Kevin in NAMIBIA

A Surprising Turn of Events for World AIDS Day...

2007-11-30T01:58:00.001+01:00

On Wednesday morning I had my day planned out. I was going to visit my aunt and start some web design work. Just as I was getting my day going after a leisurely breakfast at the City Cafe I received a call from the Associated Press wanting to interview me about my work in Namibia. I thought this was rather odd considering I have been back home for a while but then it became more clear why there was a sudden interest in my travels this past summer.
Apparently, President Bush has decided to visit Calvary United Methodist Church to commemorate World AIDS Day. Calvary UMC has helped support Children of Zion Village both financially and by sending volunteers like myself. Apparently, reporters started calling the church but those that work at the church were under directions from the White House to say little about the event. I, however, was not invited to the event and thus not being under any restrictions soon found myself being interviewed by the AP and some other papers.
Today, I found my face on many websites around the world and in print. I even found my face next to articles that had nothing to do with me! A few photos I had taken in Namibia were also posted on the AP wire. (So far I found them on several websites including Yahoo and some site that I think is in Portuguese.)
World AIDS Day brings a lot of attention to the Global AIDS crisis every year. There are ceremonies, speeches, and a media blitz that I have been quite involved with this time around. While I am very excited that the media spotlight will focus on the orphanage, the important work they are doing, and the AIDS epidemic in general I hope it is not a one-day event, soon lost in the 24-hour news cycle. The children that I worked with who were HIV positive and anyone who has the disease doesn't live with it for one news cycle but lives with it everyday.
This brings me to an important point I would like to make. I would like to emphasis that the kids I worked with who happened to be infected with the disease were living vibrant lives like any healthy child. We are often left with an impression that children living in impoverished countries and infected with HIV are totally consumed with the disease and have little to offer. This could not be farther from the truth.
I have managed to work with literally thousands of kids in my relatively short teaching career. Of all the groups of kids I have worked with I have been most inspired by the kids at Children of Zion Village. I can attest from my own personal experience that supporting the fight against HIV/AIDS is not simply about saving lives for the sake of saving lives but is an important fight to save the lives of valuable and important individuals.

Click here to read the AP article.
Click here to read the Baltimore Sun article.
Click here to read the Frederick News-Post article.

Looking to the Furture...

2007-10-26T17:09:00.000+01:00

I wrote this for a church news letter when I returned. I decided I'd put it up as a bit of reflection after being back in the states.

When a child is born in Namibia they are brought into a world of few opportunities and a future of hardship. One in twelve will die during infancy, about one fourth will be orphaned, few will receive an education pass the elementary level, and at least in the Caprivi Region nearly half will contract HIV/AIDS. The kids at the Children of Zion Village had become a tally mark on the paper chronicling these grim figures and had they not come to the Village they probably would have been written into other columns and rows of statistics.
There is finality to numbers. They are concrete, predictable, and we take comfort in their stability. They order our world. 2 +2 will always equal 4, π will always equal 3.14…, and when the problems people face around the world get quantified to numbers we tend to accept the inevitability of their situation. It’s in the numbers, can’t change them. When some courage is mustered and solutions are explored they seem to take on a mathematical quality as well. Add dollars, subtract despots, add medications, multiply investment, add schools, divide cultural taboos, add hospitals and the numbers will change and problems will be solved. When the numbers do not change or shift in the opposing direction we tend to think of it as an error in mathematics. Apparently, we chose the wrong formula or plugged in the wrong values.
Statistics are revealing but they do not give understanding. Behind every tally mark, decimal, and pie chart is a child. For each figure there is someone who walks, runs, climbs trees, sings songs, skips stones, draws pictures, squishes bugs, laughs, and cries. Until you meet these people and live in their community you will not understand. They will be numbers and words; they will be pixel arrays flickering on a screen or ink smudged photos in the world section; they will be characters in someone else’s story. This does not represent some sort of moral deficiency but simply how people are. Our understanding only goes as deep as our experiences. The great misunderstanding about the poor in Namibia (and the rest of the world) is that we seem them as problems to be fixed and not as people.
The people at the Children of Zion Village, the Minks, the volunteers, and the staff do not look at the kids and see problems to be fixed but see people; we see family. These kids will never receive the love of their parents again but they receive the love of everyone who passes through that village. While the kids receive better living facilities, healthcare, and education than most of the kids on the other side of the fence it is the nurturing through love and faith that separates the Village from other aid programs striving to adjust numbers. Love and faith are the most important things invested in these kids and this type of investment is what will bring solutions to the problems that face the people of Namibia. It is an investment that does not simply keep the kids alive but will give them the opportunity to choose lives. If they choose to be it these kids are the solution not because we simply fed them, clothed them, and taught them but because we loved them and believed in them.
Upon my return, I have had many people express some form of admiration to me for the sacrifices I have made to serve at the Village. I have felt that it is rather unwarranted as I do not feel that I have sacrificed anything. What I gave up here was repaid ten fold while I was at the Village. It was certainly not paid in any material sense but in love and understanding. These things are eternal and treasures that cannot be depleted. If God calls us to sacrifice it is not to demonstrate some token of belief or penance. It is because He understands where true wealth lies and wants us to partake in it.
I thank everyone who has offered their prayers and support over the past couple of months not only for me, but the kids and staff at Children of Zion Village. With out them this opportunity may not have been possible. I know I will cherish the relationships I formed and the experiences I had for the rest of my life. If any one who reads this feels called to lend their support and build a relationship with the people of this unique place I greatly encourage you to pursue that call. Who knows, maybe I will see you there.

The Photographs are Coming...

2007-09-15T05:52:00.001+01:00

After many hours of sitting at the computer I am starting to get my 5,000 photographs organized. I decided that rather than put them on the blog I would create some new webpages with nice slide shows. Thus far I have about thirty-some shots from my visit to Chobe National Park. I'm going to try to add another one every couple of days so keep checking in! Click on the PHOTOS link above or click here.

Back in the USA...

2007-09-11T23:24:00.000+01:00

I have finally found some time to post my return to the United States. I arrived on September 6th but have had a whirlwind couple of days since then. I left Katima early in the morning on the 5th. Gary drove me about three hours to the airport in Livingstone, Zambia where I walked into my first air-conditioned room in two months. I promptly began coughing. I then flew to Johannesburg, South Africa. I wandered around the airport for some time and then boarded my plane bound for the States. I was lucky enough to not sit next to anyone and had four seats to myself for the 18 hour flight to Dulles via Dakar, Senegal.
Once I arrived at Dulles I met my teary eyed parents and sat down to breakfast and coffee. After a few hours of chatting I gave them my bags and they gave me another smaller bag. I then caught another plane to Atlanta. There I was picked up and driven to Augusta and played my part as a member of a "best-men team" for my friends' wedding. From Katima to Augusta I traveled for 41.5 hours. By the end I wasn't even tired but walked around in a sub-conscious fog. Anyone who would like to see the wedding can check it out on the Sundance Channel. My friends' planned an eco-friendly wedding. Sundance somehow got wind of this and filmed the wedding and its preparations for a documentary on eco-friendly weddings.

I hope people will continue to visit for the next couple of weeks as I post pictures and update people on some of the work I hope to do for the village here at home.

Parenting...

2007-09-03T21:37:00.000+01:00

Four months ago when I started fundraising for this trip I tried to summarize my plans in a concise manner. This often proved difficult because I have a tendency towards verbosity.

I first explained that I was going to "Africa." I usually said "Africa" as opposed to more specifically saying "Namibia" because explaining where exactly Namibia is located on the planet often induced blank stares in people's eyes.

I then explained that I would volunteer at an "orphanage." I would say "orphanage" as opposed to "children's home" (the preferred and more appropriate term used here.) "Orphanage" was easy to say because everyone understands that children who do not have parents or people who can care for them go to orphanages and Children of Zion Village is that sort of place. Unfortunately, many orphanages are simply warehouses for children. Children of Zion Village is certainly not one of those places. "Children's home" is not simply a play with semantics but a more true reflection of the atmosphere of this place. A place where the kids feel like family and the people running it view themselves as parents.

I would then go on to tell people that I would be working as a teacher and probably pick up some odd jobs wherever I might be needed. While I did do what I anticipated what has proved more important to me, and probably to the kids as well, is what I did not anticipate.

