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.

A Couple Odds and Ends

  So, a while back I mentioned that some of the towns and regions of Namibia were having their names changed.  Well, I came across this little clip discussing it, which I found interesting.  And yes, part of the issue was the colonial past (and it's not surprising that al Jazeera would focus on that element).  It was also a tourism thing, highlighting local populations to encourage tourists to visit these places.  Of course, there are many who found the changes silly.  Several people I work with commented that after a lifetime of calling it "Luderitz," calling it "ǃNamiǂNûs" is just going to feel very weird.  Same thing with calling the "Caprivi" region the Zambezi Region.  I have gone into this discussion already, so I'll just end by pointing out that Namibia seems to be dealing with the same kind of issues many states in the US (especially in the South) have to deal with post Civil War: finding the balance between remembering history (which cannot simply be swept under the rug, since it is part of what this country is) and not wanting to honor those guilty of being brutal to the native population.

  Computer classes have started up again, and a month in, my learners are still having trouble saving, can't comprehend the difference between the highlighter and changing the font color in Word, or the fact that missing a class does not mean I "must" give them extra time to complete an assignment.  It's going slower than last time, and while I understand that these people had never used a computer before the class, the number of times I've had to go over "left and right" and "top and bottom" with a group of adults does not makes me super optimistic.  Then again, there were times I felt this way about my previous class, and most of them would have likely passed the course, had any of them submitted their final exams to be scored.  So, I guess we'll see.

  I took part in a recent program regarding HIV and healthy sex practices.  While it resulted in very interesting discussions which highlighted the difference between Namibian and Western cultures (especially in regard to gender equality), there were also some frustrating moments, trying to explain to the women that there is no situation (unless their lives are under threat, maybe) that they should feel obligated to have sex.  Interestingly, it was actually the men who tended more towards feeling it's okay for a woman to say "no".  Grace and I are talking about a larger program on this discussion, but it was really interesting to get the different perspective on sexual norms, even if I maybe feel they are not particularly healthy (in regards to HIV and youth fertility).

PEPFAR: Bush's Overlooked Legacy

Okay, a short disclaimer: This article does contain content of a political nature.  It expresses an opinion of the person writing it, and in no way reflects on the attitudes of Peace Corps, the US Government, or the country of Namibia.  My opinions are my own, the conclusions are my own, unless otherwise cited.  No, this is not a rant.  This is not meant to be partisan.  I'm a) covering my tail and b) making sure nobody else gets in trouble over technicalities.  While politics play a role, they are not the focus, I am merely acknowledging a personal bias here.

  A president's legacy is an interesting thing.  I saw an article recently that suggested a possible peace with Iran could be President Obama's lasting legacy.  The more obvious legacies will be that he is our first non-white president and Obamacare.  His impacts on the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan will certainly be part of any legacy, I believe, as will his efforts to further equal rights for homosexuals.  Security issues and the NSA spying, Benghazi, and other things yet to be seen may also be part.  Depending on party affiliation, he's either a good president or the most evil, unpatriotic, socialist, Kenyan to ever grace the office.  For the most part, a president's legacy is a subjective thing, depending on how it impacted you directly and who you voted for.

  A number of people remember the Bush presidency as an awful time, marked with the collapse of the economy, mishandling of Katrina, the War on Terror, etc.  Others remember his term as the "good ol' days."  Again, this is all subjective.  However, one legacy he leaves behind is PEPFAR, and as far as I'm concerned, it's one of the most objectively good things he did in office.  It's also something a lot of people don't know much about.

  So, a few question that I should probably address.  First of all, most of you might be wondering what is PEPFAR (I mean really, not just the basics) and what has it done.  Then, you might ask what PEPFAR as accomplished? I'll give a quick answer now: quite a bit.  Ok, so if it's been successful, why haven't we heard about it?  And, spoiler alert, the answer will be my opinion, since a real, objective answer would be impossible to give.  And finally, why am I writing about this, rather than myself or Namibia?  So, let us begin.

  It's a lot easier to criticize a house for being ugly than it is to fix it up.  It's a lot easier to talk about how awful it is that people are dying of HIV/AIDS.  George W. Bush didn't just talk about how awful it was.  After talking with people who knew what they were talking about, his administration established PEPFAR.

  What is PEPFAR?  In 2003, President Bush launched the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, largely as a response to major issue of AIDS around the world.  It pledged roughly $15 billion to fight HIV/AIDS from 2003-2008.  Renewed under and expanded by Obama, it as donated billions of dollars to fighting HIV/AIDS, TB, and malaria, and has been credited with saving over 1.1 million African lives in 10 years.  And yes, Namibia is one of the countries that as benefited greatly from it, as I will talk about later.  Originally, there 15 focus countries, mostly in Africa, though the program as moved away from this.

(Map of PEPFAR World Activities)
https://hiu.state.gov/Products/Worldwide_PepfarPlans_2012July19_HIU_U568.pdf

  USAID, HHS, the CDC, OGAC (Office of the Global AIDS Coordinator, housed in the Department of State), Peace Corps, and several other departments and agencies have been part of the implementation process.  And yes, as you probably guessed, this list answers, at least in part, the "why am I writing about this" thing.  It focuses on prevention, treatment, and care for those living with HIV, through education, contraception, ART (antiretroviral therapy), counseling, etc.  I could throw around terms like "OVCs," or "PLVHA," or "Out of School Youths" as target groups, or the ABC method of prevention, or PMTCT.  Or, I can assume you are all intelligent/capable of using Google.  I'm going to go with the latter, since it's less work for me.

  So, in short, that's what it is (see links later for more info).

  Okay, well, what have been the results?  Well, here are some numbers from PEPFAR's website:

• 5.1 million people received ARTs because of PEPFAR
• 11 million pregnant women received HIV testing and counseling treatment, and is believed to ave prevented 230,000 cases of mother-infant transmissions in 2012
• 15 million people receiving care in 2012
• 5 million OVCs receiving care and support in 2012
• 46.5 million people were tested for HIV in 2012
• As mentioned, an estimated 1.1 MILLION PEOPLE IN AFRICA ALONE DIDN'T DIE FROM HIV/AIDS
• Over 7 million new infections prevented

http://www.pepfar.gov/funding/results/index.htm
http://www.mercurynews.com/breakingnews/ci_12087859
http://www.eurekalert.org/pub_releases/2009-04/sumc-ssf040209.php

  Yeah, it's been good. No, it hasn't been cheap, but it as saved lives.

  Okay, Jay, we get it.  You really like PEPFAR, and it's been fairly successful. So, why is it not more well known?  Well, reader, there are a few reason.  And no, none of them will completely answer the question, since there is no single answer.  There are, instead, several factors which I feel play a role.  I will expand on them shortly.  One of the most commonly cited ones is politics.  One I put more stock in is the main problem with foreign aid: it helps people "over there" rather than "here," so we don't directly see the impact.  Another factor is context.  Let's face it, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan pretty much consumed all of our foreign policy attention during the Bush years.  Everything else was kind of just drowned out.  On top of that, the economy collapsed, and we were more worried about people here who were suffering.  Beyond that, the handling of Katrina tends to dominate any discussion about how Bush handled disasters.  And, finally, most of the impact is long-term, so it didn't really show up while he was still in office (in fact, we have yet to see the full impact).  There are also some criticisms of the program itself, some valid, some (in my opinion) just people being selfish and shortsighted.

  Here is one take on the issue: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/anthony-amore/googling-pepfar_b_3934705.html.  Now, Amore's take starts off good, talking about how more people know about Miley Cyrus twerking than about a program that's spent billions to save lives.  However, he pretty much kills any validity in his article when he talks about "Hollywood elite" and blames "the Left," as if they make up one group.  This brings us to the first issue.  Politics absolutely play a massive role.  After all, we're talking about a 21st century US President, so any legacy is going to be based on political views, and the Democrats certainly had a lot to gain from not publicizing it, since the fewer people who know about it, the fewer people who would have something nice to say about Bush.  Of course, this simplistic analysis ignores the fact that the program as been continued and expanded, to a degree (more on that later), by the Obama administration.

