25 February 2007
Well, I’ve survived my first whole month of teaching without any visible scars—and the invisible ones are just my pride :). Like I said last time, things are definitely falling into place here at MYO. I’ve gained a whole new level of respect for all those nameless, underappreciated teachers out there. Being able to adapt to do just about anything has always been something I’ve prided myself on, but this is by far the greatest challenge of my young life. The cultural differences between here and the western civilizations to which I’ve been exposed are difficult to ignore, and they definitely spill into the classroom. Re-evaluating the job I envisioned both at home and here before I started working has taken the front seat over the last couple of weeks. Maybe I should have listened to Rob a little better when, in one of our first meetings, he told us that MYO was in existence because the students here are only scoring around 40-50% on the same material that their counterparts in other parts of the world are getting closer to 70-80% on. (For the record, I’m not actually looking at my notes so I went ahead and ballparked those figures from memory.) What that all means for me is that when I’m looking at the curriculum from the Namibian Ministry of Education a safe bet is generally to assume that even our kids—who are the brightest ones around—will only know a little more than half of what was in the previous years material, plus what they picked up in their extra lessons at MYO. And I’ve even found the old domino effect wherein some of the grade 7’s, for example, might not have the best grip on a concept they “learned” in grade 5. So this is the part where I start to recognize the harsh reality of how slowly the development of an entire community takes place. If the cleverest learners are not able to perform at the same level as the bottom of the pack elsewhere, that has serious implications for the foreseeable future of these people. Don’t get me wrong (I realize how pessimistic this is starting to sound), the prospect that an entire community can in fact be elevated is very inspiring. I’ve just had to start facing the facts that my own mouth has mentioned so many times: development is a process—and not a quick one. MYO (myself included) is not going to make a noticeable change in the lives of every resident of Mondesa, but I do allow myself some solace knowing that we are going to make one in at least 101 lives while I’m here.
I can’t come up with a more dramatic line than that last one, so it’s probably time to move on to another subject. Next week, I’m going to give German classes another go. There is a computer training school down the hall from our offices. It is run by some German-Afrikaner guy, and when we started chatting about the classes he’s going to offer this year, trying to get back on the German language horse sounded like a good idea. To be honest, the thought of memorizing lists of vocab, struggling to remember if the table is die tisch or der tisch or das tisch, doesn’t really appeal to me—but I figure speaking another language passably can’t hurt me when I actually have to start looking for a job.
Yesterday, Casey and I had to take our combi into the tire (or tyre here) shop because our driver has been complaining about the tires getting low all the time—I wasn’t convinced the slightly cooler fall weather wasn’t the culprit. Anyway, it is very reassuring to know, even on a strange continent, people who work on cars still make you feel like an idiot for not being a specialist in their particular field. Here’s the scene: At 7:58am, Mr. Beau rides shotgun on the 200 yard ride the local Les Schwab wanna-be (actually called Tyres 2000, or Dunlop’s Tyres 2000, I’m still not really sure… even after writing them a check), rubbing his eyes the whole way because he’s only been up for about 95 seconds. (Miss Casey likes to get up early; I think she is a farmer at heart.) Then they pull up to one of the 3 open bays and park. Mr. Beau goes to talk to the hardcore white Afrikaner dude who looks the most empowered of the 3 standing around watching South African rugby. Said dude listens impatiently as it is explained to him that an appointment was made to check out all 4 tires, and get new ones if necessary (since 3 out of 4 have already been patched, some more than once). His response, although not unexpected, makes one concerned party from North America wish that it were still bedtime. The linguistic gem was this: “Those tires look fine.” Now, appreciating a man’s proficiency at his trade is a great thing. However, when Mr. Beau starts to consider that this warrior on the battlefield of rubber treading may not even have even touched a real tire, as there are about 8 cheap laborers in the place—already covered head-to-toe in black residue, it might be added—and then makes note of the 25 yards between the conversation and said tires, a seed of doubt is planted into his head concerning the thorough