Working Together

Dear Friends and Family,

I sit writing this letter to you 1000s of miles from home, the countries of Angola and Botswana just minutes from my door step, hippos and crocodiles in sight, the sound of goats and cows penetrating my ears, and the smell of traditional Mbukushu meals all around. My home for the past 5 months has been Divundu, Namibia, smack down in the center of southern Africa. I am currently teaching English and social studies to grades 5,6,7,8 at Divundu Combined School through the program WorldTeach. The hurdles and obstacles that these people face each and every day may seem unlivable for most, however their constant determination, hopefulness, and strength allow them to continue. With HIV/AIDs overcoming Namibian society, tuberculosis gripping all parts of the country, severe unemployment making everything difficult, drought and rain becoming recurring patterns, and a school system that lacks even the most basic resources, it is easy to give up and surrender to the whims of these struggles.

Although we do not have the ability to solve all of these overwhelming issues, we do have the power to try. In my short time here, I have seen how a set of dictionaries given to the school from my parents has inspired my students to read, how a pen given to each student has encouraged them to do their homework, how a school dance has given them the opportunity to have fun, a field trip to a game park has opened their eyes to a small part of the world that they would have never seen before, and a book on Nelson Mandela has given them the confidence that anything is possible. These were small acts that required little effort, but had such an enormous effect on the community. It did not cure HIV or provide jobs, but it gave hope- something that is needed for everyone in this world.

As I begin my final months here, I wanted to reach out to all of you and include you in my efforts. If the tiny assistance from me could have such a beneficial outcome, the effect of many will be tremendous. When put together, we have the power to change the world and unite with a small community in northern Namibia. I am asking for your help because this is a rare occasion in which each of you can feel connected to your contributions, as I will be able to keep you updated on the actual status and effect of your donation. The money that I receive will ALL go back to the school. Books, proper school supplies, and a computer could change the atmosphere forever, providing new opportunities that do not exist here. If anyone doubts the effect of a few dollars or a small gift, I ask you to try. ONE person has the power to change the world, and the results of these donations will prove that.

If you would like to join me in my efforts, checks can be made out to
“Scott Karrel” and mailed to:

Scott Karrel
586 Hamilton Place
River Vale, NJ 07675

Thank you and I look forward to sharing my experience with all of you when I return. Miss you and hope all is well!

Sincerely,

Scott Karrel

ONE PEOPLE

*This blog post follows the same path as the previous one I just posted, however, the sheer influence that the subsequent event had on my life, made me create a new blog post to share it with you.*

My day last Wednesday started like any other. I woke up at 5:30 am, had an apple, prepared my starbucks instant coffee (thanks deb and dean), and walked to school at 6:20 am. My first period class is grade 7 social studies. We are studying the causes of conflicts/violence and how people resolve them, so I brought in some newspaper clippings of currents events happening around the world. I noticed in class that one girl in the back was writing the entire class time, but with a class of 35 kids, I assumed she was taking a lot of notes. I finished my lesson early and quickly headed to my grade 6 where I was administering a topic test on Namibian culture. Midway through the period, another teacher called me outside in an urgent manner. He immediately informed that a girl in my grade 7 class, wrote a suicide note to a friend claiming she was going to kill herself today. With my heart beating fast and my brain going in every which direction, I made him instantly take me to see her. The girl, about 15 years old, was sitting in our make-shift library, huddled on the floor and crying.

I know that suicide is a worldwide problem, and threats happen quite frequently, but I was naive to the issue. I NEVER thought I would be caught in a situation like this. I stood there, watching a girl who was only perhaps hours away from taking her own life, and I am now the adult supposed to help. Unfortunately, due to the lack of education on psychological issues, many of the teachers were unsure on how to deal with the issue. Therefore, I decided that although I was not trained in social work, my experiences in the US prepared me a little more than the other teachers. My first goal was to determine the issue behind her threat. Since she was not speaking, I decided to bring my laptop into the room and have her listen to music and show her funny pictures of me throughout my time here. With her laughing now, she was more open to talk. She translated each word into English. The note spoke about how she does not have a father and her mother currently lives 30km in the bush. She is living with Aunt now, who wants to send her back to her mother for doing poor at school. The girl’s frustration stems from the fact that if she was sent home she would never attend school again because of the location in the bush, and the beatings she would receive from her other family members.

