Counting Down

  So, it's time for me to start thinking about my upcoming Completion of Service (COS). In a little over half a year, I'll be on my way back to the US (I know a few people who are looking forward to this, and a few who wouldn't mind if I stayed here forever, or at least a bit longer). So, it's time to start preparing for that day. There are two parts to that preparation. First, is making arrangements so that when I leave, my work can continue. The other is figuring out what the heck I'm going to do.

  First, my work. The project towards which I've put in the most time has been my computer classes. My counterpart was the teacher before I got there. Sadly, he left our office a few months back to join the police force. I am currently in the process of training a new teacher, though some minor problems with the equipment (like most of the computer lab not actually working at the moment) has slowed that down. On top of that, I am working on putting together a resource drive and binder of the resources I've created. These include the pre-class survey, in-class practices, and exams for my computer classes, some life skills program pre-/post-tests, and some of the materials from the health club. Running the health club has mainly been handed off to Taylor, with me leading some of the day of stuff, and her running the planning, for the most part, which has been the case since she arrived (mainly because the gym is at her office). My English class has more or less died, due to attendance issues. I found a new coach for my soccer team, set to take over in January. I still have a few smaller projects I intend to start/continue, but the big stuff seems to be taken care of.

  Which brings me to the other part of planning for my COS. I am in the process of applying to law schools, after which I will begin working on job applications. I am also studying for the GRE and looking into a few Masters programs, mainly Public Health, Public Policy, and Idev. We'll see how that pans out. I'm also working on planning a small road trip to visit friends and family, as well as hopefully check out housing for law school, assuming I go to school outside the DC area. So, if anyone wants me to add them to potential stops along the way, let me know. And, of course, trying to plan ways to visit places over here I haven't had a chance to make it to yet.

  Of course, the biggest question for me seems to be what I want my first meals back to be. The obvious answer would be seafood, since it's not easy to get in Khorixas, whereas Maryland is famous for it. I've also found myself missing New Orleans food, not counting the imitations I make using the "wrong" ingredients here. There's also the Deli, since a good corned beef sandwich doesn't exist here. And I can't discount the fact that the DC area has such a diverse selection of food from so many different countries. After all, I do like Thai, Middle Eastern, Indian, Chinese, Mexican, etc. Of course, I would definitely put my money on something spicy, knowing me and the lack of kick in food over here. I do have plenty of time left to figure that one out, and my family will probably have some say in that one. For sure, the most important thing for me will probably be having a decent beer selection, since, while beer here is decent, especially for the cost, I miss the variety available in the US. This may seem minor to you all back in the States, but when you go two years in relative isolation, with limited options for eating out, these conversations come up a lot when we get together.

  I'm no longer at the point where I count up the months I've spent here in Namibia. Instead, I'm counting down the months I have left (roughly, since I don't have an exact COS date yet). Of course, 7-ish months is still a lot of time to get things done, and I will continue to put in the same effort I have been, but now, I also have to keep an eye on the clock so it doesn't run out on me before I'm ready.

  We have an election coming up in November. In the least political way I can, I hope to write about it and how campaigns her compare to the US, as well as a little about the results (though I refer you to my links tab for more in-depth coverage, unbound by requirements of remaining political neutral/apathetic). I will be attending my first meeting as my training group's representative to VAC (the Peace Corps version of Student Government). In December (re-scheduled due to the local elections), my group is planning a Thanksgiving dinner in Opuwo, complete with a trip to Epupa falls. I will also hopefully be taking a day to collaborate with a good friend as a guest speaker in a class she runs, and helping Den, the new teaching volunteer in Khorixas, get used to the town.

I Went to Africa and All I Got Was This T-Shirt

  So, with Ebola in the news, I want to once again clarify that Africa is, in fact, very big. After all, now that it's made it to Texas, YOU are actually probably closer to it than I am. So, stop asking me about it. A friend and I were actually recently joking about how ill-informed Americans seem to be with their comments on the Ebola situation so we're planning on making t-shirts that say "I Spent 2 Years in Africa and Didn't Get Ebola" (the picture below will be on the back, on something like it). Either that, or "I Went to Africa and All I Got Was This D@MN T-Shirt...And a Nasty Case of Ebola". Seriously, though, I'm safe.

Okay, I realize it's spread a little more than this picture says, but it's still pretty far away, and while Africa may look like the sole of your foot, it's quite a bit bigger, and those lines are countries, not just decorations.

