Reflecting, Part 3: I'd Like People In My Community To Remember Me For

  Disclaimer to start: this is how I'd hoped to be remembered. If I'm being totally honest, this is a bit hopeful. The partying and some of the mistakes I've made will certainly be left in the memory of some. I'm far from a perfect person. The good news, this one will be shorter than the last few posts. So, here we go.

  Obviously, I hope I'm remembered for my work. There was a volunteer here a few years back named Jill, who people still ask me about, even though I've never actually met her in person (we're Facebook friends), and I hope people talk about the way they do her. People ask about Grace all the time- another PCV remembered fondly. I'm sure my computer classes will leave at least some with good memories of the work I did. Same with a few of my HIV-related trainings. When I told some of the kids from our gym club I won't be here too much longer, several expressed disappointment. My boss is still trying to find ways to get me to stay a third year. I am a hard worker, efficient, dependable. Diverse skill set. Creative. And so on. And I definitely people in my community remember me for it.

  One thing I've done has been try to also further my work through the examples I set and the life I live. I really hope a few people learn from the examples I've set during our nights out. Alcohol abuse is a MASSIVE problem in Namibia. No point in denying it or sugar coating it. Namibians, practically without exception, fall into one of two groups: people who never drink a single sip or people who can't have a sip without drinking until they get blind, stumbling around, no control over their choices drunk. Sure, I drink. I've even drank a little too much once or twice. But, generally, I have a beer or two and stop. I don't have to get drunk, drink away my entire paycheck on payday. Hopefully, a few of my friends will follow that example. A lot of efforts to resolve other health issues (like HIV, youth pregnancy, and violence against women, for a few examples) would be greatly furthered if Namibians would simply learn to drink responsibly. It's not difficult. It just takes a little self-control. Hopefully people remember me for being a responsible drinker.

  Hopefully Den and Taylor, the two PCVs currently in town with me, will remember me as a good friend. I try to be a support structure. Maybe even a bit of a mentor. After all, I'd been here over a year before them. I knew people, the way things worked, and some of the things the community needed. I also knew some of the struggles they would face, and I've tried to help them through them. Hopefully, they remember me at my best, as their friend, and as someone they could, and still can after I leave, always turn to.

  Of course, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Or, in this case, Jay. Fortunately, I'm a guy who likes having fun. And no, despite the way New Orleans has infected my personality, that doesn't have to include alcohol. God knows I'm always quick with a joke, and hopefully a couple of them were found funny. I love soccer, and I know people will remember me for that (after all, I'm trying to raffle off a few of my jerseys, since people were getting a little aggressive in trying to convince me they deserved them more than other people). Maybe one or two of the people who have seen me reading will realize it's okay to turn off the TV every now and then, put down the bottle, and just pick up a book. Who knows? Maybe our town's library will finally get some use. Oh, and then there is the braai master side of me. Yes, some of us white people are able to make a fire. Sure, I prefer to use firelighter instead of plastic bags. It's just quicker and better for the environment. But, if that's not available, get me some grass, a cardboard box from the trash, empty egg cartons, random scraps of paper, or anything which burns, and I can make it happen. And, of course, I grill up some good meat. Not an opinion, a fact.

  And then there is my host family. Hopefully they have fond memories of me. I'm sure my host mom, Esna, will think of me every time she enjoys trying to make my hot sauce (I left her the recipe, since she likes it so much). I definitely hope they remember me as a good "son" who, while not a eat freak, did his part around the house, with some cooking, laundry, and watching the little ones. I'm sure the kids will remember me fondly. We've had a lot of fun, after all. Teaching them to throw a Frisbee, playing soccer, my one card trick, my camera, Skyping my mom, dad, and Dan, my hair (they loved playing with it), the guitar, and the candy I used to buy their love.

  Overall, I think people will remember me fondly. I may be no saint (despite the hat I occasionally wear), but I think I'm a decent person, a good friend, and not too bad of a role model. Perhaps in a few years I'll get a friend request on Facebook from someone I've never met, telling me they're the new PCV in Khorixas, and a bunch of people say "matisa". Even if the projects themselves die out, maybe I've left a legacy (no, Gideon, not the kind of legacy you keep telling me I need to leave) which will have a lasting impact. Sustainability and success in development work, after all, sometimes requires changing the definition and scopes of the terms.

