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: