Whiteness and Woman...ness

This past month I spent almost all of my time out of the office.  The first week a group of six of us went into the dunes to three different sites setting up pit traps to do tenebrionid beetle monitoring and vegetation transects.  We spent a day back at the office before returning to three new sites.  I always really enjoy the dune transects as a nice break from the normal routine.  Though there is a lot of work involved (burying 70 buckets in scalding sand in the middle of the day is not easy), there is also a good amount of down-time in between checks.  During these hours off I get to read, listen to music, take walks, and just generally appreciate how lucky I am to be sitting in the middle of the Namib dunes contemplating life.

Morning view from my second beetle monitoring site

The next week Tayler, Titus, and I drove to Windhoek to conduct interviews and ultimately select our five GTRIP students.  I was extremely impressed with the students we picked, and it was really exciting to meet the five people I will be spending several months with come February.

The rest of the month was holiday!  After spending weeks planning this trip, I was just as nervous as excited to begin out trip through Botswana and up to Victoria Falls.  On the very first day of our long journey, my worries came to fruition when our bus didn't show up.  After several phone calls, and getting quite angry with the bus company (Monnakgotla, never ever ever ever use them, find any alternative possible) we finally found an private shuttle with decent price and began our journey again.  After being driven from Windhoek to Maun, we arrived at Old Bridge Backpacker and the trip began to feel real.

We spent the first day of holiday sitting in hammocks by the river and walking around a craft market.  The real adventure began the next day with a two day kayak trip into the Okavango Delta.  We saw so many elephants, many of them less than 20 meters away from us along the river.  I'm so glad we decided to splurge a bit on this part of our trip, because it really was a unique experience that I will never forget.

Elephants in the Okavango Delta

Kayaking along

Campsite on in the Delta

We followed this amazing adventure with a game drive into Moremi Game Reserve.  We say many more elephants (including one that fake charged the car), hippos, giraffes, impala, kudu, warthogs, lechwe, crocodiles, zebra, and a multitude of beautiful birds.  We felt quite spoiled on this trip as our guide served us breakfast and dinner on a tablecloth in the middle of the park.

Zebras on our game drive

Fancy lunch in Moremi Game Reserve

We spent a last night at the backpacker playing pool with some tour guides before heading North to Kasane.  There, we enjoyed a day in Chobe National Park with a game drive and a river cruise.  We were lucky to see rare wild dogs eating an impala by the side of the road and a leopard, as well as buffalo, even more elephants, impala, and more.  The river cruise was relaxing, and gave us the chance to see hippos and crocodiles up close.

Wild dogs enjoying breakfast in Chobe National Park

Enjoying our sunset cruise

Hippos from the river cruise

We crossed the border into Zambia for the final leg of our journey in Livingstone and Victoria Falls National Park.  We spent a day walking around the Zambian side of the falls only to be somewhat disappointed with the customs officer who made it ridiculously difficult to visit the Zimbabwe side of the falls (which has much better view points).  After deciding it wasn't worth it to spend an additional US$80 to cross the border, we instead spent some money buying souvenirs outside the park.  We met a handful of people at the backpacker and decided to put our lives in their hands to experience Zambian independence outside of the safety of our backpacker.  After watching a faulty firework explode WAY too close and being thrown around a club for about half an hour, we returned to the backpacker happy and exhausted.

Victoria Falls from the Zam side

Cooling down in the boiling pot at the bottom of Vic Falls

Our last day of holiday was perhaps the most exciting.  We rafted down the Zambezi River, starting right under the falls and going through 25 of the largest rapids in the commercial rafting business for the rest of the day.  Our boat only flipped once, which is apparently impressive compared to the 5 times our friends on another boat capsized.  Let me tell you, I have been rafting four times before and thought I knew what I was getting into.  One of those times our guide called out "lean in," and I remember almost flying out of the raft.  I thought those rapids were big, but no.  These rapids were GINORMOUS.  I knew I was in trouble when our guide was going over the regular commands like "forward" and "back," and he went on to describe a new command: "get down," which meant get to the bottom of the boat and hold on to the ropes for dear life.  On our second rapid our guide screamed "GET DOWN" and I jumped to the bottom of the boat and grabbed at the ropes.  A half second later I was slammed with water and lost the rope completely as my body was thrown backwards.  I miraculously stayed in the boat on that occasion, but I took the command very seriously and used a death grasp on the rope from then on.  Needless to say, the trip was a huge adrenaline rush and a total blast.  When we came up on rapid 8 or so, our guide informed us it was called Midnight Dinner because you get three choices on the menu: easy to the right, down the middle with a 50/50 chance of flipping, and to the left... no explanation needed.  Our Australian friend instantly chose the left with an evil smirk on his face, at which time Tayler and I looked at each other and nervously nodded our assent.  I'm pretty sure our three Russian friends on the boat had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when one of them asked "big?"  Obviously, we flipped on that rapid.

