An honest answer; a kiss on the lips

"When someone mistreats you try to view it as an opportunity to grow in grace.  See how quickly you can forgive the one who has wounded you."
-Jesus Calling-

I held these words deeply to my heart last night as I was presented with a situation on the homestead that was incredibly upsetting and hurtful.  As many people know, I consider myself to be close with my homestead brothers and sister.  We have shared stories together, we have laughed together, we have been educated together, and we have gone to town together.  I honestly considered them to be my family away from home, doting on them and taking care of them just like I would if I had a younger brother or sister in America.

A couple weeks ago, I was made aware that one of my brothers had lied to me about his age and some other personal matters that are not mine to share on the World Wide Web.  I was really confused by the age thing, but I wrote it off as him being embarrassed that we are only one year apart and that he is still in school.  I wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he had been honest and told me he was 22 though.  This is Namibia and many of my students are close to my age.  Therefore, I was a little bit offended that he lied about that and never thought to tell me the truth.

Last night however, another lie surfaced that pushed me over.  My homestead sister had told me that her birthday was in August and that she was turning 14.  Considering one of my love languages is giving, I set out during my holiday to find a gift that was suitable and practical for a girl schooling in the village.  Unfortunately, I found out last night that her birthday is actually in November and that she will be turning 16.  SLAP IN THE FACE!  What just happened?!  You mean I bought a gift for a birthday that didn’t even exist?! To hear those words spoken felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

When I found all of this out, I had to leave the kids immediately because I was just too furious to look at them.  I walked home, grabbed my running shoes, put on some Skrillex, and set out to process this lie and a few others with a run.  After returning home, I spoke with the "kids" about how hurt and upset I was.  I got excuse after excuse, which honestly hurt me more.  I am a person that is very honest, sometimes too honest, so to still be misinformed added to the pain.  I asked the students to leave knowing that I would need a couple days to myself.

Now, I know that I will forgive them.  In many ways, I already have.  They still have such a strong hold on my heartstrings, but for a little while, I just wanted to be upset at their behavior.  I’m sure that is childish, but it was how I felt.  Having this happen, I questioned what I was actually doing here.  I had helped other students out at school; my parents had organized a scholarship for the learners in my life.  I began to wonder if those students had also lied to me.  Had I been played?  I honestly will never know; how can I?  I’m praying and trusting in God that the things I have done have been for a valid reason.  Ultimately, I need to remember that no matter what, many of these children do need my help, so any time or help I have given them was ultimately worth it.

"An honest answer is like a kiss on the lips."

-Proverbs 24:26-

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A day being "married"

A glimpse into my Friday:

We have End of Service in Tsumeb this weekend, which means transportation is arranged for us.  However, instead of getting picked up in the village or at a building, I was told to meet on the side of the B1 (the main road going from Oshikango) in order to meet three of the other volunteers and the Ministry of Education transportation. 

Before getting there, I knew how this would play out.  Taxi drivers would want me to ride with them.  People passing by would want to talk.  A few proposals of love/friendship/marriage would take place.  Just so you know, Namibia DOES NOT DISAPPOINT!  I received all of the above.

In a matter of two minutes, two people had already asked for my number, cat called me, and inquired about what the heck I was doing on the side of the road.  The number continued to increase as the minutes did.  So that you understand how all of this played out, let me share with you a conversation that took place.  I want all of y’all to partake in the fun that I call transport in Namibz!

Man in nice bakkie (truck): Hello, sister.  How are you?

Me: I’m fine.

Man: Where are you going? Do you work here?

Me: I’m going to Tsumeb for work.  I teach in Odibo.  (Before you all freak out that I gave out personal information, this is Namibia it aint no thang).

Man: Ok, I will come visit you in Odibo some day (drives away).

5 minutes pass.  The man in the nice bakkie returns.

Man: (rolls down window) So, is it ok if I come visit you in Odibo?

