Speaking Namlish

We no longer speak English, we speak Namlish!  

Namibia was settled by England and Germany, so the English that is spoken has the British vocabulary. Our vocabulary has been infused with British words like rubbish, car boot, and high care ward as opposed to emergency and so on. Because Namibia was ruled by Afrikaner-speaking South Africans, and Rundu is on the border of Portuguese-speaking Angola, and there are many different tribal groups in the area, communication can be a challenge. We are consistently impressed with people we know who can understand 7 or more languages

Namibia became an English speaking country 19 years ago at independence and so there are many people that struggle to speak it as it was never part of the older generations education. The younger generation is now being taught by many teachers who don't have a strong understanding of the language so there are words and sayings that are meant to be “English” but would never be used anywhere else. We speak much more slowly now and our sentences structure has even changed.  

There are a lot of verbal and non-verbal communications that are now a part of our every day life and here are just some examples.

Greetings: When shaking hands, you often clap three times first as a sign of respect.  When greeting someone who is older than me or has a higher position of authority I place my left hand on my right forearm as we shake hands and women do a little curtsy dip as a sign of respect.  When greeting a closer friend the hug includes kisses on both cheeks. Hand shakes are often prolonged and the conversation will continue as you hold hands.  When passing someone, it is customary to greet, then say "ok" as you end the greeting, which in Rukwangali is "ewah" (eh-waaaah). “Ewah” can also be used as an acceptable greeting/acknowledgement of presence if you are passing the person more than once in the same day.

Asking questions:  In the Kwangali culture, a whole conversation can be had without words.  If I want something that is visible, I must only clap my hands and point at the object.  The person that I am asking has a few possible ways of answering me.  There is the eyebrow raise which indicates yes, the chin jut that indicated yes, or the eyes looking to the side which means no.  If I can take the item, I may pick the item up and clap a thanks with a little curtsy dip or if handed the item take it with my right hand while my left hand rests on my right forearm.  A perfectly acceptable way of saying no is indicated by the twisting of the hand, and generally used if the item is not there or they cannot help you.

Getting someone's attention: Here in Rundu one must be very careful about how you wave hello.  The hand must be showed palm forward and shaken in a side to side manner.  If you try to say hello by holding your hand still and moving your fingers up and down it means “come here”! Also it is customary to get someone's attention verbally by calling them “nane” (nah-neh - mother) or “tate” (tah-teh - father).  This applies to everyone who is older than you.  If they are younger than you, you can call them kado (kah-doe)(girl) or boyi (boy-ee)(boy).

I'm coming now now: When one is going somewhere and will be right back, we would say "I'll be right back".  Here, you say "I'm coming ".  The 'now now' means I am coming back within fifteen minutes to a half hour.  'I'm coming now' gives the person about an hours time frame, and if they simple say 'I'm coming' it means that they will come back at some point during the day!

Neh?: This is very similar to the Canadian, “eh”. It is used to qualify or verify information or to make sure that the listener understood the speaker's intention.  If I am talking to someone and I want to make sure that I understood correctly then I will say "You are going to town to get some food, neh?"  Then she can answer yes or no to verify that I have heard her correctly.  It can also be used just to add emphasis to the end of a sentence.  

Izit?: In Afrikaans, which also heavily influences Namlish, it is very common to verify a statement with 'izit?'.  I think at home we would say 'is that true', 'really, I didn't know that', or 'I've never heard that before'. Daryl has adopted this well, sometimes too well! Also, “so?” (pronounced “Tsoe” but the “o” is held for about a second) is a variation on this.

Of course this is just a small sample of some of the language differences and who knows what you will hear coming from our mouths! I need to give credit to Kimmie, who wrote the outline of this entry initially to her friends and family so she did the bulk of the work!

To view some pictures of some random signs taken in Namibia click here:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=73441&id=518018255&l=d6afde4365

Death and Dying in Northern Namibia

We have been overwhelmed with the pervasiveness of death throughout our time in Rundu. In North America, the death of someone we know is a shocking but thankfully rare occurrence: here, death confronts us unrelentingly. Almost every week, the church choir has been at some sort of memorial service or other in the community, and we have often felt the suffocation of grief that shrouds the community.

We attended a memorial service and burial for the first time last weekend: one of the cooks in the OVC program became sick suddenly and died, which came as a heavy blow to us all. When someone dies here, the proper things is to go and sit with the family at their home and grieve with them. In the time leading up to the burial, someone is always around the family, sometimes simply just sitting alongside them.

