Week 5: The United States of Africa

By Becca Simon

 

Getting settled into a new place is always difficult, especially a new country. The process of getting to know new environments and cultures can feel uncomfortable but the end results are always the most rewarding. Once you make that breakthrough you can really grow from your experiences and learn from the people you meet. So, with this in mind, we made our breakthrough as we entered into our second homestay. With this homestay, each student lived with their families for a week, in which we spent the time learning how the families spend their normal weeks. Along with this we also spent time talking to them about issues ranging from land ownership, religion, gender norms, tribal culture, food, political beliefs, and numerous other topics. For me, the homestay started off a little rocky but ended up being an unforgettable experience as I got to really know my host family. We went on tours of Katutura, which was a township created during the South African occupation of South West Africa (Namibia) to force Black Namibians out of downtown Windhoek. Katutura meaning “place where we do not want to live” represents the continuously apparent income inequalities of Windhoek. In addition to the tour, I got to go to a family party, help with the Saturday braai (a type of barbeque), and watch some of my family’s favorite soap operas!

 

Group picture of CGEE Politics class with Prof. Joseph Diescho
(pictured in back row, second to the right)

Along with our homestays this week, we also had our first full week of classes. With all of us in different classes, including religion, politics, development, history, internship, and environmental connections we are able to have open discussions as a group and connect what we learn. The past week of classes was nothing less than exciting considering we have had a number of very insightful speakers. The major theme of our classes this week connected to the concepts including Pan-Africanism, land ownership, and international relations. The concept of Pan Africanism was best described to us by Professor Joseph Diescho, author of the book “Born of the Sand” and former professor at the University of Namibia. He spoke to us about how the concept of Africa we speak about today was created by outsiders. Prof Diescho explained to us that “Africans never defined themselves as Africans, someone named them this,” and that the borders we see today were never chosen by the people of Africa, rather they were chosen by the colonialist. He discussed the idea of Pan-Africanism as a way to unite the African nations, which is extremely difficult since it requires nations to give up their sovereignty and create a “United States of Africa.” he told us how it is time for corruption to be resolved, for young leaders to take charge, and for Namibia to start looking forward. Prof. Diescho really opened my eyes to a new perspective that I myself was very unaware of. I think that this lesson really reminded me of the importance of understanding that there are always multiple sides to a story and that we must continually be aware of them all.

 

Group photo of CGEE Development class with U.S. Ambassador
Thomas F. Daughton (pictured in the back row, third from the left)

Along with getting to hear from Prof. Diescho we also had the honor of hearing from the United States Ambassador to Namibia, Thomas F. Daughton. Ambassador Daughton helped provide perspective about the United States involvement and political relationship with Namibia. With the Ambassador, we were able to discuss topics from our classes including the future of the South West African People’s Organization (SWAPO) party which is the ruling party, the role of China in Namibia’s economy, the fight against HIV/AIDS, and environmental sustainability. I was very grateful for getting to hear from Ambassador Daughton since he was very honest and willing to give his opinion about his time working in Namibia.

 

Reflecting back on this week makes me even more excited to continue with my studies in Namibia. Our speakers provided a new way of thinking about issues in Namibia and Africa that will be helpful as we go into further detail about the process of development and work to decolonize the mind. I am excited to hear from our future speakers and gain new understandings of the structures of Namibia.



Week 4: Week of Firsts

By: Caroline Pratt

Reflecting back on this week has brought up a lot of emotions. This week we had so many firsts. We had our first exploration of Windhoek, our new home for the next three months, our first day at our internships, our first day of classes, and the first time I have ever been in the same room as a President of a country.  It was truly a week to remember,

 

Some of us took a trip to some local markets and the art gallery
on Saturday in downtown Windhoek

We started the week going on a ‘quest’ through Katutura, a township of Windhoek where Blacks were forced to move to during the years of Apartheid. Much like Soweto, and other townships we visited in South Africa, Katurura is much more than what meets the eye. While there is extreme poverty, there is also a rich culture. On our quest, we were split up into groups of 3 and were assigned a local guide. My group went to Base FM, a non-profit radio station that focuses on bringing the Katutura community news, sports updates, and entertainment. We learned a lot about how a radio station works and while in the United States radio may be becoming less relevant with other sources such as television, and podcasts, in Namibia, radio is still one of the leading sources for news and entertainment. After the radio station visit, we went to a local store in Katutura and went to the meat market. This market was unlike anything I have ever seen. Vendors are butchering and cooking meat freshly on site. While health codes may not be in existence, it might have been the greatest lunch I have ever had.

 

Tuesday was “community day”. After passing springbok, an ostrich, and a wildebeest on our drive in, the students and staff found our way to a beautiful lodge. We started the day with some get to know you games and after that we dove into some self reflection. We broke into small groups to discuss identity with topics such as: race, gender, sexual orientation, and religion. I enjoyed this part of the day because we got to hear from our Namibian staff on their perspective and how their backgrounds have shaped their identity while being able to compare our own experiences, being from the United States.

Michele and I's first day at our internship in Namibia

After community day, the firsts really began. Wednesday was our first day of internships. My internship is at Sister Namibia, a Namibian non-profit that empowers woman and girls through putting out a magazine, workshops, and providing resources in their library on topics such as women's health, gender based violence, and legal rights, to name just a few. Some other internships are: Friendly Haven, the Hope Initiative, and the Namibian Women's Health Network. I am so excited to start my work at Sister Namibia and see how I can help impact women’s life in this area and be able to bring back what I have learned here to my work in the United States.