Me: (eye roll, why are you back?) Ummm no.

Man: Why?

Me: I’m married (Flash ring given to me for graduation- Thanks, Mom and Dad).

Man: Oh, oh. I’m so sorry.  I actually respect that (first man to say that to me here).  Where is your husband?

Me: At home.

Man: Oh, not good.  

Me: It's only for two more months.

Man: Ok, well have a nice day then.

End scene.

Being fake married has never been so rewarding.  My fake husband has come in handy in several different situations since living here.  He has protected me and helped me in awkward or uncomfortable situations, but before y’all think I go around telling everyone I’m married, it is only done in times when I can’t handle the obnoxious proposals.  All of my coworkers, students, and my favorite taxi driver know that I’m unattached.

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Discipline the Ms. Mac Way

“Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” (Proverbs 22:6)

Last week, two students walked to the back of the library where I keep my work supplies and sports equipment.  Wrapped up in a rubber band was a black jump rope.  The smaller boy asked me what it was and I proceeded to explain the concept to him.  In actuality, he knew what it was, but before making the connection, he told me that he thought it was used for beating.  My students know that I do not believe in physical discipline, which lead me to ask them a question I already knew the answer to: “have you ever seen me beat someone?”  At this point, my older boy stepped in and replied with a very nonchalant, “no and I don’t understand why.”

Today, a week later, I witnessed a punishment I was not in favor of and in fact believe was inappropriate and extreme.  At the beginning, these acts made me upset, but as time passes, these actions only piss me off.  They make me so mad that all my body can think is that I need to go for a run now now so that I don’t do something stupid.  One of my learners who knows me very well could tell that I was not pleased with what I witnessed, so he brought up the topic.  Without going into great detail, I explained to him that I don’t think it is right to beat a child for do something wrong.  His response… “Miss, you can’t let it affect you, you can’t change it.  That’s how it is…”  And with those words, I thought two things. One, why can’t I change it?  Two, there’s now another generation growing up to believe that school learners SHOULD be physically punished for their actions.

As I mentioned before, my students know that I will not beat them.  Do I lose some control over them because of that?  I do, but for me it is worth it.  The thing is though, I don’t think my learners truly understand why physically inflicting pain on them is not an option for me.  Therefore, I’m writing this entry to explain why that is, even if my students may never find access to this website…

Where to start?  Let me go back to the bible verse I posted at the beginning.  Although I know this verse is referring to Jesus, the church, and fellowship, it can also apply to many aspects of life.  The way a child is brought up will determine the way he behaves as he is older.  What a child is taught at a young age will continue into his or her later years of life.  Knowing that, and knowing the affects that physical punishments have on children, I do not believe physical violence is the key to teaching children to behave appropriately.  Studies have proven that corporal punishment or “physical punishment” allows children to see violence as a way of solving problems.  The way we punish our children and students at a young age more often than not leads to the way they handle personal situations once they become old enough to process issues on their own.  If that is indeed true, I want to train a child in the proper way to go.  I do not want to see or hear that my children are solving their problems with violence.

Secondly, I was not raised in a home where verbal or physical punishment was really used.  Does that mean I was a perfect little angel?  I like to say yes, but my mother will definitely tell you otherwise…I was a terror child.  Does that mean that I went 23 years without a spanking from a parent?  Nope, we had a good pal called Donald Duck to do that.  Did all of this happen a lot in the McLaughlin household though?  No because it wasn’t really the nature our family thrived in.  Because of that, I can tell you that whenever I was mad, upset, angry, name any negative emotion, the thing that helped me to calm down the most was love.  I needed to know or feel love.  Still to this day, if I get into a fight with someone and we lash out at each other, the thing I want most is to feel loved.  I want that hug that tells me we will make it through; that “I’m sorry and everything will be ok.”  For me, and many other people, I respond better to speech: talking things through, explaining the issue, working out a solution, determining what I could have done to handle the situation better?  Since I know this about myself, I’d prefer to apply it in the lives of my students.  They are not as exposed to this style of discipline and problem solving, which is why I continuously implement it into my class.  If I see a student struggling or acting out, I take them aside and discuss the issue.  What good does it do me to beat them if I do not know why they are doing something in the first place?

