first week here.  Everyone stares.  I didn’t know how to distinguish curiosity from eyes shielding bad intentions.  When I talked to people, I was shy and guarded. 

People are still shocked and interested when they see me but I can respond to them from a place of ease.  I can greet them in their language which always seems to be received with amazement and laughter.  Joking with people seems to bring out feelings of equality.  It’s like we’re telling them they are deserving of our happiness.  As far as the harassment goes, it may be unfortunate to say but it’s becoming normalized.  I don’t let someone’s words shake me and I can make it known that I am not amused by their behavior.  Practice responding to it has made me stronger.

On top of that, I hop into a taxi and the driver will say “Oh hi, you’re Kim.”  Mind you, I may have met them for 5 seconds one time at a wedding or even never at all but this is a small town and word spreads.  They all know I’m friends with the other Peace Corps Volunteer in the area and usually ask me where she is and why she’s not with me.  Conversation with the occupants of the car usually reveals that we are somehow related (through our host families, of course, but we like to make it sound as if there’s a blood relation and that leads to more laughter).  I couldn’t possibly keep up with all the people I meet but I love it that I am becoming a known face of Ondangwa.

All in all, I feel as though I’m emerging from the culture shock and getting into the swing of my new life.  I knew that it would be hard to get through my first few months but being in the middle of it is different than speculation of how things might be.  I was anxious, irritable and numb.  My puppy died and I missed my family.  It was the holiday season but I made it through with the help of my friends here and an amazing host family.

2015 was destined to be a year of change for me.  It was in the stars or cards or whatever you want to believe.  I’m very nervous to start my first year as a teacher next week but I’m also so excited to let the world evolve me a little more.  My goal is to be open and to feel fully as life happens.  

My Homestead

Cattle roaming through the village center