Giving Thanks

Note: So, I know I promised my next article would be about what I eat. I promise, that article is coming, hopefully this weekend. However, I had to delay it, because I haven't been feeling all that well, and thinking about food just wasn't a good idea. Hopefully this weekend/early next week I will have that post, as well as something about the Thanksgiving dinner we had this past weekend (not sure if it will be included in the same post or it's own). For now, however, I think it would be appropriate to take some time, in the spirit of Thanksgiving and Hanukkah, to take a few minutes to write about the things I'm thankful for this year.

  Okay, so, today's Thanksgiving back in the States. It's also Hanukkah (I'll touch on that later and when I write about our Thanksgiving here). One common Thanksgiving tradition is for people to go around and say what they are thankful for, and while I am not sitting around a table with family or friends tonight (though I did a few nights ago), I think it would be appropriate to talk about a few of the things I'm thankful for. After all, while my service has certainly been full of challenges and struggles and problems, I do have quite a bit for which to say "thanks".

  The first thing I'm thankful for is being here. No, not in the cliche "I'm thankful for living to see another year." I mean, I am, that's just not what I mean to say right now. Those who know me well know how long I've wanted to do the Peace Corps. It's a completely different experience, the chance of a lifetime, to help people and to experience a new culture and different way of life. Beyond that, I'm happy of the country where I am serving. Namibia has its flaws. The weather and environment presents me with almost daily challenges. But, overall, it's safe. Outside the major cities, violent crime is very rare. Sure, there are risks. Being anywhere within 10 feet of a road is putting yourself in harm's way. But the people are friendly and welcoming. And I'm thankful for being in Khorixas, which, for all its flaws, is beautiful and has become a real home. And I'm thankful for being placed at the Ministry of Youth, National Service, Sport, and Culture. While I have a co-worker towards whom I don't have a single positive opinion, the rest of the staff is amazing, my boss has done so much for me (even taking me fishing and having day-long conversations on the topic of social justice). And I was able to jump right in, rather than spending my first few months traveling and sitting around. I had stuff to do from the very first day.

  I'm also grateful for the many friends in my life, both here and back home (and even around the world). As happy as I am to be here, the transition hasn't been the easiest, leaving my friends, family, home, and culture behind, and coming to a new place. Thank you to Gary Rosenthal for the mezuzah, which has left me with a little comfort of my Jewish culture (though it's lead to  few uncomfortable exchanges as well when Namibians come to my place). It also wasn't the easiest start, arriving with my clothes missing and dealing with a number of deaths early on. My friends helped me get through all the early struggles and it really helped me get to this point without once even considering quitting.

  Thank you to the many on the Peace Corps staff in country who have helped me so much. My training staff who helped me adjust, the HQ staff who helped me with my bag, a banking issue, and a few other little issues along the way.

  While they could be said to have already been covered, I would especially like to thank those who welcomed me to Namibia and to Khorixas. My host family in Okahandja, who really were a family to me. My host family here, who opened their house and had a plate of intestines waiting for me so they could help me integrate right into Damara culture upon my arrival in Khorixas. My co-workers, who have been some of my closest friends here. My boss, who showed me around and introduced me to many people. To Steve Iverson and Grace Paulson, who showed me Khorixas. To Elfy, the owner of Sunrise Hotel, who made me feel very welcomed at his bar. You all helped me make Khorixas my home from day 1, and have helped me become (as Elfy said) "a true citizen of Khorixas."

  I want to give a special thanks to Chakka, my co-worker who passed away this past weekend. He was so welcoming and always good for a conversation, a story, or company. His contributions to the youths of Khorixas will be a lasting reminder of his legacy. Chakka, you will certainly be missed, by me, by all of us at the youth hall, and all of the town of Khorixas.

  To Facebook and Gmail for allowing me to stay connected with people back home. For my love and knowledge of the game of soccer, which has helped my integration and gave me something to talk about with my Namibian friends and colleagues. To Skype, which I will soon be using to call my parents (right after I post this). For my ability to cook (a skill that apparently not everyone acquires by their mid-20s, which I don't understand). As superficial/materialistic as it may sound, for my fan and camera, which has, respectively, allowed me to not die of heat this summer (yet, anyway) and allowed me to document my adventures. For this being a German colony. They may have been brutal colonizers and instituted apartheid, but they also brought beer with them, which is absolutely amazing on a hot day. For books, which have kept me sane. For sudokus and other puzzles, which help keep my mind sharp. For my knowledge of computers, which has proven useful at work. For music, which has given me an outlet. And for cold, cold water.

