TIA

TIA. To those of you who don’t know, TIA stands for “This is Africa”. It’s generally used as an explanation for when things aren’t running on time, when stuff breaks, or just general silliness that Westerners have trouble comprehending. However, over the last day and a half, TIA has been running through my head for a much more straightforward reason. I keep looking around thinking, “THIS IS AFRICA!”

We left Windhoek yesterday around 10am. We being me, Megan, Rachael and Mita. It’s an 8 hour drive from Windhoek to Rundu, and as best we can tell, this includes stopovers for animal viewing and potty breaks and time made up by a gross disregard for the posted speed limit. Our driver was either very kind or took personal satisfaction in our girlie squeals each time a new animal was spotted, because he patiently pulled over for each and every one. We saw (in order of appearance more or less): warthogs, baboons, springbaks, kudu, a much larger version of a white springbak that we named “biggun”, ostrich, a zebra, a camel (these 2 were in some bizarre side-of-the-road enclosure), and finally, after we crossed into the Kavango Region, GIRAFFES!! Seriously! Just chillin on the side of the road, a whole family of them! It was clear we had entered “real Africa” as they say…traditional huts lined the road, women walked with things piled high atop their heads, and cattle roamed free. TIA? Oh yessiree.

We arrived in Rundu as the sun was setting, and naturally the notion of a schedule went out the window. The driver that was to take Rachael and Mita to the West had already left. And the guy that was supposed to take me to the East had never planned on it to begin with. Megan’s destination was Rundu, though, so we took her to her new “home”. Oh my. I won’t go too far down this road without first telling you there’s a happy ending…she’s now in a new place. But last night’s place was not good. I took one look around and decided she was not going to be staying there alone, despite the fact that a whole house was being offered to Rachael, Mita and I. She would’ve been safe, but very lonely in an extremely run down apartment with pretty inhospitable hosts. So Rachael and Mita left, and Megan and I spent the evening trying to keep each other calm, periodically giggling over the craziness of the situation and otherwise having quite the bonding session.

In the morning I was READY to GET HOME!! …Very little would’ve stopped me from reaching Divundu today. Thankfully I didn’t have to exert too much of my will, and within about an hour and change, I was in a new car headed east. 2 full hours passed…there is NOTHING between Rundu and Divundu. I don’t even think there’s a petrol station. The landscape changed dramatically though. It went from very obvious desert to fairly green and sometimes lush brush. We pulled off the side of the road and then started driving through the brush toward what looked to be a couple of abandoned buildings. However, we had arrived at my new home and workplace, Divundu Combined School. There were cattle and goats wandering around, many of them being quite loud actually. James (the volunteer I’m replacing) soon appeared and directed us to my house.

I’d been warned about the state of the house, so I don’t want any of you to think I didn’t know what I was getting into. I want to be honest though, to share my ‘authentic experience’. The house used to belong to the school’s principal, but it was abandoned some time ago and left to the termites. A handful of years ago, a few teachers took up residence. In the “living room”, there is a bare table, two school chairs, 1 medium refrigerator (now mine) and 1 small one. There are two broken panes in the front window. The “kitchen” has a rotted out table with a very old and crusty hot plate (only 1 burner works). (James is going to buy a new one for me this weekend we hope.) There are rotted out mostly empty shelves, and a student desk that holds a basin that appears to be a sink. However, there is no drainage, so water simply collects in a bucket that is overflowing at the moment; there is water on the floor. James says he just doesn’t use it. There’s a small room with a toilet, a working sink, and rotting tiles. Another small, dark room has a cold water shower, again with rotting tiles. My room is actually quite nice. There’s a proper full size bed (meaning there’s a box spring and mattress, not just a piece of foam on a metal frame like most of what I’ve seen). I have a wide metal school locker for a “closet” and a dilapidated student desk for a table. My window has a broken pane, but it’s been taped up, more or less. The walls are concrete and very dirty…you could spend a week cleaning them and probably not get very far. Probably the most annoying thing is there is no working door handle or lock for my door. I’ll be rectifying that this weekend if humanly possible.

I share the house with two other teachers, Mrs. Kangura and Mr. Thivghau. They each have their own room. Mrs. Kangura has a son, Pablo, and a babysitter that are both there during the week. And I’m told many other teachers come in to hang out on breaks.

I was immediately the center of attention, as expected. James took me around to introduce me to those who were left (it’s the start of a long weekend so many had already gone home) as well as show me around the school grounds. DCS is also a hostel school, so there are living facilities for the learners. The whole place feels very Little House on the Prairie…there are even tumbleweeds. Everyone here is very warm and welcoming so far. I even got a big hug from Mrs. Kangura.

At the time, the best part of my day was when I finally got to unpack. Two weeks of living out of a horribly disorganized duffle bag is not fun. But I’m fully moved in now and it feels great. I was then informed of the farewell party for Mr. James (Mr. Saunderson) and the welcome party for me – whoo hoo!

This is getting a bit long again so I’ll make it snappy. The partygoers were all school staff, about 15 people (there are a few more but they’d gone home for the weekend). However, there was a Master of Ceremonies as well as a numbered, very detailed (and typed) program that had been distributed to everyone earlier. The general flow was speech, song, repeat – about 5 times through. The first or second song was “In the Jungle”, seriously, and I nearly lost it. Later on though “Happy Birthday” was sung so I guess it’s all par for the course. The speeches were thanking Mr. Saunderson, begging him never to forget Divundu, and welcoming me. They had James say a few words as well, and asked me to do the same. Though corny, it was all very touching.

I, however, was exhausted (still am), and decided to make my way back. It was pitch black though, and I couldn’t see the dirt path to follow. Eventually I used my little cell phone light so I stopped tripping on mounds of sand. Jocie’s precautionary words of “don’t be out alone at night”, “don’t walk through brush without proper foot protection” kept running through my head. Oh well, I guess those are both out the (broken) window.

When I finally made it back to the school I heard drumming and singing. The learners have some sort of cultural contest and they were having a dress rehearsal! I tried to quietly watch from a distance, but that lasted for about 2 seconds. Soon I was up in front getting my own translation of the story being acted out (something involving a family, a precocious girl, and a lion). The kids were wearing traditional dress, stomping their feet, and singing while a few boys played the drums. WOW! I tried to imitate their very vigorous shoulder/chest movements, and got loads of laughter in response. “Not like that, Madam, like THIS!” I thanked them all in Thimbukushu (which they loved) and said goodnight.

To those of you wondering, yes, I’m having regular thoughts of “can I really do this??” but I’m uplifted every time I get a smile, wave or giggle. Signing off…