As most of you know, I’m back in the USA. Again, already. My most recent “tab”: the unprecedented evacuation of all 7300 Peace Corps volunteers, serving world-wide in 61 different countries. The fear was not Peace Corps Volunteers falling sick with COVID-19, per se, but more the rapid closures of borders/airports that might have prevented us leaving our countries of service for any reason. Now, two weeks removed from evacuation, seeing that Namibia (and other countries) did shut down borders and even inter-regional travel, such a seemingly drastic move by Peace Corps at the time (there were 2 cases in Namibia with no local transmission), actually seems like just enough at the perfect moment. Still, the 12-hour evacuation notice made my last days in Namibia so hard. Too hard for me to actually process, even now, even in a 14-day quarantine. But I’m trying to come to terms.
Life, as always, makes more sense looking back.
I had a pretty good ending without realizing it. In school, we had a few weeks left in the term and were about to start exams. The week before evacuation, we finished our last term test and consequently finished the entire syllabus. In the Namibian education system, a lot of emphasis is spent on revising, so that’s why we were so ahead. I even joked with my learners that “my work is done” and “I can go back to America now”. Did I jinx it…?
Premonitory jokes aside, I had serious remedial and review work to do with the majority of my 184 learners. 184 learners that I’ve known since last year, that I’ve gotten to know as individuals and see tangible improvement (no matter how small!) in math and other classes. These are my kids, and we had 2 fun terms ahead of us. These were 184 learners who I didn’t get to say goodbye to, who might not understand why I left or why I’m not coming back. The Namibian government actually shut down schools the same day I was evacuated, so it helps to think that while I’m at home, I couldn’t have been doing my primary work in Namibia anyway. And when my learners do go back to school, I at least feel better knowing they have seen all of the material at least once. They can do it. I just wish I was there to coach them and see even more growth.
Outside school, the Sunday afternoon before the evacuation notice, my host sister invited me to join her at my host family’s field. Thankfully it was cool and cloudy, and we trekked the 1 km in the bush to get to their plot that was teeming with maize, millet, melons, squash, and sugar cane. As we made it to the field, the nice little clouds that provided us respite from the heat suddenly blotted out the sun and started to release nice cooling little droplets. Then more and more droplets…until it was pouring, and cool became cold. The wind decided to join in on the fun and thunder-lightning followed shortly after. We ran back to a small lean-to at the gate of the field, me struggling with my melon baby and awkwardly long sugar cane through the stalks of 6-ft maize. It was exhausting and fun, even though there were a few times I thought for sure the lightning would hit one of us.
We waited it out for about 20 minutes until walking back to my host sister’s lapa (courtyard). There, it started pouring again so we waited with her mother inside their house, where she showed me pictures of the family and her old village and all my host sisters. The rain was too loud to talk, but it was nice passing and sharing and smiling. Finally, the rain stopped long enough for me to trek my last 1 km home. As is culturally polite, my host sisters escorted me half the way to help me carry all the pickings they gave me–a huge melon, ears of maize, and sugar cane. The last half of the walk I insisted I could do alone, with some combination of carrying things on my head and in my arms (my learners got a kick out of seeing me walk past the hostel like that).
At home, soaked to the bone, Auxilia greeted me warmly and helped me put all my goodies away and get hot water boiling for a bucket bath while peeling my sugar cane. I felt so welcomed and honored to have so many people around to take care of me and teach me and share their life with me. Auxilia’s daughters were visiting and staying with us, and Kasona and another colleague stopped by. It was nice to just be there, together spontaneously. Which made the evacuation announcement the next morning so much harder. I felt like I was “finally” getting used to so many things: finally making my teaching more efficient, finally reaching my “trouble” learners, finally strengthening relationships with roommates/friends/host families, finally seeing hard work pay off, finally at ease with my PC lifestyle.
I’ve avoided this post. It’s not something I thought I’d be confronted with until 7 months down the line. Returning to the US wasn’t even on my horizon. In Peace Corps, 7 months can feel like a lifetime, so I was just taking it day-by-day. I was appreciating these “finally’s” and looking forward to strengthening them.
But, looking back, I’m glad I had this last week and day of blissful gratitude. I do obviously wish I had longer time to say goodbye, and to curate my thoughts and to spend more time with everyone, but that’s life. And without expecting to be going, I was glad I was starting to live my life in the present.
Now the challenge? Living in the present back in America. My brain feels everywhere but the present. I look at the past, at how things just were, often; I look warily at the future, at how things might be, unfortunately much more often. And it’s exhausting to bounce back and forth. Being present is getting a bit easier every day; especially by day 14 of my quarantine. Post jet lag, I am starting to get re-inspired about life and my future and just today and now and this morning. One of the best “decompressors” I had in Namibia, I’ve now applied back in the US: bird watching. The most adaptable animal, birds are everywhere. Thriving in all conditions, traveling the world, living in the present. I never noticed them growing up and am now having so much fun sitting in our breakfast nook watching and listening to the lives of chickadees, nuthatches, and even the crows. It’s a whole new world I’ve been oblivious to before Peace Corps. As little as it may seem, these birds ground me and bring me back to the now. They remind me to keep adapting, enjoying, and singing.
I’ll close out my Peace Corps posts in a few weeks; I had some drafts lingering that I still want to share and will now help bring me closure. In the meantime, what’s next? For the first time in my life, I’m completely at a loss. But, I’ll figure it out, and I’ll let you know when I do.
Here’s some closing pictures of my village–some favorite sunsets, sunrises, and memories I’ll hold onto until I visit again.
What a beautiful place I called home
My host family’s field.
My watermelon baby!
I tried to ku tengana (carry on my head). I was getting the hang of it, but nothing like my host sisters who can effortlessly ku tengana– with or without hands.
Miss them already!
Last meal at the open market in town– pounded meat, pap, veggies, and soup.
Saying goodbye to the Zambezi River (which is so high now!).
Last (thankfully) overnight bus trip to Windhoek. This time, with every volunteer in my region.
Peace Corps Namiba
Somewhere on Leg 1: Chartered Flight Namibia–Ethiopia. Then Leg 2: Chartered Flight Ethiopia–Ghana–DC. Then Leg 3: DC–Denver–Durango (on a flight with 4 other people…).
Quarantine silver lining: staying at home with my mom and cooking, hiking, and Netflixing everyday to “decompress”.
Hope you’re all staying safe and healthy– talk to you soon!