Lastly, this verse is extreme, but here it goes… “But if anyone causes one of these little ones who believes in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a large millstone hung around his neck and to be drowned in the depths of the sea” (Matthew 18:2-6).  Ultimately, my students are my brothers and sisters in Christ.  Not only am I their teacher, but I am here to love them the way God loves them.  I am here in this country to show Christ’s love to the nations, and for me, that is through hugs, sweets, stickers, big smiles, and finding a way to make something super serious or upsetting a little less traumatic.

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A Penny for your (Thursday) Thoughts?

Ok, so this isn’t really thoughts so much as some simple updates on the shenanigans that have been happening this week.  Basically, Namibia is getting hotter and hotter each and every day.  Don’t ever let me complain about Texas heat again.  So that you understand, let me paint you a picture… Imagine a hot, Texas summer day.  I’m talking in the 100s.  The humidity is lower, but the sun is beating down with some of the strongest rays in the world.  Now subtract the air conditioning in your house, car, shops, etc. that you eagerly run to in order to escape the dreadful sauna you are constantly walking in.  That is Namibian life…  I’m honestly still amazed that I continue to stay fully clothed, because let’s face it, naked is the way to go.  My students have been suffering due to the heat, and since they have such strict uniform rules, they are doing as much as possible to stay cool without getting in trouble, like unbuttoning their shirts below their chest bone whenever a teacher isn't around.  That gem came from my homestead brother’s brother.  A Namibian Rico Suave.

Either way, this week we have had a couple rainy nights, which has been so nice.  I’m talking loud, rolling thunder accompanied by lightning.  Unfortunately, when it pours, some water does get in the house, but that’s ok.  The land needs it, as do the families in the community.  With my tin roof, it gets super loud and it’s like the whole rain experience is heightened.  Sadly, rain means more bugs in the house.  Last night, I had a war with some June bugs because they would not stop swarming my head as I was trying to get to sleep.  Picture this: crazy, spastic girl sitting in her bed on the phone as bugs dart past her.  All of a sudden, the bug is in her shirt, trapped in her bosom area.  Squeals were made for sure. 

In other news, we officially started booking stuff for our South Africa trip in December.  Can we say surreal?  I can’t even believe that this chapter of my life is almost over.  Speaking of almost over, I have never felt something so incredibly bittersweet in my life.  As much as I am excited to get back home, see all of y’all, and do random things, I can’t even imagine saying goodbye to these students.  They always say that when you go somewhere, you end up getting more than you give, and this experience is no exception.  These kids have given me so much!  Words cannot even begin to explain it all.  The tears will be rolling on the last day with them.  Just thinking about it makes my heart ache.  Expect a somewhat depressed Taylor and an overload of African stories from this girl for the first month after I return.

Lastly, I was walking to school today, a small boy, probably around 2, was pooping outside.  His father, being the good father that he is, was monitoring and making sure he had the proper squat stance.  Only here!

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The Color of my Skin

I've never really given much thought to the color of my skin before I moved to Namibia. Some people may say that is because I am white and have not truly experienced discrimination because of skin color. In some ways, those people may be correct, but I attribute it more to the upbringing that I received from my parents. Moving to the south after they were finished with college, both me and my sister were born in Louisiana, the state with the 6th largest proportion of African Americans.   With diversity like that, I never really looked much into skin color. At a young age I had best friends that all looked differently than me. In fact, I even went through a phase where I thought I was not white. I had an imaginary boyfriend named Leroy and some really awesome baby dolls that did not resemble me at all. 