Capsized on Midnight Dinner

We almost flipped again on rapid 18 called Oblivion, but I hung on for dear life and provided the weight to flip us back at the last minute.

Almost tipping on Oblivion

After our exciting last day, we traveled back to Windhoek in luxury, in the air-conditioned, roomy, and clean Intercape bus to end our journey.

Overall, we had a blast on our trip.  Every part of the journey was exceptional and there is very little I would have changed in hindsight;  even the missed bus on the first day was a blessing in disguise).  I could go on and on about the experiences we had and all the amazing things we saw, but I think you can get a gist of that through the photos on my Facebook album (really go check them out).  Instead, I think I'll get to the title of this blog.

While travelling through Botswana, I found myself perpetually conscious of the fact that I am a white woman.  Up until this year, I have lived my life in a largely white society.  I have always been proud of the diversity in my high school, and the fact that many of my friends were not white.  In college I unabashedly showed off my dance moves, happy to have been on a basketball team that taught the white girl how to dance.  All joking aside, I always thought that I had a more diverse upbringing than most, and therefore felt pretty comfortable around very different people.  Despite my experiences in high school, I have only really felt conscious of my whiteness when watching the news, while discussing race issues, or during the occasional break-dancing battle in the locker room.

On the other hand, I have always been aware of the fact that I am a woman (in addition to living in a white dominated society, I have also always lived in a male dominated society).  Whenever I walk outside (God forbid alone and/or at night), choose an outfit for a party, spend time alone with a man, decide to have a drink, or even put my hand up in class to share an opinion, my femaleness has always sat at the front of my mind.  Even within the relative safety of Grinnell, I have felt uncomfortable, and even in danger, a number of times due to the fact that I am a woman.  Statistics on sexual assault are fairly well known, but I will mention a few here just to reiterate the facts.  Approximately 1 in 5 women report experiencing rape during their lives.  Further, 1 in 4 women will experience sexual assault before the age of 18.  However, I feel comfortable in saying that unless a woman lives within a bubble, sexual assault and/or harassment is completely unavoidable, even for the lucky three in that statistic.  This statistic weighs heavily over my head, and women everywhere, every day.

During my holiday in Botswana, I have never felt more aware of my whiteness and my womanness (I know I made up that word).  For the first time in my life, being white makes me part of the minority in most situations in Namibia.  Let me clarify, being white alone does not put me at-risk in Southern Africa like being black, or just not being white, does in the United States.  The Ferguson case and subsequent violence and unrest in the States has made me more aware than ever of how much privilege my whiteness provides me.  Here in Southern Africa (or anywhere for that matter) I DO NOT feel stigmatized because of my whiteness.  In fact, while touring Botswana, I felt more like a privileged white tourist than I have ever wanted to feel.  Nearly every person on each of our tours was white, loud, rich, and generally seemed unaware of their privilege.  Everywhere we went we found white men who were "travelling around the world for a year."  I mean come on, do you really think this makes you open-minded or culturally aware?!  Your ability to drop everything, skip out on work for a long period of time, not to mention spend an enormous amount of money on airplane tickets, safaris, accommodation, and food only separates you from the people to whom you claim to be so connected.  After writing my final history seminar paper on the colonial history behind conservation in Africa, I already find myself cringing when entering national parks and game reserves.  The fancy catered meals, expensive camera equipment, and over the top souvenirs only exacerbate my awareness of being a privileged white tourist in Africa.

However, despite my wish that safaris in Africa feel less like a throwback to colonialism, my whiteness alone never made me feel unsafe.  When I sat at a local bus-stop at five in the morning in Maun, I did not feel nervous due to the fact that I was the only white person, but rather the only white woman.  I have learned to wear a ring on my left ring finger when travelling not because I am white, and not even because I am a woman, but because I am a white woman.  This is not to say that black women are not a subjugated group in Southern Africa.  Reading newspaper stories on be-headings has left me only too aware of the strong patriarchy alive in Namibia.  However, as a white woman in Southern Africa, men seem to see me as a ticket to the West.  During my trip in Botswana, men bought me drinks, asked me to "party", and even proposed marriage.  One man on my bus to Kasane leaned close to whisper in my ear, "Tell you father if he wants a son I will come to America," before describing his prestigious job and his sizable herd of livestock.  I strongly wanted to respond that I would rather a daughter, that he should probably ask my mother, and that I am going to law school.  However, I smiled politely and said "Okay."  I know that most of these men are simply looking for a way to raise their social standing in their communities, but I always have to wonder if one of them might decide I don't have the right to deny them.  Occasionally I told men like this I was married to a man back home.  This worked a couple times until one man simply slung his arm around my shoulder and declared himself my "Zambian husband."  Regardless of any good intentions this man might have had, his gesture made me feel vulnerable and unsafe.

