I sit here writing this Tuesday
morning, with a stomach full of cake and hot tea in my hand. These were the
commands of a middle-aged friend of mine as she dropped me off at the hospital
gate last night. We departed with hugs and I walked through the hospital yard
with a large slice of cake, a green Sparletta crème soda in hand and a subtle
smile on my face.
This past Sunday morning, I left
my flat at 9am to walk 2km west to attend the Catholic Church service beginning
at 9:30am. Namibia is a Christian country with Evangelical Lutheran as the
prominent denomination; Khorixas has one Catholic Church, one Lutheran Church
and a handful of “born-again” churches held at individuals homes. There is
around 30 people in attendance, majority are women with a handful of men and
children. The songs are sung a Capella by memory in Afrikaans or Khoekhoegowab
(KKG) led by one of the ladies in the pews. The Bible readings are delivered by
three different church members in three different languages: Afrikaans,
Khoekhoegowab and English. The sermon is in English which is the main reason I
attend the Catholic service instead of the Lutheran service which has the
sermon in KKG and Afrikaans. This was my second appearance at the Catholic
Church and was greeted by Betty, a member of the past volunteer’s project, whom
invited me to a party that afternoon. I tried to clarify what the party was
for, but could not communicate my question. The party was delayed until Monday,
which was good for me because I almost passed out at church from heat
exhaustion. I started to get cold sweats, my ears rang and slightly blacked out
but I sat down and started fanning myself which prevented the fainting spell. I
don’t know how the other ladies were not in the same position as I as they were
wearing full length traditional dresses with quarter-length sleeves and a head
wrap. I still don’t know what folk tales are believed or not, but was very nervous
that if I passed out some church members might think meant that I was demon-possessed.
I was praying that I would not faint as I did not want that rumor spreading
around town and very thankfully my prayers were answered in my favor and I did
not have to face that issue. My newest American Peace Corps Volunteer site
mate, Den, was also there and walked me home. I spent the rest of the evening
drinking cool water and finished Season 3 of New Girl on my laptop.
The following day I had my first
KKG tutor session. My tutor is a 15 year old native speaker that was in one of
my school clubs. Students have the option to take Afrikaans or Khoekhoegowab as
a language class and she is taking KKG therefore knows how to spell the language
which makes it easier for me to learn seeing it written down. Peace Corps gives me a small allowance to pay
for a tutor. I am excited to finally take advantage of this opportunity. This
young lady even brought me cool drink and chips. What a glorious day! I am
learning the local language and received a snack. My other site mate, Jay, has
not had water at his accommodation for the past couple of weeks due to lack of
payment from his organization and therefore took advantage of the shower at my
flat. I then left to meet Betty at her house for this unknown party and walked
with one of the cleaners to her house. She is always so pleasant to greet.
Today she had heartbreaking news of her best friend taking her boyfriend. Sadly
this is typical drama of the town. She still held herself strongly with a
solemn smile on her face as walked. She dropped me off at Betty’s house.
From there we were picked up by
a friend, we stopped at the store and another house. Cool drinks, meat, a
homemade cake, three older women, the male driver and I arrived at the pink
house after only one engine breakdown which was physically pushed to restart
again. This pink house has a beautiful view on top of a hill, with the town
below and a backdrop of the sunset mirroring itself on the surrounding hills. I
relaxed with a cool drink in hand as I listened to the chatter of eight ladies
talking in Afrikaans and Damara (KKG) with the smell of chicken and boerwors
(sausage) cooking on fire and the slight sound of gospel music in the
background. This is when I finally discovered it was the Catholic Mother’s
Circle end of the year party. The day was filled with so many pleasant interactions,
that my heart felt like sunshine. After eating three different portions of meat
and some cake, I was escorted home by the chatter of three older women in the
new darkness that the sun left us in. As we cut through the yards of cement
houses, we walked through a group barefoot children playing with tires on the
dirt road as we passed in and out from the street lights, the peace of the
night tranquility and pride that this was my home.
