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