I did not anticipate the many roles I would play for the kids. I did not know I would be their coach, counselor, and nurse. I did not know I would go clothes shopping and find tailors for them, to go grocery shopping for them, to find hairdressers for them, to be a bus driver, to take care of goats, and in short act as a parent to 55 kids. Truly, that is not only the role that the Mink's find themselves in but really any volunteer that stays here for any length of time.

Someone told me once (or maybe it was no one, or just another tidbit of wisdom that is passed around) that no one really understands their parents until they themselves are parents. My experiences in Africa have led me to believe this statement as I have begun to understand my parents at a level that I previously had not. Let me qualify what I am about to say that I am only beginning to understand my parents. Anyone who has ever met them will know that much of their behavior defies conventional understanding.

Nevertheless, as I found myself in new and difficult situations with kids I found the words of my father, my mother, my grandparents, and my aunts and uncles coming out of my mouth. I found myself working harder than I have ever had worked in my life (I have considered this statement and do not believe it is an exaggeration) not for money, grades, appreciation, or even a thank you. I worked to a level of exhaustion that only a parent would stretch themselves to because they love a child.

This is something that my parents did for my sister and I that early on I never appreciated and later never really understood. They seemed to undertake enormous amounts of stress for our benefit and I didn't feel that I warranted such effort. While it is difficult to verbalize the motivation I have begun to understand why someone would sacrifice so much of themselves for a child. Even though the children here are not actually mine and I am not actually their parent, because I lack the former and they lack the later we each fall into the roles presented us. I do not think my experience is unique but that of many of the volunteers here.

I can only hope that while I have been here I have imparted a small bit of knowledge, presented myself as a role model, and acted in the love that these children so deserve. I will walk away not only with a broader view of the world, a deeper understanding of kids, new discoveries about myself, but also an understanding of my own parents. Well, a little bit more understanding.

Funny Things Kids Say...

2007-08-29T18:49:00.000+01:00

For all the kids here at the Village English is a second language. While they are all very proficient in English their grammar and idiomatic expressions can be entertaining. I'll list a few...

"Coach, are you giving us the running today?" (Nervousness before a long running practice.)
"Uncle Kevin, I'm having the blood!" (Someone got a paper cut.)
"Leave me." (A common phrase when a child is growing annoyed with one of their peers.)
"Haaay!" (Usually expressed in a high pitched exasperated tone. Indicates frustration or embarrassment.)
"My leg is having the pain." (Shameless attempt to get out of running practice.)
"My goat is needing the milking." (You can figure that one out.)
"I dun't know." (A somewhat overused phrase in my opinion.)
"Whaty, Thaty, etc." (Many words that end in "T" are then given an additional "Y" on the end.)
"Me/I" (One child has yet to fully grasp when to use the subjective versus the objective form of the first person personal pronoun. Thus they use both for all situations. Ex: "Me/I would like you to give the pencil to me/I.")
"See me?" (Asking to see the picture I just took of them on my camera.)
"This one!" (Used to refer to another person. A translation of the Lozi word "Bwena" which means you. They use it to call the attention of someone. Apparently, there is nothing impolite with saying, "Hey you!" all the time.)

Two humorous dialogues from the convention:

A small child is riding a tricycle back and forth in front of the window to our room. Inside, two boys are trying to get some rest.

"That one is making me crazy!"

"He's driving you crazy, you're supposed to say driving you crazy."

"How can he be driving me crazy! I'm not going anywhere! I'm trying to take a nap! He's giving me the craziness!"

-------

"Uncle Kevin, everytime I move my bed is having the fire!" (A child discovers static electricity.)

An interesting cultural note:

Stoplights are called robots. In Windhoek, there is robot on almost every corner!

Convention Craziness & How Inspiration Comes in Small People...

2007-08-26T22:17:00.000+01:00

After a day filled with naps I have regained enough energy to elaborate on the convention craziness that has swept the Village over the past two weeks. In case I failed to mention it earlier the convention was unexpectedly changed venues and set a new earlier starting date about a week before we were to depart. The venue changed because it had been double booked and the new venue, while more pleasant, was about another hour and half down the road. The dates were a typographical error on the notice form. Of course, we were not made aware of the error till about a week and half before departure via e-mail which we had no access to because the computers were not working. We only found out about the change because Rebecca happened to have e-mail access at the house she was staying at in Cape Town while recovering from her surgery. She relayed the message to me through Gary and a general panic ensued from there.

First, it was brought to our attention that we were missing certain forms. This convention had forms for everything. Their were judges forms (3 copies), a Progress Control Form (to document student progress?), parental notification form, health forms, sponsor forms, more judges forms, photographs of students in costume for performance events, passport photos for convention I.D.s, and name cards for all the artwork that simply restated everything that I had written several times already on the other forms. These forms were on the computers that did not work and could not be faxed to us because our fax machine is long over due for an exorcism. In addition to the forms we needed clarification on category guidelines. For each category there are about ten pages of guidelines entirely in fine print. Every minute detail is addressed and every important one is overlooked. To understand the guidelines one must first read to the A.C.E. "International" convention guidelines. Then one must note any changes to the "International" guidelines by referring to the "Republic of South Africa" guidelines. After that, one must decipher the "Namibian" convention guidelines for any additional modifications to the "International" and "Republic of South African" guidelines. Finally, one returns to the "International" guidelines because one has forgotten them at this point. For the record, I have studied Biblical Greek and memorizing noun declension was easier than deciphering these guidelines.

Given the need for these guidelines and my total lack of technology to acquire them I spent the next couple days at the tourist office furiously e-mailing, downloading, and faxing the remaining items needed to complete our registration. In the midst of doing this I had to juggle everything needed to finish the kids entries and teach the class that I have been working with the past month and a half. As I have already detailed, I was working with the kids in soccer and track events. I also helped six kids with entries in art and photography, gave some long jumping advice, and assisted Katie in preparing two dance numbers. Many trips were made to town to finalize everything that was needed.

Some of these trips included going to the open air market to find a tailor named Professor. He was able to do a speedy job on making dance costumes, flags, and hemming pants. Our girls also sat at the market for an entire afternoon getting their hair corn-rowed. Every Namibian woman proclaims their hairdressing skills but, as demonstrated on the girls scalps, talents vary in both execution and speed.

Additional trips were made to the "sandy mall," so named because it is laid out like a mall except their is no roof over the hallways and a sandy road in place of a floor. I scoured the "China shops" (Namibian Wal-Marts stocked with goods to cheap for export anywhere else) for a tie and presentable clothing as detailed in "International" Convention Guidelines section II-4. After finding some shirts with all the buttons I set out to complete my kids entries.

I was lucky enough to find a photography shop that had an Epson ink-jet and could print decent A4 size prints. I was also able to purchase matboard at this location. Now in Namibia, any sort of high quality cardboard passes as matboard as long as one spray paints it a nice color. I refused to do this as it represented everything unholy that I had learned in art school. Of course, my solution was only mildly better. Armed with nothing more than "really nice" cardboard, white pastel paper, a glue stick, a dull box cutter, and a 12" ruler (for a 16" mat) I managed to create a presentable display. (As long as no one looked to closely.) With "Namibian" guideline VII-23b completed at sometime around eleven o'clock in the evening, soccer and school uniforms packed, costumes ready, and the kids packed and in bed I set out to fill my suitcase for our early morning departure.

I have already told the story of our fateful driving experience so I will fast forward to the actual convention...

We arrived at the Out of Nature Restcamp where the convention was to be held well with in the scheduled registration time. Unbeknownst to us, an executive decision had been made to schedule many things during registration time that we were apparently already late for. After two days of rough driving we hurried the kids into their school uniforms and I began to complete yet another set of forms detailing information that I believe I had already given them. (Namibia was once a German colony and I attribute the copious record keeping as a cultural inheritance.) The adults received their judging assignments and I carried back to my room a box full of binders detailing yet more judging guidelines.

The next morning we started the athletic competitions. Due to a lower than expected turn-out and last minute cancellations the competition was a little thin. My boys were the only ones signed up for the distance running events. Nevertheless, they all beat their best practice times by more than twenty seconds and despite their 11-13 age range they were running at paces that 14-15 year olds run back in the States. Our girls had a fair amount of competition but still brought home many gold and silver medals! Their races were quite exciting to watch and their perseverance and practice was well rewarded.