   The fact is, foreign aid polls bad.  The people it helps aren't the ones paying taxes or voting in the elections.  Many people don't like the idea of our money going to help people "over there" when we have so many problems in our own country.  There is also the question of whether the money's been worth it, since 10 years later, HIV still exists.  Shouldn't people's own governments be taking over by now? Well, actually, they are.  PEPFAR funding has been reduced.  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/chris-collins/pepfar-cuts-hiv-aids_b_3101250.html.  No, this is not about the deficit.  PEPFAR (and all money going towards foreign aid health initiatives) make up less than 1% of spending.  As the article points out, the focus is less on a billateral solution, where the US gives them money and tells them how to fix the AIDS problem.  It's turning more towards a structure whereby money is used to get the spread of HIV/AIDS under control and help countries work to reduce the rates, and then have them take over, with the help of international organizations, NGOs, and the UN.  Rather trying to help these countries, the focus is shifting more towards helping them help themselves, or (to use the buzzword of the development community) "capacity building."  PEPFAR has been criticized for hurting local health structures, with health workers in PEPFAR-funded programs making several times what similar workers in non-PEPFAR-funded health institutions. Foreign aid is just unpopular, though.  Sure, there are disagreements about it from a "what's the best way to do it" standpoint, but many people just think we should cut it.  In fact, it's one of the most common suggestions for things we should cut as par of the budget crisis (http://www.people-press.org/2013/02/22/as-sequester-deadline-looms-little-support-for-cutting-most-programs).   Of course, anyone who suggests this doesn't know what they're talking about, since all foreign aid comes to not only less of the GDP than the average American thinks, but even less than the amount they would be fine with spending on it (http://www.cgdev.org/blog/lies-damn-lies-and-surveys-about-foreign-aid, http://www.worldpublicopinion.org/pipa/articles/brunitedstatescanadara/670.php).   Not only that, but foreign aid leads to people being more supportive of the US, which lowers the risks of them attacking us.

  Beyond that is the context.  There were far bigger issues facing Americans.  If you look at any article regarding PEPFAR and scan the comments sections (and I would recommend not wasting any time doing that), you will see things along the line of "great, so he helped people over there, but look at how he messed up with Katrina and saddled our country with 2 massive wars."  Bush's "failures" tend to drown out any positives, which is a shame.  Even articles praising him make reference to it being in contrast to his general legacy (http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2013/02/14/what_george_w_bush_did_right?page=0,0).  But, if you ask the people being helped, however, this isn't in contrast to his legacy; in many parts of Africa and in countries with high HIV, this IS his legacy (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7831460.stm).  Sure, many Africans were excited about America having a president who looks like them, and CNN/al Jazeera/BBC have made them aware of his less positive moments.  But, in the end, he's done a lot of good (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ambassador-eric-goosby-md/through-pepfar-support-on_b_3461660.html, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ambassador-eric-goosby-md/pepfar-tenth-anniversary_b_3325863.html).  By the way, sorry for all the links, but I feel it adds more if I make it clear that these aren't just my own opinions/anecdotes.  I realize some are repetitive, but it was easier than trying to transfer this from Word with them as links, rather than as footnotes (sorry, MLA fans).

  And, of course, there are valid criticisms of the program itself.  I already mentioned one, that being the impact it has on local health systems.  It's also been criticized for creating a dependency in countries receiving the funds, though, as I mentioned, that is part of why the focus has shifted away from bilateral strategies.  There are also those who say by reducing the transmission rates of HIV, we essentially make "high risk behaviors" safer (http://www.aids.org/topics/harm-reduction-and-hiv/).  While that's true, when you make them safer, they become less high risk, so the statement is somewhat contradictory, in my opinion.  Of course, reducing the likelihood of contracting HIV doesn't change the fact that when you have sex without a condom, you run the risk of other STIs or pregnancy, which should (and is) emphasized with the education aspects of PEPFAR.    PEPFAR has also been criticized for working so heavily with FBOs, who, sometimes, make adherence to their faith a condition for being helped (something I personally think is wrong, but since they're willing to help where others won't, unless they're willing to pick up the slack, I don't think people who criticize PEPFAR for working with FBOs have much of a leg to stand on).  Funding has been criticized (by this, I mean there are people who say we should be spending more).  However, one of the biggest criticisms (and the one I most agree with) has been some of the requirements. A certain percentage (this has varied slightly, but was originally mandated at 1/3) of funds must go towards "abstinence only" education.  While it's true that abstinence is the only 100% effective way to stop the spread of HIV, it's also unrealistic (just look in the US and the numbers between states that teach abstinence only sex ed as opposed to those who teach real sex ed).  And, in fact, this has lead to a reduction in the effectiveness of encouraging condom use.  PEPFAR funds also cannot go toward needle-exchange programs, which is one of the more effective methods of stopping the spread.  Are IV drugs good? No. Should they be encouraged? No. But needle exchanges don't encourage them, they simply recognize that these people are going to do drugs either way, so lets help them do it without spreading HIV (sorry for the rant).  PEPFAR also requires all organizations to sign an anti-prostitution pledge in order to receive funding.  This has resulted in criticism since sex workers are, arguably, one of the groups most at risk for HIV.  There are also issues with drug companies and the cost of the meds.