assessment that has just been made. So he manages to convince the guy to have his minions give it a once-over. At which point he is asked to move the van into the stall next to the one in front of which it’s parked—all for pretty much no decipherable reason. The next part of the story isn’t very exciting, just your basic standing around waiting for the men to do their work (which did include adding patch number 3 on the rear driver’s side tire). Although, watching taxis come and go with unbelievably worn out treads does make Mr. Beau feel better about the fact that they always seems to be talking about him in a language that often has a click or two, because he realizes even if they did wish him ill will (which is rarely the case, it must be said) the vehicle itself presents more of a hazard than its occupants. By the time he finished contemplating this, the van is back on the ground and payments need to be made. Writing checks in Namibia requires a name, ID number and telephone number. Our hero still isn’t sure what the point of the ID number is since no one ever asks for any verification, so he just makes up a new 10 digit number every time they ask (along with a phone number that is usually only similar to his because he still hasn’t memorized the real one). But he pays the woman at the counter, after convincing her to take the check even though the 4 in the date appears (in her eyes) to be a 9—the fact that yesterday was in fact February 24th, and that February 29th won’t exist for another 53 weeks or so were both helpful arguments in that debate. Once that formality had been disposed of, Mr. Beau and Miss Casey went back home for a much needed cup of coffee. The end.
In parting, I’ll tell you 2 interesting things that happened to Casey and I yesterday while entertaining ourselves in town last evening. Both happened while we were on a search for cheap take-out. The first was on the way to Beryl’s Take-Away. We’re walking down this street where, more often than not, a pair or two of kids will hit us up for money—since all white people have spare change to pass out. Just when I thought we were in the clear, a boy riding his bike at top speed down the middle of the street (wrong way on a one way I might add) puts his heel to the pavement and starts to skid in a semicircle and ends up right beside us. The skill of such a high speed stunt was impressive, although not likely to convince me that he was bad enough off to be out soliciting handouts any more than his riding a bike did. Turned out that he goes to school with a few of my students, so I’ll have to check with them to see if their little buddy with more toys than they’ve got really needed the extra fries and Sprite I gave him. Secondly, while we’re sitting on these stairs by the same one-way street eating the take-out, a small truck pulls up in front of us and the old man inside starts saying something in incoherent, I’m not sure which language. So I ask him to repeat himself, and he asks us if we want to go braai with his group—none of whom are older than 13 or younger than 60. As you can imagine, we declined the invitation, but had a good laugh about being asked by a stranger who is not afraid to just stop in the middle of the street to come hang on a Saturday night.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Lions, and Tigers, and Bedbugs... Oh my!
11 February 2007
I had to write one entry just about the animals I’ve come across here. Something short and sweet is the plan; we’ll see how that goes.
The most noteworthy animals I’ve seen, and also the ones I’ve seen the most are baboons. They are apparently very annoying, although I should give them credit for their bravery. A couple of weekends ago when I went to Windhoek (the capital city) for a tennis tournament that 10 of our kids were playing in, we encountered several on the road both there and back. On the way there, it was pretty sweet to check them out on the side of the road, making faces at them and whatnot. However, on the drive back, while I was trying not to kill 14 people on a two-lane “freeway”, driving on the left hand side of the road at 70 MPH, I had the pleasure of playing chicken with some of the biggest monkeys I’ve ever seen. I’m not going to lie, a smile came to my face each time they realized they didn’t stand a chance against a Toyota van careening straight at them, and turned tail to run—at which point their hairless asses are exposed and they are truly beaten. Some might say they were getting revenge by mooning a school van (like any self-respecting teenage boy has done), but I’m not buying it. It was more like being beaten at a 5th grade game of butt-ball and having the face the wall in shame at your defeat. Too bad there wasn’t a ball around.
Next we’ve got ostriches. They are weird looking animals. I only mention them because they’re somewhat exotic and I’ve seen them run alongside the road next to me. Once again, animal vs. the man-machine team; guess who won?