 

Still exhausted from a full day of work, we had the opportunity to go listen to PLO Lumumba. This talk was one of the most powerful talks I have ever heard. Topics included globalization, a unified Africa, government corruption, poor wealth distribution, and growing inequality. This talk really put into words everything that I have seen on the trip so far. For example, seeing Sandton, the richest suburb of South Africa, just minutes away from Alexandria, the poorest area was sickening. While I am unsure of the Afro, a common African currency similar to the Euro, that PLO Lumumba would work, clearly a more unified Africa is needed. At the end of the event the most surprising thing happened, the President of Namibia walked into the back and heard what the speaker had to say.  It was really amazing that a president could walk into a room, without tons of security, and without making a big scene. He listened to what Professor Lumumba had to say even if some of it went against current politics.

Classes started on Thursday, and while I just had history, I am excited to apply what I learned from the speaker to the classroom and continue to make connections. It was a week of firsts and I am going to take advantage of every moment in Namibia before our lasts begin.

Week Five: Home Far Away from Home

by Hannah Davidson & Clara Randimbiarimanana

One of the best parts of studying abroad is the homestays, it is a special way to emerge into a new culture and also to learn in an unstructured and experiential way. Homestays are a period of time in which we are matched with a family and given the opportunity to live with them and get to know the culture through people that quickly become our extended family. Last week was our second homestay with CGEE after Soweto in Johannesburg. For this home stay most of us were matched with families in Katutura and Khomasdal, which are areas on the out skirts of Windhoek.  

Clara’s Week:

My host family is Tswana speaking and has lived in Katutura for as long as three or four generations. I only learned so much in such a short period of time during my stay there. My host mom is very passionate about social justice and women equality in Namibia and she was kind enough to share her experiences with me.

"This is a picture of my host mom
and myself after church", Clara.

Like in many other countries, gender inequality is still a big issue in Namibia. Women sometimes are expected to follow certain social norms and expectations. One of the questions I was asking was about young Namibian women clothing standard. My host mom usually wears a dress, which looks really nice but I was just wondering if it was her personal choice. However, she said that it all started when she got married because dresses are seen as respectful clothing and “lady like”; thus her husband expected her to wear dresses even though she did not like it in the first place. Although I’m aware that not all Namibian women have had the same experiences, her story made me think about gender expectations in general and the way women internalize and accommodate to social expectations. The cultural values associated with gender sometimes start as simple as clothing, but can go all the way to what is the “normal” way for women to behave. Furthermore, we need to acknowledge the power dynamics behind the perception of gender role in general and the space of socialization such us: culture, background and family. Family is the primary place of perceptions about different concepts. 

During my homestay, I see my mom doing most of the chores: cooking, cleaning, serving, etc. and I can’t help but think that this phenomenon is not exclusive to Namibia, because I see a lot of similarities in the household I grew up in. Each and every one in the family is assigned a certain role. The issue is that that’s where women start to develop their identity according to the type of family and culture that they grow up in. In short, my host mom experience is very unique and I could not generalize all the Namibian women as being the same. However, this experience made me realize about the socialization and formation of concepts like gender and cultural identity.

Hannah’s Week:

Throughout this trip I have met some amazing children, especially in the last week. We were staying with host families, and I had the pleasure of having an energy filled eight-year-old sister.

This week I also started at my internship, which means I met my 20 five- and six-year-old students. I am an education major, so many kids have come in and out of my life, always seeming to shake things up for me a bit, and make me look at things in a new light. But this was a different sort of shaking up that my past with kids hadn’t been able to prepare me for.

I walked in to my first day of being a real live teacher with a backpack full of tricks, a white skirt, and candy jar with a skittle for anyone who followed the rules. I left at noon with a backpack of broken and ripped tricks, a light tan skirt, and a full candy jar. Even a game of duck, duck, goose had miserably failed. My first day as a real teacher was less then successful, but it was only the first day and I had quickly realized that teaching these students in the same way I would teach a class of students in the US was not going to cut it. I left feeling unsure of how I was going to actually be a sufficient teacher for these kids. 

Hannah's host home for the week.

As my week continued I felt blessed to have my host sister and mom to go home to. My host sister was rambunctious, but the cozy feeling of family and being loved gave me energy. Every night my sister would play with my hair as we would co-read a chapter book together. Being able to have this comfortable space to call home was probably why my patience continued to surprise me with my students. 

I survived all three of my internship days with some sort of grace and I hadn’t completely wrecked the kids yet, so there were definitely positives in my week. I found myself comparing what my students and host sister knew and how they learned to students that I had worked with in schools in the US. My students here struggled to sit through a whole picture book and my host sister was taught subtraction in a way I had never thought of before. The idea that context has a direct effect on how students learn and actually do school has definitely been ingrained in my mind going to school to be a teacher, but seeing it like this was a whole other thing. Trying to consider if a book will actually fit in my students frames of reference or letting my host sister show me how she does her math homework are some of the things that I know are going to make me a better educator now and in the future. As I continue to learn (and struggle with) these children that are coming in and out of my life, I hope I can learn how to be the teacher that they need, rather then getting frustrated that they aren't the students I am used to. 