My discomfort is often exacerbated by the aggressive method many men adopt to earn money.  For example, as soon I exited a taxi at the border to Zambia a man grabbed my arm offering to help me across the ferry.  After pulling my arm back and asking a few questions, the man clarified that he had a cab on the other side of the border and simply wanted business.  I accepted his offer to accompany us across the border out of relief that we would not have to stand around trying to find a cab in Zamiba.  However, I soon questioned my decision as more men began joining our so-called cab driver as we walked across the border.  Soon enough, we found ourselves surrounded by seven Zambian men as we exited the customs office.  With dread, I realized that this man might not actually be a cab driver and quickly found an alternative cab in case we found ourselves in a bad situation with our initial friend.  My worries were unfounded, as we crossed the border and found a legitimate cab with a fair price on the other side.

A few nights later, we sat in our backpacker in Livingstone listening to the festivities around the city as Zambians celebrated their 50th independence day.  I found myself at a table with an Australian name Ollie, two Kiwis named Ash and Joe, one Brit whose name I can't remember, and one Israeli whose name I also can't remember (none of whom asked about my marital status, all of whom are rich enough to travel to Zambia).  When Ollie insisted we all go out to celebrate, I hesitated.  However, as our group stood up to go, I looked around at the group of five men, including one extremely tall New Zealander (a doctor with a very nice beard), I realized this was our best opportunity to really experience Zambian independence.  We went to a club down the street with a live band playing on the first floor.  As our group walked in, everyone turned to stare.  Needless to say, such a large group of white people walking into room of only black people would draw some attention.  However, with our two tall Kiwis wearing bright handmade shirts proudly displaying Zamiban colors and Ollie (who was legitimately insane) jumping in to start the dancing, the stares quickly turned into smiles.  We were soon adopted by a group of Zambian men who pulled us up to the third floor with the real dancing.  The guys in our group enjoyed the company and accepted invitations to dance and drink.  Instead, I stuck as close as possible to our tall Kiwi and moved my hips back and forth enough to be considered dancing but not enough to draw any attention.  After about half an hour of sticking to my male friends, I had only been grabbed at a few times on the rare occasion I got more than a few inches away from our tall Kiwi.  Our group (mostly me) felt our experience of Zamiban independence was complete and headed back to the backpacker.

Celebrating Zambian 50th independence at a club in Livingstone

Overall, I found it extremely difficult to experience Botswanan and Zambian culture beyond our safaris.  I loved my trip, but it was limited to animal viewings and wildlife experiences.  Whenever a local man sat down at the bar stool next to me I did my best to display my disinterest as soon as possible.  As a white female I found myself walking around with a hard expression on my face to deter people from approaching me, and when men did approach I spoke in short direct sentences to deter any unwanted attention.  Needless to say, it is impossible to interact with a culture with this attitude.  Tayler was much more open than me on these occasions;  her Midwestern niceness is ever-present.  On one instance a man asked us to party with him.  I did my usual routine by putting on a serious but polite face and saying we were not interested in partying, and he would be better off finding someone else.  He turned to Tayler hoping for a more positive response as he put his hand on my thigh.  She proceeded to happily chat with him about her research and love for Southern Africa.  Though I understand the want to meet local people, I felt extremely uncomfortable.  I tried to explain to Tayler that men like this are not interested in talking about environmental research, and that being direct with him deters him from getting too aggressive and allows him to spend his time finding someone who actually does want to 'party'.  Maybe I am right to play it safe and send men like this on their way as soon as possible, but I can't help but wonder if I am not trusting enough as I see Tayler interact with people happily, though perhaps naively.  I wonder how I could get around my distrust for men who are so forward, but unfortunately the most obvious solution is to be accompanied by a man.

During our last days on holiday, I met a Swiss girl who, like many of the men I met on the trip, was travelling the world for the year.  I asked her if she had ever felt unsafe as a woman travelling alone.  She looked at me as if I was crazy and said no.  I was shocked an asked her more about where she traveled and what she did.  It quickly became apparent that she was sticking to guided tours with larger groups, at least for her time in Africa.  I was disappointed, though perhaps not surprised, that she didn't have the answers to comfortably and safely traveling alone as a woman.  I hope I am not stuck to my little bubble here at Gobabeb where everyone is kind simply because we have to live together.  Instead, I would like to get a taste of true South African culture without feeling vulnerable because of my white womaness.

To wrap up this post, I would like to direct you the one I go to in a time of such crisis: NPR of course.  It seemed to good to be true that as I was about to press publish, this article popped up on my news-feed:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/

It nicely describes another race issue brought up in discussions about sexual assault/harassment.  Race and sexual harassment is such a complicated topic, and my experiences in Botswana and Zambia are encouraging me to delve deeper into the subject.  Despite the occasions of discomfort, my experiences while on holiday were fantastic, and I will never forget many of the spectacular things I saw.

Funding and Values

            Almost four months into my time at Gobabeb, I’ve realized that I’m learning a lot about the inner mechanisms of an NGO.  I first learned about the workings of non-governmental organizations in my Global Development class at Grinnell with Professor Roper.  I specifically remember the term “briefcase NGO”, referring to an organization that creates a platform based on funding rather than the other way around.  Often times these NGOs hire employees who can write attractive funding proposals and progress reports rather than those who can complete the work on the ground.  Rich Western funders look for causes that appeal to Western ideas of what changes need to be made in the world with no regard for what people actual need and would rather see big plans than realistic strategies.

