The Calm After the Storm

Folks, we’ve come to the end of term 1 at Orotjitombo PS. The school closed 4 days early due to the fact that the maize meal and the food budget were completely depleted. No maize meal, no food, no kids. So, away they went.

There was a flurry of activity, a mass of learners throwing their belongings into my closet, shouting, car engines stalling, and then…

Nothing. Sweet, sweet nothing.

Today, I walked to the entrance of my stuffy little house to find the school grounds empty. The students were gone. Most of the teachers were in Opuwo. There was no singing, no shrieking, no hysterical crying, no laughing, no “Miss, can I have a sweetie.” The only sounds I could hear were the wind whipping around the buildings, the creaking of my door hinge, and the sporadic clink of the flag beating against the flagpole. The dust swirled across the yard, and I realized how much I have missed the quiet.

I did. I love just standing there, surrounded by quiet. I know this is a freakish characteristic by many people’s standards. But I need it as much as food, water, and beer.  

As much as I love being around the learners, and as boring as “quiet” gets after 2 days, I thought I was going to have to stick my head in the sand, ostrich-style, if I didn’t get a break from ALL THE NOISE, ALL THE TIME. Endless. Children, teenagers, they are like energizer bunnies. Especially when there is no TV or videogames to distract them. And that’s a great thing. But baby-sitting 318 kids for 4 straight months is a little harrowing. One can only take so many times of being woken up by a hand reaching through their window asking for soap at 5 o’clock in the morning. Gives me a panic attack every time.

Tonight I went on a very short jog. It was short because it was impromptu, and I was wearing flip-flops. I was walking the 1 kilometer to get to the patch of sand where I get cell service, enjoying how the wind blows away all the sound from the village, and I all of the sudden decided I do enough walking, walking isn’t fast enough, screw walking. So, I took off my flippy-floppies and started Forest Gumping it down the road. I haven’t run in over 3 months. I used to run nearly every day. I don’t know what provoked it. Maybe the heat has made me more bat-shit crazy than usual.

I’m not saying this was some spiritual moment for me. I’m not even saying I enjoyed it. I couldn’t really, because the whole time I was having an internal struggle.

This is a nice thing. I love running. Let’s keep going…Someone’s staring at me behind a bush right now. I know it. And tomorrow everyone will be talking about how the white girl thought she was being chased by something. I should definitely stop. I can’t stop. I’m like an Olympian up in here. But I’m wearing my school shirt. This is ridiculous.

For a 7 mph moment, I felt like my normal (that's relative) self. Not the girl that only takes 3 showers a week, eats cold tinned beans for dinner, and is constantly and spastically waiting for another African-shaped curveball to be pelted at her face.

For the record, though, I’m good at navigated curveballs. And I like my life in Namibia. A lot.

But this place gets loud sometimes. And bustling, and crowded. And because my ears are apparently connected to my lungs, this cacophony of…life makes it hard for me to breathe. Also, sometimes it smells like poop at my school. This also makes it difficult to breathe.

I’ve got to say, I like the breathing thing. I’ve missed it.

It’s been a mind-blowing, mind-numbing first term. It went by in a storm of bewilderment. I couldn’t tell you why, but for some reason I visualize the word bewilderment as an elephant awkwarding itself down a Slip-and-Slide (Seriously, this image actually pops into my head. In cartoon form). This also aptly depicts my floundering through term 1. Not pretty, humorous, loud, ultimately good fun.

And now, for 2 more beautiful days, I will stare at my wall and do absolutely no more than listen to the sounds of nothing.