  I'm sure there are things I'm leaving off, but I think that's a good list for now.

Note: For those noting the time at which I posted this, the electricity in my town went off for about 8 hours, right while I was Skpe-ing my parents. Just one of the charms of living in Africa (especially when your only means of cooking without risking burning down your work is an electric stove and electric kettle).

Something I Never Thought I Would Experience

I should preface this post by acknowledging that it did not come from thin air. I did not simply wake up one day and decide to write about it. Rather, it is the product of conversations with friends back home, friends here, a recent incident at bar, and some thoughts that have been floating around my head for some time now. I will also say that many of my observations are shallow. It is fitting, for the topic is, quite literally, only skin deep.

  As one can imagine, there are a lot of things about living in Namiba that are different from the US. I've written about them before. More than once. And I will again, I'm sure, as time goes on. When Peace Corps told me I was going to Africa, I expected some of these difference. Lower quality internet (when I have access), different food, different living conditions, doing laundry by hand, religious differences, a totally new culture, etc. Then there were things I didn't think about, but quickly came to understand, and learned to live with, like water/electricity being shut off at random, a different work ethic, different education systems that teach different types of thinking, attitudes towards gender equality, powdered coffee (okay, "learning to live with" might be an exaggeration on this one, more like "sucking up and tolerating, for lack of alternative"), and modes of getting around being prime examples.

  However, there was one thing I didn't think of: I'm white, and, for the first time in my life, a physical minority. I don't think I need to explain the privilege status that comes with being a white male in the US. Eve in Ray Nagin's "Chocolate City" of New Orleans, I was mostly living in the "Tulane Bubble," which was predominantly white (about 81% of my freshman class was Caucasian). However, I will later discuss the privileges of being white, male, and American in my community. However, let's start with some information. Most sources I've seen have the population of Khorixas as somewhere between 6,000 and 7,000.  The vast majority of those are Damaras.  There are a few Asians (one of the "controversial" issues here is the number of Asians who come here, open shops, and sell cheap goods at lower cost than the products at Namibian stores, admittedly at a much shoddier quality, as well, which has led to a good deal of racism, but I'll save that for a later date, if at all).  I think I might actually need my toes to count the number of whites I've seen living here. Maybe.  White people are a massive minority here.  And as such, I stick out.

  I was recently talking to a friend, and we were commenting on how we were recently at a bar together, and, annoyingly, couldn't get even a few minutes of uninterrupted conversation.  Every few minutes, someone would but in, and no matter how many times we hinted that we had no interest in what they had to say or being in their presence (if you count saying "excuse me, but we're trying to have a conversation, so go away" as a hint).  The kicker, this friend was a co-worker.  He was black.  He was from Khorixas.  But people wanted to talk to me (generally in the hope of getting my phone number, for reasons I will get into shortly).  It's even worse when I'm out with other white people. And if they're white females, well, Jimmy Buffett comes to mind.  When he wrote his lyrics "Can't you feel 'em circlin' honey?/Can't you feel 'em schooling around?" I don't think he realized just how well they described being white in a town like mine.  My skin makes me exotic. So does my accent. And the history of the country makes it safe to assume I'm wealthy.

  Of course, I'm not. My Peace Corps allowance allows me to live comfortably, though I don't make nearly as much as my co-workers do (granted, unlike them, I don't have any children with multiple women to pay child support on, but that's their choice).  There's a perception here that everyone in America is wealthy. That, of course, if far from true. As a matter of fact, as my friend Amy is often quick to point out, while Namibia may have a higher percentage of people living in poverty, not only does the US have more people living in poverty (~4.6 million, as of 2012) than Namibia has living in poverty (roughly 55-65%, depending on the source), but the US has more poor people than Namibia has people at all (~2.1 million, as of 2011).  Now, granted, I'm hardly poor, but I'm far from being wealthy.  However, this perception of American=rich plays a big role in how people interact with me. Whenever I walk around, I have children coming up to saying "owe me N$1)" and when men at shebeens tell me I "must" give them money, and I reply that I have none, they always respond with "all white people/Americans have money/are rich, so just go to the ATM." Oh, if only they saw my bank account. It's gotten so bad that I really have to walk around with my headphones on, just to drown it out, to keep myself sane.