            When I first learned of these NGOs, I imagined a few well-educated people with no cultural understanding sitting in an office writing flowery grant proposals while raking in the dough.  On the other side of the spectrum I imagined individuals connecting with people in remote areas with nothing more than coins in their pockets.  In reality, I have realized that most NGOs fall somewhere in the middle.  While there may be the occasional immoral organization bringing in money without providing real results, I am certain there are no surviving NGOs on the other side of the spectrum.  Gobabeb falls right in the middle of this range.  I see Gobabeb struggle on a day-to-day basis to maintain the delicate balancing act of catering to funders while staying true to our values.  If we fall to either side, Gobabeb will cease to function successfully.  Without funding, nothing will progress regardless of how virtuous our platform may be.  On the other hand, if we do not hold true to our values, no amount of money can produce a worthwhile product.  This leaves me, and Gobabeb, in a rough position.  I know that we must cater to funding to an extent, but I constantly worry about how this is affecting our core values.  I worry that our values are changing based on available funding rather than community needs.

            For example, I am currently writing up the final report for the Finnish Embassy evaluating the Youth Environmental Summits funded by the Finnish Fund for Local Cooperation.  I was impressed as I read through previous progress reports discussing how important contemporary issues in Namibia determined the topics of each YES.  For example, the May 2014 YES was on the topic of the Namib Sand Sea due to its recent inscription as a World Heritage Site.  The YES before that focused on biodiversity in honor of world biodiversity week, which was going on at the same time.  As I wrote up the report, I found myself stuck when trying to justify the choice of topic for the August 2014 YES.  We focused on climate change and plant genetic resources for food and agriculture.  I initially wondered why we chose this topic seeing as we are in the middle of an extremely arid desert, and therefore are not the ideal location to study crops.  I quickly realized that we chose this topic to gain funding from the Benefit Sharing Fund, which was holding a simultaneous course interviewing farmers in the Northern regions about farming practices to come up with a Strategic Action Plan.  How do I justify our choice to study crops in the middle of the Namib Desert?

YES learners studying agriculture in our tiny garden

            I also see buzzwords thrown into grant proposals to draw the eyes of donors without contemplation of the implications this may have on our on the groundwork.  Recently one of our staff created a presentation for an international conference on a topic she is passionate about.  In order to encourage the conference to accept her presentation, she also threw in a side presentation she thought would be attractive, but that she was not interested in.  Low and behold, the presentation she really wanted was not accepted, but the other was.  Now she is stuck attending an international conference to give a presentation she does not have prepared about a topic she really does not care about.

            Maybe it is the opposite effect that has me the most frustrated.  We throw in buzz-words like “climate change”, “women empowerment”, and “indigenous” solely to encourage funders to open their pocketbooks.  Our newest project focuses on an especially at-risk indigenous group called the Topnaar who live along the Kuiseb River.  After reading the proposal for the project I was especially excited about plans to create a sewing circle meant to empower women.  I met with some of the staff to finalize the proposal.  After voicing my excitement about the sewing circle, I found that this section was added simply to cater to our funder who is especially ‘into’ empowering women.  In fact, I was told (with a large eye roll) that our funders particularly liked the sewing circle idea and wanted us to build more on the idea.  After forcing a smile onto my face, I described my ideas to incorporate talks and activities that would foster confidence and independence.  I also proposed the addition of a financial management course to help women gain financial independence with the money from their crafts.  To my dismay, my ideas were seen as great ways to placate the donor rather than methods to improve the status of women within the Topnaar community, which is apparently not one of our values.

Topnaar home

            I find it equally frustrating to see worthwhile projects fall by the wayside due to a lack of funding.  One of the first research projects Gobabeb undertook was the monitoring of Tenebrionid beetles.  There are over 200 species of these beetles.  The little guys have fascinating adaptations to desert life, from crazy methods to collect fog like head-standing and trench building, to a diet of detritus (dead plant material) to take advantage of strong winds and little new growth in the dry environment.  The Tenebrionid beetles are an indicator species, meaning the population density of different species can be connected to greater environmental changes.  For example, fog dependent species are more populous nearer to the coast, while rain dependent species only pop up in great numbers after heavy rain events.  This is one of the longest running research projects in the Namib Desert, let alone in a dry environment anywhere.  This has a great advantage, as we can compare more data and see clearer patterns over the course of a longer period of time.  Long term research is especially essential when looking at topics like climate change, which depend on long-term data to see changes.  However, recently the funding for this project dried up.  Rather than seek out new funding, Gobabeb was ready to drop the beetle monitoring entirely.  Mary Seely, who, more than anyone, understands the importance of this project, came to our rescue by providing the funding herself.