This last week was one, that for most of us, we will share and grow from for many months. Although each of us had vastly different experiences, we were given an opportunity to learn and explore a new culture in a way that pushed us outside our comfort zones or made us wonder and question. This is something that is truly invaluable.  We are so blessed to be welcomed into these families’ homes and lives. 

Week Nine: Rural Homestay

by: Beatrice Misher, Dashawn Peterson, Molly Weilbacher

On Tuesday, March 22nd our group woke up at 5am, brushed the sleep from our eyes and tried to conquer our nervous energy, to depart for an eight-hour drive up north to Outapi, Namibia. As the hours went by, the temperature increased but so did our excitement. We finally got to meet each of our families and were welcomed with loving smiles and high energy, even though we were four hours late. CGEE students hopped in the beds of trucks as we departed into the sunset to see our families’ homesteads and what our life would be like for the next week.

We each found ourselves on homesteads, based off of the traditional Oshiwambo homestead structure. Each of our homesteads had a few man-made cement structures, but the rest of the homestead was set up in a maze of wooden fences leading to different huts that were each used for a distinct purpose: cooking, storing food, drinking tea, living and sleeping, and mahango pounding. Our families had common crops on our farms, including mahango—a grain used to make porridge, which is central to our families’ diet and can be found at all meals. Their farms also included watermelon, beans, and corn, and animals including cattle, donkeys, goats, chickens, dogs, and pigs. Our families all cooked meals over the fire. As the sun set, they would start preparing the food to put on the fire. Many of us experienced eating by torchlight, or guided by the light of the moon and stars, since there was no electricity. We would go to the bathroom in outhouses outside the homestead with a long drop toilet, and if we had to pee we would typically pee in the same area we washed. We would wash by dunking our hair in a basin and splashing water onto ourselves in a secluded area both blocked by the house and by a maze of sticks.  We would often be in bed by 10pm at the latest, due to exhaustion from the intense heat. 

After our first night with our families, we were picked up by the CGEE vans and all went to the Outapi War Museum—the museum was a converted bunker originally used by the South African Defense Force during their fight against the liberation struggle. Outapi has a rich history when studying the liberation of Namibia because it was where the bulk of the war for liberation took place. SWAPO (South West Africa People’s Organization) was the liberation party that fought against the South African Defense Forces against Apartheid in what was then South-West Africa, and has been the ruling party since 1989. PLAN (People’s Liberation Army of Namibia), the military arm of SWAPO had their military base in Angola, and Outapi being so close to the border of Angola meant that many civilians were caught in the crossfire between the South African Defense Force and PLAN. At the museum, we were guided by the director who joined SWAPO at the age of fourteen to help fight for Namibia’s liberation. We also got the chance to meet two women who were teachers during the war, who spoke to us about their duties and involvement with SWAPO and the equal gender breakdown within the SWAPO. It was very surreal to speak to people who helped Namibia gain independence, who reminded us how fresh this history still is—so fresh that many people are still dealing with PTSD from the war, and still have a hard time sharing this piece of loaded history with others. Many of our host families spoke of their involvement during the war, from hiding supplies in the fields for SWAPO members in exile, to getting tortured by the South African army. 

At the end of our week we all came together with our host families to celebrate and thank our families for their hospitality. They lent us traditional Oshiwambo dress for the occasion and we ate traditional food prepared by our host mothers. Both the students and the families expressed how grateful they were for this partnership and the chance to learn and connect with other cultures. The connections we made with each of our families allowed us to have varied experiences and reflections. In the paragraph below you will find a personal reflection from each of us about our homestay, as it is important to nuance the experience:

Bea: I stayed with Mame Naango and Tate Tobias, along with their children. My host family welcomed me into their way of life for the week, sharing their daily routines with me and family history. Something I struggled with over the course of my stay was the ethics of our homestay experiences. We as American students entered these welcoming homes ready to learn and broaden our perspectives, but what were we giving back in return?. Before both my urban and rural homestay this was something I consciously considered, and tried to carry out by sharing stories of my home and lived experience when they were gracious enough to share with me. However at times the inequality of the exchange became apparent such as the fact that we were sent to our homestays with boxes of food that the family would not normally keep in their house, or when I pulled out bug spray one night and realized it was a luxury to my homestay family, even though they are the ones living in a malaria-prone part of the world.

DayDay: Comfortability and access are things I take for granted, and was a big aspect of the rural homestay in my opinion. Living in an apartment building where water and electricity is included I took for granted that privilege. Going up north having to take a bucket shower with limited water and having very little electricity really pushed me out of my comfort zone but also made me reflect how spoiled I am to be living the way I do in America. I was able to experience the world through different lenses and realize that the way the American society believes life should be lived is not the only way to live.

Molly: My time at the homestead made me think about how we choose to qualify life. Watching my family take a break from 11am - 4pm, sitting under the tree together because it is too hot to do anything else made me anxious, as I was itching to do something. I realized that my discomfort came from the fact that I’m not used to just sitting and being with one another, as I come from an American mentality that is so focused on how much you do, how many people you see, how much you buy as a means of measuring how successful one’s day is. We view how much we produce and our outputs as a way of qualifying our daily lives, whereas in my homestead my family was content with sitting and letting the heat pass because there is a different emphasis on what the success of a daily routine means. I ended up loving sitting, eating watermelon, drinking cola, watching the sun move, and playing soccer when it got cool enough. It made me realize how important it is to constantly be checking our internal biases--even around something as abstract but real as the quality of life.

