!Gai //Goas!

David Sedaris has nothing on Khoekhoegowab. Sure, I imagine French may be difficult for some to master, perhaps to pronounce – but I guarantee that it pales in comparison to the constant clicking and guttural gasps that attract mating water buffalos. At least one has the benefit of attempting to deduce the meanings of words in a romantic language. Regardless of where in Europe you are, I’m pretty confident you won’t be surprised when you order a bottle of l’agua – excluding if it’s sold at nine Euro a bottle. Clicking however, is a world of its own.

With four different clicks, each click can completely change the meaning of a word. For example: “!a” – to hang, “‡a” – to skin (as in a goat,) “//a” – to wash, and “/a” – to squeeze. I’ve begun to memorize nouns in hopes of expanding my vocabulary, but unfortunately I’m memorizing the most useless words found in the language. Similar to that of Sedaris, the locals stare at me as I rattle off the most useless garbage I can muster in my attempts to impress them.

“Micky Rooney is sailing the Space shuttle? Where?”
“Who is this Ozzy Osbourne, and why does he carry olives in his pocket?”

I’ll admit, my situation is enjoyable. I’m currently residing in the town of Tsumeb, in the north of Namibia. Its one of the green places in the whole country, combining both the offering of torrential downpours at a moments notice, with the thrill and excitement of still being able to be run over by a donkey cart. We’re currently undergoing several hours of class a day, half devoted to learning obscure vocabulary and grammar, and half devoted to learning what exactly I’ll be doing. (*Note: I still haven’t a damn clue.) We’re all having fun though, from playing with the neighborhood kids, to asking our native language teachers obscure questions with equally daunting vocabulary, most of which doesn’t make sense.

“Teacher, how would I say that I’ve been studying alchemy for the past fore-night, in the hopes of transfiguring an 8-cylinder carbine light socket into a cornucopia of miniscule ideals?”

Those are my favorite, right up there with Paddy learning how to say, “That’s what she said,” in Afrikaans.

But I truly am having a great time. Sure the classes are boring and mostly uneventful – but it’s somewhere along the walk home I realize I’m walking with an African sunset on my back, while eating a mango I plucked from a tree I just passed. It’s kind of easy to zone out and ignore the severity of reality around you, but I’m taking it one day at a time – one mangled lesson at a time. Life is good.

!gai !goise, everyone.

Later Edit* I just finished taking my first oral test. I thought I had done very well, until it was later pointed out to me that when the instructor asked what color her thermos was, I kindly thanked her and commented that I already had coffee earlier that morning. Swing and a miss.
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For the past several nights, I’ve been agonizing over what exactly to write about. Nothing has really happened in the past several weeks apart from language classes and workshops. It bothers me immensely that I’ve been promising you all stories worth taking the time to read. Let’s be honest, that’s likely why you’re here now - in grip anticipation of rhino charges, African anecdotes, or at the very least side conversations worth record. Alas, I’m unfortunately stuck in a state of limbo. As usual, language classes are proceeding as expected with lectures taking up the remainder of my shaking sanity. At the very least I can say that I’ve begun teaching workshops.

Today I begun teaching a workshop for the community entitled “The Science behind HIV and AIDS.” The Peace Corps set us up to teach workshops to the community of Tsumeb on the topic of our choice, in order to evaluate and prepare us for further teaching. I chose to mirror my bioinformatics thesis: explaining where HIV came from, it’s mechanism for infection, et cetera. Thanks Dr. James – here’s my education at work. I’m hopeful so far, as this appears to be information that the community hasn’t ever heard. Hearing that HIV was most likely crossed over from chimpanzees – I can see a look from around the room…I think I may have encountered one of those legendary moments I’ve heard about teaching, where everyone seems to be giving you their absolute attention, mesmerized by every thought they construct, and impatiently waiting on the next word falling from your tongue. We’ll see how the next couple of days go since I’ll be giving lectures and workshops until Thursday.

But ah dear reader! Your presence has reminded me of something of the upmost importance. Since you are here, I am in need of some form of opinion. Just because I’m over nine thousand miles away (~ a shitload of kilometers,) that doesn’t mean I can’t ask for helpful insight. Just a disclaimer, it’s about ethics and morality (as these are a few of my favorite things.) Here’s the deal – I’m having problems discerning whether or not the end justifies the means. Since such a situation is taken on a case-by-case basis, I’ll give you the one I had in mind. You see, sexism is incredibly strong and quite powerful here in Namibia. Previous attempts to start women empowerment workshops has usually met with failure. This comes from the male half of the population being ill-equipped and unprepared for societal change. Trust me when I say you don’t want to see the results of a woman marching into her home and telling her expecting (and usually impaired) husband that she refuses to cook. The Department of Youth and the Department of Education of Namibia have therefore decided to wisely invest some money and time into male-geared workshops, in hopes of creating more accepting and tolerant men. So finally I come to the point: the men of Namibia (generally speaking,) will not attend such a workshop, unless they feel that they get something out of it.

Never mind the prospect of a fitter, happier, and more productive relationship – they need something of substance on which to feast. Now I’ve been in conversation with my peers over the matter for the past couple weeks, debating whether or not the utilization of this inherent sexism to achieve a desired end is ethically right, let alone possible. Basically, we would appeal to men by appealing to their masculinity. Seems to be simple enough, but I’m wondering whether or not tapping into this well is necessarily a good idea. It would start with asking men who has the harder job, men or women. (To my female readers, you know how I feel – so no bashing me. Feel free to bash others.)

Here in Namibia, men would of course, say that they are the ones in the more stressful situations, what with work and all. Obviously women have it easier with the whole mothering, parenting, cleaning and cooking thing – but I digress. Since we have addressed that men obviously have the harder living conditions, it is only obvious that men make hard decisions- this is therefore must make us men. But perhaps we can lead the ducks to water…what is easier: drinking away your problems, or working through them? Hitting your spouse, or taking the time to sit and discuss problems? The point would be made, that since drinking and violence are the easy answers out, these must obviously be the choices that men do not take. Men do not take the easy way out – a real man always chooses the harder of the two paths. This is what makes him a man.

We’re constantly approaching this from different angles in hopes of finding a more successful way of going about this, but I’m more currently wondering whether or not in this case that the ends justify the means. Sure, we’re reaffirming the inherent problem associated with sexuality and sexual disparity, but at least we’re contributing to a more cohesive society. I’ve been jumping all around the issue, playing Devil’s Advocate when possible (I wish Cory were here to laugh with me.) But now comes time to ask for you, Reader, to give your opinion! What do you think? Ethical, or not? I’m hoping for some sort of discussion to result, so have at it.

In the meantime, I’m going to figure out how to say that, “No, I’m sorry – but boiled, decapitated goat heads give me gas.” Ah, the beauty in learning a foreign language.