The night of the memorial service, a tent-like structure was erected in the midst of the family's yard, and many hundreds of people had crammed in. A friend of ours instructed us as to what was culturally sensitive and required of us, such as paying respects to the father and mother of the deceased. The night was filled with histories and sermons, and many many, songs. When someone dies in the community, choirs from the surrounding churches come, and so boundaries are erased in the face of grief. At many points, different mourners would break down into hysterical wailing, and there were lumps in our throats as we participated with them in their grief. While we returned home after the service, most people stayed the entire night, singing songs and waiting with the family.

The next day was a Sunday and we all reconvened at 8am for the funeral service. The choirs met the “hearse” (a pickup truck with a canopy) which had brought the body from the hospital, and the casket was carried the final 500m into the church on the shoulders of the singing choir. We were amazed at the numbers of people who had gathered for the funeral, several times the capacity of the church. Again, 8 different choirs from different churches had shown up, this time from a wider geographical area, all bringing a song or two as there contribution to the mourning. Each would wait patiently outside the church until it was their time, then would squeeze into the packed building through a side door and sing their songs, then exit to make way for the next choir. After the service, we all accompanied the casket to the local graveyard and said final farewells. We were told that many would be accompanying the family back to their home to spend more time with them sitting and grieving.

Other reminders of death happen nearly daily. When we arrive at the hospital at 8 am, we are usually met by a caravan of vehicles coming from the mortuary, with singing choirs in cars following the released body as the hearse drives slowly to wherever the final destination is.

Another haunting notifier of death heard much too frequently in the halls of the hospital is a “death wail”. This unmistakeable designation of tragedy comes from yet another mother walking/stumbling to the hospital exit from the pediatric ward, sobbing and lamenting spasmodically as she flees the news that her child has just died.

Children die in Namibia at obscene rates, from diseases that should be treatable or preventable. The statistics from 2007 showed that 24,000 children died in Namibia of malnutrition, which is especially shocking when one considers the population of Namibia is only 1.8 million. Many people still look on western medicine with suspicion, and will try all sorts of traditional medicines before coming to the hospital. The patient is usually on death's door and usually has had their conditions aggravated by traditional remedies, but if the patient dies while in the hospital, it reinforces the idea that western medicine is to blame or has failed. We have spoken with many frustrated hospital staff who wish people would seek help when it was needed, not after every other avenue was explored.

Life is hard and altogether too short here in Rundu.

A Broken Foot

A few weeks ago while playing soccer with the boys at OVC program, Daryl broke a bone in his foot. We were able to get an X-ray quite quickly, but there was some uncertainty with the image so we drove the next day to the capital city, Windhoek, to get a CT scan and the advice of an orthopaedic surgeon. The results were that the 1^st metatarsal was fractured in too many pieces to perform surgery, so that rest and time was the only option for treatment. We were relieved to avoid surgery.

The sight of a white guy on crutches hiking through the sand is one that elicits a lot of curiosity and attention. The first few days Daryl was wearing an Aircast, and he might as well have been from outer-space. We were able to switch to a much-lighter fibreglass cast for the next couple of weeks, and the entire cast is now covered with signatures of the kids.

O little town of Rundu

Rundu is a small town on the Northern border of Namibia and sits beside the Okavango River which separates the Nambian soil from its northern neighbour Angola. We get the privilege of seeing the river daily as we drive in and out of town and it offers some of the most spectacular sunset views.

I recently heard that Rundu used to be considered one of the prettiest and most picturesque towns in ALL of South West Africa!!! This was in the days before Independence (18+ years ago) when there was a large army base and a lot of money in the town, and things certainly have changed. For many complicated reasons, this region is now one of the poorest region in Namibia and Rundu has been greatly affected. There is garbage everywhere on the side of the streets, often smoldering in big burning piles that have been pushed together in an empty lot. People urinate whenever and wherever they feel the need. Water is expensive, so the beautiful gardens have fallen into disrepair. Stray, rabid dogs roam the streets, and there seems to be a general lack of concern and civic pride, at least compared to other Namibian towns we have visited.

Rundu is developing by the day though. Even in the short time we have been here land has been developed and buildings erected (but remain empty…). There is a lot of anticipation that Rundu will become an even greater economic hub for this whole region, especially with future plans to build a bridge between here and the northern Angolan city, Calai (when, exactly, is anyone‘s guess). There are 5 main grocery stores, a few clothing shops, and a random assortment of other businesses. There are innumerable “china shops” which peddle nearly identical cheap sandals, clothes and electronics: “Made in China“. Unfortunately even with all the Chinese living in Rundu, there are no Chinese restaurants.