Due to the low turnout we ended up being the only school to organize a soccer team. This was deeply disappointing to me as we had practiced very hard for it and the boys were very excited to show off the uniforms that we had donated from the States. Luckily, a championship game was organized for us to play an "All-Star" team made up of boys from the other schools. We traveled a short distance down the road to a soccer field at a local school. Along the way I missed the turnoff and was forced to make a three point turn that ended badly for the Quantum's bumper. (Check memo line: Kevin/Poor Quantum) Upon arriving at the field the game started with our boys moving the ball effortlessly through the opposing team's defenses. By half time we had racked up six goals and left the opposing team, made up of mostly Afrikaners, with faces as red as the Windhoek dirt. Out of sympathy for the poor boys and a desire to see my kids challenged we invited some villagers who had gathered to watch the game to join in for the second half. The second half was far more interesting and evenly matched. Despite giving up some last minute goals the Zion boys managed to hold on to the lead and bring home a gold medal.

The other days of the convention I spent several hours judging the art and photography entries. I was surprised at the level of the artwork I saw and gave high marks to most of the entries. Our kids did well in Photography and won the Watercolor division. I was very proud of their performance given that they had nearly set their pencils and brushes on fire trying to complete their work in about a week and a half while the other kids (as noted on their Progress Control Form) had spent several weeks if not months working. Speaking of forms, I would like to note that we were the only school that actually had all the needed forms complete and present at time of judging. After everything I went through to complete them I was rather liberal with my deductions for those who lacked them.

The talk of the convention, however, was our performance on the stage. We had kids entered in story telling, preaching, and expressive reading that left the judges and the audience in tears on every occasion. My personal favorite was the vocal ensemble that our kids participated in. What was particularly amazing about their performance is that we had not planned on doing it. When we found out that the convention date had been moved up we canceled our vocal entry because it had received little rehearsal time and we felt would not be ready. Despite the forms detailing our cancellation we were still on the schedule to perform. We quickly found a song that all the kids knew the words to and Rebecca rehearsed it with the kids for about fifteen minutes. Maybe it was the rawness of their performance or their natural ability as signers but the kids gave a stirring and deeply moving presentation. Somehow in their music, all the pain they had been through and their perseverance despite it was expressed. They managed to push aside their own insecurities and shyness to truly pour their souls out in song. There was not a tearless eye in the hall and even I broke my normally stoic facade.

Our vocal, dance, reading, and preaching performances had impressed the judges so much that our kids were invited to perform once again at the evening rallies for all present. I'm not sure that our shy kids were entirely thrilled with the honor of performing in front of everyone but they did a good job nonetheless. It was clear that our kids had touched something in most of the other people in attendance. I believe it was not only their stellar performances but the fact that the performers were children whom four, five, six years ago were living on the street or bush and coping with conditions unimaginable in the States. It was truly a testament to all the blessings that these children have received but also to what all children, no matter their background, are capable of when nurtured, guided, and given the opportunity to test their talents.

One of our girls competed in an expressive reading category. She read an excerpt from a book by Mother Teresa. She truly brought the words to life as she recited the nun's plea for all to trust the poor...

"The greatest injustice done to our poor is that we fail to trust them, to love them. How often we just push and pull." -Mother Teresa, Total Surrender

Everytime we stopped to refuel on the trip down and back at least one, if not more, children came to our car window asking for a handout. They were routinely shoeless and dirty. It became an odd division to watch our kids look at them through the windows of the mini-bus. The tinted glass served as a mirror to their past, hopefully one never to be repeated in their lives. By fate, chance, luck, the grace of God, or whatever you have come to believe our children have been trusted with gifts and blessings that while humble by Western standards are great by Namibian standards. Through this endowment, these children have cultivated their minds, bodies, and spirits to serve as an inspiration to me; an example of what all people, rich, poor, young, and old, can achieve when the spark of the spirit is allowed to burn and not extinguished by preconception, distrust, and fear.

If there is one solemn prayer, it is that as these children grow and mature that they liberate themselves from the push and pull that Mother Teresa describes; a push from above that distrusts them and a pull from below that fears anything different. That they become the bearers of force on their own destinies, leaders of their communities, and pursuant not of temporal material wealth that corrupts so much of this continent and the world but examples of spiritual refinement in their love towards God and their brothers and sisters the world over.

It is a high calling for orphans but they are capable as long as their compass is true and we trust them to navigate their own paths. If they succeed we should all hope to guide our ships in their wake.

Katima or Bust...

2007-08-25T21:53:00.000+01:00

After a very hectic week at the A.C.E. Namibian Convention I am safely back in Katima Mulilo as well as Rebecca, Katie, and the twelve kids. I will take some time to elaborate on all the adventures over the past few days in future posts but today I will be brief. I am still exhausted after sleeping about 15 hours today. This exhaustion is warranted after driving 2500 KM (about 1500 miles) round trip. I completed this all almost single handedly because Rebecca was still recovering from surgery and Katie does not know how to drive a standard transmission. On our return trip Rebecca was feeling a little better and toughed her way through a brief stretch of the trip between Rundu and Divindu but other then that I was responsible for about 2300 KM. The distance by itself is grueling enough but as the trip went on it became increasingly "African." I will take a few moments to detail our drive and elaborate on the actual convention tomorrow.

The trip down started late. Every time we thought we were ready one of the kids would suddenly remember something they had forgotten and we would have to run back to the children's home to fetch the missing item. Finally, at around ten o'clock everyone was ready and I started up our Toyota Quantum, a fourteen passenger mini-bus that we packed with fifteen people, and rolled out of the village with a trailer in tow. I tried to make up time on the way down but the heavy trailer and fear of speed traps kept me from pushing much above 120 KPH. Additionally, there were several road blocks along the way that we were forced to stop. These are normally no big deal but because our Quantum was over capacity we had to hide the smallest child under a seat. Luckily, the authorities were largely uninterested in us and waved us through with little notice.

As we drove west across the Caprivi Strip we passed countless villages scattered along the side of the highway. Even though this was the main road across the Caprivi (and one of the few paved ones) the villagers still used as a place to sit, do business, play, and graze their cows.

After several hours the somewhat more lush flood-watered landscape of the Caprivi gave way to the drier shrub land of Northern Namibia. The people also changed as we left behind the Lozi and San people of the Caprivi and entered into a mix of Nama and Herero peoples. I can not say that I could tell much difference between them and the Lozi but my conversations were limited to the handful of gas station attendants that I encountered. I did notice that they generally wanted to speak Afrikaans to me and seemed somewhat confused when I stared at the blankly.

Our caravan of one cruised down the road as it disappeared into the unreachable horizon. The sun beat down on my hands and arms as it crawled across the cloudless sky. To the left and right was an endless sea of bushes mixed with dry grass and a sprinkling of trees. The road rarely turned and the endlessly straightness played tricks on my depth perception.

A combination of a late start, refueling stops, and potty breaks slowed our trip and the sun set as we entered Grootfontein. We still had about 250 KM of driving to Otjiwarango, our mid-trip stop off for a night of sleep. This would not have been so bad except that the road between Grootfontein and Otjiwarango is notorious for the Kudu that wander through the road at all times of night. I kept my family's record with hitting deer a secret (my father once hit two deer, in two days, with two separate cars) and kept my eyes wide open. Luckily, we only saw a few dik-diks (deer like creatures no bigger than a medium sized dog.)

We spent the night in Otjiwarango and rose early to drive the final leg of our journey to Windhoek. As we approached Windhoek large out croppings of rocks began to rise from the landscape. They seemed to heave themselves out of the ground like boiling masses of rock. The shrubs became less dense and the soil became more red. The road began to wind through a few mountain passes before we came out onto the plain where Windhoek sat.

Despite my very brief view, I found Windhoek very clean and possessing most of the things that one would find in a modern city. At times I felt as if I was in South Africa because Afrikaans was spoken more widely than English. We took the kids on their first visit to a mall where they enjoyed the escalator and elevator. We then drove about 30 KM more through beautiful desert mountains to the convention site.

I'll write more on that another time. For now, we will fast forward three days...