Week Eight: The Many Shifting Layers of Identity

by: Amanda Siskind, Katie Bosse & Monique Lillis

Ashly, a female identifying person,
and Patrick, a male identifying person,
showing how gender is often identified by
a person’s clothing and physical appearance.

In our classes this week, as well as throughout our time in Windhoek, we’ve been talking a lot about identity. At the start of her presentation, Immaculate Mogotsi took Taylor and Monique to the front of the room and asked, “What do you see?” The class identified them as male and female based on hairstyle and clothing. This exercise was intended to help students understand the difference between gender and sex. As we discussed that day, sex is the biological organs that leave a person with male or female organs or genitals; or a combination of the two. A person is born with their sex, however gender is part of a person’s identity and the identity they typically ascribe to is defined by their culture. For example, Monique identifies as female and she could be identified as such by the dress she wore, and her long hair. However, gender roles are not fixed, they are different in every society; therefore, there is not one identity for females in Namibia because there are many different tribes that ascribe different roles to a woman. For example, we learned from Sara, one of the staff members, that in the Himba tribe the women are in charge of taking care of the livestock while in the Owambo tribe it is a duty ascribed to men. This is just one example of how the identity of women and men and the gender roles that are given to these categories are culture-based and different around the world. 

Identity is not only defined by the cultures into which we are born, but also by the cultures in which we immerse ourselves. For example, in a country entrenched with racist and classist social boundaries, as well as visible physical contrasts, we as Americans have a unique ability to exist in both spaces as third party persons without the label of direct oppressor or oppressed. As we are learning, Namibia’s history has been one of colonialism and genocide of native Namibians by both the Germans and the South African apartheid regime. Yet, because all CGEE students occupy neither of those titles, many of us have felt we are free to navigate through spaces that usually have their set identities and occupants with very little room for integration. 

Our house in Windhoek West

We have both reflected and analyzed our own individual and collective identities as they exist here in Namibia, and how our shifting identities change as we move from one space to another. As a geography and urban development and social change major, I (Katie) could not help but notice how apartheid spaces continue to exist and how that has influenced communities socially. Positioned in Windhoek West, our community house rests in a neighborhood that situates us in an equal distance to stark opposites, Katutura and Klein Windhoek. Because of this unique setting, the CGEE students participate in both areas for different reasons.  

The Katutura Township is a product of the South African apartheid state, where a mix of Namibians from various tribes coexisting in what was known as the “old location” were forcibly removed to live in neighborhoods based on language groups. By doing such acts of othering, Namibian identities changed from one collective existence into identities defined by language group history. This, as we have observed this semester, was a powerful tactic in separating the masses, as now there are language group conflicts and language group inequalities. Nevertheless, despite their personal language groups, the people in Katutura are all united in a collective identity of being black, which is why the apartheid state put them in these townships in the first place. 

More than just a tool for separating tribes, the township was also designed so that white people never needed to enter and the black people only had to leave for work. These rules might not exist anymore, however I see white and black Namibians continuing to follow these reverberated historical norms. There are small houses, informal settlements, outdoor markets, people selling anything they can on the side of the road, shebeens (local bars), and a ton of people walking outside among unkempt trash and blaring house music. Yet it is very rare to see a white person walking in this area.

The white colonizers who did not want to intermingle with black Namibians historically occupied Klein Windhoek and other white-only suburbs during Apartheid. Still today, Klein Windhoek is set aside so that one can only reach it intentionally, not by merely passing through the city. The majority of residents of this area are still white Germans and Afrikaners, because the high housing prices and lack of public transportation prevents the migration of black Namibians from moving into the area from other neighborhoods around Windhoek. Here, one will find farmers markets, expensive restaurants, private schools, newly erected malls, and more-recent development. There are clean streets and very rarely will you see a street taxi roaming around looking for clients.

Katie, Sydney, Molly, and Siri out to dinner at Andy’s,
one of our favorite restaurants in Klein Windhoek.

As three white American women, it is important to critically examine what our identity means in each space we occupy here and to further acknowledge how we are able to exist in both of these areas as somewhat of a third party actor. On a larger scale, what does it mean for a group of comparatively privileged Americans to come to this unique space and ask for the people in Katutura to educate us on their oppression here and the history of their struggle? What does it mean, further, when at the end of the day we go to Klein Windhoek to eat at a nice restaurant or spend our Saturday mornings at a farmers market buying fine cheeses, fresh bread, and local crafts? As a group of American study abroad students we must continuously reflect on our individual and community identity here in Windhoek West and the implications it might have on the people here.  

Even as we’ve been learning about the identities of people in Windhoek and our personal identities, we’ve also been creating a new group identity. We are no longer those strangers from the first nights in Johannesburg. We know each other’s personalities, we’ve learned about important moments in everyone’s pasts, and we’ve built a collective history together here. We’ve settled into a comfortable group identity that allows us to encourage and support each other. We’ve had many discussions in our living room or over dinner about what we’ve learned, what has made us uncomfortable or challenged our views, and what role our identities and privileges have had in the way that our experiences have played out. These discussions can be tough to have, especially when we are already often out of our comfort zones living in a new city and a new country far away from our friends and family. But thankfully we are all in this together, and that has let us feel more supported as we continue to dive deeper and learn more about these issues of identity. 