Reflecting, Part 2: My Funniest Moment

  Throughout my service, there have been some wonderful moments. There have been some great successes. And there have been some low moments. And some spectacular failures. And everything in between. There have also been a number of moments that I still can't recall without breaking into hysterics. For some of these memories, I'm sure you'll find them funny. For others of them, you just had to be there. So sorry when I just burst out laughing and my reason makes no sense. I once again could not pick just one moment to write about. So, here are a few of my funniest moments, stories, and memories of my two years in Namibia, in no particular order.

Free of what? They couldn't tell me. But, by God, we will be free of whatever it is.
The ind of silly "activism-inspired" things Namibians put on shirts and signs in front of their houses. 
I'm gonna miss this place (this probably won't be the last time you see this photo)

  As I've mentioned many times, Khorixas is in the heart of Damaraland. Damaras love their donkeys, especially in cart and meat form. So, here are two memories, of sorts, involving donkeys. Actually, the first is not really a memory, it's just a thing, and sadly, it would be better if I had a video for you to truly appreciate it. In Namibia, animals roam free. It's not unusual to have cows or goats or chickens or donkeys or horses wander into your home/office/pit latrine. In order to avoid having their donkeys wandering off, people big their front feet with either what are essentially tougher versions of handcuffs or ropes. With their front feet bound together, the donkeys are forced to kind of hop around. I know this will sound cruel, but few things brighten your day like a donkey hoping around like a bunny. Sorry, Eyore. The other memory involves donkey carts. Think those hay rides from when you were a kid, except less cumfy and pulled by 2-4 donkeys, instead of a tractor. There was once guy who has decided to paint a Toyota logo on his cart, and I remember breaking into hysterics when I saw this, joking with Grace about how much safer I feel in that cart, and how it will probably retain it's re-sale value a lot better then those other models. I realize most of you won't really find that one more than mildly amusing, but even my Namibian friends found it ridiculous.

  This next story begins with a bit of an apology. Amy Larsen, I hope you aren't too embarrassed by my sharing this one. On our way back from our first re-connect, I, along with two other volunteers, Amy and Emily, decided to stop in Otjiwarrango to visit another volunteer, Steve, who had just moved there from my town, Khorixas. Of course, this meant to out drinking. A few hours, several beers, and God knows how many shots of how many different alcohols later, I go to the bathroom. When I come back, Amy is holding a BB gun. Amy, who was quite drunk (she remembered that at some point she'd shot the gun, but that's as close as she got to a firm memory of that night) is going off on how she's from Baltimore, murder capitol of the US, and how she's not the anti-gun liberal hippie she looks like. She then proceeds to shoot the gun at a paper target on the wall. Fortunately, at no point did it go off while it was pointed elsewhere (like, say, my face). One of those nights that always makes me smile to remember. She apparently went back on a future night, and the gun had been stolen from the bar. But that night will always be one of the memories that defines her to me. Oh, and where was Emily while this was going on? Initially, at the bar, with no clue what was happening, and then later, being smarter than me and keeping some distance between the drunk girl with the BB gun. Oh, what a night. And then the four of us crammed into Steve's tiny room for a couple hours of sleeping it off.

  This next story didn't actually happen in Namibia. When my parents visited, we spent my birthday camping on the Okavango Delta in Botswana. That night, I found myself having to relieve myself, so I stepped out the tent and did my thing. When I got back, Daniel was horror-struck. "Didn't you hear that?" or something like that. "No." "There were hippos out there." "You're just imagining things, go back to bed." Of course, in the morning, there were definitely signs of hippo tracks around our campsite. Oops.

  One of the biggest impacts a PCV has is one they don't think about. We often stand out in our community. I am, after all, the only American male in my town, and one of the very few white males in town. The children of my host family ended up looking up to me. In their efforts to be like me, they began wearing baseball caps and sunglasses (generally mine), and pointing to lighter parts of their skin to show they looked "like Jay." Absolutely adorable.