We have a new two-story mall, which has the talk of the town since its opening in November. Now, unlike the opening of a mall elsewhere, this “grand opening” meant that there were two stores open while the rest of the mall remained in construction. Literally you would be walking under unfinished construction with men working while getting your groceries. The main construction is more or less finished but the mall remains only partially occupied by stores, mostly stores that already existed in town that picked up and moved locations only to leave an empty building somewhere else.

There really are two main reasons to go to the mall. First to ride the escalator (when it is working). Yes, this is what Rundu folk do for fun. It is the first escalator the majority of people have ever seen and most importantly ever been on. There were a few small mishaps, a few injuries and one rumoured death (in truth someone had a heart attack in the general vicinity of the escalator, but rumours die hard around here). There is also a spot in the mall for an elevator, but there is no signs of building it so we are unsure what the likely hood is that it will ever be built.

The other attraction at the mall is the “Hungry Lion” which is the first and only fast-food restaurant here. It is a fried chicken joint similar to a KFC but ironically is often out of chicken…(if that’s what it even is!). As far as other restaurants go, there is a coffee shop in town (not at the mall) that is a nice place to grab breakfast and lunch and it is run by a friendly Afrikaans family and generally attracts the other Afrikaaners and foreign workers. All the other restaurants in town are in association with lodges, some much better than others.

The open market is where many of the locals hang out. People have all sorts of random things to sell: food like vegetable, nuts, grains, fat cakes (similar to a donut), frozen fish, and fresh meat, as well as a food court (serving pap, mutete, and oshikundu). You can also find hair salons, clothing stalls, tailors, used clothing shops, and my favourite, shitanges (which are pieces of material used for practically everything but most commonly a skirt). I have a small obsession with them!

The last day of the month, which is referred to as “Kavango Day“, is payday for those that have jobs and people come from the whole region to collect money from the bank (or get money from relatives who have jobs) and to usually spend all of their wages in one weekend. Yikes. People are everywhere and the streets are packed, line-ups unreal and usually the hospital is full on Monday morning with injuries resulting from bar fights. We try to do our shopping the day before for obvious reasons! In contrast, once the shops close at 1pm on Saturdays the town becomes ghost-like until Monday morning.

We just recently got a couple street names, with a sign even!! There are only a few paved roads in town the rest is sand, sand, sand. During the dry season the sand becomes suspended in the air turning into a hazy fog. The sun sets far above the actual horizon as it sets into the thick layer of sand. Since the rainy season we now have clear skies (when the clouds part) and breathe much cleaner air. The downside is intense that the roads are obliterated with pot holes and at dusk there are swarms of malaria-bearing mosquitoes. The rains have ushered in green everywhere, and all the neighbouring villages have plenty of corn fields just on the verge of harvesting.

As the region is a farming community, it is no surprise to find cows walking the streets (they are huge!), goats galore, donkeys (usually with their front legs tied together so they don’t wander) and chickens running madly this way and that. Being a big city girl, it cracks me up every time!! As you can see the stop sign's do not apply to cows...this picture was taken one block form our house!



For some other great shots of Rundu check out:
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=64528&id=518018255&l=35cc6

Our little AIM team

In the last few months we have seen a few changes to our team here in Rundu.

Early December we said goodbye to an amazing lady, Dr. Mary Bennett from England. Mary served here for a two year term as a teacher in the College of Education here in Rundu, the training center for teachers in this region. Education has become, in my opinion the number one area that needs desperate help in this country. The day after independence only 18 years ago, the President declared Namibia an English speaking country. Up to that point the schools mainly taught in the Africaans language but suddenly things changed. In the village of Kaisosi kids in grades 1-3 get one hour of English a day and then in grade 4 the classes are all taught in English. English is not spoken at home or in the communities and so this transition is tough on the students and the number of kids that pass subsequent grades decreases significantly. One of the biggest problem is that the teachers also struggle with English, and so the quality of the teaching decreases significantly. Hearing stories from Mary and some of the other teachers at the college has helped me see that English proficiency (and hence education in general) in this country has a long way to go when compared to the majority of its African neighbours. Mary was also very committed to serving the church, setting up training for Sunday school teachers, writing Bible studies and spending time with the ladies in the church doing sewing projects. A very encouraging, hard working, and inspiring woman of God. Rundu will be forever changed.