The trip back started very early but moved even slower. We had to stop over at a body shop in Windhoek to get an estimate on the Quantum. While I have been lucky enough to not have received my father's deer hitting gene I have seemed to have acquired his driving in reverse gene. Let me preface by saying that my father has a spotless driving record (as do I) when going forward but he has smashed several cars in his own driveway while backing out in the morning. Likewise, on this trip I did a splendid job with the 14 passenger mini bus (packed with 15 people) and trailer in tow while moving forward. However, my one attempt at performing a three point turn on the previous day resulted in me jack knifing the trailer and putting a healthy dent in the bumper. (This maybe a good time to note that there is a donation section to this website. Please put Kevin/Bumper in the memo line and mail it to Calvary UMC.) I had been forced to have all the kids get out of the car, lift the trailer, and angle it so I could make the turn. But enough about that little snapfoo.

As a special treat we drove the kids to the Cheetah Foundation to see some of these big cats up close. As we were bouncing along the 40 Km dirt road to the Foundation we received a call that the place we had planned on staying in Otjiwarango had given one of our rooms away but would still give us one room for the price we had paid for two last time. We quickly started calling around to see what other accommodations we could acquire at a discounted rate. We thought we had found one place but they decided they did not want us because our kids were "too big." We decided we would have to squeeze into one small room but that option had also vanished. Our original hotel had decided that we were not going to come so they gave our one room away. This repeated response of "No room at the inn" began to make feel a little like a modern day Joseph. I was beginning to entertain options at a stable. As the sun began to set it was looking more and more likely that I would be driving twelve hours through the night.

As a desperate last attempt, we called back one more time to the place where our kids were apparently "too big" and talked with the son of the owner. He said that their must have been some sort of misunderstanding because he did not think the kids were "too big" and we were welcome to come. According to Rebecca, these "misundersatandings" are frequent between Afrikaaners and Americans for some yet to be discovered reason. Relieved, but still disappointed with the price we were going to have to pay, we arrived at our inn. At about the same time a woman from Otjiwarango that had attended the convention arrived to pick up an electrical adaptor that Rebecca had borrowed. She had gone to our first hotel to receive it and had apparently been bouncing around the town trying to track us down. We told her our story and she went inside with us as we prepared to check in. She told us that she and her husband had been so moved and blessed by our children's performance at the convention she wanted to give a donation to the children's home. She handed us an envelope and then told us she had to go and arrange a reservation for a friend with the owner. While she was gone we counted the money and were elated to find that it would be enough money for that evening's room and board as well as enough to get an additional room. When the woman returned she told us that she had paid for our rooms for the night and that we could use the money in the envelope for some of our convention expenses. At this point there were many tears and we used the money to take the kids out for pizza and for many of them their first time in a resturant.

The next morning we awoke to howling wind that chilled us as we packed up to leave. We got an early start and there was hope we might arrive in Katima before sundown. Given the speed we were moving we stopped at Grootfontein to top off the trailer with some goat and horse feed. After leaving the farm supply store I noticed that the trailer was fish tailing any time I drove much above 100 KM. I attributed this to the added weight and the intense wind that blew perpendicular to the road for the next 800 KM. (My arms are still sore.) We were later to find out this was not the case.

Upon leaving the gas station at Rundu one of the kids started shouting that our trailer was dragging something. I stopped the car in the middle of the gas station exit and got out to inspect. I found the trailer's braking system lying on the ground. No one can be fully sure what caused it so snap but it could have been the extra weight of the feed, the ton of tiles Gary had shipped the week before, general wear and tear, or a very, very, very, slight chance that my little jack-knifing problem could have caused some damage. (Memo line in checks Kevin/Bumper/Trailer.) What ever the cause was we now had a breaking system dragging under the trailer and I crawled under to take a better look. It was important to get all the way under the trailer because I was blocking the exit and everyone had to squeeze by. No one seemed to upset about this, however, because in Africa for every car running there is another one breaking down in the middle of an important transit point. It's part of life.

I summoned my inner Macguiver and tied up the break system with come loose wire and a bicycle lock. We then set off down the road with the sunset at our back. Things seemed fine until we pulled off to get some gas about two hours later. We smelled an awful burning coming from the trailer. I got underneath once again to inspect. About this time the power went out in the region and I was trying to see the source of the friction with a head lamp. Unnoticed by Rebecca and I earlier, the broken break cable had wrapped itself around the axel. This was pulling on it and activating the brake. We began to suspect that our brake problem may have accrued much earlier in the trip and had been contributing to the horrible fish tailing. Everytime I had accelerated the broken cable would have wrapped tighter and activated the brake. I tried cutting the steel cable with my Swiss army knife but with to no avail. Rebecca, one of the boys and I then looped the broken cable through the wheel hub. This seemed to work and as we accelerated we felt the brake release and the trailer drove straight the rest of the trip.

Since we had wasted an hour or more under the trailer we entered the western Caprivi as darkness fell. This is an exceptionally dangerous stretch of road at night as the enormous Elephant warning signs will attest. For those of you who may not know, Gary had his car sat on by an Elephant in this very same region. The elephant stood up and walked away and it is no small miracle that Gary did as well. Despite their enormous size Elephants are very difficult to spot on the road. They are the same color as the pavement and their eyes do not glow in headlights. I had to drive extremely on guard while Katie helped scan the road ahead. It was exceptionally crucial that we spot everything well in advance because to brake quickly would cause the brakeless triler to jack-knife.

300 KM later, we had not seen any thing save some cows and we entered Katima at about 12:30am, fifteen hours from when we started. We unloaded the trailer, crawled into bed, and I shut my blood-shot eyes. I didn't budge for ten hours.

Windhoek Dispatch...

2007-08-20T11:55:00.000+01:00

I'm sending a quick post out to let everyone know that I have safely arrived in Windehok with 12 kids, 2 adults, and a packed trailer in tow. Our convention was suddenly moved up a week and moved farther away. The past week has been long, hechtic and sleepless. The kids are excited to be here and I think they will do well at the convention. Right now we are at a mall picking up a few last minute items. The kids are mildly terrified as they have never been to a mall before and it was fun watching them use an escalator for the first time. (The boys were very confused about the automatic flush on the toilets.) I will elaborate more later but keep us in your thoughts and prayers over the next couple days as the kids get ready to compete!

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Civet Hunting...

2007-08-14T13:07:00.000+01:00

A civet is a nocturnal African mammal that looks like the strange love child of a racoon and a leopard. It is about the size of a small dog with huge eyes, a spotted coat, and a tail longer than the rest of its body. It also likes to eat chickens, especially the chickens from our chicken coup.
About a week ago, one of the night watchman came upon a civet mangling one of our chickens. The guard tried to chase it down but it easily got away. The civet left the chicken but with a broken neck it was too late. The civet had now found a food source at our chicken coup but by being discovered he had lost his meal and would be sure to return to satisfy his empty stomach. This civet needed to be hunted down before more chickens were lost.
I gladly volunteered and headed out after nightfall with Minete, a Namibian and farm girl who is currently working here with the horses. She apparently has experience with civets at her farm. We hung the dead chicken from a tree by the chicken coup. Next to the coup is the goat milking station. I sat on the station and peered through the fencing slats into the darkness while Minete ready herself with the flash light. Our strategy was to remain concealed in the milking station and listen for the civet pulling at the chicken. We would then blind it with the flashlight. (Civets and white tail deer have a similar "stand and stare" reaction to bright lights.) Once it was still and dumbfounded I would shoot it with the pistol. The strategy seemed simple and effective but the civet remained illusive.
After an hour or two of sitting in dried goat milk gazing into a dark forest we decided to attempt some tracking. The wind does not blow at night and the sandy ground makes it easy to find animal tracks. We followed the tracks back to a hole in the fence where we presumed was where the civet was entering and exiting. We decided to try hanging the chicken there the following evening and catch it on its way in.
For the next several nights we sat in various locations waiting for the civet. It senses were far keener than ours and it quickly became a battle of patience. For several nights in a row I sat in the cold sand waiting for a rustling sound by the fence. I tried to keep myself awake by sitting in less than comfortable positions. At some point one evening I succumbed by my drowsiness and found my face in the sand. Luckily, I had rested the pistol on my lap in such a way that it did not fall and stayed clean.
I passed several hours looking at the stars in the cold silence. The stars are so bright and large here they seem like tiny light bulbs hanging from an invisible ceiling. One imagines that if they could just get a ladder tall enough they could snip the threads suspending them and let the stars drop into their hands. Splitting the sky in half is the Milky Way shining more brightly than most stars back home. It billows across the sky like glowing smoke from some ancient cosmic fire. As the hours pass the stars slowly glide across the sky, sneaking back to where they came from.
The temperature continues to drop and it has been hours since we have seen any sign of the civet. We decided to set out on foot and hope to surprise it. Minete catches two glowing orbs reflected in our torch light. They are defiantly the eyes of our target and I ready the pistol. We switch off the light and creep closer to the tree. We need to be close because neither of us trust the accuracy of this gun. She flips on the light again and we see that the civet has moved lower down the tree. I raise the gun but he darts behind a branch. We circle the tree for the next twenty minutes but the civet had found some avenue through the branches and darkness to escape.
Our next plan of action is to find a villager who knows how to build traps.