One of the main things we’ve learned about identity is that it’s complex, layered, and varied depending on where you’re from and your life experiences. We’ve all had unique experiences here in Windhoek, but we’ve also all been studying and living here together, and that is a part of our identities that we will keep beyond this program.

Week Five: Urban Homestays

By: Gabbi Mpagi, Patrick Toomey & Monique Lillis

This past week CGEE students completed their second homestay, which took place in the city of Windhoek. During the homestays in Soweto two students stayed with one family, but this time around each student stayed with their own family. The goal of these homestays are to help students meet individuals from the city, see how a family in the area leads their lives, and then compare stories of their differing experiences when they return to the CGEE house. Below are the experiences that three of the students had this week.

Gabbi’s host sister Edita using a
mortar and pestle to mash onions.

Gabbi: My urban homestay in Katutura exceeded my expectations and left me feeling like I finally belonged in Namibia. I was placed in the household of Henry and Leah Olu-King. The Olu-King household also consists of their daughters Rebecca, Edita, and Aleah as well as their son Emanuel. The Olu-Kings primarily enjoy spending time together as a family; an important way in which time is spent together in their home is through food, specifically the preparation of traditional meals. I had the honor of witnessing a traditional meal of sweet potato leaves being prepared on a Saturday afternoon. Sweet potato leaves are a meal native to Sierra Leone, the birthplace of Mr. Olu-King and temporary home during the apartheid era of Mrs. Olu-King. Ms. Olu-King had been sponsored by the United Nations as a young girl to go into exile as a means of escaping the war that took place in North between SWAPO and South African soldiers. While in Sierra Leone, she lived with a host family who cared for her as if she were their own daughter. We had previously learned in our history class of the liberation movement conducted by SWAPO beginning in the 1960’s and the amount of war rural areas faced during the struggle for freedom. Desperate for the chance at survival, Namibians fled from their homelands to seek safety in countries such as Botswana, Angola, and Zimbabwe.  

Gabbi and her host family the Olu-Kings outside
their home in Katutura

In the corner of their compound lies a garden in which sweet potatoes grow underneath the soil, while their many leaves sprout above the surface. Rebecca and Edita were responsible for cutting the leaves. Ms. Olu-King then washed the leaves, finely chopped them, and added the remains to a large pot of beef stew. Edita mashed onions together using a wooden mortar and pestle, eventually adding the ingredient to the pot. I admired how preparing the traditional meal not only made for a delicious dinner, but brought the entire family together. This left me with a lasting impression of the importance of family in Namibia and how simple activities such as cooking are ways in which close bonds within the home can be solidified. 

Patrick: Within the first ten minutes of my stay with the Shikeva family in Katutura I felt like I was home. Mr. Shikeva referred to me as his ‘son,’ and his son Matthew referred to me as his ‘brother.’ It was a refreshing and comforting experience, because I was feeling a bit homesick and hearing those words, even from people I had only just met, seemed truly genuine. Throughout my stay I felt like a part of the family, not just a guest: perhaps it was the fact that my host parents woke me up almost every morning to say goodbye and wish me a happy day, or that I played a role in saying grace before dinner. Either way, I felt extremely welcomed.

I learned quite a bit from Oskar and his wife’s experiences during apartheid, as well as the lasting effects of the apartheid regime on the residents of Katutura. The most visible of these was the letter and number system still present on his home’s front door. Although partially painted over with white paint, it was not difficult to make out the blue letter and number that were used during the apartheid-era to indicate the tribal group of the house’s resident. It was a reminder that apartheid was not that long ago, and that people who are my own parents’ age lived and experienced the brutality of the racist regime. Although the pain of apartheid can still be felt in Namibia, the resilience and faith of Katutura’s residents was inspiring to witness first hand. Perhaps this was best exemplified at the Sunday church service that I attended with the Shikeva family. The amazing show of faith that I saw was a testament to the strength of Namibia’s people and their enduring commitment to building a vibrant new nation.

Monique: In my opinion this homestay was the best part of my study abroad experience thus far. I stayed with a twenty-nine year old woman named Ndeshi, who lives in Katutura and works for the ministry of lands. Ndeshi is part of the Oshiwambo tribe; she grew up in the Northern part of Namibia, moved to central Namibia when she was a child, and moved to Windhoek for school as well as work. 

Monique and her host mom Ndeshi in traditional Oshiwambo dress

During my time with Ndeshi we spoke about many different things including the work she does for the ministry of lands, her experience as an unmarried woman in Namibia, and aspects of the Oshiwambo culture. In regards to the ministry of lands, I learned that this facet of the government buys up land from primarily white farmers who are selling their land, and gives the land to primarily black Namibians who have applied to receive the land in order to sustain themselves economically. This process of buying and giving out land is one way the government is trying to create a more equal society now that apartheid is over. White Namibians are still the most prominent farmers, and the hope of the government is that this redistribution of land and training of new farmers will allow black Namibians to earn a steady income off of land that was taken away from the black and colored communities during apartheid.

These home-stays helped us as students understand the individual experiences Namibians had during apartheid. Living in Katutura and talking to people in Namibia has also helped us understand how the country has changed since liberation and the end of apartheid as well as the ways the country could still improve. Overall students had very educational experiences that helped them understand Namibia and the people who live here from a different perspective.