I lied earlier when I said more baboons had crossed my path than anything else. I forgot about springboks. They’re pretty rad, but having seen thousands of deer in my life I’m less impressed with them. Their miniature counterparts from Dhamraland, the Dhamra dik-diks, are the cutest things I’ve come across so far. They are like miniature deer—and I’m talking 2 feet tall miniature—that always travel in pairs. I want to get a couple as pets.
Last, and my least favorite I’ll mention, are bedbugs. I have come to despise the phrase, “Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite!” said with cheerful glee. I think anyone who has ever been woken up by a little prick followed by 10-12 minutes of irritating burning—during which you can only dream of finding the little punk that bit you and exacting an equally annoying revenge upon his/her little exoskeleton—can agree that few things are more detrimental to a good night’s sleep. I probably should have spent the last day and a half bombing my mattress with toxic fumes instead of lying on the coach in sweats watching The Family Guy, but then I wouldn’t have anything to complain about I guess.
That’s all of my critter stories for now. I’m sure there will be more. I keep seeing pictures of elephants, rhinos and lions; hopefully I won’t encounter any of them on the road, though.
I had to write one entry just about the animals I’ve come across here. Something short and sweet is the plan; we’ll see how that goes.
The most noteworthy animals I’ve seen, and also the ones I’ve seen the most are baboons. They are apparently very annoying, although I should give them credit for their bravery. A couple of weekends ago when I went to Windhoek (the capital city) for a tennis tournament that 10 of our kids were playing in, we encountered several on the road both there and back. On the way there, it was pretty sweet to check them out on the side of the road, making faces at them and whatnot. However, on the drive back, while I was trying not to kill 14 people on a two-lane “freeway”, driving on the left hand side of the road at 70 MPH, I had the pleasure of playing chicken with some of the biggest monkeys I’ve ever seen. I’m not going to lie, a smile came to my face each time they realized they didn’t stand a chance against a Toyota van careening straight at them, and turned tail to run—at which point their hairless asses are exposed and they are truly beaten. Some might say they were getting revenge by mooning a school van (like any self-respecting teenage boy has done), but I’m not buying it. It was more like being beaten at a 5th grade game of butt-ball and having the face the wall in shame at your defeat. Too bad there wasn’t a ball around.
Next we’ve got ostriches. They are weird looking animals. I only mention them because they’re somewhat exotic and I’ve seen them run alongside the road next to me. Once again, animal vs. the man-machine team; guess who won?
I lied earlier when I said more baboons had crossed my path than anything else. I forgot about springboks. They’re pretty rad, but having seen thousands of deer in my life I’m less impressed with them. Their miniature counterparts from Dhamraland, the Dhamra dik-diks, are the cutest things I’ve come across so far. They are like miniature deer—and I’m talking 2 feet tall miniature—that always travel in pairs. I want to get a couple as pets.
Last, and my least favorite I’ll mention, are bedbugs. I have come to despise the phrase, “Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite!” said with cheerful glee. I think anyone who has ever been woken up by a little prick followed by 10-12 minutes of irritating burning—during which you can only dream of finding the little punk that bit you and exacting an equally annoying revenge upon his/her little exoskeleton—can agree that few things are more detrimental to a good night’s sleep. I probably should have spent the last day and a half bombing my mattress with toxic fumes instead of lying on the coach in sweats watching The Family Guy, but then I wouldn’t have anything to complain about I guess.
That’s all of my critter stories for now. I’m sure there will be more. I keep seeing pictures of elephants, rhinos and lions; hopefully I won’t encounter any of them on the road, though.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Two weeks teaching down, forty-some left to go…
11 February 2007
Things are starting to fall into place now, which is great. This is the first weekend I’ve had without anything scheduled for quite a while (unless you count lesson plans that need to be written for my 7th grade math class, which I don’t), so I’ve pretty much spent it on the couch in sweats. I’m pretty sure the neighbors think I’m a little weird for wandering around outside in the evening still not dressed, but if they say anything I’ll just point out that at least I’m wearing a shirt—something the man next door can rarely claim (although my roommates don’t seem to mind).