Tiha, being me

  On Christmas day, I decided to put on a Santa hat and hand out candy this year. Less than an hour in, the hat was gone, stolen by a friend's toddler (I didn't feel like fighting with a 2-Year-Old over a Santa hat), but there was still plenty of candy left. So I continued with my Santa Jay adventure. A group of kids came up to me, showing off some new toys they'd been given (even though I'd never interacted with them before), and I gave them candy, at which point they asked me to take their photo. When they left, I found a shady spot to sit down and have a little drink to cool off (I'd been walking around for over 2 hours, and keep in mind, this was Summer here). After 20 or so minutes of resting, I got up to start passing out candy again, and the same kids approached me, claiming they hadn't gotten candy. Sadly for them, it was one per kid, and I had photographic evidence (which they'd asked me to take) showing they were being little liars. Oh well.

Silly kids. If not for this pic, they probably would've gotten away with it

  This one is short. It's not really a single memory. However, whenever I walk around town, groups of kids will say hello to me. It always goes the same. "Hello, how are you?" (in my Namlish accent). "I am fine...I am fine...I am fine..." Each kid answering individually. "How are you?...How are you?...How are you?..." "I am fine." "Where are you going?...Where are you going?...Where are you going?..." "I am going to {insert destination}." This will continue for a bit, until they run out of English, at which point the conversation end either with "Goodbye...Goodbye...Goodbye..." or "Oh me candy/money...Owe me candy/money...Owe me candy/money..." It's always the same, and right up until they ask for money, it's always adorable, especially in those little kid voices.

Kind of like this, except small children

  And speaking of the kids saying "owe me" all the time, it gets really annoying (though not nearly as annoying as when the adults do it). In response, I began picking up children, flipping them over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and swinging them around. Sadly, rather than discouraging them from asking for money, I got the distinct impression they began asking it more often, just so I would swing them around.

In the middle, in the 'Zards hat

 A few weeks ago, I was forced to move back in with my host family for about a week. As it was start of the new school term, I got up early and walked the kids to class, and then continued on to town to but some eggs for lunch later that day. Patience, the youngest, decided to come with me. Since she was too young to go to school, she instead came to town with me, holding my hand and all. Because she's lighter in complexion, and ended up on my shoulders (I figured it would be quicker that way), everyone in town felt the need to ask if she was mine. To those of you who know me well, this is super funny.



  You know how Brad and Angeline keep adopting more and more children from Africa? Well, not a week goes by without someone either offering me children or telling me at my age I need to get on it. Seriously, having one Jewish mother is enough. I'm only 25. I don't need a whole country telling me to get on those grandkids.

  A couple stories about goats. First of all, Taylor has to be the only person in Khorias incapable of getting a goat for a braai (but I love you anyway). Oh, and before you ask, yes, I have slaughtered a goat here. And all the Namibians were shocked I didn't pass out. Now, for the more amusing stuff. A few months back, I was getting home from a workout, when I realized I'd left my door open. I get inside, and it's a bit of a mess. Figuring someone was trying to rob me, I entered cautiously, with my phone out and the number of a police officer friend ready to go. Then I heard a bleating noise. As I entered my room, I was met with the sight of a baby goat, eating my trash. Most adorable break-in ever. Same goat came wandering into my office a few days later. Sorry to my neighbors back home, but, in order to counter homesickness as I re-adjust, don't be surprised if I buy a couple goats and let them wander freely around the neighborhood. And then there is one of my funniest stories of those first few months. I was getting ready to leave for my first re-connect, when the person who'd promised me a lift to Windhoek bailed on me (I would soon learn better than to expect people to actually show up and be reliable and timely). As I panicked, Grace called Lucky, a taxi driver between Khorixas and Otjiwarrango. Lucky and I  would go on to become very good friends, but at this point, I'd never met him. He shows up, and I go to put my bag in the trunk, when I realize it was full. But not with luggage.

As you can sort of see, I did eventually get my bag in. Oh, and that plastic bag on the right corner of the trunk? There's a chicken in there. Oh Lucky.