Week Fourteen: Coming Home

By: Rachel Briegel

Today I decided to go into town, both to do some last minute souvenir shopping for friends and family and, more importantly, to figure out how I am ever going to leave this incredible country, and the people I’ve come to know as my Namibian family. With some money, a book, and my journal in tow, I headed to one of my favorite areas of Windhoek, The Craft Center. Here I perused the shops and made some purchases before settling into a café to think over the upcoming week, our last here in Windhoek.

As I nibbled on the piece of carrot cake I’d ordered for my breakfast, I looked over the balcony of the café at this lovely city I’ve become so familiar with. I thought about the handful of people I recognized on my short stroll through the shops, of the woman who greeted me with a “Wa la le po nawa” and smiled as I responded with an “Eyeh”. I thought of how I hailed a taxi to cross the city, something three months ago I would have been completely uncomfortable doing; of the blanket of heat that stuck to my body, once so foreign, now a familiar companion despite my constant state of sunburn. Slowly, my mind starts to withdraw deeper into itself, and my fork pauses midway through the soft cake.

Before I came on this trip, I was told by various friends and family members that I would have predicable bouts of homesickness- that I would look at a map and see how far from home I was and panic. Looking back, I realize that never happened to me. It’s probably for a combination of reasons, but besides feeling so at home in Windhoek, I think it’s because I just haven’t had time to be homesick. Ever since we got off the plane in Johannesburg, we have been constantly learning and engaging with this community. I’ve been on rooftops discussing Southern Africa’s history, in churches that stood up for social change (and against it), and in communities where whole neighborhoods share a single water pump. I’ve felt my eyes sting with tears listening to children sing about Universal Children’s Rights, and an activist for HIV/Aids survivors discussing the inhuman acts committed against these people. I’ve been on top of mountains and waterfalls, and frolicked through oceans and sand dunes. For these three short months I’ve felt more fulfilled that perhaps the past twenty years. My whole world view has changed, and I feel as if Namibia has molded me into a completely new person.

I thought I was very privileged to not have to battle homesickness while on my trip, but recently I’ve found out I had prejudged myself. Just a few nights ago I wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t sleep so I started walking around the house. I ended up on our balcony looking up at the dark sky speckled with stars, and suddenly sank to the floor clutching the railing, overwhelmed with emotion, wondering how I was ever going to leave this place? I had finally gotten hit with homesickness, but it was for a home I hadn’t even left yet.

A group selfie with some of the gang in front of Parliament.

This morning I had purposely set off by myself in the hopes of thinking through these things, and although I am normally a fairly independent person, it was very strange being alone in this cafe. For the past three months I have been constantly surrounded by a group of intelligent, compassionate, and extremely thoughtful individuals. I can’t quite remember what my first impressions of them were, but thinking back before I knew any of them, my only hopes were that they would be kind, and interested in the things I was interested in. My hopes have been tremendously exceeded. With this small group I have witnessed both human tragedies, and some of the most beautiful sights in the world. Together we have cried and raged, laughed and danced. We have shared our inner demons, and future aspirations. Because of these people, their wise observations and our late night conversations under the stars, I have become a better and stronger person. Undeniably, another reason I’ve become so painfully homesick for Namibia is that when I leave 5 Simpson St., I will also have to leave behind these wonderful individuals.

Despite these troubling thoughts, I know I must return home. It would be selfish to remain in this country, where I have learned an immense amount and contributed only slightly. Namibia does not need me here as much as I wish it did. I have learned throughout this semester that the best way I can help this country, any area of the world that has a terrible history of oppression, is to return home and tell my friends, my family, and my classmates about all I have learned and seen. And I know I will not be alone with this quest, as I will have six very good friends off in their separate areas of America spreading the same message.

Our home for the semester.

I quickly finish scribbling my thoughts in my journal as the waitress comes to pick up my plate with the messy remains of the carrot cake. Getting up to pay the bill, I smile genuinely as I am now able to see not just my present state of bliss, but my entire future much more clearly. With a new found resolve and heavy bags of souvenirs, I return back to my home at 5 Simpson St. ready to fully embrace this final week of the semester that changed my life. 

  

To my dear friends, and others who might be struggling to figure out how to conduct their lives in this harsh world we live in, I’d like to end our semester’s blog with a quote from Maya Angelou: “My wish for you is that you continue. Continue to be who and how you are, to astonish a mean world with your acts of kindness. Continue to allow humor to lighten the burden of your tender heart.”

Just keep on keeping on, kids.

Peace.

Week Ten: On Remembering the Dead

By: J. D. Mechelke

Out-Right Namibia's Trans Day of Remembrance 2015

I’m glad I had Annie and Amanda with me. Do you know that feeling right before walking into a room of people who, because you are so different, could judge you so easily? Well, think of that coupled with a little bloating and you’ll know how I felt before we walked up to the gate of Out-Right Namibia during a Saturday night where we were going to memorialize the trans individuals that had died that year in Namibia.

Between the three of us, no one had planned, when we woke up today, to taxi to Windhoek North to be part of this event. At least Amanda and I had planned on going to see the new Hunger Games movie with the rest of the gang. But, as my mother would say, “You got a hair up your butt son! You’re just like your father.” My dad and I have a reputation for getting these big ideas that we follow at all costs. Although an idea to attend a Trans Day of Remembrance event shouldn’t seem like a “big idea,” I’d been struggling a lot recently with my mental health. Lately taking a shower seemed like a “big idea.” Maybe that was also a part of why I felt so intimidated by the group that evening (though I don’t think that can help explain the bloated part). Somehow, even in the heat of this country, my spirits had gone cold. My depression was keeping me in bed during the day while my anxiety was keeping me up at night.