Save Me A Hat

  How is it that waking up to news that the Nats clinched the playoffs last night comes closer to making me homesick than the holidays? Save me a hat or t-shirt(s), DC. #Natitude

News Back Home

  One of the hardest parts of being a Peace Corps volunteer is leaving everyone behind. Their lives go on, and some of them have major life events take place while you're gone. They get married, have kids, get new jobs. While most of this blog is about me, this post is not. This is about a few friends back home. The internet has allowed me to have a far easier time keeping up with people back home than it was when my mother was a volunteer. This has often been helpful, but sometimes, I will see something and a pain for not being there with friends to celebrate with them or be a comfort. So I'll do the best I can right now.

  First of all, I want to congratulate my good friend Phil Sharp on getting married. Phil and I were housemates when I lived in Israel, and he was one of my closest friends during that time in my life. Phil, I wish you and Jenna the very best as you start the next stage in your life. May you have many happy years together.

  Another friend of mine who got married is Toby Kathan, who helped me through my years in the Boy Scouts, and while we drifted apart during the last few years, I wish you the best.

  While I could probably fill up a post simply congratulating all the people I know who've gotten married during the past year (the reality of people my age), the truth is, those are the two which really stuck out to me.

  A few months back I wrote a post about Tulane President Scott Cowen retiring. President Cowen, I want to once again offer my thanks for all you did for Tulane. I will never forget the cup of coffee, and my professor's response when I told him why I was late to class that day. And then there was the green hair at homecoming. When I tell people I went to Tulane, one of the most common responses has been comments on how good a school it is, and that is in no small part thanks to your leadership, and while I don't latter myself enough to think you are reading this blog, I hope you know that I am among those who greatly appreciate all you've done for the school and the city of New Orleans. And President Michael Fitts, I wish you all the best as you assume the tall task of filling those massive shoes.

  Finally, Tulane University's marching band is getting ready to perform for the first time in our brand new stadium. They have been preparing for several weeks now, and they've been doing so without the leadership of long-time assistant band director, Mark Lighthiser. Mark has left the band for a new life in Porland, Oregon. While we may not have always gotten along (the tensions of an instructor/student dynamic), I want to offer you my thanks for helping me improve as both a musician and as a person, and wish you all the best.

  While there are many more people I wish I could mention, to do so would take too long, and I'd surely leave someone out, so I'll stop there. To all my friends and family back home, whether you've undergone significant changes in your life or not, I wish you all the best and can't wait to see you all again in a few months. You are all constantly in my thoughts.

Rebirth

Note: This post is being put up a day later than intended, due to my town not having electricity the entire afternoon, keeping me from finishing and posting on time. I am leaving the date-specific references as they were because I feel they are relevant to the sentiments expressed in this post.

  Today is August 29. While that date may not be super meaningful for everyone, for those of us with a connection to New Orleans, especially a connection formed around or shortly after 2005, that date means quite a bit. Now, I'm sure most of you figured out what that date means, now that I've given you a year and city as a reference point. August 29 is the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina making landfall. Now, before I go on, I want to clarify that I was not in New Orleans at the time of the storm. In fact, I hadn't even begun applying to colleges yet, and wouldn't for about another year. However, that storm directly brought me to New Orleans and played an impact on my life going forward.

  However, my purpose in this post is not to talk about me, though I will inevitably end up connecting this back to my service later. I just felt a bit homesick after seeing some friends back home posting articles in remembrance of the storm. So, before I go on, I would advise you to make your way to Nola.com for some excellent coverage. It may no longer be a daily, but the Times-Pic, in my opinion, remains one of the better local newspapers. There are two articles in particular I would like to direct you to. The first is a collection of photos by Ted Jackson. They depict the destruction left by Katrina, but if you click on the photos and drag your mouse across, you will see the photos change to more or less the exact same shot, 9 years later. One of the best views of the visual representations of the city's rebirth since Steve Gleason blocked that punt on Monday Night Football (or the Saints Super Bowl title a few years later). And while none of pictures depicts homes I worked on, I can't help but feel a sense of pride seeing the changes, knowing I, along with millions of other people who picked up hammers and pry bars and paint buckets, played a big part in that. Another article discusses the way people have preserved or memorialized their "Katrina X" on their homes, which, when juxtaposed with repaired homes, serve as "tattoos" to remind people that while the city may be rebuilt, it has also been changed and the impacts linger on. For a fuller coverage, here is the link.

  However, I'm not here to simply share other people's work with you. After all, if you're interested, you've probably seen some of these yourself. However, on the anniversary of Katrina, I was trying to explain the recovery to my colleagues this morning, and I shared that Steve Gleason link, though I'll admit, while the photos of the damage the flooding and the "then and now" link made an impression the football play kind of missed it's mark with them. In my case, though, it got me thinking. It got me thinking about activism. Steve Gleason's career ended not long after that block, in part at least, because of his having ALS, which has been getting a lot of press lately, in case you live under a rock. The Ice Bucket Challenge is the latest national activism campaign to go viral (granted, unlike many of its predecessors, like the infamous #Kony2012, which I often use as an example of a bad campaign, actually includes people doing something that might help by donating money). A number of charity and issue awareness campaigns go viral these days, especially with Facebook and Twitter giving such an easy forum. Peer pressure tends to make these appealing. They're also very easy to participate in, feel like you've made a meaningful difference, and not have to do too much work on your own.