  And, finally, no reflecting on my funniest moments in Namibia could be complete without a Sasha story or two. And, it so happens, that two stick out. The first one is not so much funny, and I could save it for a later post on things I will never forget, but I'll include it here instead. So, before Grace had a chance to get her fixed (guys, don't procrastinate with your pets), Sasha got knocked up. It very well may be my fault, but I won't go into that part. A few months later, Sasha is about to burst. Grace was traveling, and had asked me to check in on Sasha, let her out to poop, and feed her. Of course, I obliged. So, that night, I put some food in her bowl, and went back to my flat. The next day, shortly before lunch, I returned to re-fill the food and all. Sasha, who normally assaulted me ant chance she got, stood tentatively in the doorway instead. It was weird, but I was hungry, so she was going to poop on my schedule, not hers. I drag her out of the flat, and she starts whimpering, and as soon as I let go, she bolts back into Grace's bedroom. A little frustrated, I follow her in and hear a squeaking noise. I look down, and there's Sasha, with something in her mouth. I look closely, and realize, held by the scruff of it's neck, she was proudly presenting me with one of her brand new puppies, the rest of which were rolling around on (or falling off of) Grace's bed, which was a mess. Sasha had given birth overnight.

Clio and Grace playing with Sasha and the pups.

  A slightly funnier Sasha story to cap this post off. Grace and I were hanging out, when I received a phone call. I won't say who it was, but it was from someone in the States. So, we're talking, and I step outside so I wouldn't bother Grace. All of a sudden, Sasha, who had been running around outside, "attacks me". I push her away, she comes back. I push her away, she comes back. Jokingly, I exclaim "DOWN, LITTLE BITCH!!!" (my playful nickname for Sasha from when I'd lived with Grace during my homeless stretch). The person on the other end of the line, having no clue what was going on, decides to lecture me: "How dare you talk to your sitemate like that. Especially after she took you in. Etc." Dang dog, always causing problems.

  Now, don't be fooled. This is not even close to a comprehensive list. These were just a few stories which really stuck out. For those of you I will talk to in the future, expect to hear so many more stories like these you'll want to kill me. Sorry, but I'm not sorry. It's been a great two years, and I can't help wanting to re-live it in any way I can. Stay tuned. Next reflection will be coming out tomorrow or the next day, depending on time and my motivation to write.

Reflecting, Part 1: What I Liked Best

  Here we go, the first serious reflection post. Today's topic is what I liked best. Trying to answer this one, like most of these, is going to be tough, so I've decided to break it down into a few things: thing I liked best about my service, favorite place I traveled to, thing(s) I liked best about about Namibia, and thing I liked best about Khorixas. Yes, I could add more categories, but these seem like the most meaningful.

  So, let me begin. The thing I liked best about my service has to be the freedom. This had its drawbacks, as I will discuss, but it also allowed for most of my successes. Teaching volunteers and volunteers paired with more formalized roles at their host organizations do have some advantages. It's easier for them to figure out where they fit in, to figure out what their role is, to know how they will be making a difference in their community. In the US, most employers hire you with certain expectations, filling a specific job posting. For a creative person, like me, this can actually be a big disadvantage. Fortunately, Peace Corps hired me for their community health sector, and I work for the Ministry of Youth, National Service, Sport, and Culture. While that long name may be annoying to write out on forms, you'll notice it covers a range of topics. This has given me the freedom to, within the basic framework of my Peace Corps assignment, to branch out. Sometimes it worked out well, sometimes it didn't.

  During my training, we focused on HIV. Ways to teach people about condom use, activities for working with youth clubs, which groups were most at risk, other dangers increasing the risk of HIV, getting tested, etc. It makes sense, seeing as our program is largely funded by PEPFAR and HIV is one of the biggest health issues stemming inflicting Namibia. So, if you had told me, coming out of training, that the vast majority of my first year was going to be spent teaching computer skills, I never would have believed you. Of course, that's exactly what happened. I show up on my first day of work and I am asked to help teach these classes, and soon after became the head computer instructor, designing the curriculum, creating the exams, etc. While it didn't exactly fit directly in with Community Health and HIV/AIDS, it certainly made a huge impact, as I will talk about in an upcoming post.

  Another advantage of this freedom has been that, while I am paired with my ministry, I am not actually a full time employee. I am really employed by the whole town. This has given me the freedom to branch out and do work coaching community soccer teams, partnering with the hospital on programs, such as our health club, or teaching English at our town's Traditional Authority. I have the freedom to make my own schedule. While my supervisor expects my work for the ministry to come first and get all that done, I do not have to keep regular hours. I can work from my flat. I can go to other parts of town and work with other ministries and NGOs. This freedom has allowed me to make far more of a difference than I otherwise would have, had I been forced to work 8-5 at our office only.