I listened to her talk about the death of her father, the separation from her mother, the beatings she received when she was younger, and her desire to remain at Divundu Combined School and continue her education. I was on the brink of tears, but I had to keep composure to show some stability. By killing herself (which was definitely intended, as she said she had the pills ready), she would not have to deal with any of the issues that confronted her: no family that supports her.

Ultimately, I thought of the one thing that reminds me everyday of who I am and my goals in life: the ONE bracelet I wear. I have worn a white rubber bracelet that just says ONE on it since I was 16 years old. It symbolizes that we are all ONE people, ONE family and the simple premise that ONE person can change the world. An hour into our session, I took off the bracelet and put it on her wrist, signifying that although she doesn’t have her mother and father with her, she is my family, the teachers are her family, the learners are her family- we are ONE family.

The day ended with her Aunt making a judgment to bring her to the hospital for a proper social session with a doctor. In the end, my learner did not kill herself, however a thought like that does not just leave in a day. My goal throughout the remainder of my time here, is to remind her each and every day that someone is always there to help you in a dire situation.

This weekend I saw that same girl at the local bar, with two beers in hand. For this, I know the know the challenges that tomorrow will bring, and the next day, and the next month, and the next year will be the greatest in her life, but at least she knows she is not alone. The ONE bracelet has helped me in hard situations and now it is passed on to her to assist her. Hopefully, when she feels in the right place, she will pass it on to someone that needs her help to.

I learned a great deal from this day, however I hope I will never have to do it ever again.

ONE

Scott

ONE Family

Upon entering Divundu, Namibia you will see a petrol station on your left, Divundu Combined School set amongst the bushes on your left, and a location straight ahead (a location is an impoverished area where people are usually refugees or lack the money to buy a plot of land, hence it looks like a shanty town). After the location, there is the majestic Kavango River and the start of the Caprivi Strip, gateway to Angola, Botswana, Zambia, and Zimbabwe. On all sides of this tiny town, lie hundreds of huts, homesteads, mud houses, and of course goats, chickens, pigs, and cows everywhere.

The area in which I live is hot, dry, and vast. I have currently been here for four months, and it has NOT rained once since I have been here. Yup that’s right, I have not seen rain in four months. Besides the lack of rain, the people face such issues as unsafe drinking water, unemployment at over 60%, illnesses (HIV, malaria, and TB are ravaging sub-Saharan Africa), technology shortage, and the sheer distance it takes from place to place (Namibia is huge- and everything is very spread out). Despite these daunting obstacles, the Mbukusku people (the tribe with whom I live with) still manage to go to school, look for food, walk dozens of kilometers for water, and travel great distances by hitch hiking. They know that the road may be steep, the weather may be hot, the food may be little, and the education may not be the best- but they do it to live.

What I have noticed here is that it does not matter where you came from, who you are, or how old you are, they all care for one another. They are all ONE family. Aunts, uncles, grandpas, grandmas, and cousins all live in the same homestead because the thought of leaving someone to fend for themselves is unheard of. If someone doesn’t have food, you share the bread, if someone is sick, you go to church to pray and scrounge any money for a doctors visit, if you need to go the city over 200km, you hitchhike with someone going in that direction. Last week, my roommate and fellow teacher began shivering and throwing up during school. It turned out he had malaria. As I was flipping out and unsure what to do, one teacher with a car rushed him 50km to the hospital, 5 learners used their little money to buy him bread, one teacher prepared a light meal for him, one learner sent his mp3 player in a car to the hospital for him to borrow, and 3 learners boiled water so he would have clean water upon his return. As his temperature rose over 104 degrees, I watched with a glazed stare as members of the community did whatever they could do to help. Luckily, over the past week he has recovered to full health. This type of assistance and support for those who are ill, happens everyday as someone new is diagnosed with malaria, TB, Bilharzia, or the countless other diseases that exist here.

On Tuesday, Divundu had one of its daily blackouts, however this time it was longer than usual. When the power goes off, unfortunately the cell network, the lights, and the water are also disabled. As I tried to help the learners go to bed with my mini-flashlight that can barely illuminate 4 feet in front of you, a car pulled out in front of the learner’s hostel. Surprised and startled by any movement this late at night, I walked outside to see 20 little children with a pillow and blanket in hand. The truck was an OVC (orphaned and vulnerable children) vehicle sponsored by UNICEF. Being the only teacher on duty that night watching the learners, I approached the truck and spoke with the driver. The 20 children were OVCs on a field trip with UNICEF and had no where to sleep that night. With no electricity, a packed hostel, and no water, you could imagine what my face looked like. In a matter of only 10 minutes, my learners started giving up their beds so these young, new children could have a place to sleep. Without any hassling from me, the girls and boys at my school had created a mini- hostel for these OVC children without complaining, or fussing over it. Some even agreed to sleep on the floor, so these other kids could have a proper bed. This moment is truly a telling moment to the type of kids they are.

Everyone in Divundu understands the enormity of the task that lies in front of them, however they do not give up. If any of you are worried of how far I am from home, you can be comforted that I live amongst people who really care about each other with myself included.

Hope all is well

Peace,

Scott

Cross Your Fingers- Just Get to Divundu

From visa issues, to grading over 400 exams, to my parents visit to Africa, to backpacking South Africa, and to return to teaching, A LOT has happened since I past posted on this site.

My adventures with Debbie and Dean cannot be told without describing the few weeks before. Upon arriving in Namibia I was given a 3 month work visa, which I would have to renew on September 1st in order to stay till December. Simple task- go to the Ministry of Home Affairs in Rundu (the town near me) and get a stamp for my second visa, which I was already approved for by the government. I swung open the doors to the Ministry, eager for my next 3 months here. After waiting in line for an hour (my patience level is waning), I go to the counter and explain my situation. In less than a 2 minute span I was screaming and cursing under breath upon hearing that the region I live in can no longer issue visa extensions. My only option; take a 13 hour ride to the capital and wait 2 days for my visa to be approved at the national office. Frustrated, tired, and annoyed I headed home and did the only thing I could…ate 3 packs of Doritos, got my clothes together and headed for the capital. After all the issues, it was worked out and I fortunately got the visa in Windhoek.

My next task, was to return to Divundu and begin grading my learner’s end-of-term exams that were taken while I was away. Currently I teach grade 5 social studies (29 learners), grade 6 social studies (38 learners), grade 7 social studies (25 learners), and grade 8 english (3 classes of 44 each). With about 225 exams to mark, the pile continued to increase as my English classes took 3 exams (reading, writing, and listening). Unfortunately, grading continually got easier as more and more of my learners failed. Usually about 1 or 2 kids from a class actually pass these exams, and this statistic held true for my classes. Very disappointing to see an F on every paper.

At this time, my parents were already en-route for Victoria Falls in Livingstone Zambia, My plan was to start hitch-hiking in the early morning on Friday, August 20. When I woke up on that day, my school was struggling to find enough teachers to proctor the last exam so I offered to stay for 2 hours. Bad Choice. I got to the ‘hitch-hiking’ point at 10 am and I waited there till 3 pm: till a car was willing to pick me up. I arrived in Katima (the last town in Namibia) at 6:30 pm and of course the border closed at 6:00 pm. I took a taxi to a hotel near-by to get a good night sleep and return back to the border post first thing in the morning. At 6 am I crossed the border into Zambia and took a 2 hour bus ride to meet Deb and Dean on African soil. I met the parents at the Zambezi Sun Hotel and surprised them from behind in the hotel lobby. We went to the falls, took a helicopter ride, and the best part: ate an unbelievable dinner.