  Likewise, after Hurricane Katrina, millions of people donated money to help New Orleans rebuild. Some even took time to come down and help build homes, pass out food and water, or help out in other ways. Like viral campaigns, major natural disasters get a lot of attention, and, as a result, a lot of donations. Once again, it's easy. SMS something to a specific number, and your phone will be charged a donation to the Red Cross. It makes people feel good. Their money goes towards helping people. While I could go and enter into a very negative discussion about the issues and downsides of contributing to campaigns like these, I won't. If you want my opinions, we can talk privately (see my contact info on this blog). However, this post is about rebirth. With that in mind, I want to keep things more positive and optimistic,

  No, I'm not going to criticize national campaigns. They do help a wide number of people. However, national campaigns also tend not to be the most efficient way to help people. After all, they have more operational costs as they deal with PR issues, legal issues, and trying to support operations nationwide. People often forget there are a lot of people in their own communities in need of help. Donating a few dollars is easy. However, you don't have any say what the organization does with the money. Does it go towards researching new treatments? Or, does it go towards support network for those suffering from ALS? Or, something else? In the case of Katrina, does it go towards buying food? Building homes? The clustf*** of organizations often making each other redundant and getting in each others' ways? It takes a lot more work, but actually taking some time and looking up what research is being done by who and what support networks are out there, etc. goes a lot further, as you now exactly where the money is going. And, while I picked up a hammer and helped build homes in New Orleans, the truth is, we often forget in times of disaster that there are people in our own towns who need food and homes, and your time will go just as far as it does in disaster zones, and you save on gas. Not to say you shouldn't donate to national charities. Just don't forget your own back yard.

  Another common thread between Katrina and the Ice Bucket Challenge and other viral campaigns is "Katrina fatigue." People are quickly tiring of the Ice Bucket Challenge, quickly tiring of the videos, and with it has been a rise in articles criticizing the Challenge, questioning if the money is actually going towards things, or if ALS really deserves the attention. Withing days, #Kony2012 was being mocked mercilessly (and I'd admit taking part, especially since it was juxtaposed with all the Obama2012/Romney2012 campaigns). With natural disasters, donations quickly slow down. While everyone expressed sorrow after Katrina, pretty soon, people were asking whether the city was worth bringing back. After all, wouldn't this happen again? Couldn't the money be spent better? What about the corruption/crime/poverty? Couldn't Katrina be a sign from God trying to wash away a city so full of excesses and sin? Sure, for a few months, the donations were rolling in. For a few years people were coming down to help. Now, when I say New Orleans is still being rebuilt, they ask how that can be the case, almost a decade later. Corruption played a part, as did controversial (to be nice) insurance programs. But the real thing is that after a while, people stopped caring and fewer and fewer volunteers were coming down. People were finally getting some money to start rebuilding homes, but suddenly they'd lost the people who were going to provide the labor at the prices they could afford. This year, I chose to look how it was being covered in the DC area. Surely, a paper as large as The Washington Post would have something. Well, they did. A small blurb in an "on this day in history" article and a picture of A-1 from August 30. Which was more than The Washington Times included. In fact, very few national news sources made note of it (next year being a big, round tenth anniversary might be different, but compare that to the annual articles and commemorations around the country of 9/11). Despite the fact that Joseph Kony has yet to be brought to justice and the conflicts still exist in Uganda, it's largely disappeared from the media (both mainstream and social). It'll be interesting to see whether the donations for ALS charities continue next year and down the road. Which, again, comes back to helping out in your own back yard. National charities are great for getting attention and donations quickly, but grass roots activism tends to produced sustained support. After all, how long are people in Wyoming really going to stay interested in a conflict in Uganda which has already been going on for years? It's too far away for them to feel connected, and they aren't seeing immediate results. And that's the key. People want to see immediate results. Sure, seeing a house go up in New Orleans provides a measure of immediate visible results. And then you're told that house is merely a drop in the recovery bucket. People get discouraged, doubting if their donations and concern are making a difference. The way to overcome this is for the people to have a real connection to the cause. Many people who are giving in response to the Ice Bucket Challenge also have a list of charities and causes they donate to every year. These causes get their money without a viral campaign, largely because the person donating has a personal stake; a relative who suffered from/died from a certain disease, a friend who lived in that disaster area, a connection to a school, etc. That's why it's so important to get involved in your own back yard. Because that homeless man you served soup to, he's the same guy who maybe bags your groceries or danced with you at Mardi Gras or whatever. Or maybe he's the guy who out of desperation might end up breaking into your home. Or maybe you simply have the bond of cheering for the same football team on Sunday. Maybe you have no bond, but realize by helping those in need in your community, you can help property values go up. Or any of the other many reasons. The point is, when the problem is in your back yard, rather than several states away, you're more likely to have a connection, and more likely to make helping the cause a regular thing, rather than a one-shot deal and an issue you'll tire of hearing about next month. Just something to consider.