  However, my Peace Corps experience is about far more than just what I do work-wise. In fact, Peace Corps has 3 stated goals:

  It is in the spirit of that third goal that I feel I should write about my favorite place I traveled to. This one is not difficult: Sossusvlei. Absolutely beautiful. The massive dunes, shifting slightly as the wind blows the sand. Watching the sun rise from the top of Dune 45. Deadvlei. Sesriem Canyon. Camping out in the shadow of the dunes. Honestly, trying to put it into words can never do it justice, and even my photos can't fully capture why I loved it there so much.

  Of course, Namibia is a country of contrasting beauty, and nothing epitomizes this like going from Sossusvlei to Swakopmund. Swakop is a beach town full of gorgeous German architecture. The road between them is almost lunar. I have had several enjoyable trips to Swakopmund. It's a nice place to get away, enjoy some seafood, enjoy being close to a body of water, even it's too cold to swim in.

  And, of course, I can't leave out Etosha. I loved it so much I took a group of school learners out there. While it's about the "luck of the draw," the site of a pack of elephants at a watering hole, or a pronking springbok, those ridiculous looking pajama donkeys, or, if you're lucky, a lion is amazing, especially in a far more natural environment than the zoo. If you make it to Namibia and don't get to Etosha, you wasted your trip to Namibia, in my opinion.

  Outside of Namibia, I'd say Cape Town was the place I liked best. The only truly big city I've been to in a while, with diverse food options, the chance to dive with great whites (a life-long dream fulfilled during the two years I've spent fulfilling another long-term personal dream).

  What do I like best about Namibia? This one is tougher to answer. Certainly not the music or traveling, though I will discuss these in the future. However, there is a lot to love about this country. When they are sober, the people can be quite wonderful. The food, while perhaps not as diverse as I am used to and a bit saltier than I like, is very good. Gemsbok is probably my favorite meat. The beer isn't bad and the wines here are excellent. However, I'd say the contrasting landscapes and cultures are what I would have to say I liked best.

  Oh, and the fact that I'm actually in a country where people enjoy soccer as much as I do.

  And, finally, the thing I liked best about Khorixas. This is the easiest to answer. The people. I've made some very wonderful friends. I was taken in by an amazing family who have taken me in as one of their own (more on that soon). If I come back in five years, or even ten years, I know there are people here who will take me in. Nights at the bar. Weekends playing soccer. Weekend nights watching Chelsea be awesome. The playful (and sometimes not so playful) position of being "Enemy Number One" during the World Cup, especially during the group stage when the US topped Ghana (suck on that one, people at "Package Shop Bar," or whatever it's new name is). The braais. The beers. The last-second pulling things together after everything fell apart and it seemed like the program was going to have to be cancelled. People letting me into their homes to use the toilet or do dishes or fill my jerrycan when my water was cut off. And many more memories. As Elfy, who runs my favorite bar has called me, I feel like a welcome "Citizen of Khorixas." So, thank you all. I could not have been nearly as successful or had the meaningful two years I've had without you, and I hope I can eventually make it back. I will miss you all.

  On a personal level, probably the thing I've liked best has been the change to read. There is plenty of quiet alone time. Nights when there is no power. Days when there's no power. Hitchhiking (in enclosed cars from official hike points, always, obviously...please ignore the blog's title, reader's from head office). Weekends. Days when I have no work to do. Sure, I've taken up some guitar. I go to bars. I watch movies and soccer matches. Or dick around online when I can. But I also read. A lot. And I love it. After 4 years of high school and 4 years of college, during which there was minimal opportunity for pleasure reading, these past 2 years have given me the chance to read all I want. Some books I should've read in school but simply Googled the cliff notes or watched the movie. Books I'd been meaning to read. Books useful to my work. Soccer magazines. Books I enjoyed and wanted to re-read. Some I've read multiple times in that stretch (every time I read Kerouac, I get something new out of it). Thank God for e-readers. It's a chance to escape, to connect intellectually when the language barrier sometimes prevents that with locals, or just to unwind and relax. Hopefully future jobs won't deprive me entirely of the time and energy for this.