  So, between partisan politics, context, and criticism of the program itself (and an American public increasingly obsessed with gossip and less interested in stuff that actually impacts the world), the program has slipped many people's minds.  Which is unfortunate.  But, thankfully, the 10th anniversary of PEPFAR has done a little to rectify this.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/eugene-robinson-george-w-bushs-greatest-legacy--his-battle-against-aids/2012/07/26/gJQAumGKCX_story.html "George W. Bush's greatest legacy" by Eugene Robinson
http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/george-w-bush-extend-success-against-aids-to-other-devastating-diseases/2012/07/22/gJQAxs042W_story.html "Extend the success against AIDS to other devastating diseases" by George W. Bush himself, suggesting we use the lessons learned from PEPFAR (arguably the most successful global health initiative) to fight other major diseases around the world.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/pepfars-glowing-report-card-10-years-later/2013/02/25/1a1c67e4-7ede-11e2-b99e-6baf4ebe42df_story.html "PEPFAR's glowing report card, 10 years later"
http://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/a-pepfar-for-dc-and-baltimore/2012/07/20/gJQAVbZbyW_story.html "A PEPFAR for DC and Baltimore". Yes, it's been so successful "over there" that people, like Robert C. Gallo, are suggesting using the methods to fight HIV in the US.
And, of course, the many articles I've already included, most of which criticize the lack of articles about PEPFAR.  The truth is, the information is out there, people just tend not to care.  But that's changing, slowly, as we're seeing just how successful PEPFAR has been.

  Ok, Jay, so PEPFAR's helped a lot of people. I get it.  But I came here to read about your own experiences, not another story about fighting AIDS in Africa.  So, please tell me, Mr. Salus, why exactly did I just read all of that?  Well, first of all, as I mentioned before, one of the ways the US government implements PEPFAR programming is through the Peace Corps.  My official title is a US Peace Corps Health Extension Volunteer, as part of the Community Health and HIV/AIDS Program.  Basically, I'm how Peace Corps does the PEPFAR thing.  But it's more than that.  Namibia gained independence in 1991.  Since 1996, HIV has been the leading cause of death in the country, and was a major cause for the life expectancy in the country dropping from 61 years to 49 between 1991 and 2001.  However, between 2006 and 2008, the HIV rate between ages 15-49 dropped from almost 20% to less than 18% of the population.  In 2009, the CDC estimated that roughly 13.1% of the adult population was living with HIV/AIDS (http://www.cdc.gov/globalhealth/countries/namibia/pdf/namibia.pdf).  PEPFAR has also been directly responsible for an increased access to ART treatment, counseling, and HIV prevention education in Namibia, which has helped reduce the death rate caused by HIV.  It's also led to a drastic reduction of mother-to-child transmissions and led to improved care for OVCs and other high risk groups, like out of school youths.  In 2011 (the most recent year in which statistics are available), over 98,000 people received ARTs, over 240,000 received counseling and testing, and almost 2,300 infant infections were averted.  Just in one year.  Meanwhile, the CDC says that in 2011, life expectancy was up to 63 year for women, 62 for men.  Here's the take from Wanda L. Nesbitt, US Ambassador to Namibia: http://reliefweb.int/report/namibia/working-namibia-end-aids.