  Of course, for some people, the rebuilding of New Orleans IS in their back yard. One thing I loved about Tulane is that every year, the school commemorates Katrina with Outreach Tulane. It's Tulane's biggest day of community service (unless you count MLK Day, which I don't, since those numbers include Xavier and Loyola and Dillard, not just Tulane). For all the criticism Tulane has taken from the community (especially from those living on or near Broadway or the new stadium), Tulane has certainly made rebuilding the city very personal, even offering masters programs in disaster response/preparedness (I'll admit, I don't know the exact program, having heard of it from a friend applying, rather than looking into it myself). And it does show in the activism and volunteerism of many graduates. I am friends with another PCV from Tulane, and there are many more I don't know, as well as a large number of AmeriCorps and TFA volunteers, as well as students who find time on weekends or after work. Now, obviously, not everyone adopts this volunteerism spirit, but it certainly is something the school emphasizes, and is a direct response to Hurricane Katina.

  The rebuilding of New Orleans in an ongoing process. New Orleans will never be exactly what it was before the storm, but it certainly has risen from the destruction. And I see parallels to Namibia. Namibia may not have suffered from a hurricane, it has suffered from issues caused by weather, including a recent brutal and deadly drought. Race tensions are also present in both (I won't go too much into that, as I have a whole post comparing Namibia to New Orleans). And there are a lot of issues needing to be addressed in both, from poverty and homelessness to drug and alcohol abuse to high unemployment to struggling education systems. The issues facing New Orleans and Khorixas has given me and opportunity to share a bit of my home with Namibians and also gotten me thinking. However, on this day, I also want to take a moment to remember the death, the destruction, and the suffering that afflicted a city so dear to my heart and which would play a huge part in my life, probably more than I can really comprehend so far. And after taking a moment to remember all that, I smile, put on some New Orleans music, and take comfort in the knowledge that the effort of so many people not only can make a difference, but has made a difference. And, so long as there are people willing to donate their time and their energy (and yes, their money) to causes they feel worthy, as cynical as I may be sometimes, there will always remain at least some degree of faith in humanity and hope for the world.

Some Reflections As I Begin the Back End

"I was surprised, as always, be how easy the act of leaving was, and how good if felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility."

  As I look back on the first half+ of my service that has gone by, that quote by Jack Kerouac, has stuck with me. It struck me when I came across it early in my service, while I was reading On the Road, and I'm impressed by how much it holds true today, possibly more so than it did when I first read it. That's not to say I haven't missed anyone back home, especially in the wake of my family's recent village. And for sure, I've benefited by my having internet access at site, a luxury may PCVs do not enjoy. Still, getting away certainly did feel good. Ever since getting on the plane, I've felt a sense of optimism. A chance to help people. A chance to make a difference. Of course, that optimism, while still present, has transformed a bit. Looking back on the past year, there are a few thoughts I feel like I should share.

  I've said it several times, but one thing a PCV learns quickly is that they can't save the world. They can't save their country. They can't even save their community. You go through training, come up with all these great ideas, and bounce them off other trainees who are similarly optimistic. Then you get to site, and try and make those ideas a reality. You figure, even if you can't save the world, you can at least fix the main problem your program focuses on. As a CHHAP volunteer, you spend months in training learning about HIV, it's root causes, and ways to deal with them. It seems so simple. Do this, and the problem goes away. Right? WRONG!!! Because the thing they mention that a lot of volunteers note but forget, is that these problems are largely ingrained in tradition. The solutions, not so much. I was given a formula by Peter Jensen, and RPCV who Peace Corps contracts to teach about permagardening.