  Okay, so, those are my favorite things. Or, at least a few of them. This list could continue from now until I COS, and I'm sure those of you back home reading this will soon be like my dad, sick of Peace Corps stories. So, I apologize now. Honestly, even me, I am tired of Peace Corps stories, and I'm living one. So, stay tuned for tomorrow's post on my "funniest moment." It may take some thinking to narrow it down, by I have a few in mind, and I'm sure some of you will get a kick of it.

I'm Coming Home

...But not quite yet. I recently returned from my COS Conference, and it looks like my COS date will be May 6. That means I'll be touching down in the States a few days after. This post won't be long. I got some stuff to wrap up, including the last of the law school applications and my DOS (Peace Corps jargon for "a 2-page write-up on what I did while they were paying me." At the conference, we were asked a series of questions, and while I want to take a couple days to think of them, I think they'd make for an interesting series of posts. So, over the next couple weeks, loo for me to answer the following:

• What I liked best
• My funniest moment
• I'd like people in my community to remember me for
• Souvenir I'd like to take back to America
• Something I learned
• Something I'd like to forget
• Something I'll never forget
• People who have been special to me
• I wish I had more time for
• My biggest accomplishment

Some of these will obviously be longer than others, and some I may expand on the original questions for. I love my town, I've really enjoyed my service, and feel like it's really deserving of major reflection.

Peace Corps Namibia Group 37

Oh Alicia, too ridiculous not to share

Like a good Namibian, I only did this Peace Corps thing for the certificate

Our gift for the office. See if you can spot Africa, Namibia, and the stars and bird from the Peace Corps logo

Look Good and Help PCVs Do Good

Not a long post. For those of you interested in helping support PCV projects, the Atlanta RPCV group is once again selling these awesome shirts (I can be seen wearing mine in some photos on Facebook). Your purchase will help fund PCPP grants so that volunteers can take awesome project ideas and turn them into awesome projects. Sure, you could just donate to a country's PCPP grant fund, or look through the website and fund projects directly. On the other hand, these shirts are pretty awesome, and will help raise awareness. And, for those parents/siblings/other relatives/friends of PCVs, I can promise you that your volunteer could always use another shirt without holes in it, and they'd make nice "welcome home" gifts when they COS. Plus, they're US$15 (or, roughly half of my monthly beer budget...I mean, "discretionary spending during Chelsea matches" budget).

  Oh, on a related note, my COS conference is at the end of this month, so I'll have a better idea then of when you all will get to see my ugly face in person again.

Okay, !Gai tsesa u ha re, folks.

Namlish

  So, as many of you know, I am in the process of trying to get into law school. As many of you may also know, that requires writing essays. What a few of you may know (if for no other reason, than because of this blog), while Namibia's official language is English, a better term for it is "Namlish", which has infected my writing. Now, to list a whole bunch of "Namlish-English" translations would take forever. However, in light of an exchange a couple days ago, I will talk about a few of my favorites.

  I'll start with the Namlish expression that made me write this in the first place. Taylor and I were sitting outside the OK Food. I had just bought groceries to replace everything that had gone bad in the week I was without electricity because some worthless people at my ministry's head office can't pay the bills for months on end (leading to almost a month of us having no water recently, in a "semi-desert" area with no river to fill buckets in), not even when the power company says on Monday "if you don't pay by Friday, electricity is getting cut", or even almost a full week after the power company proves they weren't bluffing. (editor's note: okay, venting over) We were approached by a woman who came and chatted with us and mentioned she was selling "Kentucky." I knew what she meant, having heard this before, and even seen it on menus. Taylor, however, experienced the confusion I'm sure most of you are also currently going through. "Kentucky"is a term here used for fried chicken, as in KFC (which is one of the few American chains which we have).