  Of course, being white may have annoying parts (and I can only imagine how much worse it would be for a woman), but it also has its perks. While some people here who don't know me sometimes assume I'm an Afrikaaner, the majority of people have learned to recognize me (with my beard, bushy hair, and shorts that aren't disgustingly too short). Because people know I'm not a Kaaner, they do tend to invite me to more things. People will invite me to weddings or other cultural events. They will have me over for dinner. When there is a big soccer match on, they will invite me over (especially when Chelsea is playing, or the USA, since they know I'm a big CFC fan). I will also be asked to help speak on panels or attend town council meetings to get my perspective on different issues. Because I'm easily recognizable, people will offer me rides around town more often than other white people I see, or they'll see me passing a bar and ask me to come in and join them. Being white most certainly opens doors for me, which I work hard not to abuse, but to use effectively.

  At this point, I would like to digress and point out that I emphasize that last point because of a story our assistant country director told us during training. When he was a PCV, he took advantage of his status. Because he was white and American, he could regularly see whoever the head politician was called in his town. Since Peace Corps gives us local holidays off, and he wanted his birthday off, he used this connection to get his birthday declared a local holiday. I share this story not to embarrass him (though I find it amusing, and hope you do too), but to point out how easy it is to take privilege for granted, and maybe even take advantage of it in ways that aren't exactly productive. It's a cautionary tale that reminds me to remember how I represent and conduct myself in my community.

  I mentioned before that people often ask for my number. This comes down to the wealthy perception thing. For females, when they give out their number, it's a fairly safe assumption that they will be on the receiving end of SMS and calls regarding pitiful, corny, occasionally disgusting, and often just pathetic "come-ons." As one can imagine, that is not something I have to worry about. Instead, they'll call me repeatedly asking for money, or SMS me, begging for phone credits. As a result, I've come to be very selective in who gets my number, and unhesitating about blocking a number after  getting these types of calls or messages (I don't wait for 3 strikes, I warn people when I give them my number that if they do it once, I'll block them and never give them my number again). I also have a second SIM card, which I only give to people related to my work.

  There is also another issue at play with my skin color. Apartheid did play a major role in forming modern race relations in Namibia. And even today, there are those who see my white skin and assume I'm a Kaaner. While there are very few Afikaaners in my town (most of whom work at the local lodge), a number of them pass through on their way to the coast or to Etosha. And I can't help but notice the looks I'll get (often judgmental) when they see me walking around with my black friends. Or the looks of utter shock when I'll enter the gas station and order a burger or something, all in Damara, clicks and all, including the general niceties of polite conversation. Damaras tend to get a kick out of it (they find it funny) and often show gratitude at my efforts to learn their language (as pathetic as the results have been thus far).

  It's also led to certain rumors. According to Grace, some people in my town think she and I are dating. One person, mentioning having seen me in town that weekend, even referred to me as the "guy who looks like [her] husband." Any time a new white person comes to town, people remarks that I should marry that person (but, as a rich American, I must also adopt one the children they can't afford to care for). Of course, given how many people I've told I'm single, have no wife or children back home (not the same thing as being single in the country, I've come to realize), etc., and how well I stand out, my skin and "exoticness" of being American has also had some advantages I won't get into (but which I'm sure your minds are going to, or at least predicting, right now). After all, there are "fins to the left/fins to the right/and [I'm] the only [white]
bait in town". (Sorry for the Jimmy Buffett quotes, but it really does summarize how I feel, in regards to being white)

  I'm sorry if I sound like I'm complaining. I don't mean to be. However, all my life I've been a member of the majority, and I now realize how much I've taken it for granted. Now, for the first time in my life, I'm not only a minority, but a major one (like, less than 1% of my community). It is something that has its advantages, and yes, disadvantages. But, most importantly, like everything else that's different about Namibia, it's something I must adjust to. It's something I must cope with. It's something I can use to my advantage, but must also be cautious not to abuse. Race is something we're born with. And it's something everyone sees (nobody's color blind, though I'd like to think I make the best effort not to let it impact my interactions with people, but recognize it does sometimes, maybe even more than I'd like to admit, me being human and flawed). Being Jewish is something I can hide (well, more like not call attention to, because it leads to very awkward lines of questions I don't like dealing with). It may be something new, but it's also reality. I'm white. Most of my town is black. I stick out. I'm American. I stick out more. I'm male. I don't get harassed quite to the level of my female counterparts. It's weird, but I'm getting used to it.

Check back soon. Around (or possibly on) Thanksgiving, I plan to have a post about my diet as a PCV. But for now, I hope all of you are well.

Moving, Music, Gardening, and Everything Else I've Been Up To (and puppies)

So, before I begin, congrats Grace on the birth of your grandpups.

