A Home Away from Home

By: Camryn C.

Almost two months in and I feel although I have had a world wind of experiences already. I quickly realized this learning experience would not be one about adjusting but rather enjoying. Traveling all through South Africa to get to our final destination of Namibia where we would continue learning for the next three months.  A big part of our learning is being hands on, truly living as if Namibia was our home for good. As students we get the pleasure to live with a Namibian family for a week and experience with them their day to day life. I personally would like to believe that no other family could compare to mine. They were truly absolutely outstanding. I had three sisters, two older and one my age, two lovely nieces seven and nine years old, and of course an amazing mom and dad. During this week I continued classes and internship as scheduled during the day, until my host mom or dad picked me up at the CGEE house after work. The correlation of what was taking place in my classes and at home were unreal! I felt as if I would learn one thing in class and before I knew it was a topic at the dinner table.



Photo taken at local museum, exhibiting the San people's homes

In our history class we are studying the different ethnic backgrounds and population that make up Namibia. This week we attended a local museum studying the different populations, such as the San people and Oshiwambo. We learned about what made them who they are today and why they currently live the way they do.  This was super interesting especially because my family had come from a mixed ethnic background. My dad’s family are Oshiwambo and my mom’s family are Herero, besides language differences the greetings were also very different. As my mom felt it normal to step into a room and greet everyone as a whole, my dad only saw fit to greet everyone separately and personally. Albertina our history professor and CGEE staff member also comes from a background of Oshiwambo, and throughout the week as we do our check-in she will ask us all individually how we are feeling and what is going on, which lines up with her heritage of greeting as well.  Finding those connections between what I was learning and where my family came from really helped us to have good conversations and bond over the week.

I often spent a lot of time with my host mom and host sister who was my age, we were practically two peas in a pod. If we weren’t preparing dinner together then we were often listening to music together or I was getting taught Afrikaans which was a blast to learn.  It was really interesting to me to chat with my sister about our generational issues and what that looked like here in Namibia and also in the U.S. I quickly found that our generation didn’t care as much about where you came from or to which tribe you belonged, but more about similar interests. My sister and the majority of her friends can speak Afrikaans but prefer to speak English. They do not feel racial discrimination is as noticeable because in their minds things such as the Apartheid did not affect them directly. I take we had two women speakers come in from the University of Namibia who touched on this topic more, explaining that my generation has no problem living in harmony together, it is their parents who have difficulty accepting who their children are friends with. Some issues Namibia faces today in regards to division are present due to who has the political power, and since that still remains an older generation it is hard for any political turnover.

My host mom and I enjoying some great conversations at dinner together.

My mom could also recognize the generational gap, especially because of how her and her sisters grew up were separated not only by ethnic background but by race as well.  As we have traveled and learned more about Apartheid the three groups as classified were white, black, and colored. Today colored is a very offensive term and their were test done to see which category you would fall into, in the view of others being considered colored wasn’t as bad as being called black. So my aunt at only twelve years old had to go to Cape Town to a boarding school to pursue her education. Overall not only did I take away so much educationally, but I truly made lifelong connections with my family. Whether it was through conversations, watching African Soap Opera’s or the endless laughs at the dinner table, I wouldn’t want to change a thing.

Week 4: Namibia, Unequal in More Ways Than One

By Keith Nagel

This picture shows how the country has moved forward as one after independence. This picture was taken at the
National Museum of Namibia.
 