   Another term I find amusing is "footing," which means to walk somewhere. I guess someone felt the need to express that they were walking by foot, rather than walking some other way. (editor's note: okay, in all likelihood, I'm betting that it has more to do with literally translations from one of the local languages)

  One common phrase that really threw me off initially is "is it?". I include the question mark, even though it's not really used as a question. Generally, it's used as an expression of surprise or shock. Probably the best comparison I can think of is the rhetorical "really?", though there are some subtle differences. (note: I've been asked to point out, for the sake of cultural education, that this one is probably a British influence, as in "innit")

  "Now," "Now now," and "I'm coming" are three terms often used together. If someone says "now", the basically mean "sometime in the next hour or 3, maybe, if I get around to it and don't get distracted." "Now now" actually means right now (like, definitely within the next hour or 3, maybe even less). Those often follow the phrase "I'm coming." Simple phrase. Makes perfect sense. Except, it actually means "I'm getting ready to leave." So, in terms of how long you'll be waiting (from longest to shortest), it goes "I'm coming," "I'm coming now," and "I'm coming now now."

  "Gyming," which is exactly what it sounds like, means going to the gym.

"Plus minus" is Namlish's version of "more of less," "roughly," "about," etc.

  "Learners" is what we call students here. It's probably an overoptimistic term for a country where a 30% can pass and people still manage to fail. Whether this term is simply the product of translations or government optimism, I don't know.

  And then there's my absolute favorite: "Robot." No, we're not talking about machines here to take over the world, or vacuum our carpets, or look like dogs and do flips. No, we're talking about traffic lights.

  A friend of mine mentioned "Even me," which is Namlish for "me too."

  In Namibia, you "Fall pregnant." Apparently, she wasn't all that coordinated that night.

Any time I cough or sneeze (a very common thing for someone with a dust allergy in a town as dusty as Khorixas), people ask if I have "a flu." A "flu" is a general term for any illness, but basically, it means anything from a cold to short of Ebola.

"Side" is a tough one to explain. It's used in phrases like "I am going town side" or "they are working on the road that side." I'm not sure there's a direct English translation (like "ha" in Hebrew), but it's roughly "in the area of" or something like that.

"Paining" is "hurt." In a sentence, it would be like "my knee was paining after that match."

  There's plenty of others. A lot deal with grammar things.

  The other big thing here is that it's been raining here. Like, a lot. As in "what river is now empty" a lot.people have been super happy about it, obviously.

New Year, New Jay?

My first post of 2015. So, I guess I should talk about how the year ended/began. I'll start with Christmas.

A couple days before Christmas, I decided to go to Outjo, the next town over, for the day, to hang out with a couple volunteers, collaborate on some project ideas, and braai a bit. Since it was Hanukkah, I also used the kitchen to make latkes (which neither Crystal nor Johanna could successfully pronounce). We also decorated trees. The next morning when I got back to Khorixas, I got some candy (I already had a couple bags). On Christmas morning, I took the candy, put it into some stockings Grace had left me, put on the Santa hat she had given me, my red PC polo, filled my CamelBak, grabbed the camera, and went off around town, handing out candy to children. About an hour in, the Santa hat was no more, a colleague's infant having stolen it (for some reason, I felt a Santa hat was not worth fighting with a child over). Took some photos, got some hugs, brought a little cheer to those who actually had to work on the day (police, hospital staff, filling station employees, security guards), enjoyed some free meat from people who liked what I was doing (including some excellent donkey from my office's security guards). After over 3 hours, I swung by the gas station to grab a Russian and chips and a cool drink before heading home to enjoy it, take a short nap, and Skype my family (we may not celebrate Christmas, but my aunt and uncle were visiting, and my parents were off from work, so we could do so at an hour that didn't involve me staying up late, since those old farts certainly ain't gonna do that on their end).

My favorite story from that day was a group of kids. I give them their candy, and they as me to take their photo, which I do. I then walk over to the Traditional Authority office and take advantage of their overhang to get a little shade and a short rest. While I was sitting there, the same kids came up to me, saying they hadn't gotten their candy. First of all, half of them had candy still in their mouths. More importantly, I had pictures, which they'd asked me to take, which showed they did. I wasn't necessarily being stingy, but there are a lot of children, and I was starting to run low, so I had to stick to one piece per child. After a few laughs, and the kids showing off some new toys they'd gotten (not everyone gets Christmas presents here, but a lot get small things), they ran off. Overall, it was a rewarding and fun day. I will say, the children were far more gracious than the adults. The kids would say thankful. Adults would actual get angry and act entitled when I said "no, this candy is only for the kids," and if I would relent (such as when one guy claimed "I'm still a kid on the inside"), they rarely said "thank you" or anything, something almost all the kids did. Not that I actually need people to be gracious; just an observation.