We have just said goodbye to Kimmie this past week as she headed back to America after 3 years in Rundu. Kimmie is a nurse that was working as a NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit) nurse back at home and so was quickly slotted into the paediatric ward here at Rundu State Hospital, as there is no specialized ward here. Kimmie served faithfully on the ward for 2 years doing a 4 on 4 off rotation, and had many horrific stories of her time in the hospital. Her time there was no doubt very necessary as she tried to bring insight, and a strong work ethic, not to mention a passion and deep love for sick kids. After 2 years Kimmie was promoted to In-service Training Coordinator which was a nice change from the ward (although she continued to do one shift a week on the ward). But the new position came with its own set of struggles. As we have mentioned in past blog entries, the work ethic here is disparagingly low and she found that the nurses weren’t very interested in continuing education, attendance was low and not all that appreciated. By the end of 3 years, Kimmie was excited to go back home for the first time and see all her friends and family and we applaud her for her perseverance! She is missed already.

After unloading all of Kimmie’s luggage off at airport and saying our goodbyes, we turned around and packed the car full again with 2 girls, Nicole and Tricia and all their belongings and headed back on the road up to Rundu. Nicole and Tricia are close friends from Louisville, Kentucky (pronounced Louvull for all us non Americans!). To quote Daryl, “they are two angels sent to us from God”. They are both bright rays of sunshine and full of joy and laughter. What a huge blessing!

Tricia is also a NICU nurse in the States, but instead of entering the hospital scene will spend the next two months loving on the kids at our OVC project and helping me get some of the overwhelming administrative tasks organized, of which I am so thankful! She has already been keen to jump into wound care at the project and has the sweetest attitude.

Nicole has a Masters in Dispute Resolution and works with kids who have emotional disability. Can you imagine how excited we are to have her here!!! Nicole has already jumped right into our meetings with the social worker trying to bring much needed aid to our kids in abusive situations. We just found out that the social worker will be away for the next 6 weeks, so I feel that “for such a time as this” she has been sent to do a great work. Nicole has committed to a 6 month term here in Namibia but as we are leaving Rundu in 2 months (!), we are unsure as to whether she will stay here (we are praying for someone else to come and join her) or head back down to Windhoek to finish her term there.

The kids at project are over the moon excited to meet and play with these energetic and fun loving girls, they all want to be their new best friends. They are a gigantic gift.

Building a hut and so much more...

Our last blog entry was in regards to one of our orphans at the project, “Jessica”. Although there were no signs of another physical beating, things continued to look dismal. Both her grandmother and her aunty kicked her off of their properties and she was literally sleeping under a tree, in rainy season.

A couple of weeks back I was sitting with Jess asking lots of questions as I usually do and found out that there was some tin roofing at her uncle’s (in a different village) that had been left by her parents for her and her brother but they could never afford the rest of the construction material to build the hut. The tin roofing is one of the bigger expenses in building a hut and is a huge start so immediately my heart said that we needed to build this hut for her, and we needed to do it ASAP.

The question was, where should we build it? With the Grandma, who treats these kids as slaves (no joke), or with her aunt who is an alcoholic and turns to violence when under the influence? With the help of our dear friend Zeka as translator we started to talk to neighbours to find out some outside perspective. Grandma said she didn’t want the hut on her property because she felt “aunty would be too upset”…don’t know if that was the whole truth. Then the aunty came in search of us.

We spent two hours sitting with aunty, Jess and her brother trying to mediate between them. Aunty began with a very defensive and angry attitude saying that these kids are practically her own as she has been responsible for them since their mother died when Jess was 5 and her brother was 10 days old. She was adamant that the hut be built on her property.

We then wanted to try to understand why she was kicking Jess off the property if she wanted her so badly. Some of the answers were: she is still wetting the bed, she is sleeping around with a married man, and she refuses to sleep next to another teenage boy. We asked Jess to leave so that we could talk to aunty alone. We explained that she is wetting the bed because of the physical abuse when she was younger and that she is not doing it intentionally, and by telling the community she is embarrassing her even more. We asked what evidence she had that Jess was sleeping with this man and she said “she heard it from someone” (Jess was beside herself with tears when this was brought up and told us that the rumours were unfounded), so we again tried to explain that shunning “her own daughter” for something that she could not prove was extremely hurtful, especially to a 13 year old girl with a history of sexual abuse. Then we tried to explain that it was understandable that Jess didn’t want to share a hut with another boy because she already feels unsafe. These are but some of the issues that came up and it is evident that there will need to be much intervention and counselling in order to restore this relationship.