  Look, I realize I'm no expert when it comes to HIV/AIDS.  There are plenty of people out there who could've written this post, or even a better one.  I'll even admit that one of the reasons I wrote this was that I'm simply afraid I, like many PCVs, will lose the ability to write and speak in real English (as opposed to the Namlish that is slowly taking over).  But I also wanted to talk about a topic I feel strongly about.  Because I am working in the field of HIV/AIDS and PEPFAR does impact my life directly and because ever since I can remember, I'd seen people on TV talking about AIDS in Africa.  I often hear people say how awful it is. While George W. Bush did a lot which I disagreed with, he also established PEPFAR, which has save millions of lives around the world, and I think it's time we all recognized this aspect of his legacy.  10 years later, and we're still seeing progress.  Is there work to do? Sure.  And I plan to be a part of it.  So, I hope you enjoyed this and found it informative.

  When AIDS was first discovered, it was a death sentence and a cause for great fear.  It's now manageable and treatable.  Soon, we might even have a vaccine (http://www.nytimes.com/2013/09/17/science/new-hope-for-hiv-vaccine.html?_r=0).  Now, it's just a matter of helping people know the facts about the virus and how to prevent it.  I'm writing this as the government shutdown is taking place, so I'll throw in my 2 cents on these negotiations: don't cut a penny of foreign aid, and especially from health initiatives like PEPFAR.  It won't be more than a drop in the bucket for the American debt problem, but it will mean lives over here and around the world.  "Investment in AIDS will be repaid a thousand-fold in lives saved and communities held together," Dr. Peter Piot, ED of UNAIDS.  George W. Bush established PEPFAR.  He made the investment.  He began fixing the house.  And he deserves a lot of thanks for doing so.

Abita to Africa

  Those of you who have been reading this blog from the very beginning will remember that my original title was Abita to Africa. I've since changed it to better fit my experiences. The original title was meant to reflect the transition from New Orleanian to Peace Crop Volunteer living in Namibia (yes, there was a gap in between where I moved back to DC for a few months, but it really never felt like home, since I've barely lived there as an adult). However, I think it would be appropriate to take a time and reflect on the shift. After all, it's football season, and trying to explain to my co-workers why every Friday and Saturday I wear a green shirt and gold hat with that weird black shape on it (the fleur-de-lis on my Saints cap, which I wear the day before every Tulane game).

I'm currently sitting in my room, eating some leftover red beans and rice (the main staple of my diet on a Peace Corps budget largely revolves around different takes on that dish and mashed pumpkin/carrots) and watching Treme for the God-knows-how-many-th time, I can't help but think about how hard it's been to try and explain what New Orleans was like. Sure, I can show them pictures, share my stories, play the music, and hand out Mardi Gras beads to people, but, like trying to explain what Khorixas (or even Namibia as a whole) to my family and friends back home, New Orleans, to people who have never been there (or, in many cases, even heard of it), is something that can never been effectively captured in words or photos.

Telling them about DC has been easier. Most people know of it (and unlike in Israel, people here don't just think of the US in relation to New York City). They know who Barack Obama is, they've seen pictures of the White House, they've heard some of our Congressmen and Senators speak on CNN (NBC shows it in the afternoon), and seen many movies and TV hows that depict the Washington Monument. New Orleans is a different story. In the US, it's one of our most famous cities, as well known as NYC, DC, Boston, LA, Dallas, Houston, Chicago, or any other major city. We all know about Katrina (even if, and I recognize this is a cheap shot, the majority of Louisiana Republicans clearly don't remember the details, given the recent poll that says more of them blame Obama than Bush, a mockable and shameful fact to anyone who can do basic math or has even the slightest memory). Bourbon Street, Mardi Gras, and the French Quarter are the stuff of legends, even if many are grossly skewed and misrepresented in “Girls Gone Wild” videos and movies by people who clearly only know what the legends say, having never really experienced it themselves. It's Louis Armstrong, Fats Domino, the Nevilles, Rebirth, Kermit, Shorty, Galactic, Dr. John and hundreds of great musicians who the city has spawned. It's jambalaya, gumbo, po-boys, blackened cat fish, Antoine's, Galatoire's, Jacques Imo's, Mothers, Tujague's (despite my poor experience there last time I ate there), Hand Grenades, Hurricanes (both the drink and the storms), Abita, Dat Dog, Du Monde, the Brennans, Emeril, and Paul Prudhomme. It's Indians on Mardi Gras day and St. Joseph's. It's Jackson Square, the river front, the Fly, the Garden District, the CBD, Uptown, Mag street, and Audubon Park. It's “Tigah Bait” and “Roll Wave” on Saturdays, and “Who Dat?!” on Sundays. It's marching bands and brass bands. It' Tabasco sauce on everything. It's starring East at the “West Bank.” It's Voodoo fest, JazzFest, French Quarter Fest, and all the other celebrations. It's plastic beads, great food, the people, and a culture of its own. My dad once referred to New Orleans as one of the most unique cities in the US. Having spent the majority of my adult life in the city, I can truly attest to that fact.

