Happy Canada Day!

I felt very patriotic this morning, donning red and white with a Canadian flag sticker on my cheek, as I stepped out of my house at 6:30 to cross the field to school. The morning sun was dressed in his holiday best as well, burning a fiery red low on the horizon and tingeing the hazy morning sky a soft pink. The winter mornings here have a soft, pastel colouring. Not clear, but not cloudy, it's like the cool of the night is lingering in the air, clinging to every last second of its reign before the sun rises to overpower it.

I did a listening comprehension lesson with my classes on 31 June about Canada and Canada Day, so I had various learners coming up to "congratulate me on my happiest day", with the occasional child singing a low "Happy Birthday to Canada". The first few minutes in the staffroom I was met with hesitant glances towards my cheeks but no one mentioned anything, as if they weren't sure if they should notify me of the red-and-white sticker on my face. Eventually one of my braver colleagues asked "so..Jennifer...what is going on?" I replied that today was Canada Day, comparing it to their Independence. They were thrilled! I was shocked by how elated and interested they were about the occasion, and all demanded that they be given stickers as well, placing them on their cheeks, foreheads and clothing. [see recently posted pictures] The highlight of the excitement was Mr. Nampila, one of my esteemed colleagues exclaiming "I am Canadese! I am Canadese!" which generated more declarations of the same suit, from there stemming a debate on whether it is Canadese, Canadian, Canadish (which caused a stir because of how similar it sounded to cannabis) and so forth. Needless to say I was thoroughly entertained. The highlight of my day was receiving a letter from one of my learners, Frieda, congratulating me on today, my "happiest day", and asking God to add more years to my bright country. I was so touched...its going on my happy wall.

The Canada Day festivities are scheduled to resume on Saturday night, July 4th, in Ongwediva, where I am meeting up with about ten or so volunteers for a joint celebration of both Canada Day and Independence Day..coming to a blog near you.

Completely unrelated to Canada Day, I've been lamenting lately that I've become so used to life here in Okahao that I no longer recognize and appreciate how truly amazing the quirks of my experience and existence here are. An example that comes to mind is something that has caused me great satisfaction and entertainment over the past couple of weeks but failed to recognize how necessary it was to share with everyone back home. A colleague of mine, I'll just refer to her as Meme (mother in Oshiwambo, but used when conversing with women of marrying/childbearing age, or as a sign of respect). Meme, like many of the other teachers at Shaanika Nashilongo, has her living arrangement in one of the hostel blocks at my school. She's a very slight woman with glasses and a big smile, with an even bigger laugh. I had noticed that the past couple of days Meme had been uncharacteristically omnipresent in the staffroom after school, although not seeming to be busy with work or doing much at all. One day, after proclaiming that she was bored and tired and hungry I asked her why she didn't go home for the afternoon. She gave an impish smile and proclaimed "oh!" and shook her head.."aaye...Jennyfa..." Her playful chagrin had me curious about what was going on, so I pressed the issue mischievously, knowing that there had to be a gem of a story hidden in there somewhere. Evidently Meme had lost the keys to her living quarters and over the past few days had been unsuccessful in locating them. Unfortunately the door was locked at the time when they were misplaced, leaving the window as the only means of getting into and out of her house. Since she lived in the hostel blocks she didn't want the learners to see her climbing in and out of her window, so each morning she waited until after all of the learners were at school to leave her house, and would not return until the evening when she was sure that all of the learners were in the dining hall for dinner. I couldn't help but laugh at the mental image of her clambering in and out of her window in her spiky heels and professional attire when she told me this story. Over the course of the next two weeks each time I would see her my face would break into a grin and she would choke on a short laugh and just cry out at me "oh! Jenn-y-fa!" in mock anger. The keys had still not been located. The door was still locked.

Now, instead of getting a new key made as, one would think, would be the logical next step, Meme has opted to move into one of the teacher houses a few doors down from mine. I asked her if she needed any help moving her things and she told me she was finished. She had managed to move all of her belongings out through the window. The only thing remaining is her fridge which, she fears, to move will require her to break down the door of her old place. Naturally.