Hello Lincoln School

I just wanted to say hi to my World Wise Schools class at Lincoln Elementary! This is some of the 7th graders at my school. We hope you have a great school year.

Ignorance is Bliss

Ignorance is bliss. I’ve heard it before. I’m living it now. And like most things, I don’t think you can truly understand it until you experience it firsthand.

On Monday I discovered that the school’s internet was hooked up again (after a 9 month hiatus) and I’ve been on it for 10 hours a day (nearly sunrise to sunset) for the past three days. I wish I was joking about that, but I’m not.

As you probably know, the internet is very powerful (quick access to any type of information imaginable) but also very addicting (par exemple, the surge of anger and frustration you felt when the windstorm knocked out your internet for 12 hours and you couldn’t check your gmail and facebook every 10 minutes and google the origins of “Turkey” [the country’s] to end a dispute with your colleague). In America, ubiquitous internet is just part of life, maybe an annoying part or maybe an essential part, but it’s there regardless. Now, imagine that you are an internet-deprived Namibian née American; the effect of restored internet prowess is magnified! If I don’t check into rehab on my own, you may need to stage an intervention.

You probably think that my rediscovered surfing powering is a good thing – so did I...until I walked home from school on Monday in a weird funk. I should’ve been overjoyed – I’d answered emails, downloaded important documents and skyped with my parents and friends, all for free – but I was closer to despondency. Throughout the day I was able to update myself on all the wonderful happenings at home – vacations, good food, family gatherings, new jobs, marriages, new houses and cars, new babies – but it left me feeling half homesick, half jealous.

As I walked home, my mind raced. I’m happy here, I thought, why would using the internet throw me through such a loop? Then a lightbulb went on. Of course....I’m only hearing about the exciting, momentous occasions in people’s lives, not the drab everyday occurrences (being stuck in traffic, cleaning the house, going to work)and frustrating moments (filling out ANOTHER job application, worrying about money, longing for adventure outside the suburbs). Just because somebody doesn’t email or facebook about it doesn’t mean it isn’t part of life.

This revelation led me into a careful consideration of the relationship between the West and the world (as does nearly every other deep thought-conversation I have with myself). It is with this same skewed viewpoint that young people around the world learn about America – they watch television, follow celebrities, see magnificent cities and learn about new technologies – without realizing what they’re seeing is an over-simplification skimmed from the top. America is not like the movies – we don’t have big houses, drive BMWs and hire nannies. There’s crime, poverty, debt and divorce. But seeing is believing...and if that’s all you’d ever heard about America, you’d believe it too.

Then imagine transitioning immediately from the “incredible” world of America into your reality – 50% unemployment, corrupt government officials, lack of electricity and running water. You’d probably be jealous, and this jealously could easily turn into resentment.

So, in this way, ignorance IS bliss. While the internet, technology and globalization bring many benefits, they’re not without drawbacks. While they close divides, they can also deepen them.

With this said, don’t be surprise if I disappear into the darkness of a self-imposed internet moratorium. After all, it is important to live in the present, and we all know how quickly the internet can transport you several worlds away. I usually crave and easily digest a steady trickle of information from home, but right now, I’m drowning in a self-made tsunami. It’s not easy - nay, impossible - to live with your body in one world and your mind in another.

Grade 6 Photos

Oh, grade 6. This is the class that has given me the most trouble and stress throughout the first two terms. How is it that they look so angelic in pictures? Haha.














Me and some of the 6th grade class




























Grade 6 (there are 40 total so missing a few, but this is most of them)














Ester & Maila














Petrus (pron: pet-ruhs), Erikson and Shongola (pron: shown-goal-ah) with Gustav popping out from underneath.














Onesmus A (pron: own-ehs-moose), Sebron and Onesmus S.














Ndapewa (pron: ndah-pay-wah), Maria and Johanna.

Term 2 Pictures!

The boy's soccer team with coach (right) and Head of Department (Vice Principal, left) after getting 2nd place (out of 11 teams) at the DAPP Private School Sports Tournament. DAPP is one of the schools nearest to Omahila. The school itself is a unique situation because it is made up of a school (grades 1-10), a plant nursery, and a vocational school. It is funded by an international organization (Development Aid People to People), the Namibian government and the parents who pay for their kids to go to school there (N$250 per month!) To give you some perspective, the school fees for our school are N$40 per YEAR.