SDA+IMVR=AC->RA->BC

  Great, Jay, you've broken it down to a formula. But, unlike you, I have no clue what those letters mean. SDA means "Small Doable Actions," little things a person can do. Things like wearing a condom or cutting down on drinking. IMVR stands for "Immediate Measurable Visible Results." Things like when I wear a condom, I don't get HIV or end up pregnant, or when I cut back on drinking, I don't get drunk, I save money, and I don't make as many poor choices. Of course, the "visible" part is hardest to do, but most important. If people can't see the difference, how do they know they're not wasting their time. Sure, I can explain how condoms work, but "immediate" is tough, because to show condoms are effective, I need numbers to show a trend over time. Kind of a catch-22. In the end, the IMVR is probably the biggest challenge we face. Of course, if those small doable acts can produce immediate measurable results people can see, it can lead to AC, or attitude change. A person sees benefits of wearing a condom, and become more receptive to them. A person sees the perks of cutting back on their drinking, and find responsible drinking more appealing. This is where I take issue with the formula, for two reasons. First of all, I don't think attitude change leads to RA, repeated actions. I also think the equation is missing an element, but we will get to that soon. Up to now, this equation works on an individual level, but we're not simply trying to help one person. Overall, we're trying to change a society, a culture, so that this can all be sustainable societal change (which I will call SSC). The last part of the equation I posted is BC, or behavioral change. The equation, as I view it, would be better put as

SDA+IMVR=AC, AC+RA=BC

Then, for sustainability, we add one more elements: convincing others, or CO. The final formula, in my opinion, looks like SDA+IMVR=AC, AC+RA=BC, BC+CO=SSC. The element I've left out, as I've learned, is time. Change takes time, and 2 years is not enough to create societal change. As a volunteer, I can only effect as far as AC, maybe BC if I'm lucky. The key is to change the attitudes of a few people, and hope they the help spread those changes. You can't save everyone, but you can set one or two people on the correct path, at least.

  A bit long-winded, I realize, but I felt that has been one of the more important lessons I've learned. I'm one man. I can only do so much, but I can make the most of my opportunities with the time I have, my education, my experiences, my privileged as a white American male, etc.

  Another thing I've learned is that "sustainable" doesn't always mean the same thing in all situations. The training staff harps on that word over and over during training. It's plastered all over PC promotional materials. It's THE buzzword in development. But what does it mean? A lot of volunteers, myself included, get to site assuming it means their projects will live on after they leave. For education volunteers, maybe it's leaving behind various teaching manuals and resources. For my computer classes, it's meant training a new teacher and helping create the exams and practice exercises and curriculum. For Grace, with her fitness club, it meant getting the gym built and the club established, and finding a person to simply pass it off to (in this case me) and leaving some of her other materials ready so any loose ends on projects could be taken up by Taylor, the PCV who replaced her. But some projects are not quite that simple in terms of sustainability. I'm teaching English classes at the traditional authority. Sure, I could pass it off to Taylor when I leave, but she doesn't seem particularly interested in that project. We may be getting a teaching volunteer soon, but that doesn't mean he or she would be able to continue with it, depending on his or her schedule. However, over the past year, I've helped teach some basics of conversational English, and I can see a difference when they greet me in town and we converse. I've also taught them some reading, which will allow them to continue expanding their comfort with the language on their own. So, while the classes my die, I've still created some sustainability by helping them to help themselves. With condoms and HIV, I teach the learners of the fitness club. They, in turn, pass on what they learned when they are in their life skills classes or when friends see them maybe not having that 4th drink or insisting on using condoms. Seeing me reading every day has gotten my host family's kids more interested in reading, as well. They've also started wearing hats and sunglasses because they want to be more like me. Even if there were nobody to pick up my computer classes when I leave, there are still the learners I trained, who can use these skills to find jobs and possibly help show a friend or family member, and might even be encouraged to buy a computer, which their children will grow up using. And so on. The projects themselves may not live on, but their legacies and impacts may be able to live on.

  Moving away from my work and into my general life, it's the little things that matter. Playing with my host family, finding time to read, a Skype session with a friend back home, watching soccer with friends here, kicking a soccer ball around with co-workers, the smiles on the faces of my health club when they finally are able to make my American football spiral, learning a new song on my guitar, an SMS from just the right person, people waving at me in town, children who were once afraid of the white man now asking me to play with them (looking at you, little Patience), cooking red beans and rice on a Monday to feel like I'm back in New Orleans, or even sitting outside as the sun sets while sipping on a beer. Despite the quote to start this post, the life of a PCV is not easy. The work can be frustrating. The low pay can suck. You miss your friends and family back home. You see pictures of weddings and kids being born and can feel like everyone else is just passing you by. A lot of people can get burned out. A friend of mine's solution was traveling every chance she got. As a result, she never really felt like she was fully accepted by her community. Other people find dating helps. Until they break up. Relying on big things have their costs. The only way to really survive, I've found, has been to enjoy the simple pleasures. I you can find things to make you happy every day (or most days, at least), it makes it a lot easier to get through the day. After all, "life has become immeasurably better since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously."