The next day, we rented an automatic car from a local man and set out for Divundu, Namibia. Our route would take us across the Caprivi Region, an area of Namibia with Angola on one side and Bostwana on the other that is inhabited by few people and occupied by elephants, lions, crocodiles, and other animals. We were fortunate to get an automatic car, but the only way to describe the car we got is: a headache. In order to prevent it from being stolen, the driver aka my dad, had to turn the car on through a sequence of steps, and if not done correctly an ear piercing alarm would go off (the sequence was stepping on the break, pressing a button, locking the doors, turning the keys half way, then on- however it never seemed to work). We had our fingers crossed the whole time, just counting the kilometers to Divundu.

Despite its remote and under-developed area, Divundu is actually home to a few 5 star small lodges due to its proximity to the Okavango River, the Botwana border, Angola Border, and game parks. We stayed at a lodge, 5km from my house that I would never guess existed so close to me- gorgeous. In Divundu, I showed my parents my house, introduced them to some teachers, gave them a tour of the area, went on a boat cruise to view hippos and crocodiles, and took a safari at the local game park, My ultimate goal was to have them meet the learners and have a a mini- party in which they see culturally dancing and singing. Unfortunately, due to a lack of food at the school, the learners were all sent home because the school did not receive a shipment of food for them. Despite this difficult situation, a couple dozen learners came in to see my parents. Such an awesome sight to see Debbie and Dean taking pictures with the people in my village and the kids that I teach. As you can imagine, it was such a great moment.

After 4 days, we traveled back to Victoria Falls, spent the night, and viewed the seventh world wonder from the Zimbabwe side. The next day we took a short plan ride to Cape Town, South Africa, for the last leg of their trip. In Cape Town, we headed to Cape Point and the Cape of Good Hope to see one of the most southern spots in the world. Throughout the rest of the day we explored the city, witnessing its beauty. With a week of great memories and adventures that we will always remember, they said their goodbyes and returned back to the USA. For the next week I traveled from Cape Town, Port Elizabeth, and Johannesburg. With one bag on back I met people from all over the world and was able to go on a safari, swim in the ocean with wild dolphins only feet away, drive through Soweto Township (former home of Mandela and largest black township in South Africa), and party with backpackers from all over.

I am currently back in my village, and a week back into teaching. With the support from my parents and revived spirit from my trip, I am extremely excited to return to the daily routine of life here in the village.

Hope everyone is enjoying life back in the US!

Peaece,


Scottttttttt

Becoming Mbukushu

I began my stay in Divundu, simply known as the Mukuwa of the town. I am the only white man for miles and miles, and everyone that I met was always awe-struck that I lived here. However, in the past few weeks, a change has slowly been occurring, mukuwa is fading from their vocabulary, and it is being replaced with Mr. Scott, Sir, Teacher, Mitiri (teacher in Mbukushu), or Thiyemo (the Mbuskushu name some of the people around town call me). Without intention, I noticed that I know a great amount of names of the people around town, have started to greet everyone in the local language, I walk into the village without hesitation, I am waving to people on the street, my phone book is filling up, and now I am starting to dress different. Each day, I carry a little book around with me, and I have my friends and learners write down a few phrases in Mbukushu and translate it to English. Since I can barely make half the sounds, it usually take me 10 tries to enunciate the word correctly, but once I get it right, I try to study it each night.

To continue this process, I decided that I would integrate myself more into the community. Last Friday, I went for my Friday night beer at the shebeen (bar) and I was telling the other people there that I have never been to a Namibian wedding. Well, in pure Namibian fashion, they told me they were all going to a wedding in the morning and that I could definitely go too. In a matter of 5 minutes I had an invite to a wedding and the wedding pictures, in which I had no idea who the couple were, where it was being held, or who was attending. But, of course I said I would go! Therefore, the next day, with some of the information in hand, I went to the private picture taking at the local waterfall, then hitched a ride with the wedding procession to the reception. Being the only white person there definitely made me stand out…a lot…but the bride and groom loved that I was there. With a few drinks inside, I said what the heck, and began dancing. Soon everyone there was staring at me dance to the song Waka Waka, taking pictures with the bride and groom, and greeting the women in their traditional outfits. Once the wedding was over I was absolutely exhausted, but it was definitely amazing to crash a Namibian wedding.

