Easter at the Orphanage

I may have spent Easter in Luderitz, but that didn't mean the kids at Sunrise Center went without a holiday-themed project. My mom, who used to be a kindergarten teacher, sent all the art supplies (as well as jellybeans, Peeps and cupcake mix) to create Easter chicks. Katrina helped with giving instructions and as usual, the kids went wild.

In fact, they enjoyed it so much, I'm not sure they noticed I was a week late.


David Hard at Work


Hamming it Up


Happiness Showing Off His Work


Kokoonah


The Finished Product

Easter in Luderitz

Namibia may be one of the least-densely populated countries in the world—but it’s certainly not one of the smallest. This fact became painfully clear on Easter weekend when 19 PCVs crammed into a combi built for 14 and headed south to the coastal town of Luderitz.

There were no Herero hats threatening to blind us with their points or drunk men trying to get cozy during the 15-hour journey, but there were still plenty of elbow nudges and knee cramps that even a pit stop in the Namib desert couldn’t solve.


The Combi Ride from Mariental (The Front Seats)


The Combi Ride from Mariental (The Back Seats)


Six Hours Later...


Group Shot in the Namib Desert (The Oldest Desert on Earth!)


Dar, Brooke and Flat Stanley Taking a Stretch Break

The scenery south of Windhoek is monotonous. Hours of dry plains, grassy savannahs, and eventually, the world’s oldest desert. Just when we thought we’d reached the edge of the earth—a point where civilization stops and nothingness begins—the German-inspired town of Luderitz sprung forth—and for three days, it felt like we were in a different country all together. Ocean views. Tar roads. Coffee shops. Even a crayfish festival.


Luderitz


Pelicans

Definitely not the Namibia I know.

We spent Friday afternoon touring a 100-year-old ghost town called Kolmanskop. Located about five kilometers outside Luderitz, this German mining village was built after diamonds were discovered nearby in 1908. I imagined Kolmanskop would boast faded signs and creaking saloon doors, tumbleweeds and a perfect place for showdowns. But it was far from the ghost towns of America’s Wild West. The architecture reflected the German style popular at the time, with two and three story cement mansions built into the sandy hills. Kolmanskop had its own hospital, ballroom, power station, school, theater, sports hall, casino and railway station (with a train that went all the way to nowhere). Water shipments arrived monthly from Cape Town and residents received daily deliveries of homemade lemonade and ice blocks to keep perishables cold.

The town was abandoned in 1956, after even bigger diamonds were discovered in Oranjemund. And while most of the buildings were filled with sand from past winter wind storms, it was clear these early settlers were living better than most Namibians are now.


New Sign


Old Sign


Jessica and Loren


Houses on Millionaire Mile


Enter at Your Own Risk...


...We Did













Easter afternoon felt a lot like Memorial Day weekend in America. Each of us grabbed a bag and walked the three kilometers to Shark Island for an early-evening braai with a view of the Atlantic.


Some of the Girls


Eric Manning the Grill


The Grilled Cheese Station


The Rocky Shores of Shark Island


Sailboats!


Shark Island Group Shot


Sunset

I didn’t know it at the time, but Shark Island was the site of a German concentration camp for Hereros and Namas from 1904 to 1907. Forced labor from these marginalized tribes helped build the city of Luderitz, as well as local railways. And it was here that Germans began to practice and perfect the methods that would later be used by Nazis against the Jews in World War II.

The views were beautiful and the rocky coast was the perfect setting for sunset. But later, when I learned of Shark Island’s troubled past, it seemed a little sad that this historic site was never memorialized, and that the 3,000 people who lost their lives aren't really honored or even remembered.

Instead, today's visitors to Namibia know shark island as a popular destination for holiday braais, breathtaking views, comfortable camp sites--and nothing more.

Saturday Mornings

When we arrived in Khorixas more than 17 months ago, women would stop us on the street to ask if we needed help with our laundry or with cleaning. It happened almost daily, and each time we'd smile, say, "No thank you," and continue on our way. We were on a tight budget, so paying someone to do what we were capable of doing ourselves seemed like a waste. We were still sorting out how to occupy extraordinary amounts of free time (hand-washing meant at least a couple of those extra-long weekend hours would be productive), and it felt incredibly strange to be asking community members we were supposed to be working for, to instead, come and work for us.

But over the last year and a half, that's somehow changed. Our hand-washing technique started to look a lot more like soaking in soap suds, and the once too-long weekends seemed to instead fly by. We also started to realize that with so few jobs in Khorixas, we might be helping the woman who worked for us nearly as much as she'd be helping us. So after a bit of discussion, Jessica put the word out at school, and a week later, Katrina's mother showed up at our door. Sure, it was uncomfortable at first--having the mother of one of our learners scrubbing away. But over the past few weeks it's made for some of the best Saturday mornings yet. Mostly because it's given us a chance to spend time with one of our favorite learners, her mother, and her too-cute siblings.

We make sugary sweet tea for Katrina's mom when she arrives, and while she fills the basin outside, the kids fold origami, play games, color--or in the case of Johanas, run around like a maniac. It's absolutely hilarious and while it means our flat is a madhouse for a few hours each Saturday morning, it's totally worth it.

We end up with piles of fresh-smelling, clean clothes, and best of all, memories (and photos) that leave us laughing for days.


Johanas All Dressed Up


Johanas AKA "Woody"


Emma


Emma & Johanas

Just a Toothbrush: Grootberg Primary

Things don't always go as planned in Namibia. So when our transport to Erwee arrived two hours late and Isabel (the dentist) called me too sick to participate, it was really no surprise. Likewise, when I realized I'd accidentally left all of the toothbrushes meant for grade 5 in Khorixas, I was disappointed, but not defeated. (Luckily, a nurse from the clinic agreed to deliver them today.) Despite these blunders and setbacks, our second all-school dental outreach went incredibly well. I handled upper primary while Lorain, the dental assistant, tackled pre-K through grade 4.

The 5 a.m. wakeup and six-hour driving time were exhausting, but I'd say the kids' smiles made it worth all of the work.


Lorain Checking Pre-K Teeth


Pre-Ks Brushing


Lorain Leading a Workshop for Grade 1s


Grade 3s Smiling


Grade 7s After the Workshop


Me with Grade 5s

Language Barriers

Learners come by our house every day. It's part of life when you live at a school. Whether it's to borrow books, ask a question about homework, or just to drop by for a visit, it seems that these days we have an endless stream of kids coming through our doors.

So it was no surprise on Sunday when two small boys peeked their heads inside our kitchen window. What they asked for however, was.

"Miss, we're asking Tampax for the matron," one said.

Adults usually send kids to do their errands in Khorixas--to their homes, the shops or even to the bank. But hearing the word "Tampax" come out of a small boy's mouth still came as a bit of a shock. Partly because feminine hygiene is so taboo here, but also because the only place tampons exist is in the big city.

People assume that, being white, we have access to things others don't. A lot of the times that's not true. But in this case, it was. So I walked to my room and came back to the window, where I passed a handful of tampons to the learners who were waiting.

They looked at me with confusion. "What's this Miss?" they asked.

"Tampax," I said. "Isn't that what the matrons needed?"

Nope. Turns out it wasn't. The boys were looking for Type-Ex--the Namibian equivalent of Whiteout.

No wonder they seemed so confused.