Hangin' with the Principal and PCVs

The past week has been very full and busy, and hopefully I’ve started to find my balance a little bit better here. On Wednesday, I spent a day with Mr. Werner Kalipi, my principal, He is a tate kulu (respected male elder) who has been principal here for 20 years. He has a round face, close-cropped black hair speckled with grey, and a belly that often defeats his efforts at tucking in his shirttails. He’s a geography and Afrikaans teacher by trade who is fluent in Oshiwambo, and English as well, and is reputed to be a fierce disciplinarian. We spent the day driving all over Ovamboland, collecting signatures for government forms, running errands, and buying books for the school. Our school has a larger budget than the government schools, Mr. Kalipi bought many books for the staff that day.

It was interesting and a little uncomfortable to spend the day with him, especially because I have been feeling very mixed about my usefulness at the Canisianum, the Exeter of Ovamboland. I couldn’t tell Mr. Kalipi that, so instead, I asked him about teaching in the pre-independence days, when many Ovambo students ran away from home to fight against the South African Defence Forces. He said that he had supported the students, which surprised me. He seemed to be a man who follows rules, but in that case he definitely broke the rules by urging students to join the resistance movement in Angola.

There was one disappointing aspect of the trip with Mr. Kalipi. After a full day of running errands and shopping in Oshakati, the main town of the north, he decided it was time for lunch before we drove home. Then he got into the van and drove us to the one place I swore I would avoid up here: KFC! When he walked in, I followed as if on remote control, and walked away with a thigh and a leg, original recipe. What surprised me was that after eating that grease monster, I felt a little bloated and disgusting. My body isn't used to that much grease anymore.

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This weekend, I traveled to a nearby town, Okahao, for a volunteer party. It was like the U.N. of volunteers: four different agencies and five different nationalities were represented. The bulk of attendees were Americans, working either through the Peace Corps or WorldTeach. Several other volunteers, from Britain and India, were there under VSO (Volunteer Service Overseas) auspices, and there was one guy from a Swiss NGO. A random Australian was also there, volunteering with one of the U.S. groups. In true Namibian fashion, we held a braii where we drank many pints of the local brew and grilled goat meat.

Talking with all the other volunteers, especially the Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs), was good for me. I had been feeling a little sorry for myself, feeling that I had too ‘cushy’ a work site. I found out that some of the PCVs were in much harsher situations, but others were living in comparative luxury. For example, I met several volunteers who are teaching at schools deep in the bush. They are living with host families on homesteads, and have a long way to go to town. However, most of them have a tap for fresh water, electricity, and their own small kitchen. On the other hand, there were several who are living in situations like mine, and at least one who has a posh apartment in Oshakati, the big city in the north. So the doubts of “Should I have done Peace Corps or WorldTeach?” were in some ways alleviated. The PCVs were a neat bunch. Many of them are happy to rough it, and their idea of how to spend their time off is to go camping or hiking. One guy is growing his hair out to look like Jerry Garcia, and they generally were gregarious and very laid-back. My kind of people.

There was one Indian volunteer at the party, Reshme, who is a social worker at the Okahao hospital. She was at the party wearing a traditional sari, and made samosas. I asked her what she missed most from home. She told me that she missed her friends, and her motorcycle the most. I asked, “a motorcycle, like a Harley?” She nodded. The image of this woman in a sari on a hog kept me chuckling for several days, until another volunteer told me that she had probably meant a moped. Drats.

Connecting with all the other volunteers helped alleviate the loneliness, and also gave me some perspective on my work here. Although I may be based at a comparatively affluent school, my teaching load is light and I have time for other projects. One idea that has been bouncing around my head is to help out with other school libraries in the area, which has become one of my goals for the following week.