240: Countdown: Forty Days to Go

Every day our friends ask us if we're excited about leaving for our round-the world trip next month. The truth is that we're exhausted. I don't know how it's possible that our “To-Do” list still keep growing, but it does. And then there are all the good-byes we have to squeeze in – very gratifying but they tug at our heartstrings. Even though we plan to come back next year for at least several weeks, it’s hard to leave a country – and the people – we’ve come to love.

Nevertheless, the logistics of leaving are well underway. We conducted a sample packing and were able to stuff everything into two big suitcases, two small back-packs, and a carry-on. Former students Lydia and Pandu will move into our home next week (they’re the couple who got married in Namibia Diary #222) and their baby (!!!) should arrive before we leave. Our dogs will also get a new home, though I dread saying good- bye to them as much as to our human-friends.

A couple days ago Bernd and I went in search of elephants one last time. We found them at a watering hole at night, shortly after watching two lions mate and also seeing rhino, giraffe and assorted other mammals and birds. (We splurged for our 30th wedding anniversary and stayed at a new game-farm

that is larger than the countries of Lichtenstein and Andorra combined.) Still ahead of us is one last visit to Gobabeb, the desert- based research center where Elsita works. She also has exciting news: The faculty at Israel’s Ben Gurion University have invited her to join their Master’s Degree program in Desert Ecology, starting in October.

Unfortunately, we won’t get to see Sergio before our departure. He remains in Japan and is unable to take home-leave.

USEFUL INFORMATION YOU PROBABLY DIDN’T KNOW:

Question: Do you know how to tell the difference between the way male and female elephants leave their poop?

Answer: Males poop in a row, while walking. Females stop, poop in more-or-less one place, and add urine. (No kidding! I also bet if they had toilet seats they would also put down the rim.)

Meanwhile, we are still heavily engaged at our work. Bernd finishes teaching at the Polytechnic in a couple weeksand still plans an 8-day hike with Elsita and her friends (see Namibia Diaries #132 for the route). And starting later today, I must still travel for three-weeks to Zambia for the Stephen Lewis Foundation and also finish up writing two life-skills curricula for youth.

Training at Osire Refugee Camp

One of the curricula I’m writing led to an interesting experience last week. In order to pre-test it, I had arranged a five-day workshop at Namibia’s Osire Refugee Camp, about 3 hours from Windhoek on the edge of the Kalahari. Since the curriculum is designed for use in many countries (to be published by Strategies for Hope – www.stratshope.org), the multi-ethnic composition of the Refugee Camp made for a good fit. Moreover, all the youngsters (ages 11-15) spoke good English -- thanks to the presence of an English-medium government primary school on-site.

About 7000 people live at the Camp, mostly from Angola, the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Rwanda and Burundi. Many of the young people, like the student Sofiana who moved in with us eighteen months ago, have lived there most of their lives. The place is like a massive low-security prison, completely surrounded by a high-wire fence -- albeit with dozens of churches, several mosques, a makeshift market, a health clinic, a library, school, and a large police station inside.

Although everyone living at the Camp has been found by the U.N. High Commission for Refugees to have a “well- founded fear of persecution” (which theoretically allows them to stay at the Camp indefinitely), the Namibian government doesn’t like the fact that the services to which they are entitled cost a lot of money (i.e. the school, health-clinic, police, etc), and the government wants them to go home as soon as possible. Thus, they keep things uncomfortable by reducing food subsidies to a minimum and disallowing electricity and running water except in a few public buildings. Families must also construct their own homes and latrines from mud-bricks and straw, and find their own way to make a living. Most supplement their diet by coaxing vegetables, beans and maize out of the meager soil. Others engage in buying and selling, as even cracked pots and worn-down clothing have value in this forsaken place.

Several good-Samaritan Non-Governmental Organizations try to make life reasonable by offering English-language classes, income-generating activities, theology training and youth-programs. This is how I slipped in, although I was still required to get a Government permit for entry. Fortunately, I had been to the Camp several times before and I already had a good relationship with Gabriel Sehenu, the volunteer Coordinator of the Osire Boys’ and Girls’ Clubs (himself a refugee from the DRC and a teacher in the Camp’s school). Together we recruited nineteen youngsters, met with their legal guardians, and subsequently held three two-hour sessions every day for an entire week in order to test and revise the curriculum.

The kids were great! The curriculum includes a lot of games, drawing and role-plays, so we could have lots of fun together. Gabriel and I addressed issues of sex and sexuality, how to solve problems, good study-habits, self- esteem, “Who is my Hero?”, “What is Love?,” HIV & AIDS, and issues of addiction and alcohol abuse. While I got lots of tips about how improve the curriculum, overall the workshop was a great success. By the second day, our anonymous Question-Box was filled with 23 questions that the participants wanted us to talk about – everything from menstruation to career guidance -- and that meant staying until very late each afternoon. But nobody minded.

I also became “mother confessor” to a few of the girls who sought my advice on personal issues. Most concerning was an incredibly bright and articulate 14- year-old named Rosa who told me on the third day that I was “the first adult to know” that she is pregnant, based on a Clinic-test she took a few days before. Oh, my heart broke as I felt her dreams just crumble to bits in my fingers!

Over the next few days, Rosa and I spent several hours talking things through. Rosa has been motherless since the age of five – and has been living alone for the last three years since her father moved in with a new girlfriend. (Tragically, there are quite a few child- headed households in the Camp.) She told me that she didn’t want an abortion --which would be illegal anyway, given Namibian law -- because her only sibling had died from a botched abortion three years ago. Rosa also said that her 17-year old boyfriend admits his role, but he is scared of his parents’ reaction and refuses to talk to them about it. No wonder this girl is feeling lost, lonely and vulnerable!

I tried to help Rosa put her new-found problem-solving skills into practice: Define the Challenge; Identify the Choices; Think through the Consequences; and then Make the best Decision... Unfortunately, the Camp contains very few resources with which to assist, as I’m told

this type of story repeats itself almost every week. Above all, Rosa and I decided that she must try to stay in school to finish her basic education. By the end of the week, she agreed to tell Gabriel about her situation and he said he would help with the school authorities. But how will she support herself and her baby? Who can help guide her through the tough times ahead?

Driving back to Windhoek after the training, I wondered if I could do more if we stayed longer in Namibia. The answer is, “Not easily.” Once I am physically away from the Camp, my only linkage can be through Gabriel. He has received some training in counseling and wants to learn more. So Bernd and I agreed we would try to help him with his goals and he, in turn, said he will do what little he can for Rosa...

Yours truly, Lucy