Waxy Darkling Tenebrionid Beetle

Setting pitfall traps to monitor Tenebrionid populations

            In the end, I cannot fault Gobabeb for catering to donors.  Without funding, our projects would come to a standstill, and I really do believe that Gobabeb does a lot of good for Namibia.  Rather, I have come to appreciate the difficult balancing act Gobabeb, and I’m sure every successful NGO, must perform every day.  Given this huge challenge, I’m not sure I could work in, let alone run, a non-governmental organization as a career.  But I think it is absolutely essential for anyone who is interested in development to understand the tough job done by every good NGO to fully appreciate what must be done to foster positive change on the ground.

Runs and Gardens

So after spending two months here in the Namib, I haven't had any big revelations in the last couple weeks.  The fifth Youth Environmental Summit wrapped up a week ago after a lot of hard work and way too many phone calls.  I suppose I should tell you a bit about what the YES is before I talk about how it went.  Basically the YES is a week long environmental science course for 30 grade 11 learners selected from over 150 applications (many more than we have ever received before) from around Namibia.  Each year we choose a topic based on the interests of our funders.  This year the YES was funded by the Embassy of Finland's Fund for Local Cooperation and the Benefit Sharing Fund for the International Treaty on Plant Genetic Resources for Food and Agriculture (a mouthful).  The theme this year was therefore climate change and plant genetic resources for food and agriculture.  The learners spent the week learning about the scientific process, hearing lectures on the topic, being split into three subtopic groups to do fieldwork, and finishing with presentations involving songs, skits, and posters.  The week went really well overall; the 30 learners were all excellent, everyone had a great time, and the presentations were fun.  Though the week was a success, there were a lot of hurdles that I had to jump over get to the end of the week.  For example, there were only enough buses to transport half the kids at a time, leaving me with 15 kids to entertain before everyone else arrived on the first day, and 15 kids to entertain before the bus got back to take them home on the last day.  Also, all three of my group leaders dropped out, one right before the programme, and one the second day in.  Fortunately I am used to running programs like this, and therefore used to things not going according to plan.  I stayed flexible and positive throughout the week, and even heard from multiple people that this was the best YES ever.  Now that the program is over, I am wrapping up some things like press releases and budget summaries before moving on to the next big project: GTRIP.

YES group at the top of Station Dune

Beyond summarizing the YES, I figured I would use this blog post to talk a bit about what I do outside of work here at Gobabeb.  I work from 8-5 on weekdays, and about every other week or so I have a school group over the weekend as well.  I've started three real hobbies here at Gobabeb to keep myself busy and motivated outside of work.  Right now the sun sets at 5:30ish, leaving me with very little daylight after work, so three hobbies keeps me plenty busy.

The first is running which is taking up most of my free time.  I realized that I need some sort of goal to keep myself motivated beyond work, and since I am no longer playing a team sport (for the first time since I was four), I also realized I need a new way to stay fit.  Therefore, I have decided to run a marathon during my time here in Namibia.  If you had asked me last year if I would ever run a marathon, I would have laughed in your face (just ask any of my teammates).  The two mile running test for soccer was the bane of my existence, warm-up runs around the football fields were my least favorite part of practice, and I remember that one time Heather suggested we run four miles instead of the usual three and I almost turned around and went home.  It may therefore surprise you, I know it surprised me, that here at Gobabeb I soon found myself running six miles every few days.  I found that it is too easy to finish work at 5, sit on the computer checking social media and emails until 6, cook dinner and go to bed by 8, only to repeat the same thing the next day.  I felt so brain dead after doing this routine for a few days that I knew I needed to add something significant to my routine to give myself some purpose.  So, I decided to add a major running goal.  So far I've been doing well in my training plan: I haven't missed a single workout, and am feeling great on most runs.  I learned my lesson today when I headed out for a five mile run at 10:30 and, dying of heat, had to walk the last half mile back to the station.  I will only be running in the mornings or evenings from now on.  My first test will be in November when I will hopefully run a half marathon in Swakup, building up to my marathon in February.  If all goes according to plan and I don't pass out at some point, I might even head to Cape Town to run in the Two Oceans race with Sachi (a Grinnell alum in the Peace Corps here in Namibia) at the end of my time here.  Wish me luck!

In the middle of a long run.

The Gobabeb gym

The next hobby I've picked up is not really a hobby, since I have been doing it as a part of work, but I still count it.  There is an enclosed garden here at Gobabeb, but when I arrived it was totally trashed.  I spent a few days cleaning it up and getting dirty, before I bought some seeds and began planting.  I now have a few pots of maize, mahangu, watermelon, beets, rocket, various herbs, and even strawberries.  I'm not sure how anything will turn out in the end; I think our salty water might affect the taste of things.  All the same, I'm working hard to keep things alive out here in the desert.  It's nice to get up from the desk once a day to walk down to the garden and water.  It's also nice to feel responsible for something, even as small as a plant.