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Don't Eat the Ice Cream...

2007-08-14T13:05:00.000+01:00

While I have been in Africa I have eaten ostriches, giraffes, and a host of other beasts that I was previously unaware even existed. I have drank water of questionable purity and eaten off plates of questionable cleanliness. I have had various body fluids of young children on me and have even put my hand down a goat's throat to clear the vomit upon which it was choking. I have done all this and my stomach had with stood. I even began to fancy myself as having an iron gut; that maybe I could go onto Fear Factor and eat live cockroaches and not feel the least bit queasy. All these dreams of fleeting superficial fame have descended the drain. This iron gut was humbled by ice cream.
Every Saturday night the kids get an extra treat and watch a movie. This past Saturday the special treat was ice cream. As a footnote I am an ice cream lover and had been missing my culinary mistresses for the past several weeks. I had been looking forward to this rendevous and indulged in a multi-scoop helping that rivaled the size of the local the termite mounds.
It was only a few bites into my long awaited treat that disappointment began to set in. I was not expecting a frozen delicacy but this ice cream was so awful it made Safeway brand party ice-cream taste like Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey! "Polar Ice Cream", strait from Windhoek, tastes like it had been made from some sort of instant powder mix. If anyone has ever visited the Air and Space Museum in Washington D.C. and sampled the space ice cream then please take a moment to put that taste into your mind. Now imagine dumping a few of those dehydrated bars into some water, swirling it around with a box full of Equal sweetener, and then sticking it in the freezer for a few hours. If you can fathom that taste then you have some idea what Polar ice cream tastes like. Needless to say it was dreadful but I ate my heaping helping down to the last syrupy morsel.
Later that evening after returning from civet hunting, I began to feel very strange sensations in my stomach. I decided to try and sleep it off. Not long after I was awaken with a feeling in side me that can only be described as little purple men moon-walking across my digestive system. I went to the bathroom and vomited. I returned to the bathroom several times that evening to purge myself of the vile concoction that passes for ice cream in this part of the world. My stomach which had withstood bizarre meals across five continents was finally conquered by African ice cream. I was in bed all day Sunday recuperating.
When visiting Africa eat the kudu, drink the water, but do not eat the ice cream!

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Katima Update...

2007-08-08T20:13:00.000+01:00

I wanted to send a brief dispatch and fill everyone in on a little business. I went to town today because I needed some high speed internet to download some PDFs. It wasn't that many but it was still to much for this poor little machine at the village. I had a chance to check my personal e-mail as well and enjoyed reading many of the comments people have sent me. I was going to allow the comments to be published but I forgot my moderator password. Ooops. Hopefully it will emerge from the recesses of my brain and I will publish your comments. Until then keep sending because its nice to hear what people think every week or two.

Additionally, this may be my last post for a few days. Windows has been acting up and it appears as if it is about ready to self destruct. It keeps giving warning messages that say, "Activation must be completed in one day!" We are not sure what will happen if we don't but experts are addressing the problem on multiple continents. We are moving the computer out into a field in case it explodes tomorrow. Our hope is that nothing will happen (which seems to be typical of Windows.)

I must sign off now as there is a pesky civet I must hunt down tonight.

Soccer and the Hospital...

2007-08-05T21:42:00.000+01:00

Soccer and the Hospital are not two things that one wants associated to closely. Today, however, they were...

Sunday is our day to rest and relax at Children of Zion Village. One of the staff members plays in an inter village soccer league and invited two of the oldest boys and I to go play on our day off. I decided this would be a good chance to meet some of the locals and give the boys a chance to venture outside the grounds. At about 2:30 we hopped in the buggy and bumped down the road to pick up the staff member in his village. For those of you that have never been to southern Africa a village consists of about 4-5 termite mud houses with a pin for animals, a line for drying clothes, and if they are lucky a well. (All the residents do seem to own cell phones, however.)

We then drove down the tar road a little farther and exited onto a dirt road that took us a kilometer or two back into the bush. We apparently arrived early and for the next half hour people emerged from the trees and met under a particularly large one for shade.

The field was a cleared area surrounded by large shrub bushes and a scattering of trees. The goals were two split branches stuck into the ground with a third resting across them. It is the dry season here and most of the grass has died. For this reason I felt like I was playing on a baseball infield. This was just as well because when the dust would blow up it stuck nicely to my sweating skin and protected me from the sun that was burning in the sky.

I was under the impression that just a few guys were going to meet to kick the ball around. I was more than a little surprised to find out that it would be full field eleven man soccer with two regulation 45 minute halves. There was even a referee who was quite particular about proper distance when setting a wall but could care less about improper throw-ins and jumping high kicks. (It is a divine miracle that my head is still attached.) I was given a replica Italy jersey with part of the collar missing to serve as my uniform. I then volunteered to play fullback and found myself marking two very fit Namibians for the next 90 minutes.

I would like to note at this point that despite the fact that it was hot, bone dry, dust swirling, a tropical sun, and I possessed only one liter of water to share with two other people I still played the entire game and kept pace with the Namibian villagers. I would also like to note that even though we won the game 3-1 our offense had far more luck than skill and we were defending about two thirds of the game. I was very busy.

Once the first game ended I found out that today was actually a double header and that I needed to get ready for another game. I was granted the mercy of starting on the bench which I did not protest and gladly took a seat on the ground. (There is no bench of course.) About 15 minutes into the second game the goalie on the opposing team came out to make a stop. It is unclear what exactly happened but somehow he managed to break his arm. In all my years of soccer it was probably about the worst injury I have seen. His arm was so twisted and contorted that it looked like the left hand was on the right arm. At this point I start hearing, "Makuwa! Makuwa!" For those who haven't been paying attention while reading the blog this means "European" but refers to any white person. On this particular day it also meant "only man with buggy." The boys friends carried him into the back of the truck and I made sure the two boys I came with got in as well. We then sped across the sand and brush onto the main road and roared down the tar road as fast we could to Katima which was about 10 kilometers away. The boy is rather lucky that I had decided to show up because otherwise he would have walked the 10 kilometers.

Arriving at the hospital we registered and made our way to the emergency room. Once there a nurse sat the boy down and then called the doctor who then called a cab for the radiologist to come and take an x-ray. Once the X-ray was examined it was determined that yes, in fact, it was broken quite badly and the specialist could see him tomorrow morning.

While we were waiting the boys engrossed themselves in a tennis match and a documentary on gorillas. It also began to occur to me that the sun was setting and Gary and Rebecca would probably start wondering what had become of us. I of course did not have their number and the hospital did not have a phone book nor a line to call outside. Luckily, I recognized a pharmacist that I had met at a restaurant and lodge a kilometer or so down the road from our Village. His wife teaches at the Afrikaans school and was in for a sprained wrist. I borrowed her cell phone and after several attempts I managed to inform Gary.

After the boy's friends saw him to his ward I took them back to their respective villages. What this really means is that I pulled off to the side of the road where they tolled me, they jumped out, thanked me graciously, and disappeared into the shrubs and darkness.

Chobe Wildlife Preserve...

2007-08-03T19:28:00.000+01:00

This past weekend I had another opportunity to visit Chobe Wildlife Preserve in Botswana. I had gone once already with the mission team that I arrived with. They all went home and another group came who wanted to visit. Since I am a nature lover, tree hugger, and photo geek I managed to negotiate myself into the back of the truck once again. Since I did not have a chance to detail my first trip I will just summarize my cumulative Chobe experience as they are mostly similar.