At 10, my family uprooted and moved to Saudi Arabia. Once getting there, I was surrounded be even more ethnicities, colors, etc. It was beautiful. Each person brought this sense of uniqueness to the group, and although I was at an American school, there were people from all over the world in my classes: Thailand, Saudi, Lebanon, Canada, India. You name it, someone was there. 

Shortly after living in Saudi, we headed home to America and became residents of Texas, a state even more diverse than Louisiana. Again, I was blessed with amazing friends from all different walks of life. We may have physically all looked differently, but at the end of the day, we were the same. We had the same interests, were in the same school groups, liked the same shops, had similar humor. We were more similar than different. 

Now that I live in Namibia, I am indeed  aware that I am white. Almost weekly I am reminded of that. Whether it is through words like oshilumbu, catcalls from the men, or stares from small children and grown adults, I am aware that I am very different from them. I really don't notice it though until this happens. When I see the people I live with at my homestead, I see family. When I see myself with the students, I see people I deeply care for. Not a difference between us. Because of these reasons, I get upset when other people point out that Im white. Does it matter?  I have men frequently tell me they love me based on my skin color, and the thought that always goes through my head is that I could be a total jerk. I could be an awful person, so no you do not love me.

 I know that for the Namibian culture, white and black integration is newer, especially since independence only happened a short 23 years ago and many Afrikaners still stay in their own niche.  Therefore, it  is sometimes odd for people in town to find out that I live in the village, on a homestead with a Namibian family. 

At the end of the day, at the end of this blog, at the end of this year, I guess I just want it to be clear that I do not care that I am white and I do not care if you are black. Both are beautiful. What I do want people to know is that, I respect you for your heart, for your determination, for the respect you also give me. I may be white, but I am so much more. My students and family may be black but they are so much more!

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Wedding Bells...or chants

So I was able to attend my first and probably last Namibian wedding this previous weekend.  Before I explain what all I saw and experienced, let me give a brief description on Namibian weddings based on what I have learned/been told.  Basically, weddings here are two days long.  On the first day, the actual wedding ceremony takes place.  From what I understand, this is very similar to our American wedding ceremonies.  Following the ceremony, people go to the bride’s family.  At this point, hundreds of people come to celebrate the couple (No invite needed. Heck you may not even know the couple), partake in traditional dancing and chanting, and eat a lot of food.  The following day, they do the exact same thing at the groom’s family with more food and possibly different people.

The portion of the Namibian wedding I attended I was the party on the groom’s side, which took place on Sunday.  I’m not 100% sure how Doctor is affiliated with the groom, but this is Namibia and everyone knows everyone somehow.  So basically, Sunday afternoon around 4, three of us piled into the bakki (me, Doctor, and his cousin Patrick) and headed to a neighboring village.  Doctor thought we may be late, but once we arrived, we learned that we were not.  In fact, the party hadn’t even really started yet.  There were a lot of people there, but the bride and groom still had not shown up.  At this point, we headed into the homestead and the guys greeted friends and other people they recognized.  Shortly after, we sat and waited for things to get rolling.  We had some meat and the guys were catching up and talking about past times (that’s what I was told, but I couldn’t tell you for sure because it was not English).

After about an hour, we left the homestead fence and walked to a big tree where people were crowding.  At this specific site, the bride and groom were seated with their wedding party close by.  Older memes were chanting and singing songs, and small girls were performing traditional dances.  This went on for about 30-45 minutes until the bride and groom stood along with a banner announcing their marriage and proceeded towards the feasting tent.  The couple walked around the homestead as guests followed closely chanting and dancing.  As they finished their rounds, they made their way into the tent, guests following behind.  Once in, there was music, food, and of course drinks.  For us, the night ended pretty early because I was tired, there was work the next day, and Doctor had to drive back to Omungwelume.

All in all, it was an interesting event, and although I was exhausted and a bit dehydrated, I’m glad I was able to experience this event before leaving Namibia.  In the future though, I will stick with a more intimate wedding ceremony. 

