In Namibia, one bell rings and one bell only.  So there’s no way to determine if a student is late.

Worse still, the bell is hand-controlled, so if the secretary is busy or not around, the bell just doesn’t get rung.  That means I could have prepared my lesson and timed it exactly so that it’s finished in 40 minutes…but all of a sudden I have seven extra minutes on my hands and I’m wondering what to do with 35 kids.

Seven unplanned minutes with 35 kids is a lot.

Here is what it looks like for students to meander on to the next class.  I do sorely miss the fastidious schedules of most American schools:

taken last year at one of the many pageants we hold at our school – but at least that one involved older girls

I loathe basing a woman’s value on her appearance.  Worse still is doing it to a young girl.  Worse still is being an official judge for the beauty pageant known as Miss Newcomer 2012.

Here are these young girls—13, 14, 15—getting leered at by people of all ages.  Countless men were there holding up their cell phones for pictures and videos.  The swimwear competition was actually the girls walking around in their bras, because most of them apparently don’t have swimsuits.  I realize a bra is no more revealing than a bikini top, but it feels so much worse.  I didn’t want to look.

I don’t know what the worst part of the evening was.  Was it how the tickets say it starts at 7, but it didn’t start till 8:45, nor finish till 11:30?  Was it how a performance of this simple, repetitive dance style they all love makes the kids scream as if it’s Elvis’ pelvis…when to me it looks utterly boring?  Was it how some of the catwalks were agonizingly slow and we just wanted to get on with it already?  Was it how the dining hall has wooden floors and every sound echoes, so you can’t hear what the girls answer for the question segment—the only part worthwhile, to me?

No.  I know what the worst part was.

It was our very own “wardrobe malfunction” a la Janet Jackson at that old Super Bowl performance.  I thought I was uncomfortable just watching underage girls in their bras.  Little did I realize how much worse things could be.

(Some of these kids are from the Himba tribe, where women are topless all the time.  Moreover, Namibians have explained to me that shoulders, cleavage, and even breasts are no big deal—but when you show leg it’s really scandalous.  Nevertheless, the audience was mortified.  The poor girl had no idea her strapless dress had sunk too low.  As I was averting my eyes from her, I was watching the reaction of everyone else.  That’s how I could glean that, Himbas or not, this was horrifying.)

The icing on the cake was at the very end, when the same girl with the wardrobe malfunction thought she’d been called as one of the ten finalists.  So she started to come forward before realizing her number had not been called.  And thus her humiliation was complete.

I rushed home as soon as the show was over and wished I could go to sleep and never wake up.  Before I fell asleep, though, I prayed the prayer Jesus warns against:

“God, thank you thank you thank you that that’s not me.”

(Luke 18:11, AP)

sunrise over Otjiperongo, Sunday, January 29

I’ve been back at site for three weeks now.  It’s strange how much changes from one lifestyle to the other.  Now, the advertisements I see online implore me to “Become an American—get a green card” and remind me, “Do not miss your chance to live and work in the USA” as it shows a Statue of Liberty holding up a STOP sign.

Now, I have to stop and think before I say a catchphrase like “The buck stops here.”  I was in a meeting with my principal and wanted to use the term “benchmark,” too, but didn’t know if it would translate.

What a difference from one place to the next.  You’ll recall the passport official in the U.S. airport, who refused to say “hello” back to anyone who greeted him.  Compare that to the passport official in the S.A. airport, who asked me how long I’d be staying and offered me the keys to his place.

Coming back felt like a fuzzy, bad dream in some ways.  I hated being confronted with all those old worries related to food, transportation, and safety.  Big worries—basic parts of life.  …You know how, when someone you love dies, there is that occasional morning where you wake up and forget for a moment–but then you remember?  It was a little like that.

But, I am coming to believe that with God we can have hope.  And there are many blessings to be grateful for about my return here.  We now have a big antennae for better cell phone reception.  I have screens on a couple windows and no mosquitoes.  Chatting and joking with fellow teachers has become easier and easier.  This year I get to teach mostly just 9^th and 10^th graders, which means we have lively classes with quick conversation (as the kids are, after all, about 19 years old).  Our school received even more new equipment, like a giant copy machine that I adore.  Best of all, I’ve done this before.  So I’m not as scared about discipline problems and I somehow have gotten more respect.

As always, your comments on these entries help me carry on.  I’ll keep you posted in the new year!

reuniting with my gal pals

Although I love early mornings when it’s still dark and I can write or pray, I also love bright afternoons, when the simple life shows its beauty:

me: What is your name?
him: Tjarirove.  (In his head he’s probably thinking, Why is she asking me a question she already knows the answer to?  Because we have been friends for awhile…but for the sake of my viewers I thought I should ask.)
me: Tjarirove, okay.  What are you doing?
him: [something about] water.  (He’s fetching water?  Looking for it?  Something something water.)
me: Oh, water.  Are you thirsty?  …Where are you going?
him: There.
me: “There”?  Where?
him: [something unintelligible]

When I listen to that video I’m ashamed that my voice sounds fake or condescending the way you baby-talk to a child.  I definitely have to slow my speech down in order to be understood in my village, but I don’t have to use such a girlish high pitch.  I’ll have to work on that.  New year’s resolution: low voice, assertive tone, don’t be such a child.

Something I expected to happen, didn’t.  The things I thought would make me happy…my big plans to eat luxurious foods?  Well, most of the time I didn’t even have an appetite, and when I did…they were no big deal.

Then other things that I didn’t know to expect ended up becoming luxuries in themselves: getting in a car all by yourself, driving straight to the destination you choose, putting on music you want to listen to, having a seat belt, knowing there are police around to enforce D.U.I. rules and speed limits….  That is a Godsend.  Now I’ll go back to cramming into the bed of a pick-up truck with nine other adults and everyone’s groceries.

Expectations were thwarted all over the place these past four weeks.  When I went to a coffee shop and noticed that there were about 20 white people and 1 minority person…I didn’t expect to notice that.  I then wondered how that 1 person felt and whether he also noticed.  That was new for me.

My biggest expectation did get fulfilled, though, and that was how family time was so huge, during this trip.  More than any “perk” of American culture.  Yes, it’s great to indulge in strong coffee or buy a leather journal or know what people around me are saying.  But basically nothing compared to what the conversations and walks and games were like, with my family.

I was sad when I flew to Namibia the first time.  I’m sad in a different way as I fly there a second time.  I just hope that I can get outside of myself and be a good teacher to these kids who have already formed a relationship with me and who expect me to come back.  Throughout all these seasons and emotional rollercoasters, I somehow keep forgetting Who I am doing this for.  But as I look to this new year, I think (or hope) that maybe God can transcend my sadnesses and use me in spite of myself.

Catch ya on the flip side.

1. Is it like you see on charity commercials, where all Africans are skinny and starving?
2. Do teenagers go to shopping malls or have brand-name clothes like Aeropostale?
3. How do they treat foreigners?
4. Are there zoos in Africa?
5. What do they eat?
6. What classes do they take at school?
7. Is Namibia a peaceful country or are there wars?
8. What is practicing religion like there?
9. Have you ever been attacked by a student/animal/stranger?
10. How well do you know the local language?
11. How do they celebrate Christmas?
12. What does the interior of their houses look like?
13. Was your brother mean to you, growing up?

(That last one was because my brother is their history teacher, and it was his classes that I took over for the day.  It is neat to see the rapport he has with them.)

One similarity I see between the students I teach abroad and the ones he teaches over here is that they all have inquisitive minds.  I like that about this age bracket.  I like that they are curious about things and I hope they keep that even as they become adults.