The trip started at about 5:30 in the morning when I awoke and stumbled down the stairs in the dark. We were on the road by 6:30 and watched the sunrise as we headed south to the Namibian/Botswana border. At the border we had to exit our cars and wipe our feet on a disinfecting mat so that we did not bring hoof and mouth disease into Botswana. (It also seems to be a polite gesture when entering one's country.) After clearing immigration with another page full of stamps in my passport we drove about one more kilometer to the front gate of Chobe Park.

At the gate I zipped up my photo vest and stuck a pillow case under my MICA Security hat to protect my neck from the sun. I then pulled out my fully charged D70 complete with an 80-400mm VRAF lens. (Manly grunt, manly grunt.) We then set out onto the sandy paths into the park. I stood in the back of the pick-up truck most of the time with my camera in one hand and holding onto the roll bar with the other. Now off-roading in a pick-up truck, standing up, in a place with large aggressive carnivorous animals may lead some to question my intelligence. While the concern may be justified I would argue that going to Africa and NOT riding around in the back of a pick up truck (buggy as the Afrikaners call it) trying to sneak up on large aggressive carnivorous animals is like going to Paris and skipping the Eiffel Tower. You're intelligence should be questioned if you do not do it.

We bounced over sand rocks, and miscellaneous debris with a steady stream of dust coating my skin and hair. By the end I was blond and it took three days to clean the dust out of my ears. My legs ached from balancing and I had a large bruise on my thigh from leaning against the roll bar. All this was worth it given the opportunity to see come of the most amazing creatures that this continent and the Earth have been graced with.

The first animal evidence we were presented with was elephant dung. Which presented itself in great quantities throughout most of the trip. It is large, gives little odor, and once dry can be used to build houses. The first animals we came in contact with were the impalas and their sighting brought much excitement. At that time we were unaware that impalas are about as prolific as squirrels are in Western Maryland and after about the three thousandth impala we didn't even bother to break. We then happened upon a family of Zebra. These creatures were very impressive and seemed to enjoy posing for the camera.

We turned into the bush and managed to catch some glimpses of kudu and waterbuck. Kudu are large antelope type animals with spiraling horns that quite possible inspired the creators of Twizzlers. Waterbuck are also antelope type creatures with a grayish brown color and a big white circle on the rump. It makes quite a target and seems counter to all notions of evolutionary theory.

Our truck then happened upon one hundred or more baboons. Our presence stirred them up and they started zipping back and forth in an aimless panic. Some ran up trees others dove under bushes, some squealed and jumped while others lazily ate fleas off of each others back. Baboons like most humans do not like their picture taken and I never really got a good shot of their antics.

After driving for a while with seeing little more than guinea fowl we happened upon an elephant carcass in the middle of the road. It had not been dead long for the body was still intact except for its entrails which were strewn across the sand. (When I returned two weeks later it was bones and a sundried hide.) I wanted to get out and get a closer look but was pulled back by the girls in the truck. Probably just as well because we later found the lions that had been feeding on it.

Before that discovery, we drove past and wandered somewhat aimlessly through the bush spotting some more Zebra and more impalas. On our way back on the road Melissa, one of the girls in the back of the truck, somehow managed to spot a lioness lying under a tree as we drove past. We quickly doubled back and sent several lions roaring and scampering deeper into the bushes. We slowly edged closer until we got within about 10 meters. I was urging for us to get closer but Frank, the driver, didn't want to be responsible for me being eaten. We finally put the car in reverse after one particular lioness kept snarling and crouching. We were very lucky to see the lions because they are masters of stealth. Some people can spend a week or more at Chobe and never see a single lion.

After that thrill, we descended down to the coast road that follows the Chobe River. We managed to catch some Giraffe's drinking in the water. They are very inquisitive creatures and will generally stare at you as much as you stare at them. Eventually, our truck edged to close for their comfort and they ran into the bush. They are amazing to watch gallop. Their long legs seems to suspend in the air giving the illusion of slow motion. Their heads sway gracefully back and forth like a long flag pole leading a great army. Despite their enormous height they navigate through the shrubs and trees with the ease of an animal half their size.

As we followed the coast road we saw many birds and a few crocodiles. We spent some time coasting through a heard of about one thousand Cape Buffalo. The dust was thick and the chance to intermingle with so many animals was amazing. A little farther up the road we caught some hippos sunbathing. One showed off its tusks as it descended into a small pool of water.

We entered a picnic site and sat down in the shade for lunch. We unpacked our sandwiches and shewed away a monkey that was waiting for the opportune moment to run off with some of our meal. I made a pit spot at the bathroom which was pleasantly clean given the location. Upon exiting the bathroom I turned the corner to find an elephant about fifteen meters away. I navigated my way through the bushes to try and get a closer view. The elephant seemed to sense my presence and kept moving farther and farther away.

We jumped back into the buggy bed and bounced back down to the coast road. The rest of the trip was full of elephants: big ones, huge ones, really ginormous ones, and baby yet still quite large ones. We saw them eat, bath, wallow, nurse, walk, and run. I was also able to see two bulls square off in a fight for dominance. The younger one was of little match. Gary maneuvered his car in-between a cow and its calf. This was quite distressing for the multi-ton animal and it bellowed its trunk, flapped its ears, and kicked the dust creating quite a display. A little farther down the road we came to a scenic overlook that had a family of bathing elephants just bellow it. I walked along the bank and positioned myself through the trees to get a close up of a baby elephant nursing. I was probably about 3-4 meters above it. I started walking down a path farther up the bank to get some more close ups and figured the bank tobe to steep for the elephants to walk up. Surprisingly, elephants can walk up very steep banks and I found myself turning around rather quickly.

After seeing hundreds of elephants we started to meander our way back to the exit. We caught a beautiful seen of a heard of sables drinking. The sun was beginning to set and it illuminated the brownish animals against the deep blue water. Of all the antelopes the sable is my personal favorite. It has long curved horns, a large elegant body, and majestic coloring. They demonstrate their power when they charge across the open flood plains as their tuft of golden brown hair billows from their back.

After exiting the park my built up adrenalin evaporated and I quickly passed out leaving a small puddle of drool on my shoulder.

School, Vets, and Things I Have Eaten...

2007-08-02T21:32:00.000+01:00

Today was a very busy day not only with the kids but also the animals. Albious, one of the teachers here, has been out sick the past couple of days and I have been covering his class. It has been hectic because his routines are somewhat different from my room and I have been trying to adjust. Additionally, his class has twice as many students as my class. Despite the larger number they are older children and thus more independent than my usual class so things seem to balance out in terms of management.

The veterinarian also paid a visit today. I went on our mid-morning break and happened upon a stallion getting castrated infront of the workshop. Poor guy. What was worse is that the sedative was not metabolizing properly and I was enlisted to help get the horse standing. I spent the better part of an hour trying to push the horses rump into the air. (I'm not sure why the other guys got to prop shoulders and heads but I got the rump.) Important to note, when horses strain excessively they tend to pass gas. Lucky me. Anyway, we finally got the horse upright and I made myself absent for the next stallion castration.

Sadly, these two horses still faired better than one of the horses who dislocated its hip a couple of days ago. It had to be put down today and many of the kids were left very distraught by the loss. I found myself once again stepping into a parent roll trying to console the child who has taken care of the horse for the past few years. When I planned on coming here I thought mostly about the challenges I would face as a teacher. Most of those I anticipated fairly well and have managed to adjust smoothly. What I did not anticipate was the parental role that I so often find myself in. Having no kids of my own it has been a bit like swimming with out a life preserver. Nevertheless it is what the kids need and I am learning more everyday.

On a lighter note, Patrick (one of the other volunteers), made an excellent ostrich dish last night. I thought I might take an opportunity to list some of the things I have eaten here...

Kudu (a big antelope with twisted horns)
Eland (Another really big antelope)
Giraffe (A little tough but tasty)
Ostrich (Chewy but good with a cream sauce)
Bream (a local fish with a light flavor and ugly face)
Shema (looks like instant mashed potatoes but is actually made from corn meal, good with gravy)
Seed Pod (they are a good source of protein for the goats and I tried one. Indigestible.)

The Namibians say the hippos are delicious but as of yet I have not tried it. I will keep everyone posted should the opportunity arise.

Learning to Canter...