On Sunday, I woke up early to go to church with some of my learners. Namibia is over 90% Christian, so trying to explain that I am Jewish doesn’t really go well with them. So after much pleading and begging, I promised them that I would go to church. I met 20 learners at the school and we began our 5k trek to the catholic church in the next town. Once there, I realized that the service would not be done in English, it would be done in Mbuskuhu. But, I guess it really didn’t matter to me anyway. The service was filled with lots of singing, women in traditional outfits, and dancing. Although there was a language barrier that separated us, I loved hearing the different songs and seeing the people genuinely happy (except I wish there were bagels and lox like at temple ha). After church, the learners took me into their village to show me their houses and have a much-needed lunch with some of the families.

As I await the arrival of my parents next week, I am already eager to see more aspects of the local tradition and lifestyle. I have promises from everyone that they will teach me how to milk a cow, kill a coat, ride on a donkey cart, see a witch doctor, paddle on a slim canoe, and live in the village for a week. I have an exciting few months ahead of me, and can’t wait to share it with all of you

Hope everyone is enjoying the end of the summer!

Miss you all.

Scott

The Hope of a Nation

With each day that passes in this far away village, thousands of miles of home, I am constantly learning new things about myself and my perceptions of the world. Although I am not close to the concrete jungle of NYC, the political quarrels of Washington, the celebrity lifestyle in LA, or the music scene in Miami, I reminded of these characteristics by my learners in my tiny town in north-eastern Namibia. Whether it be the New York City shirts and urban fashion they replicate, the “Obama for Africa” backpacks that most of them own, the famous actors and actresses they ask me about, or the Lil Wayne, Beyonce, or Usher songs they sing on the way to school, America seems to be a part of my and their vernacular a lot. While people in the states may be viewing a divided government, a high unemployment rate, and catfights on the tv, my learners see the true America, a beacon of hope, prosperity, and freedom.
Their desperation to come and live in America does not come purely from the vast wealth we may have, it comes from the sheer opportunity that America offers. We complain about a 9% unemployment rate, however Namibia skyrockets over 50%. In my village alone it is over 60%. When asked what they want to be when they grow up, most reply with the only viable jobs that are here: teachers, store owners, workers at posh hotels, or nurses. At their age, I was foaming at the mouth to be President of the United States, and before that it was an astronaut, a teacher, an archeologist, and an actor. We are fortunate to have that distinct quality to hope for a better day, because we have seen so many examples of it before.
As I try to walk home from school at 4 pm, I do not make it home till 6 pm, due to the trail of learners that want to ask me questions regarding slavery in America, why we have Alaska and Hawaii, why don’t we include Canada and Mexico in our Country, where do the famous people live, and what does our national anthem sound like. These inquiries typically end with them asking me to take them back to America or the surprising request for me to adopt one learner so he can be a citizen. This afternoon, I was asked the most thought provoking question that pressed me to write this blog entry: What is it like being American? I stood there, staring at him, and he waited on his toes for my answer. I offered a quick reply, then came home and thought about it some more. What is like being American? The first word was fortunate. I went to public school till grade 12, when many here only make it to grade 8. I made it to Boston University, when many can only dream about attending college. I traveled the world to Australia, Thailand, Ghana, Israel, Swaziland, and Namibia, when many of them have never even been to the city (Rundu) 2 hours away. I am guaranteed health care, when many here fail to see a doctor due to lack of accessibility. Finally, I enjoy the simple freedom to do as I please, to hope for something better, when many here have lost any sort of hope.
Ultimately, I understand how lucky we are to be from the United States of America, a nation that still offers hope to millions of people, even in this small village in north-eastern Namibia. We may disagree on how our country should be run or if we will remain a super-power over China, but I am proud to say that I from a country that offers hope to these 400 children at Divundu Combined School.