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Michael Immanuel

In July, I introduced you to one of my students in an entry called A Learner's Dedication.  Today, I want to dig deeper and share more details on this student, Michael.

Michael on the left posing for some iPhone shots

As Michael sits in the back of the class, he towers over all of the other learners.  At about 6 feet tall, Michael doesn’t just surpass most of the students in height though; he also surpasses them in age.  At 21 years old, Michael is one of my oldest 9^th grade students. 

From the start of term 2, I knew that Michael was going to excel in my class, but I did not know how deeply he would affect my life.  I do not like to admit that I have favorite students, but if I am honest, I do, and Michael is one of them.  Since arriving at Odibo CS, Michael has gone above and beyond to assist me in class, better his education, and inquire about the world.  On a daily basis, Michael greets me and asks how the morning is.  If I ever need a helping hand, I know that I can trust him to get the job done.  On top of that, he respects me as a teacher even though I am only 2 years older than him.

At the start of the year, I was curious as to why Michael was so much older than the other students.  I know that several students are close in age, and many have failed different grades throughout their schooling.  However, I knew that this could not be possible for Michael.  Something about his work ethic and mannerisms allowed me to know that he indeed had not failed school.  As time has passed, I have gotten closer with Michael and have been exposed to more and more of his story.  Through a scholarship that my parents have put together, I was able to get a more detailed story on Michael’s education.  Below is a revised essay that he submitted and has given me permission to share.  I have added in some information in order to clarify some details:

…………………………

I was born in 1992, but I started school late.  2004 is when I started school; I was twelve years old.  It was very shameful for me to start school so late because I was too old to be in grade one.  This was not my own fault, but happened because my parents failed to take me to school earlier due to their own lack of education.  They are both illiterate.

One day though, my uncle asked my parents if it was possible for him to take me to his house in order to go to school there.  My father agreed, so I moved.  For almost seven years, I was schooling there, but in 2011, the situation between my uncle’s wife and me was not always good.  I moved to Odibo to stay at my father’s house.  I have never failed a grade in my life, but unfortunately I missed one grade in 2011 because I was enrolled in a private school that was too expensive for my family and me.  I was chased out in February 2011 because my father could not afford to pay the fee.

Since 2011, I have not been helped by either of my parents.  When I restarted my schooling in 2012, last year, I had to pay for my own school fees, school uniform, and school materials by myself.  Since I am older, my parents believe that I am old enough to fight for my own life and needs.

…………………………

Michael went on to explain that he comes from a family of nine kids, many of which have different mothers, and since he is the first-born, he has to take care of himself.

Knowing Michael’s personality and story, I felt moved to share it with all of y’all.  At 21, Michael has not given up on his education, but instead continues to push himself more and more each day.  Instead of having a bad attitude about being too old for class, he acts as a leader for the younger students, constantly showing them what it means to respect others and to persevere.  Hear it from me, his English teacher; Michael will become someone in his life!  He will better his circumstances, support his family, and do great things.  There is no doubt in my mind that Michael will excel.  With a brain as inquisitive as his, a heart as large, and a dedication as strong, he will do amazing things.

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Doctor, Doctor give me some news

I’ve been having some medical issues ever since my last holiday.  I could probably blame it on a lot of things: the heat, lack of clean water, or never knowing when or if I am ingesting gluten.  The thing is, and many people may know this already, I am a little skeptical of doctors.  After having spent hours, days, and years going from doctor to doctor about brain tumors, chronic headaches, and gluten intolerance, I’ve heard and seen a lot.  I’ve even experienced my fair share of types of doctors: neurologist, neurosurgeons, orthopedists, plastic surgeons, and holistic doctors.  To sum it all up, I’ve spent a lot of time in medical facilities, which has led me to only go when I feel things are very serious.