Before March 21, 1990 Namibia was subject to the same oppression of apartheid that South Africa endured. Following independence, Namibia has enjoyed political stability and a growing economy, albeit an unequal growth. After learning some information about Namibian ethnic history in class I was left with a question of why has Namibia enjoyed such political and social stability? Namibia has an impressive mixture of ethnic groups. On a field trip to the Owela Museum we were able to dive deeper into each group. The Oshiwambo ethnic group have enjoyed the largest representation in the post-independence government and have been able to grab the largest share of economic and political influence. When you put the Oshiwambo’s influence up against the San people or Bushmen you realize that even among ethnic groups in Namibia there exists a clear inequality in political and economic resources. The Bushmen are one of the most marginalized groups in Namibia. They were not given any type of reserve by the government and were forced to abandon their traditional way of life in the bush because their land was taken and made into national parks, and as a result they often live in extreme poverty. When I learned about the San people it reminded me of the United States’ experience with the Native Americans. This marginalized population was denied economic and land rights much like the Bushmen. The Bushmen and Native Americans have historically had the utmost respect for the land. In many ways both groups entire mindset revolved around the land, and yet, both had their sacred land ripped away from them. Today the Bushmen work on farms while other larger ethnic groups enjoy the economic freedom in the city. When I came to Windhoek I expected to see wealth inequality but I never expected that these lines of inequality were drawn both by racial and ethnic divides.

The "man on the horse" with the National Museum of Namibia in the background. The man on the horse is a relic of German occupation, while the Museum  is a modern testament of liberation built by North Korea, a friend to Namibia during their struggle for independence. This stark contrast says a lot about where Namibia was, and where it is going.

Our group was lucky enough to engage with some of these issues while listening to an important speech by PLO Lumumba. The speech was so important that both the First Lady and President of Namibia were in attendance. It was an honor to be in a room of such influence and experience, and it helped me better understand some of the questions I faced about ethnic divides. For me the most memorable reference that PLO Lumumba made was his quotation of Bob Marley. The quote read “emancipate yourselves from mental slavery, none but ourselves can free our minds.” For me this paralleled nicely with Steve Biko’s teachings of Black Consciousness which encourages Black people to change their outlook on their situation and accept their empowered self. After PLO Lumumba’s speech, I began to understand perhaps why Namibia has retained such a stable political and social structure. Perhaps Namibia was able to learn to accept their differences and move forward as one Namibians rather than fragmented political parties as the South African experience has shown. Although SWAPO and the ANC share characteristics, it appears that Namibia has had a better experience with a liberation ruling party in the years following independence.

This picture honour's the many men and women who fought for the liberation struggle.
This picture was taken at the National Museum of Namibia.

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 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 Nine: A Canvas of Understanding

By: Annie Dierberger

She had deep wrinkles that ran asymmetrically through her face like a thousand roads on a map, but the destination came together like a meticulous work of art. Each line etched into her skin seemed to hold a story or a memory that I desperately wanted to understand. Her eyes were lulled in the shape of half moons but held a sharp glint of youthfulness wherever she happened to look. Her name was Meme Albertina. She was the village headman, and yes, I had no idea what that meant and maybe I still don’t, but I thought of her like Yoda, full of wisdom and perfectly executed one liners. Now that last part I may have fabricated a bit, seeing that I actually had no idea what she was saying and it was evident from the start we had a language barrier. I spoke English, she spoke none. She spoke Oshiwambo, I knew how to say the How are you? and the word snake, making our conversation limited beyond the context of “the snake is good”, which it ultimately never is. The woman I am describing was my host mom for the week in the town of Outapi, a rural community about nine hours north of Windhoek. All of the students were living with various families and this was to be mine.

What inside the homestead looked like. Various huts for
different purposes surrounded by an endless maze of sticks.

After a few minutes of exchanging confused facial expressions and hand gestures, I ended up in a truck bumping along the gravel until a fenced off home came into view. Once inside the gate, I was given a tour around the homestead by one of the eldest daughters in the family who knew a few words of English. She led me outside the gate towards a tall circular enclosure of sticks and stopped just before to also show me where the pigs slept. To say it nicely, these pigs would not have been cast in the next Charlotte's web sequel as Wilbert. I saw them as beasts that wouldn’t hesitate to destroy me. My eyes stayed glued on the pigs until I was nudged by the daughter to indicate the bathroom beside them, which consisted of a pile of bricks in the shape of a triangle. I kept my face composed but I will readily admit that internally I was whispering, “oh dear god.” The next stop was the shower which was again an enclosed circle of sticks with a bucket inside. Now, at this point, I was extremely nervous that there wouldn’t be enough water for me to shower and that an eyoka (a snake) was going to bite me in the bathroom. I was out of element in a state of discomfort and I knew it, so I decided to do the only thing I could, which was to completely embrace it. To not only look at these lines that ran like roads on the face of my host mother but to travel them just as she had lived them.