  One thing many (if not all) PCVs have in common is the time we have alone. You learn a lot about yourself and how you handle them. While I've always planned on law school when I get back, I've been finding my work here has sparked a major interest in the work I've been doing in public health, and am now considering possibly doing a joint degree and get a masters in public health. Beyond re-evaluating my educational goals, A number of volunteers I know use this time to consider what their next step will be, and while that may not have been my intention, it's certainly happened.

  One big challenge I mentioned several times, especially early on, has been the cultural difference. I've learned a lot about the culture of my community, and Namibia as a whole. I've learned a lot about religion here, as well. Despite being the same religion, Christianity in Namibia plays a very different role than it does in America often. While many religious groups in the US oppose condoms in schools and the teaching of sex ed, here, a lot of the people I've worked with teach about condoms and family planning and sex ed with their children because they believe that it's what Jesus wants them to do in order to help fight the HIV and other health problems plaguing them. I've experienced engagements and weddings and funerals, and seen how traditional practices and Christian ones have combined. I've also gotten to share my own culture. For Hanukkah, I used my iPad to teach my host family about the candles and introduced them to latkes. I confused my colleagues when I didn't eat any bread during Passover. When my grandpa passed away, I got to teach them about how my culture handles death. During Mardi Gras, I showed them pictures from New Orleans, made some foods (red beans and rice, jambalaya, and king cake, though cats stole the fish we were going to use for po'boys), and introduced them to New Orleans music. They showed me how they enjoy watching soccer, and during the World Cup, I got to show them what American fans were like (and enjoyed being public enemy number one every time I wore my USA jersey during the group stage, especially after we beat Ghana). I've shown them American football, taught them to throw the ball and play the game (though it generally devolves into rugby after a couple plays). I've even introduced them to tailgating. Using the show Treme, I've given them a glimpse into the city where I went to school. With elections coming up in both the US and Namibia, we've been able to talk about the similarities and differences in the political systems. They've shared their culture with me and I've shared mine. I've been put on the spot many times regarding things in the US, whether it be our foreign policy in Iraq, our support for Israel, the killing of a black man by a police officer in the US, same sex marriage (including an interesting situation when a friend here saw my MD4ME sticker on my lap top, and asked me about it, and then, after my explanation, looked back at the TV she was watching, which was showing that Kardashians show, and remarked "you have high divorce and people like these celebrities getting married for show and breaking up all the time, and yet you think the gays are ruining your marriage?"), or any number of hot button topics, and while I generally try and avoid the politics of those situations, I do try and use them as a chance to talk about the general issues in the US, and how different people view different things. Culture may have caused a shock, but it's also opened many doors and opportunities for conversations. And I'm guessing that'll be true wherever you serve, wherever life takes me, and whenever people from such different backgrounds meet.

  A few future PCVs have come across this blog and asked me a few questions, and certain ones seem to keep coming up every time. I did a bit to prepare. I read up on HIV. I studied the history of Namibia, even tried to learn a couple phrases of Afrikaans (at this, I wasn't particularly successful, though I admittedly only put in a minimal effort at this one). For those of you out there, if you want to prepare, don't do so by trying to learn a language. In Namibia, there are so many regional languages, and while Afrikaans may be spoken in more parts of the country than others, in many communities, it's of little to no help. It's also a lot harder on your own than using the jumping off points Peace Corps provides during training and then being dumped into a community where you actually have to use it. Or, in my case, you learn that while knowing Damara might help a bit, most of my work is done in English and most of the people I come in contact with would prefer to use English, since they speak English better than I speak Damara (and then get mad when they drunkenly put me on the spot during a night out, and I can only use a few key phrases). I realize in countries like South/Central America, there tends to be only one local language, so this may not apply. However, I've found the most useful preparation for me was studying a bit of history and culture of Namibia and the reading I did on my area of focus, HIV. That would be what I recommend to volunteers in general. Learn what you can about your country and your project, and don't worry too much about the language. Something else people have asked me is what my life is like. Honestly, while there are some things I do regularly, my schedule is generally very fluid. It's also very different from the life of a teaching volunteer. If you know what sector you'll be serving in, I recommend you look into volunteers from that sector (check the resources in my Links tab). Talk to as many RPCVs as you can also since many of them have experiences that sound familiar not matter where they served. Also, learn about soccer. It's the world's most popular sport, and even if there is a language barrier, it can open doors and help you integrate just by going to a local bar, getting something to drink, and enjoying the match with your community. I know it made my life much easier early on, and I know several volunteers who will say the same thing. And never forget what Hunter S. Thompson one wrote: "When the going gets weird, the weird turn professional". Embrace your quirks. You never know when they'll spark a project, a friendship, or simply get you through the day, but it takes a certain mindset to choose to give up two years and join the Peace Corps, and the most successful volunteers have embraced this different outlook.