But it's that uniqueness that also makes it hard to explain. There really are very few places like it in the world, and that makes comparisons hard to find. DC may be a special place with a lot of interesting history and people, but it's history, the fact that it takes a lot of influences form ancient Rome and has a lot in common in personality to other major capitals, means that while it certainly has a unique quality that sets it aside from other cities in the US, it still has things it can be compared to. But, in many ways, living in New Orleans helped prepare me for my life in Khorixas. It’s Voodoo fest, JazzFest, French Quarter Fest, and all the other celebrations.

No, Khorixas has never been nearly wiped out by a hurricane (in fact, no matter how many YouTube videos I show them, my co-workers still can't comprehend hurricanes and how a bunch of wind and rain can completely change a city), but in many ways, the houses here are in a similar state of disrepair to those in New Orleans. You can see many of them were once really nice, but years of people not being able to repair them, coupled with all the dust, has a lot of them looking worn (never mind the shacks put together with scrap metal). The roads also remind me of the ones in New Orleans; worn, uneven, and often not wide enough. I won't say the government here is corrupt (and no, this isn't an “I'm not sayin', I'm just sayin'” kind of thing, I'm just using the term for lack of anything that can truly sum it up), but politics and knowing the right people are honestly more important in getting something done often than what it is you are trying to get done. As I've mentioned previously, part of this stems from the issues between the parties at the national level, and part of it is how things get done in this world, but living in New Orleans really highlighted this fact.

There is also no place in the US where alcohol and drinking are so ingrained in the day-to-day life and culture. Sure, people in other parts of the US drink. I'm sure New York has more bars than New Orleans. But in New Orleans, often, alcohol is what you do. No, I'm not saying people in New Orleans don't do anything but drink, but drinking is a big part of how we celebrate there. Similarly, drinking is what you do here. Don't have a job? Hang at the shebeens. Have a job? Grab a beer during lunch or after work. When Khorixas had its big cultural celebration, you can bet you @$$ that people were drinking sunrise to sunset, and then flowing into the bars/shebeens as soon as they finished eating. Drinking is arguably the country's biggest problem, being the root of most, if not all, of its other major societal issues, just like it is in New Orleans.

You can't walk down the street without being hit by 2 things. The first is the smell of meat on the grills, being sold by the many street meat vendors, whose only source of income that is. They have their spots and get out early, selling fat cakes in the morning, and by lunch are competing for customers by trying to have the best selling meat. If you've ever been to Mardi Gras, you know exactly how similar this is to streets during the parades, with people selling grilled chicken, gumbo, and other yummy selling foods to those intoxicated by the smells (and drinking). And, as a side note, in both places, people often won't eat a meal without meat and see vegetables as something that can be done without. Plus, bbqs in New Orleans and braais in New Orleans are a year-round thing, something I truly love. The other thing that hits you here is all the trash on the street. However, years of Mardi Gras, walks down Bourbon, and festivals in the crescent city had left me immune to this until a friend commented on it.

Infrastructure is another area where New Orleans and Khorixas see parallels. Slow and sometimes unreliable mail service mark both cities. Anyone finding a working bathroom can be an issue in bot New Orleans and in all of Namibia. Unreliable water supply in both cities can cause many problems (though a 2+ year drought and water treatment plant failing may not be the same thing). In Khorixas, when we had our cultural celebration, the phone lines were jammed because they couldn't handle the number of people in the town. There is no real recycling in either and trash pick-up is non-existent here, while in New Orleans, they just sometimes forget. And there's public transportation, which is unreliable at best in New Orleans and completely non-existent in Khorixas, though getting a quick ride around town here often isn't too hard, unless you're trying to carry a grill from Grace's to my new place, by yourself, and going to any other town requires a taxi or a “hike.”