Fast forward to the present date.  I’m currently facing some nausea and other intestinal problems, which at home I would just brush off and continue on with my day.  Here however, it is harder to ignore because of lack of cleanliness, air conditioned relaxation, and over the counter medicines.  There has been this silly thought of “oh my gosh, I’m gonna die before I get home” continuously playing in my head.  Dramatic, of course, but I live alone 75% of the time!  Therefore, I had to finally take action.

After missing work on Monday and still feeling a little “weird” throughout the week, I decided to head to Ongwediva to meet with a doctor.  Another volunteer who also does not have running water contracted a parasite, so I wanted to get that checked out before it was too late.  When I arrived in Diva, I waited a nice two hours at the doctor.  I’m still not 100% sure how the system works since it was first come first serve, but people were definitely going in before me that were not there before me.  Either way, when I finally met with the doctor, my skepticism flared up more than usual.  As far as doctors go, he was nice and comforting, but he was lacking a sort of assertiveness in his position.  The doctor sat behind his nice desk, asked me questions, and I shared my concerns…yes, self-diagnosing myself, which is every medical professional’s favorite thing.  This doctor did not seem to mind though because he gave me a thermometer and then filled out lab work for me to complete for exactly what I told him I thought could be wrong.  FYI over share: some nice blood work and a stool sample…GREAT I thought, I just took something to make me stop going!  Needless to say, I will be making a trip back on Tuesday because some things did not go according to plan.  Hopefully the lab results come back quickly and then everything goes well from there.  With this constant sauna surrounding me, feeling sick or under the weather is far from enjoyable.

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A Reminder to Self

There is one important thing I’ve been trying to prepare myself for upon my return, and that is this:  I have changed, but that does not mean everyone at home has.  I cannot go home and expect others to have radically altered lives just because I now do.  I cannot get upset or angry because of materialism and lack of awareness of others.  Just because my awareness is now heightened to all of these things, I cannot put the same expectations on others.  I am the one who decided and agreed to uproot my life, which means I cannot expect others to be on the same page as me.  I can hope for understanding and a desire for continuous self-improvement, but I cannot expect others to drastically change the way they are living now that I am home again.

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It's a big, big world

I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter where I live, I will constantly be seeking out a new adventure.  I will be craving the next big trip I take to a new, foreign place.  Even though I live in a very different country, a place where many people have never been or possibly even heard of, I find myself fantasizing about other unique, distant places.  For awhile, I felt bad because I was looking forward to the next chapter, which in some people’s minds clearly means I’m ready to leave Namibia, but as I gave more thought to all of this, I realized it doesn’t mean that at all.  I have loved my year abroad and I have made relationships that I will miss more than words.  However, I am slowly realizing that God has wired me to crave the beauty he has created in others, whether it is through their cultural activities, personality, landmarks, etc.  No matter where I am, I will always be interested in others’ lives and mind processes.  Ultimately, I have a love for the nations and their artwork, which I am beginning to understand is one of the several gifts God has blessed me with.

I have often wondered how other people feel about traveling and to what extent they desire it though.  I have met many people who want to travel, but I have only met a handful that I would put on the same level as me (not that I am some superior traveler).  This level is difficult to describe, but in a simple explanation, it is a person who feels most alive when exploring and experiencing new things.  It is a person that puts travel and adventure close to daily things like eating, even if they are not capable of doing said action daily. Not ironically, these people are individuals that I have met while traveling the world.  They are roommates I spent hours exploring Italy with, they are random people I met at hostels and later became friends with, and they are other volunteers that I am currently teaching with.

Basically, the more I leave my comfortable home in Texas, the more I learn and truly begin to live.  I've discovered that although not every destination is as glamorous as the next, in some way each one is unique and adds a piece to this puzzle I call my life.  As time passes, I am learning that "my favorite thing is to go where I've never been."  To explore.  To stand in a country completely confused and dependent on others.  To see that in the end, we all breathe, think, and face the same struggles.  We were all created by the same God to love each other and to love His son. 

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