Last weekend we celebrated my birthday with a big braai on Friday and then went to a small “farm” about 1 ½ hours away from Swakop for a little afternoon getaway. By farm, I mean a little plot of land near the Swakop Riverbed that belongs to a woman named Ushi who is a big local supporter of our program. On the way out there, we pulled off the bumpy, dirt road to check out this area of a national park they call the Moonscape. The name pretty much explains the concept, a massive area (like as far as you can see) that is all jagged hills made out of rock that apparently looks like the surface of the moon. We got to climb up them a little later when we went for a drive with Ushi and her husband to find some Welweichia plants—which are these plants only found in Namibia that are hundreds of years old. The farm itself was very pretty as well. They have a little house built there that only uses a little bit of power for lights (supplied by a lone solar panel since it’s far from any power lines). Outside they’ve got a little sitting area with everything movable chained down because the baboons nearby love to wreak havoc when all the humans are out of sight… I was secretly wishing they would come around so we could have a little tug-o-war battle, but no dice. Maybe I’ll get a chance when we take our grade 4’s there later in the year for a campout.
School itself is still hectic, but I’m enjoying it. There have been some trying times since I’m only teaching grades 6 and 7, and the last thing a group of kids approaching puberty wants is to be told what to do by a white guy they’ve just met. They’re all used to Shannon, the previous MYO teacher, and it’s going to take a while before I win them over. Adding to the difficulty is the fact that they’re not used to much structure and/or having to obey rules (like not wandering around at will in the classroom, raising their hands to speak, etc.). So it seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me trying to help them learn not only the material but also the concept of focus. It’s difficult to explain the way the schools work here, but I’ll try. I’ve been to all of the schools we work in, and every time I go there is at least one classroom without a teacher. Whether they are sick and there’s no substitute so the teacher next door has to try to regulate them from a class away; or maybe they randomly called a staff meeting at 9:30 so all the teachers are yucking it up in the staff room while 600 kids are “working” on an assignment left for them; or my personal favorite, I go to get a copy of grades so I know how my kids did last year and the principal personally takes me from the office to each classroom so the teacher can leave class to come back to the same office and photocopy a sheet of paper while the principal stands around doing nothing—all the while, the class is left unattended and no one seems to think anything of it. That last part only happened at one school, but all the other stuff could be at any school. It’s wild. I’m sure much will be written about the successes and tribulations I face in class so keep tuning back in to see how it all goes.
I haven’t really written much about the weather here, but it is fantastic. I want to find a place in the U.S. with a similar climate and move there. It’s been hot, but only maybe 85-90 degrees here in Swakop so it’s definitely bearable. At night it cools down considerably, especially now that fall is coming, but a long-sleeve or sweatshirt is more than adequate. Now that it’s cooling down the days are much more pleasant, too. I’d say that yesterday and today have been about 75 degrees during the day, and then it’s been cooling down to around 50 at night. The interesting thing about Swakop is the cycle of weather throughout the day. Our tennis coach, Julian, likes to say that we get all 4 seasons in each day. The mornings are virtually always covered in mist, which looks like a cloud cover but melts away around 10am. Then the rest of the morning/afternoon are sunny and start to heat up until around 4pm, when the wind starts to blow. (I hear the wind gets out of hand here in the next few months with the arrival of the east wind off the ocean that carries sand for miles and pretty much forces a person inside.) After the windy evening, it calms down again and gets chilly like all deserts after the sun goes down. So there’s my monologue about weather, I hope no one fell asleep and drooled on the keyboard… I claim no responsibility if you did.
I’ll finish up with Happy Birthday wishes to my sister, Rustee. Only one more year left to make fun of Keith for being over the hill, but it feels like I’m closing the gap, too, so I shouldn’t really comment… but I think we all know that’s not my style.
I miss all of you guys back home, and I hope all continues to go well.
Beau
Things are starting to fall into place now, which is great. This is the first weekend I’ve had without anything scheduled for quite a while (unless you count lesson plans that need to be written for my 7th grade math class, which I don’t), so I’ve pretty much spent it on the couch in sweats. I’m pretty sure the neighbors think I’m a little weird for wandering around outside in the evening still not dressed, but if they say anything I’ll just point out that at least I’m wearing a shirt—something the man next door can rarely claim (although my roommates don’t seem to mind).