Book Club members with the principal (middle). It took us six months but we finally finished reading The Chocolate Touch. At the end, all participants received a certificate and a chocolate bar.

Another book club in the works? Not likely. The fact that it took six months to finish a mid-length 4th grade-level chapter book is an indicator of how difficult it is to have a regularly meeting after school program. There are always disruptions - cleaning days, sport days, parent meetings, netball & soccer practice, floods!


















Winners of the 1st Omahila CS Spelling Bee: Aurelia (2nd place) and Emilia (1st place). The Spelling Bee was open to all learners in grade 8-10. Both winners were from grade 9.


















Kasia "reading" a book in the kitchen at home.



















My favourite photo subject, Kasia, sitting in the vessel where mahangu seeds are pounded into flour.

A thanks to my English teachers

Being thousands of miles from home has caused me to rely more on writing than I ever have before. This unique situation has helped me realize the power of the written word and the significance of individual words when trying to convey a SPECIFIC message. So, a big thanks to all my English teachers, both formal and informal.

Translations

One of the biggest frustrations of living in country and culture so unlike your own is the fact that many things don’t translate (both literally and figuratively). And in reality, that’s exactly what this blog is doing – translating events in Namibia to people in America and vice versa. It often seems impossible to explain situations, both joyful and stressful, because the listener doesn’t understand the context. What might seem like a simple solution is not, and vice versa. To make matters even more complicated, I often feel like an inept translator – both unable to understand something because of its Namibian context and also unable to explain it effectively within the American context. This experience has certainly made me more feel more compassion for the children of immigrants who are constantly straddling two contexts and two cultures and trying to succeed in them both.

I thought I’d purged all my thoughts about adaptation and the human condition in the last post, but it’s still been on my mind a lot lately, so I guess that’s not the case. In particular, the point that I haven’t been able to shake is the image of that destitute African child that you often see on infomercials attempting to play on your sympathies to extract money. I see something similar to this every day, which made the infomercial seem inaccurate. This inconsistency plagued my mind until I recognized that the picture of poverty was incomplete.

It’s probable, I’ve come to realize, that there are two types of poverty, and maybe even more. For the moment, however, it’s been easiest to wrap my head around two – poverty of the tangible and poverty of the intangible.

Poverty of the tangible would include a lack of materials – living in a hut or hovel or shack; fetching your water from a pond several miles away; having only two sets of clothes and no shoes; playing without toys; eating the same bland rice or millet or cassava every day. But if all you’ve known for your whole life is a hut with plain rice and ratty t-shirt, are you any worse off?

The second, and more extreme, kind of poverty is poverty of the intangible – lacking knowledge of the importance of education; lacking the ability to speak your mind or make your own decisions; coping with the mental anguish of losing a parent.

After all, you can give a child a book, but if he doesn’t understand the benefits of reading, it’ll end up as fuel for a cooking fire; you can give a girl a condom, but if gender equality doesn’t exist, she can’t even suggest its use; you can give an orphan a mansion, but if he doesn’t have adults to guide him, he’ll soon end up on the streets and the house in disrepair.

So, then, the logical conclusion seems to be that the seeds to overcome intangible poverty must first be planted before the war against tangible poverty can be waged. But the question remains: Are the right type of seeds being planted? Is the message getting across? After all, what flourishes in India may wither in Canada. At the moment, it seems to me that the only answer is perseverance and luck; that through one of our relationships the right seed might fall on the right type of soil (and avoid the birds – parable of the mustard seed...anyone?).

And now let’s bring this full circle: translation of the message. While I can’t explain to you the details of the poverty I live amongst, I know you understand the message, because intangible poverty exists everywhere – in our country, in our community, in our backyard, in ourselves. So...wherever we are, let’s go ahead, let’s plant those seeds and see if something springs up.

My Favourite Person in Nam...

As I was walking to school one day, I met Kasia (by herself) halfway down the driveway. I asked her (in Oshiwambo) where she was going and she said Omahila. It's a 15 minute walk through the bush to get there so I decided I'd better escort her since we were going the same way. On the way, we stopped on the path, sat down and took this little video. She always makes me smile....so I wanted to spread the love!