Sprouts popping up in the garden

The last hobby I'm cultivating here at Gobabeb is baking.  It's nice to sit in old house on a Sunday waiting for something to be done in the oven, and it's even nicer to have something fresh out here in the desert.  So far I've made muffins, cupcakes, cake, and a couple loaves of bread.  The bread felt like a big accomplishment, since I've never baked, or even seen anyone bake, anything other than muffins and desserts.  Even better than the fresh bread however, was the chocolate marble cheesecake with an Oreo crust for Robert's birthday.  I LOVE cheesecake, but have only ever eaten it store-bought or in a restaurant (and apparently during Thanksgiving at home, but I seriously do not remember that).  I've never even thought that much about how to make it, thinking of it as some sort of complicated desert only real chefs could make.  Therefore, I felt pretty cool serving up marble cheesecake to my Gobabeb family.  I'm going to try to bake something new every month, just to keep making fresh things, and learning more recipes while here.

Chocolate birthday cheesecake!

So that's about it.  I do other things too, like watching movies and reading trashy romance novels (just kidding...but actually... I mean come on I'm in the desert!), but those things didn't seem that interesting to write about.  The next couple months are going to fly by now that things have quieted down around here again.  Tayler and I are busy planning GTRIP (a 5 month research course for four university students) and I actually won't be around Gobabeb very much.  In a couple weeks Tayler and I will be heading to Windhoek (my first time!) for a week to recruit for GTRIP and get some other work done.  In October we will leave for a dune trip to set up pit traps and identify beetles for a week or so.  Then I will head to Windhoek again with Tayler to do interviews for GTRIP.  Finally, for the last two weeks for October, Tayler and I will be going to Botswana on holiday!  By the time we get back we will have just enough time to finish up GTRIP preparations before SDP (a two month research course for 10 university students and recent graduates) begins.  After that, GTRIP will begin in February, taking us all the way to when the new Grinnells arrive.  So strange to be thinking that far ahead, but it really doesn't seem like that much time when so much is on your plate.

I'll get another post in before we head to Botswana, but I'm sure I'll be extremely busy with work and trying to fill out more grad school applications in the next few weeks!

Opposites and Paradoxes

It's hard to figure out what to write here.  Everything just kind of trucks along at a steady pace, and nothing seems significant enough for a post, though I don't want to leave anything out either.  In the month and a half that I've been here so far, I've found it very hard to settle in.  Gobabeb is such a unique and polarizing place, leaving me extremely happy one day, and extremely sad the next.  I never really just feel neutral here, instead everything seems to work in extremes.  Gobabeb is a place of opposites and paradoxes.  Let me give some examples:

Gobabeb is the quietest place I have ever been.  At night, my room is silent, with only the sound of wind and the occasional howls of jackels to break through the silence.  Whenever a rare plane flies over, we all stop and look for it as the loud engine breaks through our usual peace and quiet.

Gobabeb is the loudest place I have ever been.  School groups bring giant speakers and blast hip hop music as they run around yelling and singing.  The TV is always on in old house playing a soap opera, music videos, or most recently South Africa's version of American Idol.

Gobabeb is extremely lonely.  Some days I talk to maybe one person in passing the entire day.  I'll stand over the stove cooking in silence, only to move to the table to eat alone.  I'll walk to my room realizing that I haven't said more than a couple words to anyone all day.

I am never alone at Gobabeb.  Some days I can't get a minute to myself as I rush from giving a nature walk to a group of tourists to give a lecture on the scientific method to 30 Grade 10 learners from Walvis Bay.  As soon as the clock hits five and everyone else leaves work to cook dinner and relax, I am climbing a dune with 25 loud Grade 5 learners who decide it's a good idea to start a sand fight.  I finally sit down for a second only to realize I need to grab the UV lights to go on a night-time scorpion hunt with 16 American University students.  I finally lay down in bed happy to finally be alone, only to wake up the next day to do it again.

Scorpion Hunt

There is not enough to do here at Gobabeb.  Some weeks I'll sit at my desk planning a trip to Botswana just to pass the time.  I sit around waiting for the phone to ring just to give me something to do.

There is way too much to do at Gobabeb.  Some weeks I work non-stop from 8 to 8 only to have barely made a dent in my long to-do list.  As soon as I feel I've made progress on one project, someone drops an entirely new project on my desk.

Gobabeb is boring.  I wake up on a day off wondering what the heck I'm going to do with an entire day off.  I desperately wish the internet was fast enough to download movies.  Perhaps I'll just take a nap...

There are so many things to do here.  Should we climb the dunes? Should we set up sand volleyball? Should we set up the projector to watch a movie? Maybe we should take off the pool cover.  Or perhaps we can have a potluck. And when on earth am I going to have time to go backpacking in the Naukluft mountains. Oh and I ran out of bread, I better bake another loaf.  And when in doubt, old house always needs a thorough cleaning...

My job is monotonous.  I give the same tours over and over to each group.  I run the same programme for every learner.  I sit at my desk and make the same phone call 50 times.  I listen to the same hold tone on every phone call.