Of course, there's the heat and sudden weather changes, something the Big Easy is a great prep for.

We like to deny it in the US, but racism is still very much alive in Uncle Sam's nation. Likewise, many people in Namibia like to pretend apartheid is a thing of the past. That may be true, officially at least, but race relations are certainly far from perfect. There's a very visible difference between whites and blacks in both places (though Khorixas, like New Orleans, has seen its are of “white flight”). The size of the houses, the shape they're in, the jobs they have, the cars, etc. I could go on forever. And while it's often subtle, in both cases, you can often hear a degree of racism in the way people talk. And like the tribalism we have in the US between our religions and what part of the city you live in (like ow New Orleans blacks view the Vietnamese and all), hearing Namibians talk about what tribe they are from and what they think of other tribes can be flat out disgusting. Of course, to some degree, this is just human nature, and it's certainly no worse here than anything from the US. Tribalism goes back as far as man as existed, and far be it for me to criticize Namibians for something I myself am certainly guilty of at times, whether intentional or subconscious. People here, like in the South, also wear their church on their sleeves, making sure to include what church they attend is on their resume and sometimes judging people for what church they see people in front of.

There's also the issues of unemployment and poor schools. Both cities have very high numbers of people without jobs (admittedly, a problem all over Namibia and, to a lesser extent, the US, post-2007). These problems are made worse by the schools. Khorixas' schools, while probably not bad by this country's standards, certainly leave a lot to be desired, and it often comes out in my learners being shocked by my not simply passing them for showing up, but actually requiring that they pass their exams. Likewise, in New Orleans, when I would volunteer at some of the schools, some of the classrooms had the most recent test scores of students on display, and, as anyone who knows much about New Orleans public schools would expect, many of the scores were sub-par. In both cases, you see similar problems: lack of materials, not enough qualified teachers (though that is supposedly slowly changing in Namibia), high drop-out rates, and lack of supervision for the youth after classes end. Of course, in Namibia, that's what brought Peace Corps into the country in the first place, and, from what I've been told, the situation, while not good yet, is much better now. Plus, Namlish is honestly no worse than the “English” spoken by many people in New Orleans.

During my time in New Orleans, despite its many flaws (or, maybe because of them), I found myself fall in love with the city. I truly understand why the character of Sunny in Treme wanted to come from Amsterdam to that city, becoming fascinated before ever going there. I understand the personality of Davis and why he acts and talks about the city they way does. Why so many have moved back or tried to since the storm. How the city as inspired so many artists, musicians, authors, and the imaginations of so many Americans. I also understand why, during my IDEV 101 class, the former president of the university remarked so often that anyone who wanted to visit a “3^rd World Country” (despite my dislike of is using the term so incorrectly) without a passport or paying a lot of money could simply leave Uptown. And, likewise, I am very quickly falling in love with Khorixas, the people, and the life here. I've been told I'm a true “citizen of Khorixas” by several people here, and this weekend, as I was walking to the supermarket to buy ingredients to make a potato salad for a braai I was throwing, a women remarked that she ad grown up in Khorixas and had never seen a white person so comfortable in the town, walking down the street, enjoying my music and saying “hi” or “matisa” to everyone I passed. It really does feel like home now, especially since I finally got my own place to live.

I could go on forever, and I doubt this will be the last time I make reference to Khorixas in terms of New Orleans, but I think this is enough for now. Honestly, as much as I want to use New Orleans to put things into perspective for my readers back home trying to understand my life and experiences here, I am falling into the common trap of trying to compare experiences and sort of wedging patterns into place to cope, I think. But it does go to help you understand, I hope, my challenge of helping people here understand my life there.

And what better way to try than to put on a Mardi Gras party. It's a ways off, but planning as to start now. I'm working on getting some beads (and a baby to put into a King Cake I'm hoping to make) sent over. On that note, if anyone from New Orleans has any interest in sending me a care package, I could really use some beads or a King Cake baby or 2 (not that I expect many of you are interested in doing that). I got plenty of the music on my iPod, and beer, while not Abita, is super easy to get. I may have to “Nami-fy” things a bit, but gumbo, red beans and rice, jambalaya, and beignets are foods I can make. I might even be able to do blackened catfish, if my boss is still working for us (he's working on finishing his law degree to help defend youths with legal problems) and takes a trip to Terrace Bay around that time. If nobody steals the power cable for it, I can even use our internet to stream Zulu and Rex from Nola.com. And I certainly have enough photos and videos to show people. Could make for a fun cultural exchange, I think. Would certainly be a lot of fun, anyway. I'm also working on arranging a form of tailgate and college football experience for my co-workers.