As I stood intimidated before pushing the gate aside, I grabbed Annie and Amanda’s hands. Their palms warmed my cold fingers. We signed a check-in sheet. In addition to our name was our gender/sex and sexual orientation: mine as gay intersex male. We were the only white people in the complex. A situation that was surprisingly uncommon even in a capital city in an African state. I had introduced my two friends to some of the people in this community that had made me feel loved. Some of the bravest people I have ever met were all in eyeshot.

We stood, we sat. We sang, we cried. We ate, we drank. We talked, we observed in silence. We named the dead, and we dared to tell why the dead are dead. The time we spent together prompted my memories of a particular service in the liturgical calendar: All Saints Day. All Saints is a service, speaking from a Lutheran perspective, where we honor those who have died during the past year, and those in the more distant past who we had loved, naming them all as saints. In the services liturgy we hear, “Loved ones now resting in you, who guided us, nurtured and cared for us; ancestors who worked and traveled, lived and died that we might be who we are, where we are—your precious children in this community of believers.”¹ How wonderful and how scandalous to remember trans people of color in Namibia who have died not just by name but by the title of saint.

Later that night I was crying on the porch of the CGEE house. I was overwhelmed by a lot of things, but mostly by the courage of the saints that we had named a few hours ago. Too often when we talk about social change and promoting social justice we’re really concerned about immediate action. Even if it’s social analysis, we feel we got to get to work now. While there are probably good reasons for this feeling, I think we sometimes miss something in pure secular work for social change that the religious world can help us with. That is, remembering the dead, and remembering why the dead are dead.

This statement of remembering “why the dead are dead,” is something that has still been ruminating in my mind since I heard it from Pastor Alan Storey a few months back in Cape Town. Storey talked about how we are so many times “addicted to hope!” We forget how important it is to mourn and memorialize. I agree with the Pastor’s thoughts. However, I’m not sure that much can happen when we are devoid of all hope.

Harvey Milk, a gay rights activist in the U.S. that was eventually assassinated, once said, “I know that you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living.” Yes, mourning the dead and allowing ourselves to feel complete despair against the answers to why they are dead is required. But if we stay eloping in that state of mourning forever, life will no longer be worth living. We have to let ourselves stand and sit, sing and cry, eat and drink, speak and be silent. Though we can’t live on hope, we have to keep its flames alive if we are ever going to avenge the injustices that killed our friends. Never forget the dead. But even more important, never forget why you are living.

¹ http://www.crivoice.org/allsaints.html

Week Five

By: J.D. Mechelke

As commanded by our week’s community leader Amanda, we were all wearing our PJ’s. I had this yellow and hole filled shirt, sporting a “Life is Good” logo and the phrase, “Remember where you came from.” The smell of pizza permeated the room. It was pretty good except for the vegan pizza, which tasted like old cigarettes (God bless Emily for her ethical decisions). We had just gotten back from our Urban Homestay. It was good to be together. We had become a family of sorts. The seven of us sprawled in a circle across the living room floor along with Attila, our mother hen. Amanda had shuffled a deck of cards and spread them out in between all of us. I picked up the first card, not really understanding what the heck was going on. I laid my card out in front of everyone; an ace. Amanda picked up her notebook and found the question associa ted with the ace: “What fulfills you the most in life currently?” While I’m definitely one of those people who likes to speak before thinking, this time I really had no idea what to say.

The day before, my host brother Donovan drove his siblings and I to a farm outside of Windhoek. It was hilly like South Dakota combined with the dryness of New Mexico. There was a big army tent set up across from this towering tree. It reminded me of all the trees mentioned in Genesis: the places where death and life happened, an orienting place, a place of reunion. Under this tree was where the people in my host parents’ generation cooked food all day long. The farm was, for today, the setting of a first of its kind family reunion. The matriarch of the family hadn’t yet seen all of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren in one place. So for her 72nd birthday, she wanted a family reunion.

At first I was very conscious of difference. I was the only white guy around, the only one with a full beard, the only one whose first language was English, and the only one who was comfortable burping and farting in front of old people. It was about 10 in the morning when the assembly of young and old clustered under the old army tent. Great-grandma sat on the long side of the tent in the very middle. Everyone found a seat in a semi-circleish thing around her. My host-mom grabbed me. She had me sit next to her so she could translate form Afrikaans into English. Someone could’ve turned her speech into a cliche “trip down memory lane.” But even for a foreigner, it was easy to tell that this was something different. You could tell from the look in her eyes as she smiled down at her great-grandchildren. “Remember where you came from,” she said, like a mother spreading a blanket over her new-born.

She told us the story of her life. She had walked through a land ravaged by Apartheid. She had raised her children through Apartheid. She had seen the liberation struggle. She had seen the revolution. Though these statements are all true, Apartheid was not the main subject of her reflections: it was family.

The week away from the Center on Simpson Street was a week immersed in difference. But it was also, for me, a time to remember where I come from. The time spent accepting the hospitality of strangers reminded me less about difference and more about our universal desire to belong. I saw this struggle to belong with the little girl who’s complexion was lighter than the rest. This struggle was also evident with a gay man who was constantly denied respect and responsibility from family elders. And I saw this struggle with myself, not quite sure where I was supposed to stand.