The next day, Zeka and Daryl spent the afternoon purchasing materials for the house (basically wandering around the village to different spots where piles of wood and sticks were for sale, then Zeka haggling over the price with Daryl trying to stay out of the way so we didn't have to pay the "Sharumbu" (white person) price.) The next morning at 6 am, with all the material bought, we picked up our team of workers that Zeka had recruited and began building the mud hut from scratch (see pictures!).
http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=1325336&l=a0f75&id=518018255

We were praying for no rain and were so thankful that for two and half days, we were rain-free giving the majority of the hut time to dry. We had an incredible day being in the community and blessing Jess (and her brother who will live there with Jess when he is a bit older).

We had been feeling quite a bit of frustration and disappointment with a multitude of things regarding the project these last few weeks and what an uplifting and positive experience it was in the face of all the negativity to produce something good.

As an update, I met with the social worker yesterday (finally) and she is going to gather a team of colleagues to meet with the family next week. We are very keen to involve these folks, so that the family understands that it is not just our opinion that what they are doing is wrong. The team will also explain their actions are against the law and warn them that they have the right to remove the children if things don’t improve. We are also hoping to get some information translated regarding alcohol abuse. Please pray for us as we seek to show love and grace all the while helping to protect and counsel those that are hurting.

A story about a girl

I arrived at Kaisosi village for choir practice only to run into one of our orphans who is 13 years old, lets call her Jess (a very non-Namibian name!). As is customary we greeted each other by saying that we were both doing well, all the while I was starring at some relatively fresh wounds over her face, arms, and legs. It turned out things were not going well for her at all.

Jess is a troubled teen. I think both parents have died, but it’s presumed that there was some sexual, emotional and physical abuse as a young child. Currently she lives sometimes with her Grandmother, sometimes with her drunk Aunt and sometimes under no shelter at all depending on whether she was kicked out from her “home”.

Jess was the first orphan I met upon arrival here. She speaks confidently in English, unlike most kids her age, and I warmed to her immediately. She’s bright, has a great leadership skills, is willing to help out at project when we need it and has a beautiful singing voice. She craves friendship and role models as was evident in her friendships with all the other female missionaries that have passed through. It also didn’t take long to be filled in by the others that she was constantly in and out of trouble.

This past year before her 13th birthday we had her tested for HIV…she hadn’t even had her first period yet. Thankfully she was negative. She has almost been kicked out of school on numerous occasions, but for the grace of God (and the kind Principle) is still able to attend. It seems she has many enemies…I have had to bring needle and thread to help her mend her school uniform after a bunch of older girls came to bully her because they were jealous that she was hanging out with white people. Through my biased eyes I see a tender, loving, good kid with a sharp tongue and a broken heart.

One thing I have learned here more than at home, is that “there are always two sides to a story”. I get phones calls from her relatives telling me how horrible she is and the horrible things she does, and then I hear her side of the story…In my opinion, Jess is acting like a hurting 13 year old, and her caregivers are acting just as young and immature. Their main complaint is that “she doesn’t have any respect”, honestly I don’t know that I would either.

Respect. In this culture, if you are even one year older than someone, then you have more authority and you deserve respect. It has got to be one of the most misused and misunderstood words here. I often sit with the kids trying to teach them that as much as it is important to respect their elders, respect and trust are things that are earned and treating others with love and honour will help to earn it. I think that Jess acts out in anger and frustration because she knows that those in authority over her don’t treat her with any respect either.

So why the recent scarring? She is one of the lucky few that actually gets a monthly grant from the government, an equivalent of about 25 Canadian dollars a month. Half of the money is suppose to be for the caregiver and half for the child. Well, her drunk Aunt was demanding she give her portion over, but Jess needed to buy a new school uniform. Jess was stubborn and wouldn’t give the money over so the Aunt started to beat her, but she felt like she couldn’t do a good enough job, so she got a tall 20 something year old guy to come and do the job for her. What kills me is that a whole crowd formed to watch…no one with the guts to stop it, speak out or protect her.

My heart fell when she told me her story. She said she went to the police but they told her she was too young to make a statement. I called the social worker, but she’s in South Africa for a week. As we hung out, she pointed to the guy that beat her, just close by. My heart wanted to hate him, although I knew there was no solution in that. So, I cuddled up next to her, held her close and said I was sorry all the while trying not to ball my eyes out right then and there. I wish I could rescue her, and give her a chance to see life without abuse, hatred and pain, instead all I can do is love her for the short period of time that God has placed me in her life.