The Weekend..

I feel as though in every blog I post I report how exhausted I am. I wish this entry were different, but after an eventful and blustery weekend I am really just so tired. My poor overworked and underpaid brain cells are being constantly pulled in all different directions and are at serious risk of imploding - which doesn't sound so terrible really, if it means at least a few moments of inactivity and peaceful non-existence... Anyways, my weekend...

I'm counting Thursday night as the beginning of my weekend, because due to the short Friday school day it feels as though that's where it started. Thursday was an overcast and standard rainy-season day here in Okahao, complete with the episodic drizzling of rain throughout the day and intermittent periods of hot sunshine. Because this weekend was a government-appointed home weekend for hostel learners (about once every two months learners in hostel schools across Namibia are permitted to go home to their families for the weekend) and school was scheduled to get out at ten am on Friday, our principal made the executive decision that we would make up the Friday classes Thursday after lunch-tacking on an extra 2 hours to the end of the school day. I was sitting in the staff room during one of my free blocks at about three pm when the relative calm of the day was shattered spontaneously by a gale-force wind and torrential downpour. It was coming down so hard that everyone was essentially trapped in their current location for the 40 minutes it took for the storm to subside. It effectively knocked out the power about 20 minutes into the storm for the remainder of the night. This didn't really effect the rest of my day too greatly-because I have a gas stove I was able to cook dinner and boil water, and it stays bright enough outside to not need any lights on until after 7. I didn't quite take into account that my fridge and freezer would no longer be functioning, and all of my gloriously frozen and cold foods were warming up none-too-slowly. I crammed the contents of my fridge into my freezer and strategically placed ice packs throughout so that everything I had would stay colder longer; I had no idea how long the outage would last. Come seven o'clock I lit candles throughout my house and marked assignments and test papers by candlelight as my frozen foods were thawing and refrigerated foods were warming. By ten pm I couldn't wait up any later to see if the power was going to come back on, so I called it a night.

I must have woken up at least half a dozen times in the night due to my neurotic tendencies (thanks Mom) and the fact that without a fan the night air still and heavy and sticky and overall uncomfortable. It must have turned back on at some point though because I woke up at five to find all of my usually-refrigerated goods frozen solid. No milk for my oatmeal this morning. Better to be frozen stiff than warm and spoilt though..a small gift to me from Mother Africa.

On Friday school was out at nine and learners were departing for their home weekend at ten. As I was heading out to Oshakati to meet Rachel, a fellow volunteer who was going to spend the night in Okahao with me, my Principal kindly offered me a ride into town. I was thrilled...any excuse to not have to take an overcrowded taxi, and in this case battle the learners for one, is a thrill. What I didn't realise at the time was that my seat was in the bed of his truck, in the canopy, with eleven other learners and a colleague of mine. Suddenly a taxi of 7 seemed spacious. So there we were, driving down the flooded and livestock-plagued rural Namibian road in the back of a truck hugging our ankles and banging into eachother with every touch of the brakes. I felt like a refugee about to be smuggled across the border. (Be sure in your mental image of me not to picture eleven cute little African children. No no. The principal must have hand-picked Shaanika Nashilongo's tallest and largest learners for this trip. We were thirteen full-sized adults shoulder to shoulder...knee to knee.)

Upon meeting Rachel in Oshakati she and I indulged in the usual, fruit salad with ice cream, and each had an egg sandwich to go with it. I bought some fresh produce and we made our way back to Okahao. I was able to snap some pictures of the flooding en route to my home, which I've attached to my blog as well. I was so excited to have a visitor-my very first one since my arrival in Okahao-it didn't really matter than I lured her here with big promises of an internet connection and banana pancakes. Of course this was the one day that the internet server went down. All that Rachel was planning to do over the next couple of days with my assurance of internet was a bust. At least we had wine. We made dinner and talked about all of our grand fund raising aspirations...dreaming big and letting ourselves carry one another away with the differences we could make. These conversations are so much more enjoyable when reality is completely ignored. The fact that we had received no guidance, direction, or assistance of any kind in our efforts thus far had no place in our plans of grandeur. We were going to change the world, one flooded school at a time.