Over the next couple of days, I had to do a little work. Had a small braai with Den and Taylor. Did some work on my applications. Then came New Years.

On New Years Eve, shortly after lunch, Taylor and I met up in town. After a couple short stops, we hitched a ride with Chief Okango, a friend of mine at Traditional Authority, out to the rest camp. There, we paid our N$50 so we could enjoy the pool for the rest of the day. Swimming, lying in the sun, reading, etc. Got ourselves a nice dinner of hake with calamari and schnitzel, which we split (they were low on food choices, but they had the two items we wanted, so it was all good). Met a family from Natal, in South Africa, who were on vacation and considering emigrating to Namibia. Talked about technology, and how Namibia kind of skipped a few steps (such as going from no phone to cell phones, skipping landlines, or going from no computers to modern laptops and USB drives, never experiencing floppy disks or those massive computers which filled a room), about education, about travel, about how TV depicts things, etc. As the sun began to set, Taylor and I set off to town. Rather than trying to hitch a ride, we simply walked. After dropping her at her place, I went to town, got a small bottle of whiskey, and took a walk out into the bush to drink, ring in the New Year in a peaceful place, and watch the firework.

The next day, inspired a bit by Kerouac (I had started "The Dharma Bums" that morning), I grabbed a bottle of whiskey, some water, my camera, and my book, and went for a hike in the bush just outside my town. I would walk for a bit, find a nice shady spot, pause and read a few pages, take a few sips, then move on. Took a random sequence of paths. Ended up at a reservoir outside of town. Decided not to try swimming when I saw a bird land on it, and the water splashing up looked lime green. Watched some turtles falling off a tire for a bit. Saw some horses and cow and watched them. Stared at the clouds. Eventually, I moved on. Somehow, I ended up at the cemetery (I had been there before, but I'd never taken that path). It seemed oddly fitting, hauntingly beautiful, to end up in a cemetery on New Years Day. The juxtaposition of the finality of death and the optimism of new beginnings may be cliche, but as my service reaches it's termination point, it seemed right.

Since then, I spent a day with Taylor in Otjiwarango (she wanted a shopping spree, I just wanted an something to do) and a night with a couple friends in Okahandja. There has been more, but I've been asked not to talk about it, so I simply direct you to the PC website (they have some section about PC news). Spent a day at the hospital with Taylor getting things ready for projects (like our health club) to resume. Work has started up again, and I'm trying to get the replacement equipment I need for my computer lab so I can run that class one last time before leaving (give the woman I'm training a full run with the "training wheels" on).

So, what are my New Years Resolutions? How do I plan to better myself in the coming year? How will I become a "new" Jay in 2015? I've come up with some in the past, but it's always seemed a bit silly when I think about the idea. Real, lasting change tends to be gradual. To make that switch overnight seems arbitrary to me, and the vague "I want to lose weight" and whatnots just seem like something not worth waiting for New Years to begin. I will say I have made the decision after my New Years Day experience to go on more of these hikes. The peace of it, the solitude, it felt right, and as I work my way through "Dharma Bums," I find myself relating to Japhy Ryder quite a bit. Another thing I've decided is to keep a journal this year. Somewhat inspired by another book I read recently, "The Heroin Diaries," but mainly just to force me to put words on paper, to think, to write, and maybe get an idea of what changes about my in the coming months. After all, while it may not have been intentional change, I've definitely changed a bit since I came to Namibia, and now, as I prepare to go back to the US, hopefully to law school, I'm sure I will change more. It's not something I do everyday. It's just that I keep a notebook on me, and when I have something to write, I do. I just want this year to be the year when I am truly happy, where I let go of the anger, if I can. I want to try and find that inner peace, even if I don't really believe I will, since who knows what else I'll find during the search. Am I really a new Jay? No. I'm the same old me. Just a me who is almost two years older than when I left, who's had almost two years of experiences since I left. I don't see New Years as a reason to change, just a nice postmark to reflect on said changes.

Okay, enough pretending to be "deep." That's a whole bunch of cliches, I'm sure, and I'm guessing you stopped halfway through that paragraph. That's fine. Anyway, have a happy New Year. Now, time to get back to the grind.