Study Abroad e-diaries
Erin Burns-Maine '08
Sociology major
Currently studying in Namibia, Southern Africa for the 2007 spring semester
Email: April 2, 2007
Hello All!
The past three weeks living out of my backpack went by in a whirlwind.
On March 12 the trip began when our entire program stuffed ourselves into 2 vans, and drove across the Namib Desert to the beautiful coastal city of Swakopmund. On the way there, we got a flat tire, and had a fun break to run around the desert during the sunset. We spent two full days in Swakop, and we got to swim in the ocean!!! Which was a real treat. My favourite part though was the day I spent 4-wheeling (ATVing) in the sand dunes with two friends. It was so surreal, and an big adrenaline rush.
From Swakop we headed North to the town of Omaruru which is home to several Herrero farming villages. We were dropped off with our families for the rural homestay. I was in the village of Ozandati, with a family that spoke VERY little English. My small knowledge of Oji-Herrero grew very quickly when I was trying to figure out where the family went to the bathroom. My family of 3 stayed in a one-room cow-dung hut, which I stayed with them in for the week. There was no electricity or running water, but I grew to love the routine of daily life.
We woke up early, split wood for the fire, built the fire to boil tea water. We then prepared breakfast of bread and tea, and then got started with chores. We milked the goats, then walked them up the mountain that bordered the village. Then we started work. My host mother was a self-proclaimed "business woman" and she was very hard working. Every day we baked 8 loaves of bread and about 50 fat cakes (amazing rolls that are similar to fried dough). We baked the bread in a old metal barrel with one rack in it, building a small fire underneath and on the top of the barrel. The fat cakes we cooked one by one in a small pot on the fire. It was very hot, especially in the afternoons, there was no shade, and sitting over a fire is not a good place to be. But, I loved the satisfaction of the work, and slept very well at night. In the afternoons, neighbours would walk over to buy bread and cakes, we always sold out. "Omaere" is sour milk, left to sit out all day in the sun until it curdles. Every lunch and dinner, we had "Omuhere"- porridge (maize meal) with omaere poured over it. I got used to it, and honestly it didn¹t taste as sour as I thought it would, but must admit I became a little tired of it.
The two little boys (4 and 6 years old) in the family spoke no English, and got a big kick out of me. One day, my host mother told me that they had found me a present. I thought this was sweet, but went on with my day and forgot about it. That night, I was the first one into the house, lit a candle, and was surprised by a wooden carving of a snake placed right in the middle of my pillowŠ gifts are all about the presentation!
After our home stay, I was very upset to leave the family I became so close with. I loved my week on the farm. But we were squished back into the vans and were onto Etosha National Park. We did a 9-hour game drive in the park, the next day, where we saw rhinos, elephants, giraffes, zebras, springboks, and ostriches. It was really amazing to be so close to some of these animals.
The next day, our March break began. The program Combs dropped a group of us travelling to Victoria Falls off in a small town called Otjiwarongo at 10 am, we were catching a bus at 9 pm. The day went by, and we waited at a random gas station at 9pm (like it said on the ticket) and sure enough, the bus came a half hour later. The bus ride was 20 hours long, but we were excited, so the time past quickly. We arrived in Livingstone, Zambia at a great backpackers hostel, and immediately hopped on a dinner boat cruise to watch the sunset on the Zambezi river. We spent a couple more days exploring the falls, there were hiking routes and lots of different views. Then a smaller group of 6 of us decided to go to Zimbabwe. Ashley (Emerson- Gilbert for Clarkies), one of the girls we travelled with, had made a friend who was driving across the border that day, and he let us hop in the back of his truck and helped us across. The border crossing was sketchy, it was clear that some of the workers wanted to confuse us into bribing them, we were happy to have our local friend to help us.
We stayed in another backpackers hostel in Zimbabwe, much smaller, but it had really good music on 24 hours a day. The biggest difference between Zimbabwe and Zambia was the economic turmoil going on in Zimbabwe. The first day we were there, the exchange rate was 20,000 Zim dollars to one American dollar. The day we left, it had fallen to 8,000 Zim dollars to one American dollar. The prices at every restaurant changed everyday, and when someone said to us, "the strongest currency you can bring to Zimbabwe is your old clothing," they were right. People would rather trade for clothing than use the erratic currency.
The view of the falls was spectacular from the Zim side, so we spent a lot of time at the falls. We were walking along and there was a break in the fencing above the falls. We carefully walked out to the edge, and Ashley and I took turns holding each other's feet as we peered over the edge, it was incredible. One morning, a few of us walked along Zambezi Drive along the river, and got very close to a pair of elephants hanging out in the Zambezi, and got to see a lot of funny little monkeys.
We returned to Zambia on Friday, and then caught the bus back to Windhoek Sunday afternoon. It was very hard to leave after having such an exciting three weeks, travelling that way is so surreal. The bus left at noon, and we got in at 6 am this morning. I have been at work at The Big Issue since 9 am and must admit I am a bit tired. Today is an exciting day though, because my article on water being sold in the settlements was published today in the April Issue!
The internet at the house is still down, but I love to get emails and updates from everyone!
Take care,Erin
Email: March 5, 2007
Hello All!
It has been a few weeks, but Windhoek has been treating us very well. The past few weeks have been busy with classes and work, but have been amazing.
My internship is at The Big Issue, which is part of an international organization of street papers. The Big Issue is distributed by homeless vendors only. The money is fair for the vendors, they buy the magazines for $N 3.75 (US equivalent of about $.0.50) and sell them for $N 8.75 (The US equivalent of about 1.25). So the vendors do quite well off of the magazine. It isn't meant to be a permanent job, but a way to transition back into stable employment. The Big Issue Namibia provides services out of the depot where I work, like literacy class, money management, art class, and other necessities like a shower and laundry machine. It is a socially aware paper and has been a great experience to work for them. I am working in the depot on the Women's Club, for homeless female vendors who want to learn to organize and start businesses. I also organize the weekly calendar of events for the depot, and get to spend time with some "street kids" who come when it is really hot in the afternoon, to stay out of trouble.
The most exciting part is that they are letting me write for the magazine. I am working on an issue on the privatization of water in the informal settlements (that I mentioned in the last email). Basically, water is a business here, and the people living in the shacks in the settlements are being exploited and paying more than people with plumbing in their houses. It is crazy. The pumps in the settlements are also known to eat all of the money people put on their pre-paid cards, and they never get restitution. But the cost of water is causing an unhealthy environment, and people on TB meds or HIV anti-retro viral meds cant take them because they are malnourished. I spent last Friday in the settlements talking to residents and got a demonstration of the ridiculous pump. I am hoping my article will go in the April issue. I have gotten to learn a ton about the city through this internship, and even spent a day in Government Park, following around these "ministers of housing" trying to get them to tell me about the settlements. Government spending here is about as transparent as a brick wall.
Speaking of government, Robert Mugabe (President of Zimbabwe/ oppressive dictator) came to speak in Namibia last week. Zimbabwe has been plummeting in the past decade, mostly due to some of the decisions he has made. He has a terrible track record with human rights. A couple of us went and protested with the National Society for Human Rights, at the Zimbabwean Embassy. There was a row of about 50 police officers with batons and large rifles standing in a row. It was a peaceful protest, with a little Bob Marley and some speakers, and unfortunately the crowd was only about 200, because our Zimbabweans didn't show up.
We later found out that the reason being that the 200 Zimbabweans that were on their way to join us were being followed by government agents and having their pictures taken. Once your photo was taken, these government agents would terrorize you and your family. The buses turned around for good reason, but that was one of those times that I realized how oppressed the population was. It was really difficult to hear.
One weekend I went to a rural farm with a couple other students. We road about hours stuffed in the back of a truck, and it was a real farm experience. We were invited through a friend of a friend (very random, but that's how you get around here), and went to vaccinate the animals. The farm was huge, covered in brush, mosquito heaven. They had 100 goats and 100 cattle, and we were to vaccinate each one, paint a spot on him, paint with tick repellent (aka motor oil I think), and ahem, ahem, castrate some of the male cattle to prevent inbreeding. Yes, yours truly castrated two cattle on her own. Not something I would do again, but I am proud of it. I also was good with painting on the spots. I will say that the farmers work SO HARD, I had no idea how much work it was to be on a farm, but I have huge respect for people who do it now. The house had no electricity, and that Saturday night, the farmhands came over and we all played dominos around a gas lamp. It was a very intense game, and went on for 3 hours, but so fun.
This past 10 days I was living with a family in Hochland Park, which is just outside the city of Windhoek (where I normally live). The family was a mother, father, and their 7-year-old daughter, Faith. My home stay mother was only 27, and originally from South Africa, she is a Xhosa. The father was from Windhoek, the Katutura area (little rough), and was Damara. My parents were not married, they said mainly because of being a mixed ethnic relationship. I had to take taxis into the city alone everyday for work and class, and got quite good at it. Taxis are different here, it is $N 6.50 (just about $1 US) to take you anywhere within the metro area, per person. This is nice to have exact change, but it also means you will be riding in a cab and suddenly he will bang a U-turn, pick up a family of 5, and you will suddenly have someone else's child on your lap stuffed in a little Volkswagen. But that's just one example. It was a good home stay, but I got a bit tired by the end.
I started playing soccer with a couple other girls in the house at The Polytechnic of Namibia, we are on the women's team. It has been a lot of fun so far, and it is really nice to be with local girls. One trend that I have noticed in my recent home stay as well as on the soccer team is that although Namibia has had independence for almost 2 decades now, the division among ethnicities is very clear. For those of you who are familiar with Marx (sorry I am a Sociology major), he said that in order for the ownership class to control the working class (in this case Whites control Blacks) they should divide them to avoid them establishing class-consciousness. The different ethnic groups such as Damara, Herrero, and about 10 others are clearly divided. There are so many ethnic stereotypes being perpetuated still, for example, "those Herrero people are too proud, it is rude, they may as well be the Germans". These are commonplace. Meanwhile I am standing there just thinking "umm. Yeah, I am white". But there are divisions between girls on the soccer team due to the stereotypes; these are girls that were toddlers when Namibia became independent. It is crazy how long it will take to "decolonize the mind".
Anyways, I am still trying to put a few pictures up for everyone, but it has been difficult. Our Internet is VERY slow. Next Monday, we leave for three weeks, traveling and having a home stay on a rural farm. But until then, keep in touch, I love getting emails!
Take care,
Erin
Email: Febuary 9, 2007
Hello All!
This has been an amazing past couple of weeks. We flew into Johannesburg on the 27th of January on an 18 hour nonunion flight. It wasn't as bad as I expected, because we were all so excited. The group of 20 students from all different schools met in the Washington D.C. airport and travelled from there together. My first culture shock came with meeting people from other parts of the country that I knew nothing about. I have grown to love our group of Minnesotans, and have learned a lot from them. In Joburg we stayed at a guest house that was convent- like. We toured Soweto the first couple of days, which is the neighborhood where the June 16th uprising of students against the teaching of Afrikaans in the schools took place. We met several people who were part of the uprisings; one told us how his 12 year old brother was killed by a police officer that day. A couple others were in jail for several years. It was eye-opening. We also visited the Apartheid museum, which was extremely well done, but also emotional. The worst part was seeing the brutal footage in colour and realizing that the violence was still going on in our lifetime. I had no idea how bad it had been while we were alive. The best part of the trip so far was last weekend, when we all divided up to live with families for four days.
I was placed in a house with one other girl, Jenna, in the Pimville area of Soweto. Soweto was (and still is) the all- Black area in Joburg during Apartheid. There are extremely high poverty rates. We were in a small house, with literally only four rooms: a kitchen, a living room, and two small bedrooms. There was no bathroom, there was an outhouse and we had bucket showers. The family was amazing though. There was a mother, Nonhlana, and father, Thabo, and their son, Tshepo, who was 9, they mostly spoke Zulu in the house. The parents had both experienced the June 16th Uprising.
We attended a funeral with the family, for a 35 year old woman who died of AIDS. She left behind a 6 year old son, who is now an orphan. Funerals happen daily here. The family said they attend at least one a week, but normally more like 3. At the cemetery, there were hundreds of new graves, and 4 other funerals were taking place next to ours. It was really hard to see. The neighborhood was surrounding the little boy, taking him as their own; the "it takes a village to raise a child" saying was what they lived by. People are very used to death here. After the funeral, there is a big party with tons of food (and an entire cow. Lets not go into that), and there are societies of women that volunteer to cook for funerals. After that, everyone goes out drinking. We realized how frequent these funerals are though, when a truck pulled up from the funeral home at our party, but it was setting up for tomorrow's funeral at the house next door.
We also went to church with them, and had a BBQ for us, so we got to meet lots of family. I made the mistake of getting very attached to a 5 year old girl, their niece, Xholiswa, who lived with the grandmother. She lived with us while we were there, and while she only spoke Zulu, I learned some and hung out with her the entire time. By the last day, she had begun speaking a little English too. But, when it came time to say goodbye, she wanted to come with us, and it was really hard to pull away. We both were crying.
Shabeens are small bars that are hidden in the Soweto neighborhoods. They came into existence during Apartheid when liquor was outlawed for Blacks. So, people started making their own beer in their homes and would have secret bars. We went to one after the funeral, and were probably the first White people ever to go there. At first we got some looks, but once the music came on an people started dancing, we were immediately welcomed by the regulars. These Shabeens hold a lot of history and culture in them, they reminded us of the American Speakeasy. There was a Shabeen right behind our home in Pimville though, and it made it really scary to run outside to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, I was very happy to have Jenna.
Being an American female has been challenging for me and many of the other girls in the house. We have all been proposed to several times, by complete strangers, and there is a lot of unwanted attention. At the funeral, Jenna and I were offered seats at the table with the family, and had to keep refusing, but it was just because we were White. We have gotten used to this, and everyone makes fun of me for always saying "Thanks very much, have a great day" at any stranger who says something, but whatever works.
We are now finally at our house in Windhoek, Namibia. We are five to a room, but the house is nice and we have a great staff for our programs. There is a bar up the road called "The Cardboard Box", which is at an inn for backpackers. We went last night and met people from all over, travelling like we are. It was a really cool place to go. I believe we are going again tonight, because it is Constitution Day, so that deserves a celebration. Yesterday we toured Windhoek, which is a small city, surrounded by mountains, making it a beautiful landscape (don't worry, I have taken many pictures). We had a tour guide who told us all about the city, and took us around, and there are many wealthy areas. It was strange though, I asked the tour guide how many people were homeless in the city, he said very few. But, he also said there was a huge unemployment rate. I was really confused by this and then we went to this one area, drove down a dirt road, and suddenly there were 10 thousand little shacks, literally those scrap metal huts that are no more than 10 by 10 feet. At the top of the area, there was a soup kitchen for children that with aids or orphans, with 200 children. They had no housing for them though. That was the worst poverty I had ever seen. The shacks are not recognized as homes by the government, they are called "informal settlements", but yet, the government maintains the dirt roads running through. There has been no aid to these people. In South Africa, the government is slowly trying to build brick homes for families living in substandard housing in areas like Alexandra, but in Namibia, there is nothing. The soup kitchen doesn't receive any government funding. I got the name of the woman in charge of funding, and am going to try and meet with her to understand the policy restrictions that are keeping them down. I haven't ever witnessed this type of poverty or oppression before. This is the first time I have realized that this stuff is going on in our lifetime, it isn't all in the history books, and something needs to change.
Our internet at the house is undependable, but look forward to more updates… I will be at the house for the next couple of weeks. Please update me too!
Take care,
Erin