Now back to lesson planning, off to Windhoek (the capital) this weekend , for a meeting with my supervisor.

God Bless America

Peace
Scott

A Whirlwind of a Trip

Since I have not updated the blog in a while, I need to catch all of you up on my weekend trip to Victoria Falls. My village, Divundu, is at the beginning of the Caprivi Strip (google image it), so all cars heading from Namibia to Zambia, northern Botswana, or Zimbabwe must drive through my town. All of the other WorldTeach volunteers are in the Central-North of Namibia, so since a few wanted to see Victoria Falls, it worked out great that their bus had to stop in my town along the way. Although, I am in a prime location for traveling as I am in the vicinity of so many different countries, the problem lies in actually getting to places. There are no taxis, trains, or daily buses in the area, so the only way to get from place to place is hitchhiking. The other volunteers were taking a big bus, the Intercape, that begins in South Africa and travels to Victoria Falls two times a week, so this was a great opportunity for me to get out.

At 6 am I joined the other volunteers on the bus and journeyed for 8 hours till we got to Livingstone, Zambia. Because of school on Monday, we had 24 hours to explore, enjoy, and complete everything we wanted to do. Once we arrived, we immediately got into a cab and went to the Falls. With my heart pounding, legs jittering, and eyes fixated out of the window, we could already see the mist from the falls over a kilometer away. After paying the entrance fee, we ran as fast as we could, then abruptly stopped as we all witnessed one of the seven wonders of the world. There are no words to describe how unbelievable, cool, fantastic, mind-boggling, incredible, and astonishing they are. We ran to each viewing station as the sun set all around us. By 6:00 pm we hopped into a cab, adrenaline still gushing from what we just saw, and quickly went back to the Hostel to get ready for dinner.

At the hostel, I bumped into an American and we had the usual conversation, “where are you from”, “what are you doing here”. Of course, I was thousands of miles from home, in the middle of southern Zambia and…she is a BU grad student with over 15 other students and professors from BU. Of course! I gave her my email, and some of the students might come towards Namibia later in the year and stop by my house. BU geography. I am surprised she wasn’t jewish and I didn’t go to camp or birthright with her.

Once changed, the four of us, took a taxi to the Royal Livingstone Hotel. A 5 star hotel set just a kilometer from the falls. I hadn’t eaten a ‘good’ meal in 2 months, so we all thought we’d splurge, and splurge we did. The place was one the nicest hotels. With gazpacho for an appetizer, Impala and porridge for an entrée, sorbet to clear the pallet, a chocolate dish for dessert, and 2 bottles a wine to accompany the dinner, I was definitely in a good state. During dinner, a Canadian man came up to us asking if we wanted to see a traditional Zambian cultural group perform. He started a non-profit that sponsors one, so it worked out great that he was able to drive us. Although we were enjoying the performance, all of us were ready to hit up the town of Livingstone. We asked the taxi to take us to the best club in town. At the bar, I instantly headed over to the whiskey. Four hours later, we were still enjoying the dancing, the music, and of course the drinks. 4 am came, and I was reliving my BU moments at Ts Pub and Jtree, but we ultimately decided to head home.

With only 2 hours of sleep, we awoke, and moved to our next stop, a helicopter tour. We boarded the helicopter nearby and none of us talked, we just had our eyes fixated out the window. I didn’t think it was possible to top the day before, but this took the prize. From above we could see everything, including elephants grazing right above the falls. Even though it was a short 15 minute ride, the image was captured in my head (and the 100 pictures I took). Afterwards, 2 of the girls did a zipline/bungy near the falls, but I decided to save my mom and dad the heart attack, and enjoy lunch and watch.

At 11 am, we hopped on the Intercape and by 7 pm I was back in the village, preparing for my lessons the next day. That was all done in 24 hours! It was an amazing trip, and luckily I will be back in 3 weeks to enjoy it with the parents.

Keep a look out for another blog post this week. Hope everyone is enjoying the heat in NYC!

Miss you all.

Peace,
Scott