My job is never the same.  One day I'll sit at my desk sending emails and making phone calls.  The next I'm at the MPI tower changing cryotraps and taking flask samples.  The next day I might be with a group of Swedish tourists.  The next I might be with a group of Namibian school kids.  The next I might be off to Swakup to buy plants for the YES Programme.  Next week perhaps I'll be going to Windhoek to recruit learners for GTRIP.  No week is ever the same.

Going to the MPI Tower

There are very few people at Gobabeb.  Only 12 people consistently work here right now.  I guess sometimes there can be as many as 15, but not recently.  In fact, most of our staff was away on a course in the north for the past month, leaving only 4 of us at the station.  I see the same faces every day.  I see the same people at work, in the kitchen, around the tv, and on my days off.

There are so many people at Gobabeb.  Over 1000 students visit Gobabeb, and over 200 researchers come to do work each year.  In the past month I have played jenga with a German lizard scientist, had a potluck with an American family, been invited to dinner with German tourists who spoke very little English, been offered drinks from Topnaar men and teachers, watched the moonrise with two Namibian teenage boys, talked about aerosols with French scientists, and much more.  There are almost always exciting people at the station, and very few of them stay for longer than a month.  Faces are always changing around here.

Moon-Rise with Teenage Namibians

I have learned so much at Gobabeb.  I can literally talk for hours (and do on a regular basis) about the three unique ecosystems here.  I can name many plants and animals by their scientific names, English common names, Afrikaans names, and sometimes even Nama names.

I have learned next to nothing here. The only information I actually know about Namibia is the information I recite on an often daily basis for tourists.  I cross my fingers that they don't ask many questions, because I don't have any of the answers.  I sit to talk to our director about a programme that I am in charge of, only to find that I am supposed to give lectures to graduate students about statistics, desert ecology, ephemeral rivers and plant biology... Nothing I know allows me to contribute here.  I am simply the history major that ended up with a bunch of brilliant scientists, don't mind me.

Giving a Station Tour

Overall, it is hard to get a handle on my new life here in Namibia.  Some days I feel very happy here, and can't wait for the next day.  Other days I wonder what I'm doing here and what good I could possibly be doing.  Though sometimes I get whiplash from one day to the next,  the changes are becoming comforting.  As soon as I get settled on one emotion, I often flip moods entirely.  However, the rapid changes simply mean that the days that I feel homesick and useless, I can take comfort in the fact that this feeling will pass as quickly as it came.  On days where I feel happy and productive, I embrace the feeling while it lasts.

As I slowly build a routine, I am getting more and more settled despite all the rapid changes.  No matter how different today is from the next day, I can stay grounded in the things that stay constant: my morning runs, my weekly sun-downer in the dunes, my monthly town trips.  I've begun to find things to keep myself busy and focused, no matter what is happening at work or among staff members like sketching, baking, running, and reading.  I hope that when I find some constants in my new life, the changes will become less significant.  More like gusts of wind blowing through grasses rather than waves on a shell.  While a shell is at the mercy of the waves, being whipped back and forth and thrown against rocks and beaches, grass moves with the wind while staying rooted in the earth below.  I'm so poetic I know.

Baking Muffins and a Cake

On a Mid-Day Run

Right now I am feeling very happy and settled here at Gobabeb.  But once again we are on the brink of some very big changes.  While there have only been a few people here the past few weeks, the rest of our staff is returning tonight with a handful of university students here for a course.  While the past few weeks have been very quiet and slow, the schools just got off for holiday, leaving us with school visits every day this week.  On top of that, the YES (youth environmental summit), a programme for 30 Grade 11 Namibian learners that I have been planning for the last month and a half begins in two

weeks.

The Garden Before YES work

It seems like everything is changing once again... but that's what makes life exciting here in the Namib.

Cultural Differences and Human Similarities

I had my first Namibian school group a couple weeks ago.  I didn't feel prepared at all: I didn't know the information to give tours, I had no idea how to run the programs, and I didn't even know where the campsite was.  Thank goodness Robert has stuck around, because I was able to sit back and learn as he led the tours and ran the programs.  Though I was learning a lot about the station and our environment, I found that there was a lot more than cool nature facts that I would have to learn to do my job.

As Robert led the first tour, every student had a cell phone out.  They were taking pictures, texting, and even taking phone calls as Robert led the high school group around the station.  The kids took pictures of everything, from photos of a rain gauge to shots of each student individually striking a pose in front of a Mustard Bush.

We tried our best to convince the teachers to accompany us on the next tour, in the hope that they would encourage participation, but the teachers refused outright, citing the need to get meat.  As Robert introduced the weather station, the kids were unable to define weather, climate, or even a desert.  We moved around the weather station, finally arriving at the last instrument: the Stevenson Screen.  Suddenly, every student's hand shot into the air.  They could name every fact about the Stevenson Screen! "Sir, sir, it has a wet bulb and a dry bulb."  "Sir, sir, it is white to stay cool."  This went on and on until they had named every basic fact about the instrument.  I was bewildered.  It was clear that the Stevenson Screen was on the Namibian high school curriculum, but the definition of weather was not.