  Sorry it's taken so long to update this. Between my family's visit (sorry, no post about that so just enjoy the pictures) and writer's block, it's been tough to put anything down here (I've started and deleted several different posts before finally writing this one). Looking back, it's been both a challenging and liberating first year, one of learning ad re-evaluating. It's been long and has gone by quickly. I miss family and friends and have no regrets leaving you all behind (no offense). Life sometimes feels like it's been passing me by back home, but really, that's just because I often forget to notice how much of my life I've been experiencing, especially when all you see of other people's lives is the snapshots of their big moments. I've learned a lot about a new culture and gotten to share my own. I'm looking forward to the next few months, as I transition from the work I did in my first year to someone getting ready to return to the US for the next stage of my life. I have applications to fill out for law schools, jobs to look into, and possibly a little traveling and celebrating to plan for when I COS, as well as putting things in place to help my legacy live on. No PCV can save the world. But in the less than a year I have left, I would like to make as big a difference as I can. "What's in store for me in the direction I [didn't] take?" One thing I can say for sure, no matter what the next few months bring, I'm glad I got on that plane.

That's Tough

  This morning, I was sitting in my office before work, using our wifi to chat with a friend back home, and he asked me what has been the hardest thing for me, having crossed the midway point of my service. I'm going to state right here: I miss my friends and family. That's #1 on my list. I have some great friends here, and my host families, both during training and here in Khorixas, have truly made me feel welcomed. And I have more internet access than many PCVs. But that doesn't change the fact that a lot has happened, and there have been times when I've felt truly isolated. With that said, I want to go deeper into the Namibia-specific things that have probably been the most difficult for me. Some  of these are specific to me, and lists like these will vary greatly among volunteers, based on where they are serving and when they served. Others on this list will probably appear on the list of any PCV being honest. I'm keeping the list to 7 things, and the numbers are just for me to count, not really a ranking. And sorry if this sounds negative. I love my life here, but this is a question I get asked a lot, and I feel it;s one worth answering.