  I was recently asked what I miss about America. It was someone from college, asking what they could send me. The truth is, very little could fit in a package, and it's really an unspecific thing. Yeah, I miss certain restaurants and Mexican food (and Thai food, and spicy food, and 2am pizza, etc.), but that wouldn't travel well. What I really miss are the people and events. My friends. Tulane football finally getting good. Music festivals. That last one is the main focus of this post. Lately, this blog has been more focused on general Namibia/HIV topics. So, I guess I should probably go back to the personal “what the heck has Jay been doing lately?” stuff.

  Well, for one thing, I finally moved into my own place. No more host family (not that I had any issues with them, but I'm an adult, I needed my space and freedom, they needed the room for their large and growing family, and the kids were wearing me out), no more crashing with whoever would take me in (thank you to a certain someone who gave me a bed, roof, and crazy dog for about a month), no more wondering how long it takes to paint a wall. It's small. The windows are broken (despite being newly renovated), the shower is disgusting, the furniture is basic, and I had to get very creative about finding ways to hang my laundry and mosquito netting (hint: it involves making my room hard to walk around at night). I lose water and/or electricity for days on end. But, I got a working fridge and the nicest bed I've slept on (regularly) since high school (admittedly, I spent 2 years on a futon instead of a bed). It's really close to my work (as in, it's attached to my youth center). It's close enough to town. I got some decorations up for my teams from home. Oh, and did I mention I have an amazing fridge.

  Okay, so now for what I've been doing. At site, I've been very busy. I'm teaching 4 computer classes a day, where we're almost finished with Word (sadly, due to poor learner attendance, I don't think I'll be able to actually finish the course). I've also been teaching classes on gender relations, mainly in the context of HIV and GBV. They've certainly led to some eye-opening moments. We had an hour long conversation about what situations it's okay for a woman to turn down sex, which clearly reflected the male-dominant society of Namibia. It also showed that while condoms are readily available and schools teach about them from a very young age, the attitudes towards them are still a pretty major block in getting people to use them, a major force behind the HIV crisis in the country. As the album above included photos from, I also attended a wedding. And I learned the keys to surviving a Damara wedding: a liver of steel and a love of meat. In other words, I was perfect for it.

Well, like I said before, one of the things I've missed most since I left the US has been live music. So, when I found out there was a jazz festival in Windhoek on October 26, I jumped. Then, when I found out it was the same day as the Oktoberfest celebration there, I was even more excited. In the end, Oktoberfest didn't happen, but the Jazz Festival was incredible. I arrived Friday and checked in at the Cardboard Box backpackers lodge (a nice hostel in Windhoek) where I met some health PCVs serving in Botswana and had some interesting conversations. The next day, I did some walking around Windhoek (I'd forgotten my towel...I know, I'm a bad galactic hitchhiker) before grabbing a quick bite at Nando's (the Brit in Emily is obsessed with that place) and heading to Hage Geingob stadium for one of the best nights of my time here. We arrived and set up shop (enjoy the photos) front and center, grabbed some drinks, and got down to the business of enjoying the music. While I could share stories from the night, out of respect for my friends, since I haven't asked their permission, feel free to ask for them in a less public place. I will say that the highlights were Big Ben, Zahara (one of Africa's top musicians), and the legend Hugh Masekela (who was every bit as good as advertised). It might've been a jazz festival, but the music included funk, reggae, and even a litte pop. Given we were in a cab at around 1am looking for beer after the show (the festival ran out), I'm thinking it was best that I'd skipped Oktoberfest (a choice that Alicia confirmed was the correct one, though I've heard they had a fun time). I guess now is when I should apologize to Mayank for offering to buy his Oktoberfest ticket and then deciding I didn't have the energy (or money to do both...the result of an incident involving an ATM and living in a very small town). The next day, after walking around and taking care of some errands with Amy and Jaime (who I name only so I can quote another member of our group, Johanna, who realized “Jay...Amy...Jaime”), we met up at a place called Spurs for lunch. It was a TexMex place, a bit pricey, but we wanted the nachos (which were awesome). See, Amy is obsessed with cheese, so every time she and I spend time together, my cheese intake goes up big time (we even bought a bunch of cheese and crackers to have for dinner that night, in lieu of a real meal). Overall, just an amazing weekend.