Last weekend we celebrated my birthday with a big braai on Friday and then went to a small “farm” about 1 ½ hours away from Swakop for a little afternoon getaway. By farm, I mean a little plot of land near the Swakop Riverbed that belongs to a woman named Ushi who is a big local supporter of our program. On the way out there, we pulled off the bumpy, dirt road to check out this area of a national park they call the Moonscape. The name pretty much explains the concept, a massive area (like as far as you can see) that is all jagged hills made out of rock that apparently looks like the surface of the moon. We got to climb up them a little later when we went for a drive with Ushi and her husband to find some Welweichia plants—which are these plants only found in Namibia that are hundreds of years old. The farm itself was very pretty as well. They have a little house built there that only uses a little bit of power for lights (supplied by a lone solar panel since it’s far from any power lines). Outside they’ve got a little sitting area with everything movable chained down because the baboons nearby love to wreak havoc when all the humans are out of sight… I was secretly wishing they would come around so we could have a little tug-o-war battle, but no dice. Maybe I’ll get a chance when we take our grade 4’s there later in the year for a campout.
School itself is still hectic, but I’m enjoying it. There have been some trying times since I’m only teaching grades 6 and 7, and the last thing a group of kids approaching puberty wants is to be told what to do by a white guy they’ve just met. They’re all used to Shannon, the previous MYO teacher, and it’s going to take a while before I win them over. Adding to the difficulty is the fact that they’re not used to much structure and/or having to obey rules (like not wandering around at will in the classroom, raising their hands to speak, etc.). So it seems like I’ve got my work cut out for me trying to help them learn not only the material but also the concept of focus. It’s difficult to explain the way the schools work here, but I’ll try. I’ve been to all of the schools we work in, and every time I go there is at least one classroom without a teacher. Whether they are sick and there’s no substitute so the teacher next door has to try to regulate them from a class away; or maybe they randomly called a staff meeting at 9:30 so all the teachers are yucking it up in the staff room while 600 kids are “working” on an assignment left for them; or my personal favorite, I go to get a copy of grades so I know how my kids did last year and the principal personally takes me from the office to each classroom so the teacher can leave class to come back to the same office and photocopy a sheet of paper while the principal stands around doing nothing—all the while, the class is left unattended and no one seems to think anything of it. That last part only happened at one school, but all the other stuff could be at any school. It’s wild. I’m sure much will be written about the successes and tribulations I face in class so keep tuning back in to see how it all goes.
I haven’t really written much about the weather here, but it is fantastic. I want to find a place in the U.S. with a similar climate and move there. It’s been hot, but only maybe 85-90 degrees here in Swakop so it’s definitely bearable. At night it cools down considerably, especially now that fall is coming, but a long-sleeve or sweatshirt is more than adequate. Now that it’s cooling down the days are much more pleasant, too. I’d say that yesterday and today have been about 75 degrees during the day, and then it’s been cooling down to around 50 at night. The interesting thing about Swakop is the cycle of weather throughout the day. Our tennis coach, Julian, likes to say that we get all 4 seasons in each day. The mornings are virtually always covered in mist, which looks like a cloud cover but melts away around 10am. Then the rest of the morning/afternoon are sunny and start to heat up until around 4pm, when the wind starts to blow. (I hear the wind gets out of hand here in the next few months with the arrival of the east wind off the ocean that carries sand for miles and pretty much forces a person inside.) After the windy evening, it calms down again and gets chilly like all deserts after the sun goes down. So there’s my monologue about weather, I hope no one fell asleep and drooled on the keyboard… I claim no responsibility if you did.
I’ll finish up with Happy Birthday wishes to my sister, Rustee. Only one more year left to make fun of Keith for being over the hill, but it feels like I’m closing the gap, too, so I shouldn’t really comment… but I think we all know that’s not my style.
I miss all of you guys back home, and I hope all continues to go well.
Beau
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