 As we moved to our next program, I brought a group of students around to set pit traps.  I hadn't said much throughout the day, as Robert was leading and I was trying to learn everything I could.  I was therefore surprised when a few of the girls wanted me to pose in a photo with them.  I happily complied, confused as to why they were interested in documenting their experience with me: the woman who stood in the back and took notes the entire trip.  Don't get me wrong, I'm used to taking pictures with girls who don't know much about me; after all, I worked at a Girl Scout Camp.  But unlike at camp, every student in the group wanted a picture with me, while I'm sure less than half knew my name.  As we headed into the dunes for a sundowner, the kids continued to snap photo after photo, each boy following me around to get a picture on top of the dunes.

Walking up to Station Dune

As we walked down the dune back to camp, I heard the bleat of a goat in the distance.  I immediately realized what the teacher had meant about getting meat earlier.  It was silly of me to think anything different, but when someone says "I need to get meat," I generally picture a run to the nearest grocery for boneless chicken breasts and ground beef.  As the nearest grocery is about two hours away, it made much more sense for the teacher to go to the nearest Topnaar village and barter for a goat.  I walked into camp looking around for the animal, only to finally see it poking it's head out of the school bus window.  As one of the boys walked by me with a large knife, I was trying to decide if I was ready to see a goat be slaughtered.  I had no problem with the group killing and eating a goat, in fact I'm sure it had received better treatment than most animals I've eaten, but all the same, I was mentally preparing for the sight.

Overall, I felt out of my element the entire weekend.  I wondered if it would be somehow culturally insensitive to scold students for using their phones, and how to get teachers to participate without being rude.  I've created and led a multitude of programs for hundreds of groups of kids ranging from 7 years old to 17 years old, and yet I did not feel ready to lead Namibian school groups on my own.  Robert discussed his frustration with teachers that do not participate.  I told him that we have to recognize the fact that this is a cultural issue.  However, just because something is cultural doesn't inherently make it okay.  I said it is our job to push back against these problems while simultaneously recognizing the cultural sensitivity of the situation.

As the school bus pulled away, both Robert and I sighed with relief.  An American University was coming later in the day, and I was excited to work with people I could relate to.  I was ready to have intellectual conversations and have a group who was excited to learn about things like climate.

The group pulled up and quickly unloaded their massive bags of luggage from their bus.  We jumped into our first tour, which I led, feeling confident about both the information and the group.  One of the students asked to talk to Robert about climate change, and he happily complied.  As they sat down, it became clear the student did not believe in climate change, leading us to wonder why she was doing a project on the subject.  Robert did his best to have a productive conversation with the girl despite their differences.

As we sat with the group that night, they were loud and boisterous, doing impressions, blasting music, and laughing at their bus driver's sexist jokes.  I felt way out of my element, sitting in the back with a smile plastered to my face.

That night Robert and I found ourselves having the same conversation about we had a few days previously about cultural sensitivity.

The next morning I walked up to the group, only to hear them discussing something insensitive that was said the night before.  This led to a discussion about intolerance and the need to be open minded.  I was extremely surprised that the group was having this discussion at all, and was pleased that they were clearly pushing their boundaries.  I felt a bit ashamed of myself for giving up on this group and becoming so frustrated.  Encouraging simple discussions about tolerance like this would be so much more productive than writing the group off entirely.  I mentally shook myself, and promised to do better for the rest of the visit.

We drove to the nearest Topnaar village, and I was interested to see how the group would react to seeing the living situation of the indigenous people.  The first three questions were about religion.  By asking three questions about religion first, it became clear that the group felt that whether or not the old Topnaar man and woman were faithful Christains was the most important piece of knowledge.  Our hosts answered the questions quickly and easily (illustrating that they are quite used to getting these questions), before the group moved onto other topics.  Overall the visit was great for both the group and for me.  I didn't know what to feel as the students walked around the small house snapping shots of corrugated metal and cardboard walls, homemade dresses, and hungry animals with their $1,000 cameras.  I did not blame the students for this; I have a similar camera in my backpack, an iPhone in my pocket, and brand new REI clothing on my back.  The sight reminded me to check my privilege, and to keep what is truly important constantly in mind.

Visiting a Topnaar Village

As the group pulled away, I learned an important lesson:  Every person/group, no matter their background, culture, skin color, or country of origin, will be different from you.  However, you can find at least as many similarities as differences if you put in an effort.  It is essential to focus on these similarities rather than the differences, no matter how obvious the differences or small the similarities.

In the end I found that I ran into just as many cultural differences with the American group as I did with the Namibian group.  But even more importantly, I found that both groups were capable of having important discussions, whether that simply be about the definition of weather or be a more complicated talk on the importance of tolerance.  These discussions would never be had if I had only focussed only on cultural differences instead of human similarities.  Everyone is capable of opening their mind, and that is something I will never again forget.

After all, it's all worth it when you get letters like this: