There are only two people who could be considered to be first on this list. Really groups of people. They are the first two names which came to mind when I was first asked this question. I've lived with two host families in Namibia, but it was my Khorixas family I lived with the longest. Esna and Amingo took me in and gave me a home. I still remember the intestines when I came for site visit. Them inviting me over for a New Years Eve braai. Opening their doors after I moved out whenever I wanted to visit or my flat had no power or water because of unpaid bill. Watching soccer matches on their couch. Offering me puppies. And then there were the kids. Tia, Tiha, and !Ge. My little siblings. Teaching them to throw a Frisbee or an American football. Playing keep-away and soccer in the dirt yard. Their awe when I played guitar, not realizing how lousy I am. Evenings working on homework. Tia trying to mimic everything I did. Always trying to get into my room. Cooking together (yes, Esna, I will write down that recipe for potatoes before I leave). When my parents came, they slaughtered a goat so we could braai. They truly became my family. They were there when my grandpa died. They showed me around town. They excitedly stopped any time they saw me around town. And they made me feel like I belonged, in Namibia, in Khorixas, and in their home. Honestly, without them, I don't think I would have made it all the way through my service.
I mentioned there were two families who could have been mentioned first. Martha and her family gave me a home during training. They welcomed me to Namibia. They tried to teach me Damara. We enjoyed playing my drum in the evening. I don't think I've ever had someone so thrilled by my cooking since Jill Book. I always chuckle when I remember being called a superhero. I had an American football, and the kids would mob me the second I got home from training to get it. We tried playing games, but they quickly devolved into rugby and then "tackle the fool with the ball" and finally "how many small children does it take to take down Jay?" My second or third night with them, I threw a deep pass. Nothing too impressing by QB standards, but these kids have never seen a throw so long. So then we decided to see if any of them could kick the ball further than I could throw (one or two could). Then, they asked me to kick the ball. So I punt it. Impressed, one of them claims I'd cheated because I was wearing shoes. So, I took them off and kicked again. This time, I made perfect connection, and the ball went even further. The kids determined I had super human strength (go ahead and laugh, Dan). From then on, weekends and evening were filled with football and the kids and I working out in the yard, doing crunches and using my resistance bands, always led by my shadows, Peggy and Brody.
And Martha. A single mother, whose husband had passed away. A teacher in Windhoek. We had some awkward chats. She is a Born Again, and T.B. Joshua was playing on her TV pretty much all day. When she found out I was Jewish, she was genuinely interested. The problem was how to answer her questions without sounding like I'm not insulting Jesus (while keeping my English at a level she could understand, since hers was good, but not that good)? Despite these awkward exchanges, however, she made sure I always felt welcomed in her home. Even when I come back to visit, which, sadly, has not been nearly often enough. Peggy seems to have grown a foot since I left and Brody appears to have the build of a JV running back. So much for the scrawny kids who welcomed me (for pics, see my photo albums).
Okay, looking at all of that, and realizing how much I left out, I should have probably given them each their own post. Still, there are a number of other people who deserve to be mentioned.
I had two co-workers die on me early in my service. Ronald, my original counterpart, was killed in a car crash only a day after bringing me to Khorixas for my site visit. While he did not directly impact my service too much (we knew each other for less than three days), his loss was felt, and played a big part in my teaching computer classes. However, it was the other late co-worker I want to mention. Shaka. He was not in the best health and his English wasn't great. However, often with few words, he would often make my day. Sitting over a beer at Sunrise after work, inviting me over to his home so his wife could make me dinner, chatting in the office. When I heard he'd died, I was shocked and felt a great loss. He was one of my first Namibian friends here in Khorixas, and I still think about him.
Then, there is Waylon. Probably my first friend in Khorixas. My first day at work, he asked me to help him teach the computer classes. Soon, we'd created our own syllabus and exams and were teaching 4 classes a day. However, the true bonding came over Chelsea Football Club, who we both support. When I came for my site visit, I found him in the computer lab, watching Ronaldinho highlights on Youtube. After a couple hours of exchanging clips of our favorite stars (Messi runs, Ronaldo finishes, Lampard shots, Zola wizardry, Drogba physically dominating the box, Toure masterfully distributing, etc.), a friendship had formed. We'd often get together on weekends to watch matches or grab a drink after work. We'd watch shows or movies during our lunch break. We kicked the ball around. We tried to start a GRS program, though the lack of actual soccer in their program led to that one falling apart. And then he left to become a police officer. He apparently recently finished training. Unfortunately, he no longer answers his phone, making it hard to arrange our plan to get matching Chelsea jerseys, each with the other guy's name and playing number on it. He tried to help me learn Damara, though generally his efforts failed since they occurred after the third or fourth drink.
Hans, Blind Mike, Kapolo, Marge, and Thewalensia. Co-workers. I lump them in not to write them off, but because I'd just get repetitive. Hans is our sports officer, and he, Mike, Waylon, and I would spend our together in the gym. Blind Mike (a name Steve gave him) taught me a lot about failure with our early efforts to start a youth environment club. Kapolo, one of the newest guys to join our center, would have been an ideal counterpart had he arrived sooner. As driven as I am, loves soccer, A bunch of great ideas, and someone who gives me hope for Namibia going forward. Marge is the woman I am training to teach my computer classes when I leave. Thewalen is our office everything. Answering the phones, sharing my misery in our fight to get new mice for the computer lab, arranging with people to let me fill my water jugs the month it was out, finding me braii stands. Just everything you could ask of someone. These are the people I work with regularly, and they are the reasons for my success.
Chief Okango. A Damara tribal chief at the Traditional Authority, it was his efforts which got my English classes started. But he's also been a friend. Helping me with some of the cultural issues. Ensuring no consequences early on when I committed a couple cultural taboos. Making sure I appreciated Damara culture and history. Giving me rides. A friendly guy with a booming voice. And overall great guy. The other members of the class were special, but he's the one who made it happen.
Elffy, the guy who owns Sunrise Hotel, my favorite bar in town. Bringing me to the farm to braai. Making sure nobody bothered me, because he understood just how many people assume, because I'm white, I'm rich, and how annoying it gets. I'm not holding my breath, but I am hoping he gets me a bar shirt before I leave. He was the first person to call me a "citizen of Khorixas".
Gideon, my boss. He is the reason I'm here. He put everything in motion. As a law student, he's also provided me with some of the most intellectually stimulating conversations I've had in Namibia. If he can't make it happen (the sad cost of this much bureaucracy), nobody can.
Of course, there are hundred of unnamed people. It's not that I don't know their names (though I admit in many cases I don't), so much as they aren't individuals. The security guards at my center. Sure, they sometimes decide not to be there, forcing me to climb the fence (and ruin clothes in the process). The kids from the youth club. The many people at the supermarket and Engen. King, the bartender at the NWR lodge (and American style bartender who will listen to your problems). The people at Yummy Chicken. Many co-workers I just don't have space to mention. My computer class learners. The many people who have attended my life skills trainings. Without these people, there would have been no point in my being here. Andrew, Steve's former counterpart, who was always good for an afternoon of sitting around, hiking, watching the sun, listening to music, braaiing, and sipping on whiskey or beer.
And then, there are the Americans. Karen at the Peace Corps office who helped find my lost bag, a sign of things to come. Dan, who, despite a rocky start, I could turn to for advice or letters of recommendation. The people I trained with. The PCVs I became friends with from other groups. Amy Larsen and Emily Rhoades, who tended to bring out the worst in me but were always good for a fun time. Alicia Martinez, my confident during the law school application process. And many others. I've made some really lasting bonds. However, there are four people I will give special note to: my sitemates.
The most memorable human being I have met in Namibia was Stever Iverson. Everyone in PC Nam has "Steve Stories". He was still in Khorixas when I arrived, though he would transfer sites shortly after. The man was hysterical. However, he also did great work. And, he was a great mentor. When I first arrived, I was supposed to go to the hospital to meet Grace. I'd been there once, during a brief driving tour of the town, and I was completely lost. Steve spotted me, figured I was lost, and bought me a cool drink (a term Americans need to start using) and some cookies, and showed me how to get there. Over my first few weeks in Khorixas, he would continue to show me around. When I couldn't remember how to get back to Esna's one night (my first time going out at night on my own), he, in his "Afrikaans with a Texan twist" ("Hoo-han-dit, y'all"), was able to go door-to-door and help get me back (and immediately bonded with the kids). He, Grace, and I would often go grab a drink in those early days, and he'd take the opportunity to introduce me to everyone (especially the ladies). He could be crazy (that night in Otjiwarrango after my re-connect will speak to that), but he was a great guy for a new PCV to have as a sitemate.
Taylor Whittaker. In many ways my younger sister. Yeah, she drives me crazy, but she's also probably my closest friend at the moment, and I will miss the hell out of that girl. Sipping on Savanas under the stars, long chats, hikes, travels, New Years at the rest camp, the gym club, keeping me sane during the law school application process. She's been there for me every bit as much as she'd say I've been there for her, even if maybe not in the exact same way. Girl, I love you and I'll be rooting for you.
Den, my most recent sitemate. Certain things about him bother me. Boy, you gotta start being more social. Get out and just talk to folks. I basically hate the entire human race. If I can make connections, you can. However, given his story (I'll let him tell you it, if you ever meet him), he's definitely an inspiration, and not a bad guy to grab a beer with.
And last, but certainly not least, Grace. She was my mentor. When I was homeless (a new baby forced me out of Esna's suddenly and my flat was still under construction), she gave me a place to stay. Weekly dinners. That dog. Getting the gym built. Showing me the ropes in this town. Advising me even after she left. A friend in the truest sense, and the PCV who's meant the most to me, because she's the reason I survived a rocky start, she's the reason I've been able to have success, and she's the reason I'm able to help others today. Looking forward to trying to see you soon.
This list is long, but it could definitely go longer. A number of people I mention in passing or lump in with others deserve a longer piece. Like any such list, there is just no way to avoid leaving someone out, and I'm sure there are people I've forgotten. I know I've been promising this for a while. Law school applications, weather, and electricity issues are partly to blame for the gap between "Part 7" and this post. However, the bigger thing was that this was simply one of the hardest posts to write, and one I kept putting off. I'm leaving in just over a month. Many of the people on this list I will never see again. Thinking about that and how much they've meant to me was tough. It's still tough. Saying "goodbye" to my home and friends and family for the last two years is much harder than saying "goodbye" to my home and friends and family when I came over, since at least that time I had an idea when I'd be seeing everyone again. These have been a magical two years, and that is mainly because of the people, the ones on this list in the ones who didn't. I will never forget the people I've met, the friendships I've met, and the experiences they gave me. And I hope I can eventually make it back to see them all again.
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