1. Food- I've referenced my diet here before. It's mainly beans and rice, eggs, apples, and peanut butter sandwiches, with the occasional braai or splurge meal. In my town, despite having a fridge, between the prices and limited selection, I really don't have access to all my favorite fruits and veggies, basically limited to apples, oranges, apples, potatoes (I realize they're not fruits or veggies), cabbage (I may never eat another cabbage again in my life), onions, green peppers, tomatoes, pumpkin, butternut squash, and, once in a blue moon, avocados. On truly special occasions (maybe once every 2-3 months), I find myself at the Spar in Otjiwarrango, where I have more veggie choices, like mushroom (again, I know it's not really a veggie, but deal with it). Far less meat in my diet here, and you can't get boneless chicken in my town. Meat is also often a lot fattier. It also tends to taste better, in my opinion, because of the lack of hormones. Food cooked by Namibians also tends to include a lot more salt and mayonnaise for my taste, and lacks the kick I like. On the other hand, I love Ms. Ball's chutneys (and no, not because of the name)
2. My water situation- Okay, so I'm used to it now, but still, not having hot water, especially during the winter, sucks. Now, during the summer it's manageable, but cold showers during the winter, even if they're not as cold as they can get back home, is rough when you don't have heating. However, that's not my biggest issue. The real problem is how often my water gets cut off. My town is semi-desert. There is no body of water to fetch water from. So, when it gets cut out, I am screwed, unless I want to go buy water, which, on my budget, is not a great option. And when my water gets cut out (generally because of shortages or issues with the treatment system), it's usually out for at least 2-3 days, sometimes more. Basically, when it happens, my life sucks.
3. Timeliness- Namibian culture has a different view on the value of being on time than America, and it's been a struggle. It's considered rude to end a conversation before it's over, and people have other priorities, like their kids. So people are often late. Or they just won't show up. And they won't always tell you. For someone who would rather be 2 hours early than half a second late, that's taken some getting used to. I'm starting to get used to it, but it is frustrating, still. Adding to that is that when people say they're coming "now", that can mean they'll leave their place in some time in the next hour. Maybe sooner. Maybe later. But they'll come at some point. Maybe. Unless they get held up. "Now now" generally means you won't be waiting too long, but even that isn't always true. I could get into professionalism in general, and the fact that there's just a very different culture I'm having to adjust to, but the timeliness has been the hardest aspect of that.
4. Gender Roles- Legally, Namibia's made a big push for gender equality. We even recently had a day of prayer against Gender Based Violence. Still gender equality is a very recent concept. Every day, there are articles in The Namibian about women getting beaten, or even killed, for refusing sex or rejecting a guy or having a new boyfriend or refusing to cook dinner, or something like that. For the most part, I try to have an open mind when it comes to culture differences, but when it comes to gender equality, there is a right and a wrong, and the traditions in Namibia are wrong, plain and simple. Any culture where you aren't treated like a monster for hitting your wife, girlfriend, ex, or anyone else, committing rape, or any other kind of gender based violence is flat out not acceptable. It needs to change, and I hope my work here is making at least a small difference, but I've seen things that truly make my skin crawl. One night, walking home after a night out, I see a young woman being held up by 3 of her friends. Me and the friend with whom I was walking went to see what was going on. Turns out, she'd been beaten by her boyfriend. The left side of her face looked like and apple that's been left out in the sun for a few days and then dropped a few time. It was brutal. She could not walk, and her friends were struggling to support her (fortunately, my friend and I were there to help get her to the hospital). Another time, I was a judge for a debate contest. I won't get into the fact that it had no business being called a "debate" anything. The topic was gender based violence. Some of the speakers actually made it seem that they felt it was gender based violence when a woman spends all her husband's money, leaving him nothing to drink. They also seemed to imply it was excusable for him to get angry and hit her. There were also points about the gender equality thing being forced on men and making them feel threatened. It was hard to deal with, as someone who grew up in America, with parents who were pretty strong supporters of feminism, in a culture that is at least striving for gender equality. This has probably been the adjustment I've been most stubborn about not accommodating. It's also probably been the hardest to learn to live with.
5. Lack of luxuries- I've already mentioned the water thing and the foods. But, as someone who has grown up in, I think it's fair to say, a pretty comfortable environment, a lack of certain luxuries has taken some getting used to (I will say that this has been the easiest thing on this list to deal with, though probably the hardest at first). During the summers here, it's f***ing hot (sorry mom and dad, but I needed the emphasis). Not having A/C sucks. I make due with my fan, but that's not everywhere. Trying to stand over my stove cooking is brutal. Cold showers after work help. So does keeping a few cool beers around and bottles of water in the fridge. Still, it can suck. And the winter's lack of heating might be worse, since when I get out of the ice cold shower into the cold room, I feel like a "Jay-sicle." I have more access to internet than most, but still, it's nothing compared to the US. As most of you know, I'm trying to learn guitar, and most of the advice I've been given has been "go on Youtube and..." A 5 minute Youtube video can take an hour+ to load, and that's if the internet doesn't disconnect (if it does, I have to start over). Electricity goes out constantly, especially when it rains or gets hot (or when the ministry forgets to pay the electricity). With the heat, during the summer, without my fan, it is impossible to sleep with all the heat. I also can't cook, since my stove is electric. Doing laundry by hand is relaxing. Put on some good tunes and just do it. But it can really be annoying and exhausting after a while. Every once and a while, it would be nice to have a laundry machine. Not having a microwave or TV is annoying also, especially during the World Cup or NFL season.
6. Time zones- One of the challenges that has left me feeling isolated is the time zones, which make it tough to communicate. It's not easy to find time when both I and the friends and family back home I want to talk to are both available to Skype. Trying to find time to talk to my mom to help talking about her packing for her visit to me, between my work schedule and hers, has been very difficult. To make matters worse, Namibia changes it's clocks on different days than the US, and when we change our clocks back, the US goes forward. It's also been brutal during with the World Cup, with the US's first 2 matches both starting at 11pm. Super Bowl started after midnight (granted, it wasn't worth watching, I hear). I was up until like 9am when Tulane played in the New Orleans Bowl.
7. Isolation- I mentioned in the intro that hands down, the hardest part has been leaving behind my family and friends. I really don't have my support system. As those of you who have been reading from the beginning know, my grandpa passed away early in my service. It's been a year now, and the truth is it hasn't fully sunk in as a reality. I wouldn't have seen him, since he doesn't know how to use a computer and can't travel and phone calls are expensive. A lot has happened back home with friends and family, and I feel completely disconnected, almost as if I'm existing outside of their reality, and it's been pretty tough at times. People here have been supportive, and I have great friends here. But it's still really hard to feel so separate from those I care about.

I could keep going all day. There have been plenty of things that have been difficult. But those are the biggest for me. So, for those of you who keep asking me about what have been the challenges, there's your answer. My family is coming soon. Really looking forward to seeing them, and getting to watch a match or 2 of this World Cup with them. If I have time, I would love to write a post about what the World Cup experience has been like here, but we'll see, since I've been quite busy getting ready for a month of travel with my family. Until next time, enjoy.