2007-08-01T21:41:00.000+01:00

Here at Children of Zion Village they have a farm with horses, goats, sheep, chickens, and ducks. The kids spend about a half hour in the morning and about an hour and half in the afternoon tending the animals. The kids enjoy working with the animals and it teaches the responsibility and some practical skills. I join them in the afternoon and focus most of my energy on the goats and sheep. Recently some of the goats have been needing injections and have to be pinned down so they don't jerk and have the syringe broken off under the skin. I have been putting a little of my jujitsu to good use by doing some double leg reaps and taking top mount on a particularly uncooperative ram. (The horns are still a little tricky. Additionally, for anyone from Bushikai who might be reading this I am teaching my soccer team to count in Japanese during stretches. I'm trying to learn to count in Kwadum but the !Clicking is still not panning out well for me.)

Besides my goat wrestling, I have managed to go horseback ridding on the weekends when things are a little less hectic. Cantering of course is mildly terrifying because one is going very fast on a very large animal that does not always want to listen to one's directions. Watching the ground race underneath certainly takes some getting use too. I have ridden motorcycles faster but at least they have a brake. Yesterday, I discovered a good way to make the speed less noticeable and the ride less scary. Ride in the dark!

The moon has been full or close to it the past couple of nights. It's bright enough that one can walk around easily and with a little eye strain manage to read a book. Not wanting to miss this once a month opportunity Jana, a Namibian volunteer and horse trainer, invited the other volunteers on a night ride through the nearby fields, forests, and ponds. I was the only volunteer who decided to "go with" and two other Namibian staff members joined. After tramping through the woods trying to find the horses (who were munching on the bush where a snake had been seen earlier that day) we saddled up and trotted out to one of the many dusty path ways that serves as a road between, as best I can tell, two distant baobab trees.

My horse was not one for trotting and preferred not only to canter along at a good clip but also enjoyed trying to pass the other horses. Luckily, it cantered fairly smoothly and through out the evening I was growing in confidence and managed to stay in my saddle better. (I also picked the Western saddle so I had something to grab onto as I started to bounce to far one way or the other.) Jana and I left the other two Namibians behind on account of the inexperience of one of them. (Not to mention the laziness of his particular horse.)

We stayed on the road until we had lost sight of the village and turned into the fields. As we moved into the middle the grass gave way to mud and marsh and I had to bring my feet up out of the stirrups as we sloshed across a shallow pond. The sound of the horses dunking their hoofs into the water was suddenly broken by a brief but loud thrashing in the reeds about 4 or 5 meters to my left. Jana gently suggested that we move a little faster across the water. Despite her composure and assumption of my ignorance I fully suspected that the sound was a crocodile. I gave a little kick to my horse and steered him off to the right. Once on the opposite bank I asked Jana if the sound had come from a crocodile in the reeds. She wasn't sure but given the fact that she had seen some foot prints around this particular pond earlier in the week it was probably a safe assumption. Despite this close encounter I was still far more worried about meeting the snake in the bushes than the crocodile. But that's just me.

From there we set across another field back to another road. My path way was illuminated by the moon and the sky was littered with constellations completely unrecognizable to anyone from the northern hemisphere. The only sound was the pounding of hooves and the breathing of the horse. As the horses started to grow tired and the chaffing of my legs was starting to take its toll we started heading back to the stables.

Upon our return we were surprised to not find our other companions. I decided not to waste the opportunity for some more practice and we doubled back and raced along the roads and fields in search of the others. After about 15 minutes we came across them shuffling along the entrance road to the village. We walked back into the stable area and put away the saddles.

Soccer and Track...

2007-07-29T16:33:00.000+01:00

My coaching debut is under way as I try to prepare a group of six boys for a convention and competition at the end of August in Okahandja. I have six boys who will be playing as a soccer team. Most of the boys will also participate in some track events. (They will also participate in dance, art, academics, and other things but I will elaborate on that at a later time.) While I did play soccer from the age of six and I ran competatively in high school for two years I have no experience as a coach. Luckily, the kids are already skilled in ball handling and are rather fast runners despite the fact they have never had any formal coaching. While they can certainly dribble circles around me (which I try to avoid making to obvious) they do lack understanding of game strategy and some rules such as proper throw-in technique and offsides. This I certainly can help them with as I always understood more about the game than I was ever able to execute on the field. So far as track, the kids are in excellent health and shape, but like most kids their age (and human beings) they want to stop running when it hurts. This is something that I will have to help them push through if they are going to do well in some of the distance races they are signed up to compete in.

While I am starting to get the hang of coaching, difficulties present themselves everyday that I know none of my coaches in the States ever had to deal. I will detail some of them as they are indicative of how life is lived in Africa. First, we only had one ball to practice with until Friday when I was able to find two more that could be inflated. This is not to say that there has only ever been one soccer ball. The trees are littered with the mangled carcasses of soccer balls tangled in their branches. Their height in the trees and the threat of sleeping mambas prevent their rescue. One ball is certainly enough to scrimmage but its nice to have a few extra for dribbling and passing drills. The two extra balls that I found are thus a blessing of far greater proportion than they ever would be in the States.

Second, there are no cones for dribbling through or setting up other drills. As a substitute we use broken concrete blocks that have been wasted during various building projects. They work for the most part and if one of the kids fails to maneuver the ball properly around the brick thus kicking it they are given a lesson that they will not soon forget!

Third, we have no goals except for posts or designated trees. To a certain degree this serves as extra endurance training. When one of the kids scores a goal, it is generally a 30 meter run to and fro to return the ball.

Fourth, we have no soccer field. There is grass here but that needs to be irrigated and preserved for the horses and goats to graze. We use two practice areas instead, the one with the deep sand and the one with the not so deep sand. The one with the deep sand is actually the horse arena and we only use it for scrimmages. The advantages of it are the fencing that helps keep the ball close by and the posts already set up for goals. It is also the approximate size of the field the kids will be playing on at the competition. The down sides are the deep sand which causes me to stumble, get the ball stuck, and generally make me look incompetent in front of my team. It doesn't seem to slow the kids down much and I believe it has helped them cultivate some excellent ball control skills. The other downsides of the horse arena are the piles of horse manure that often present themselves as additional unpleasant obstacles. I am positive none of my past coaches ever showed up to a practice early with a shovel to remove manure as I have found myself doing. The main practice area (the one with not so deep sand) is a flat area and more packed. This surface is easier to control the ball on and the concrete blocks don't get buried as quickly. The only real downsides are its odd shape and the occasional goat that will meander through the middle of practice.

Track practice posses fewer difficulties because fewer things are needed. The one track facility usually deemed essential that we do lack is a track. I have measured out distances on the road that leads to the children's home but they are only rough estimates and are based on the assumption that the truck's odometer is accurate. Despite this, the kids are trying very hard and I think will do very well at the competition. I, however, just hope to survive the practices because it has been so long since I have run this much. The other day I was having the kids do some longer runs. I knew they were going to spread out along the road at different paces so I decided to ride a bike so I could go back and forth to keep an eye on everyone. This worked well except when I got stuck in the sand or was buried in dust by a passing truck. (I learned sweat and dust are a natural sunscreen.) Of course the sight of a "makuwa" (literally "European" but is used to refer to any white person in these parts) on a bicycle shouting at kids to try and run faster raised some eye brows from the passing locals. However, if I had tried to run and not been on the bike then the locals would have seen an unconscious makuwa laying on the side of the road!

Even though I see a lack of sports resources the kids are unaware and could care little. If one wants to have fun and play soccer then one finds a ball (or something to serve as a ball) and plays. There is no need to set up elaborate associations, clear trees for fields, and spend thousands of dollars for ten year olds to play soccer. I think the kids look at me a little strange for running so many drills or stopping them in the middle of games to make a point about field position. Soccer is a recreational activity for them and not so much a competative one. (I have never seen them actually keep score or talk about who one after a game.) I know that when they go to the competition they are going to be up against kids who come from more privileged schools and have a somewhat different outlook on the game and I want my kids to succeed to the best of their abilities. Lucky for me, the kids here do take my advice readily and apply it to their game quickly. I have seen them achieve some real moments of soccer beauty on the field (sand) and I am looking forward to their performance in a month.

The kids seem to reflect a general attitude that I have seen among the Africans. One should just try to make due with what one has. The Africans lack so many things causing hardships that are unimaginable to most Americans. One thing I have notice that they also lack is an ability to complain about petty things that Americans so often show an enormous propensity and talent. Granted, I wonder sometimes if the Africans complained a little more if they could improve their situation. This, however, is not really a question I am able to answer and in the mean time I will enjoy the fact that I have a group of talented boys that love soccer even without all the trappings that are so seemingly necessary in the States.