High Masekela, doing his thing

  However, we weren't done yet. Oh, no. See, another reason why this festival was so perfect was that on Monday, we needed to get to Omaruru for our Re-Connect (part 2) and a gardening workshop meant to help us teach our communities to take crappy soil and make it into productive vegetable gardens that use less water and make sustainable food security. Honestly, I immediately fell in love with Omaruru. Just such a beautiful town. Quaint and artsy, with a nice coffee shop, it had hosted Group 35's (the health group before mine) PST. Our first stop was the Kristal Kellerie winery. After a tour and wine tasting, we returned to the lodge that would be our home for the next few days to chill in the pool and “re-connect” with the rest of our group (admittedly, with a few exceptions, I'd already re-connected with my real friends that weekend in Windhoek). On Tuesday morning, the training began. We learned to dig proper berms, trenches, and holes to help stop, slow down, sink, and eventually spread water to maximize the “water we get when it rains (as Peter Jensen, who ran the training put it, we want water to “walk off, not run off”). Peter also took us around to show us useful plants and other common things that could be used to improve the garden (all available for free). Over the next fewdays, we learned the principles of double digging to allow for deeper roots, how to enrich the soil, both bottom and top, proper crop rotation, how to plant on the berms to make use of the space, and maybe even create a natural fence to keep out animals (at least chickens without self-respect), composting, and maximizing productivity of the garden. We also learned how to use the garden as a larger classroom to teach more, like nutrition, water conservation, even health topics. It was a really interesting training, and one which will help quite a bit, even if I'm not sure I'll be doing any workshops as my own projects (I can still grow my own veggies).

Learning to shade seedlings to minimize water use (the bottle is not trash, but a form of recycling to make a cheap drip irrigation system)

Proper crop rotation

Nay, clearly working hard

Beautiful Omaruru

Nice coffee shop

See, I do work, not just take pics (unlike someone else in our group)

Finished product (for now)

How a nice garden should look

Some aloe vera and cacti

Double digging

  So, I'm back now. Home in Khorixas. Yes, home. About half a year at site, and I really feel a comfort level of home in this town. It helps finally having my own place, but it's more than that. Having been gone for a while, I realized I'd really missed being in Khorixas. I'm not one of those PCVs who goes away every weekend. I really love it here, and have, to this point, made efforts to minimize time away. I'd planned to meet my sitemate for a drink, but, while I was waiting, took some time to walk around. I'd been out of town for about a week and a half. I went to the Engen station for a meatpie, since I hadn't had time to pick up groceries. I said “hi” to the guard there, exchanged my terrible Damara with the counter lady, and took my snack to go. I continued to walk around. To the “Passport Shop” (a shabine with a pool table and awesome raisins), passed the Multisave, !Gowati, several other little shabines, and finally arrived at Sunrise Hotel, my favorite bar in town, where Elfy, the owner, greeted me on his way out. The familiar smells of street meat, the obnoxious voice of the co-worker I dislike, the blasting shabine jams, the stone benches in front of Sunrise. I just felt happy to be back. For the past few years, I've been torn between homes, never quite being a New Orleanian, but no longer fully being a Washingtonian. Now, while I feel ties to the US, even putting up my NoLa flag, Tulane banner, Nats rally towel, Skins flag, Caps mask, etc., being called a “Citizen of Khorixas” by Elfy really struck it home. And I'm looking for to the next year and a half here.

  Before I finish off this post, I want to share a recent story from that night I got back from my training, and I was out with Grace and another PCV who had a friend with her. Damaras tend to have little-no respect for people having conversations, and we were engaged in one, when someone decided to come over and butt in. At first, we were annoyed and tried to shake him off, but quickly gave up. So, we allowed him into our conversation. It was about top 5 places we want to visit and why, and we asked him to list his, with Grace quickly giving the rule that it couldn't be the US. Well, that didn't help, since the US (and, more specifically, New York, a city that everyone overseas wants to see, for reasons I can't comprehend). But the conversation quickly shifted to how we should feel very safe in Namibia. For him, the only Americans he'd met were Peace Corps volunteers. As a result, he has a very positive opinion of Americans as being people who try and help other countries (as you know, I have a very cynical view on this one, but I kept it to myself). It really drove home the point that Peace Corps has made about us representing the country as ambassadors to the community where we serve. And he ended by saying we should feel safe because he wouldn't let anything happen to us, because he wants us to go back to the US and tell our friends and family back home how nice and friendly Namibians are, rather than how awful they are, a point that really struck me after some recent incidents involving friends of mine in other parts of the country. It also hit home how unwelcoming Americans can be towards our visitors (I know I've been guilty of this during peak tourist seasons back in DC). Certainly a little anecdote that shows how much of an impact Americans overseas can have on those they meet and a little lesson on how we should see foreigners we encounter in our own country.

  So, I guess I'll end it there. My boss has law exams to study for and needs my help with some of the English, and I have lesson plans to prepare for this week. So, !Gâi tsesa u hâ re. Khawa mûgus.