Very quickly within the next couple of days I fell into a routine. I would wake up around 6:45am by either one of the children shouting, “Annie, wake up!” or a rooster sounding like it was violently choking. As I stumbled outside into the bright light one of the children would point to the shower and say, “Wash.” I not only learned that a bucket of water was more than enough for a shower, but doing so outside while peering over a fence into the dry abyss was wonderful. I loved being woken up to cold water and the smell of fire already circulating through the cool morning air. After the shower, I would make my way through the maze to the place where we ate our meals. My Meme would see me and say, “Wa­lelepo nawa?” which translates to “Good morning, How are you?”, to which I would reply, “Eeya, ove walelepo tuu?!” and then we would both exhaust ourselves with multiple “eeye’s”, which means “good” and is what I learned to be the key to the Oshiwambo language. When it doubt, just say eeye. People will either mockingly laugh or be extremely impressed with you, sometimes both.

As midday approached, so did the blazing heat. Almost every day the temperature would hit 100 degrees or higher. Shade became your close companion, and water was your new best friend. I was fortunate that my classmate Henrik lived close by, so most afternoons, we would meet up and endure the heat together. We would find a nice spot of shade that wasn’t overpopulated by donkeys and sip, no, chug on ice cold coke from one of the local shebeens.

Henrik, avoiding malaria at all costs.

When 6 o'clock approached, all of the neighboring children began running towards the soccer field for the nightly game. This, I got the impression, was my young host brother’s favorite part of the day. The goal posts were made up of two sticks with a line of cans strung together at the top and very rarely was there a goalie, if lucky a toddler sat distractedly inside the goalposts drawing pictures in the dirt. Some nights I played and other nights I preferred to just sit on the side and watch with amazement. The Namibian sunset would begin to fill the sky with a canvas of reds, oranges and yellows like something I had never seen before. The children would be laughing and doing hilarious after-goal dances and then there would be Henrik, passing out high fives and cheering enthusiastically in English like an elementary school gym teacher. The kids had no idea what he was saying but loved it anyway. Moments like these are what would bring tears to my eyes. Moments where we didn’t need a language to communicate because we had so many other things, things that didn’t need to be vocalized. As the sun completely vanished my host brothers and sisters held hands and walked home together, singing songs. It was a powerful connectedness of pure happiness and enjoyment of one another’s company.

At 8:00 pm the whole family would gather around the fire and watch enticingly as dinner was prepared. The little kids would climb on my lap and sing Amazing Grace repeatedly until flying into one of their own songs and dances. When we weren’t singing or dancing, I had my notebook out and was learning Oshiwambo from Tina, one of the eldest kids who was in school. I would write words or phrases, she would translate and then laugh at my pronunciation. Without any electricity or lights, the world would turn dark and to see my hand in front of my face I would take out my flashlight. There was one night when I took out my light to see where I was stepping and my grandmother looked at me and shook her head repeatedly. She then began speaking in Oshiwambo and pointing up to the bright stars that littered the sky magnificently. She kept pointing up to the stars and then took my flashlight and turned it off. We both smiled in understanding and looked up at the stars together.

Trying to make friends with the donkeys and not succeeding.

That night I sat studying everything like a priceless work of art, absorbing everything that I had grown to love so passionately in a week: the kids, their bright smiles as we played tag throughout the home, and how later they could help cook dinner or carry a baby on their backs with the strength of a teenager; my host mother, despite being at least seventy years old, dancing freely without care like she was a child again; the sky and all of its unity of contrast, completely defying everything we think we know in color and clouds; the stars and gazing up at them in awe, and an hour later realizing you are just as lost as you were before, and feeling content with that. During my rural homestay week, I have lived modestly in material but lavishly in everything else. It was a week that seemed like a year in what I saw and learned. I found richness in simplicity. I found love in silence. I found sacred art in normality. A picture that is worth a thousand words but remembered as a thousand moments.