It was Sunday evening when we got dropped off from our homestay’s. That night our unconventional family of seven plus mother hen was sprawled across the floor in a circle. Amanda read me the baffling question: “What fulfills you the most in life currently?” There’s a lot of ways I could’ve answered the question. And most of them would have been truthful. But being with each other, laying around in our pajamas and our communal breath of pizza smells, made me realize that I belong.

Week Four: Getting Acquainted with Windhoek

By: Amanda Knipple

We had the weekend to get settled into our new home in Windhoek, but after that we were constantly out and about to get a feel for the city. I could feel the excitement of the group when we talked of all the potential that Namibia had to offer. For some of us, the new landscape brought the realization that we still had so much to learn and as far as we had come, our journey was nowhere close to being completed.

Now in Namibia, I finally started my internship at Friendly Haven Shelter for abused women and children.  Friendly Haven is one of the oldest and best functioning shelters in Namibia, as well as a model often used by similar organizations. I’m grateful for the opportunity to meet all the amazing people behind the operation. Working with issues of gender-based violence can be very taxing, but they’re there day in and day out, constantly pushing for change in the community while educating and empowering the women staying at the shelter.  My role at the shelter will mostly be within the realm of raising awareness of gender-based violence and the existence of the shelter itself. I’m excited to try to take on this role because gender-based violence is so prevalent in Namibia and throughout the world. While reading up on Friendly Haven’s work, I came across a statistic from the Legal Assistance Centre that claims that 1 in 5 women in Namibia is in an abusive relationship. One shelter is nowhere near enough to combat such widespread violence. Raising awareness and educating the community can be such powerful forms of outreach in order to inspire more people to take action.  Gender based violence is so normalized that some people might not recognize the signs until they are explained. If more people can be equipped with the knowledge of gender-based violence and how to recognize the signs, perhaps we can move towards a more equal and peaceful society.

A guided tour of Windhoek was one of the first things we did as a group in Namibia. The intention was to get a broader view of the cultural and economic realities of the place we shall call home for the next three months. The group was driven around the city with a local guide. We saw all kinds of things, from shopping malls and busy streets to the informal settlements that house a large portion of Windhoek’s population. We weren’t mainly concerned with tourist attractions, but rather with the lesser known areas that have been shaped by the country’s history and the organizations that are working to create positive change.

Embroidered vest from
Penduka Village

One of the places we visited was called Penduka Village, which aims to provide jobs for women and teach them skills so they can provide for themselves. Projects included sewing, embroidery, and jewelry making. Lots of their products are made from recycled goods in order to make the operation more sustainable. I was very touched by the organization and all its efforts to help women; it reminded me of the fair trade cooperatives that I’m so fond of. Empowering women, giving them the confidence and tools to make a living can be one of the most important things you can do for a society.  Their organization is combating a variety of important issues in Namibia and the world today: unemployment, lack of skills, a large amount of waste, and a poor local economy.  The women of this village are able to support themselves and their community in a sustainable way that deserves much more recognition. We learned that unemployment is rampant in Namibia, and that it doesn’t affect solely women. In an attempt to find work, many jobless men line the streets in the hopes of being hired for a day job or some kind of manual labor. At first this seemed ridiculous and confusing to me, but what’s even more ridiculous and confusing is that the Namibian government has legitimized it.  You can now become a registered MSR (man on the side of the road) to try and be linked to work opportunities.

At this point in my journey through Southern Africa, I probably should not have been surprised by the poverty that I’ve encountered.  But yet again I was struck by the conditions that part of the population are accustomed and subjected to. I don’t yet fully understand the system, so it is possible that my criticism may be unfounded, but it seems to me that more should be done than just allowing people to sit on the side of the road all day hoping that something comes your way. And of course, when we made our way out to the informal settlements, we were again faced with vast fields of small, tin shacks much like in Alexandra and in the Cape Flats (mentioned in previous blog entries). I just remember standing from a distance, overlooking hundreds of shacks tucked neatly between the sandy hills. 

Overlooking the informal settlements

Learning about Apartheid for these past few weeks has rendered me very conscious of how privilege has been abused in history. I think it’s very important to be aware of what privileges you do have in your life so you can check how you use them. The intersectionality of privilege cannot be ignored. There is no way to talk about privilege and oppression without looking at all of the ways that they affect people’s lives. Being on this trip has exemplified this idea. One of my favorite things about the CGEE so far is that dialogue is constantly flowing and there’s a lot of opportunity for contact with ideas that differ from your own. It has helped me a lot to see things through the framework of other people’s thoughts. In one of the many relevant and enriching discussions our group has had, I was introduced to ideas about class and privilege that I hadn’t considered before and I felt grateful for the opportunity to listen to this new perspective. I learned that “class” isn’t just a measure of someone’s wealth. Too often, I considered my socioeconomic privilege to be a product of my family’s income, but there are more that goes into it. Class can also be determined by experiences. Education, travel, exposure to culture, etc. can be a huge part of where you see your place in the world. Not everything is as cut and dry as we’re led to believe. The glaring inequality is everywhere. Standing on that hill above the shacks in the informal settlement in Katutura, I had a hard time reconciling my place in all of this. I realized that I am deeply privileged in the simple fact that I can be here, thousands of miles from home, learning about all of this injustice.  I don’t know where we go from here, or how these inequalities can be rectified, but acknowledging their existence is an essential first step.