It wasn't long into the night that all power, including the phone lines, was down. Then it was on, then off, then on... Each time that the power surged I could hear my poor fridge groaning with effort. I was convinced that it was going to blow. The winds were howling like I had never heard before and for the next couple of hours my lights were flickering like a disco. It was easily the eeriest night I had spent in Africa thus far. Thank god for the wine, oh, and the company. Soon enough we had a brown-out. The power still surged, but when it came on it seemed to be functioning at about 10%. The lights were so inconsequential that candlelight was required. The room fans still blew...but you'd never know it. The only thing missing was a Freddy Krueger movie and some popcorn. Tiring of the light show that was my living room, Rachel and I retired at about eleven pm, leaving the brown-out to sort itself out.

So, the internet promise I wasn't able to make good on..but the banana pancakes...oh you bet I delivered. We through some Jack Johnson on the laptop and had the best pancakes in recent memory. It's funny how something so simple can make the world of difference to your morale. Throw in a cold shower and I felt like a new woman. I was still feeling restless though in terms of flood relief, so I joined Rachel on her trek back into town, knowing that I would sit around and get nothing accomplished all day if I stayed. We met up with Chris and Chloe, Steve, and Emily in Oshakati and went for pizza at the SOS club, our group's usual watering hole. We discussed fund raising and got nowhere fast. Seemed as though Rachel and I were on our own for the time being. Rachel was told by her principal that her school was to be cancelled for yet another week, and that at this point in time there was to be no government support for her school or her learners because of the gravity of the situation everywhere and the magnitude of the need. Essentially, the need for aid was so large that at this point in time the government was opting to help no schools.

I promised some of the learners who stayed behind at the hostel for the weekend due to the severity of the floods in their home villages that I would come by and hang out with them Saturday evening. At six I joined them in the dining hall, bringing with me cookies, sweets (candy), cards and markers and paper. I taught them different card games, and they taught me some of their own and the cards alone kept us occupied. They were mesmerized by the picture of me, Beth and Jeff on the cards, which mom had had made for me as a Christmas present. There were about a dozen of us, boys and girls grade 8 to 12 playing, laughing and taking pictures. I had to retire for the night to get some work done, so I left the cards and the craft materials with the learners who promised to return them to me the next day. The learners were very upset about not being able to go home for the weekend, so it felt good that we were able to share at least a little bit of fun together.

Sunday was a montage of being very productive despite my feeling laxadaisical and under-stimulated to do much of anything. I had Charles over at about ten and we made apple crisp together. Let it be known that I am a notoriously terrible cook back home. There isn't one recipe I've tried that I haven't absolutely butchered in some way shape or form. Nonetheless, I managed to make surprisingly edible apple crisp in a gas oven with no semblance of temperature indicated anywhere along the dial. I opted for the middle-not too hot, not too cool, and hoped for the best. I have had better crisp, most definitely, but the fact that my creation was edible, a glorious golden brown, and tasted as though the chef had the intention of creating an apple crisp was a miracle in and of itself. A resounding success by my standards. This small triumph just may have instilled in me the confidence to try my hand at cookies. Stay posted..

Upon going in to school later that day to record some marks from the grading I had been doing I somehow managed to lock myself in the staff room. Apparently the k*** only turns from the outside. It was early enough in the day that learners were only trickling back in from the weekend and were nowhere to be seen, nor were any of the teachers. It was a Sunday after all. I tried to use rulers and thin objects to pry the door open to no avail, and darn near broke the door handle in my attempts to coerce it open. Due to the burglar bars on the windows, that escape route was not an option. I spent the better part of half of an hour trying my hand at the door and checking the windows for any signs of life. Eventually I spotted a group of four boys across the courtyard and yelled at them to come help me. Of course they had to be learners of mine, and got a real kick out of rescuing the brilliant volunteer teacher from the staff room with the mere twist of the door knob. Whatever. At least I now know where to stick the next person who crosses me.