Dust...

2007-07-26T20:55:00.000+01:00

The Caprivi Strip is a dusty place. A fine sand covers the ground and the dry air causes it to rise at the smallest disturbance. Nothing stays clean for long and regardless of the color of one's clothes or skin everything ends the day a few shades lighter. It collects in odd places; behind doors, in socks, in pencil cups and I find myself cleaning my ears more frequently. The dust seems to take on the characteristics of a living creature when the conditions are favorable.

I took the truck out yesterday to measure some distances for the kids to run. (I'm the track/soccer coach.) The sun was setting and my lone headlight did little to illuminate my path over the sandy road. I bounced along potholes, patches of deep sand, and rocks. Behind me men struggling along on their rusted bicycles, women carrying groceries on their head, and children kicking the bladder of what use to be a soccer ball disappeared in the sandstorm the truck created as it bounced by. In front of me the dust hovered like mist. It slithered between the trees, around the bushes, and into the open doors of the concrete block houses. (The abodes of the sustainable employed.) As I rounded the corner to enter the children's home the sun was about to sink into the Zambezi. Its light ignited the dust, setting the entire sky ablaze with oranges and reds so saturated that one imagines them flowing out of the sky like lava. The edges of tree branches were consumed by the fiery light leaving bizzare black patterns rising from the ground. One of the children was leading his horse back to the barn. Their silhouettes sent the dust curling lazily into the warm air and shafts of light illuminated the particles as they passed between the horses knoby legs. I turned the truck off in time to here the clumsy rhythm of the dinner bell trip through the village. I walked over to the house, kicked the dust off my shoes, and went inside.

2007-07-24T20:37:00.000+01:00

After some technical difficulties I am finally able to start blogging again. I believe last time I posted I was sampling some South African cuisine. I'm sure many of you decided that I had disappeared completely and was lost somewhere in the Transvaal. I did arrive in Namibia with few difficulties and all my luggage. At this point I have been at Children of Zion Village for almost three weeks. In that time I think I have done enough things to write a novel. To bring everyone up to speed and maintain brevity I will list some of the highlights from my experiences thus far....

Landed at Livingstone airport and cleared customs $100 poorer...
Visited Victoria Falls, the mist rising from the falls makes one feel as if rain is coming out of the ground. One can hardly turn their head without seeing a rainbow. The pots of gold remained illusive...
Drove three hours past mud huts, school kids in ties but no shoes, and clouds of dust trailing from tired cattle herds...
Crossed the land border between Namibia and Zambia receiving my first Work Visa (I am currently a Namibian Resident)...
Started teaching Reading, Math, Science, and Social Studies to the 1st and 2nd grade class. I have 7 kids ranging in age from 5 to 11. I do this every weekday and it takes up most of my time here. I also teach art to them and rotate into the two other classrooms to teach art to kids up to age 17. (There are some really amazingly talented kids.)...
Went to a church service in Zambia. It was the first time I needed a visa to go to church. The drums, hymns sung in Lozi, and the sweat of 100 people packed into a public school classroom was an experience that is uniquely African...
There is a farm here and I have been learning to milk, heard, and pin down goats for medical treatment. (The absest cleaning was especially exciting!)...
Jammed with some of the kids on drums and actually impressed them with my skills...
Went to Chobe Wildlife Preserve in Botswana where I spent 5 hours on sandy paths holding on to the roll bar of a pick up truck with one hand and my camera in the other. I was able to get within ten yards or closer to impalas, kudu, zebras, sables (art friends I know where our brushes come from), baboons, elephants, hippos, various birds, a heard of a 1,000 cape buffalo, and a pride of female lions. (I also saw giraffes and crocodiles but they are much harder to get close too.)...
I was the M.C. of a Talent Show featuring some of the Caprivi's most talented kids...
Rode a horse in a canter (really, the horse cantered and I hung on for dear life.)...
Watching the sunrise with the mist over the Zambezi...
Watching the sunset over the Zambezi as the locals paddle by in their dugout boats...
Organizing a group of kids to go to a convention and competition in Okahanja. We are taking 12 kids to compete in soccer, track, visual arts, dance, photography, and academics. I am the soccer coach, boys track coach, and art supervisor. This takes up my entire afternoon between school and chores at the farm. We leave in late August...
Running around like an elephant, zebra, snake, and lion with preschoolers on my back...
Failing miserably at !Clicking...
Visited a preschool/ feeding center in the village of Mafuta. I taught the kids to draw a dog and cat despite the fact they hardly new any English. I also walked away with a new definition of poverty...
Staying quite healthy despite my mother's worries...
Thanking God that the black mambas are hibernating...
Falling in love with 55 wonderful kids.

Hopefully, I'll have a chance to elaborate on these experiences and others coming up very soon. Additionally, if you have happened to e-mail at my normal account forgive me if the response is late coming but checking personal accounts is very difficult.

Final Dispatch from Jo-burg...

2007-07-04T05:37:00.000+01:00

I pasted out at about 8:00 last night and woke a little early this morning after sleeping for about 10 hours. I feel much better and hope it continues through today. I have a little more time to elaborate on the trip thus far. Travel has been remarkably smooth. Having said that I hope I do not jinx myself. We arrived at the hotel at about 4:30 yesterday, checked in, and went downstairs to pick a hotel restaurant. We had a choice between McGinnus Irish Pub and Montero Spirit Western Grill. Like proper Americans we went to the Grill which even had a Souix Indian Chief adorned in a full feather head dress on the menu. This "chief," according to the myth printed on the menu had traveled far and wide to find good food for his people and had discovered enchiladas. (Which were on special.) I suppose in South Africa their own local tribes are not exotic enough so they mangle ethnic histories of people from other parts of the world. I suppose I'll let this past because I am still disappointed that I have not seen a Zulu war band stroll through the hotel lobby. (Just kidding!)
I'm off to breakfast and then Zambia!

Greetings from Johanesburgh

2007-07-03T17:45:00.000+01:00

I only have a minute of internet. I am alive in South Africa after 15 hours in the air. I will be up bright and early to start the second of three legs of my journey. Tommorow I'll be in Livingstone , Zambia. Bye!

Hooray for Teacher Health Benifits...

2007-06-27T06:32:00.000+01:00

Today, I went to get my Malerone prescription. (This is the stuff that is supposed to keep me from getting Malaria.) I had anticipated selling my car to pay for it but much to my disbelief my insurance covered it! I only had to pay twenty dollars! Had my insurance not covered it the price would have been $517.00. Thank you to the FCTA for negotiating our benefits!

One Week Till Departure...

2007-06-25T02:44:00.000+01:00

The clock is ticking very quickly now. I of course have yet to pack and do a number of other important things on my list. I have been a little distracted moving out of my apartment. Progress is looking good on that front, however, and I think I be done by Tuesday. (Cross my fingers.) Then I can really start focusing on the tasks I am about ready to undertake. It looks like my time will mostly be occupied on teaching rather than construction or hunting crocodiles. (The river is down so I guess the crocs haven't really been around. Lucky for them, I've been practicing!)
I also received a packet with brief biographies of the children there. I really can't go into specifics as its confidential but some of their stories are so sad. For several children their families just started dying around them until they were by themselves on the street. I admit, it's rather intimidating to go into a situation in which I have absolutely no background experience to help me relate to the situations these kids come from. I've taught plenty of kids that come from difficult and troubling situations. It appears that"difficult" has an entirely other meaning in Africa. I've been trying to prepare for these types of situations but preparation is probably an exercise in futility. The only thing I can really prepare to do is to adapt and evolve.

20 Days....

2007-06-13T01:36:00.000+01:00

There are only 20 days before I leave and there is so much to be done! Things are starting to fall into place though and I am slowly but steadily working my way down my list. Fundraising seems to be going smoothly. At last check I had reached about 1/3 of my goal but I know some funds had come in and had not been included in the total yet. Thank you to anyone who sent donations. I just put in an order for art and other teaching supplies that I will be taking with me. I just hope it all fits in my extra suitcase!

Pancake Breakfast

2007-06-01T21:49:00.000+01:00

This is a little late to post but on the morning of June 2nd there will be a pancake breakfast at Calvary U.M.C. to help raise money for the trip. Click on the flyer below to see a larger version.