I'm working on a new post about things I'm going to have to get used to here/getting used to/will never get used to but am going to have to live with. Expect that in a week or 2. I am also thinking of putting something up about the music here, but that might not be for a while, since I'm hoping to go t a jazz festival in Windhoek in October (which will likely see a return of the New Orleans comparisons). I'm also working on a project for which I am applying for a PCPP grant (which is basically a grant where you all donate money and I only get the grant once my amount is reached). It's a project I'm partnering on with Grace, the other volunteer in my town, and I'll plenty more details once I get my grant approved and am ready to start begging and guilt-tripping you all into giving me money to fight AIDS in Africa. I also want to have something about PEPFAR, since it is often an overlooked part of George W. Bush's legacy, and arguably one of the best things to come out of his 8 years in office, and plays a big role in my work here, and as such think it warrants its own post. And, as a treat, I'm working on a book about development and aid, partially to kill time without doing the cliche “my story” Peace Corps book (though my experiences here and in New Orleans will certainly work their way in at times), and I'm thinking that once I have the intro written, I might post it ere for y'all to get feedback. So, that's some of what's coming down the pipeline, along with some possible upcoming travels I'm planning and picture to go along with them. But that's for the future. Now, it's time to get some rest before a new week of work. Enjoy.

Some Things Truly Are Forever

  As anyone who's known me for a long time is aware, one of the defining parts of my childhood was my participation in the Boy Scouts.  The other day, I was bored at work (it's rare, but some days, I just have downtime).  While trying to kill time, I came across a post on the National Eagle Scout Association's Facebook page, asking what was the most useful skill people learned while they were Scouts.  It got me thinking about how much my time in the Scouts has impacted my service in the Peace Corps.

  First of all, we'll get the duct tape and knots point out of the way.  The number of things I've fixed with duct tape would surprise many people, never mind the duct tape wallets I've made for friends here.  A sandal breaks? duct tape.  A power chord for a computer is having problems? Duct it. Need to hang curtains that are torn? You guessed it.  And that's only the tip of the iceberg.  And then there are the knots.  I'me watching Grace's dog for a weekend, and she breaks the rope we have her on when we let her run around outside.  As soon as I get her back, a quick square knot and the problem is fixed.  My friend tells me I need a new rope for my clothes line, and rather than wait for someone to take care of it for me, I pick up some rope from the hardware store and take care of it myself.  Hooks for my mosquito net (which, of course I use everywhere I go) need to be hung at an odd angle? Improvise with rope.  Obviously, these are all skills that many people learn from a number of places, and for me, that place was the Scouts.

  Another obvious one is making and cooking on a fire.  How often have I needed an open flame for meals? Well, when the power goes out (not a rare thing), a grill still works, even when the stove doesn't.  Not to mention enjoying a nice braai (bbq for those who don't speak "Namlish").

  Oh, and don't forget how much stuff I have from those days, like the sleeping bag and backpack I use when I travel, or my Leatherman knife.  And my super nice boots and SmartWool socks.  And of course, my ability to set up a tent.  Or knowing that wearing a nice cap can keep me warm enough in the morning, while being easier to carry around in the afternoon, when it's hot as hell.

  Oh, and let us not forget those wonderful leadership skills, which have come in handy in trying to get things done when those in charge seem unable to take charge.

  Of course, there are things that are less obvious.  For instance, my ability to fix a bike, largely the result of my Eagle project.

  Now, I could go on, but honestly, that would largely be a waste.  As many of you have probably gathered, the main purpose of this post was killing time and not letting myself go too long without writing (for, as with any skill, if you don't use it, you lose it).  I promise, a real post should be coming soon, once I have a break between computer classes, moving into my new place and the buying of things/cleaning that entails), and VRF-ing.  But, beware, it may include me hitting you all up for money.