At the moment of this writing I am ridiculously invigorated, ambitious, and determined. We’ll see how long I can maintain this level of energy…
My first three weeks in Namibia were spent in Windhoek receiving orientation. It was informative and enjoyable, but I couldn’t help from itching to get to my school. Arriving at school was like a punch in the solar plexus, and the remainder of January was spent basically just figuring out how to survive at my site. After learning how to obtain water and food, and how to bathe, among other things, I spent the month of February acclimating myself to my new working environment. Not only had I never been to Namibia before, I had never before been a teacher. Learning a new job is difficult, especially in a different culture half-way around the world. With that said, I kept my head down, my eyes open, and asked a lot of questions. How does this school work? How can I be of use? Then, as we progressed through March, I began implementing some of my ideas, as well as helming some ideas proposed by others.
You have learned about the Oshikunde Photoshop (which unfortunately ran out of ink while still approximately $45 US in the red, but oh well, next time around prices are going up!), and I have also mentioned our weekly Music Night.
After what I thought was a great idea proposed by a colleague was in danger of dying in the middle of a staff meeting, I volunteered to operate the Oshikunde Suggestion Box. It’s just a sealed cardboard box with a slit in the top for learners to drop pieces of paper with compliments, criticisms, and questions. Several colleagues expected it to be neglected or even counterproductive, and admittedly I thought that only a few learners would make use of it. But after I posted my sign (DO YOU THINK YOU CAN IMPROVE OUR SCHOOL? TELL US HOW!) learners immediately gathered around murmuring and gesturing, and after one week my modest, ugly box was full of folded scraps of paper (I even found out later that teachers submitted slips to the box). I now compile a list of the suggestions to present to the school’s management every week, and my only concern is how we will break it to the learners that it is fiscally impossible for us to respond to all of their requests. Two causes that repeatedly come up and I have decided to champion at meetings are treating the Grade 8-10 learners in the same manner as the 11s and 12s (i.e. allowing them to eat in the kitchen and to wear white uniforms as opposed to the blue worn by younger learners) and allowing girls more freedom in how they wear their hair.
This week also saw the first ever printing of Fish Bean New Era, the Oshikunde school paper (Oshikunde means Fish Bean). We might try to produce another edition this year, but considering this was the product of months of work in my Basic Information Science classes (we meet once a week, and things move slooooowly in Namibia), its doubtful. The paper has a logo, comic strip, sports section, articles, pictures with captions, and classifieds all designed by the learners and will be sold at a price that covers the cost of ink, paper, and staples (this is on the schools dime now, not mine like the photo shop).
On last Monday I also supervised Oshikunde’s first career fair. A week ago I took 12 learners to the youth center in town an hour away to hear and take notes on presentations from various institutions such as the Namibian Defense Force, Kayec Trust Vocational Training, and Namibia Breweries on job opportunities. The learners moved from station to station in groups, and after returning to school and working hard on posters and speeches, the learners I took recreated the career fair in our school blocks for the rest of the student body at Oshikunde. I ran around blowing a whistle every ten minutes to signal when the learners should rotate and frantically gesticulating to explain the circular classroom flow to the learners, but it worked out pretty well.
This blog is too long, and there are pictures coming, but the point is that I am beginning to realize that I am a workaholic…….WHAAAAAAAT?!?!? I never knew there were so many hours in a day. I cannot get enough of checking things off my to-do list, and as a result I worked 17 hours yesterday. I am seriously worried that this is all going to catch up to me with a violent whiplash and soon, but at the moment I am pumped.
March 31, 2010
March 22, 2010
The Evolution of an Idea
Subtitle: Music Night
Subsubtitle: My Brother is the Man
Around 7:30 pm, on my way from home to my office I crossed paths with my principal who had just then called it a day. We began talking as we leaned on the fence that separated our yards. He had just had an interview with some learners from last year’s grade 12 class to discuss what strengths and weaknesses they had in English by the end of their secondary schooling. He had done this because only 50% of the grade 12s achieved passing marks in 2009, and although various offices find that rate acceptable, Shapaka thinks “that is not good enough, not good enough.” I continually find my principal demonstrating this obvious, sincere concern for the learners’ and school’s success (did I mention I am a fan of his?). He told me that the learners said they particularly struggled with the listening portions of their exams. I thought to myself, “Hip-Hop Night!” What better way to practice listening than to jam out and read along with the lyrics? I had always wanted to share my strange, underground rap music with my learners because previous volunteers swore that the kids can’t get enough American hip-hop, and now I finally had my excuse!
I planned carefully. I revealed my neo-natal idea to only a few teachers. I only occasionally shared my iTunes library with the learners and subtly asked questions to gauge the demand for such an event. I went through my music and selected a playlist of songs that were relatively slow so as to not be too difficult, reasonably clean (I wasn’t going to concern myself with a few “damns” or “hells”), and contained a positive message. I emailed the list of artists and songs to my brother with my plan for a weekly jam session, and within twenty four hours I had in my possession a word document with the complete lyrics of approximately twenty songs.
The school owns small stereos that accept mp3 players, so I intended every week to just transfer a few songs to a thumb drive and pop it in. On the eve of my first planned music night I tested the equipment, and it failed. The majority of my music files apparently are of the type m4a, not mp3, and the stereo did not recognize them. I would need blank cds. Also, after polling the learners and teachers to learn their favorite artists, I realized that I didn’t own any music by the pop sensations that they know and love (Chris Brown, Beyonce, Akon, Ne-Yo). Moreover, on the few trial runs when I shared my music with teachers it was disappointingly poorly received. A new playlist needed to be created. Vilo and I went through his library and pulled about 40 songs that were exactly what we needed. Slow paced, clearly sung, catchy, and by artists that the learners wanted. It was a Tuesday, and I wanted to try to host the first music night the following day. I shot an email off to Brad: Brad, can you find all of the lyrics to these songs for me in one day? (I didn’t use those exact words, but that was the gist of it.) A file with the lyrics for all but 5 or 6 songs (by international artists) was in my inbox the next afternoon.
So hip-hop night had transformed to simply music night (Britney Spears is NOT hip-hop), but the enjoyment of the learners is far more important than the satisfaction of my bizarre musical tastes.
The first session was going beautifully. We were listening to Alicia Keys. The learners were nodding their heads and singing along as their eyes traversed the lyric sheets in their hands. I defined words and expressions they didn’t understand. I explained that “gonna” and “Ima” mean “going to” and “I am going to”. It could not have gone any better until we were shut down by another teacher. A noise complaint! So maybe hip-hop night turned music night, will turn into music afternoon, but the learners want it, and I have enough songs and lyrics to do this for months. Thanks Brad.
Subsubtitle: My Brother is the Man
Around 7:30 pm, on my way from home to my office I crossed paths with my principal who had just then called it a day. We began talking as we leaned on the fence that separated our yards. He had just had an interview with some learners from last year’s grade 12 class to discuss what strengths and weaknesses they had in English by the end of their secondary schooling. He had done this because only 50% of the grade 12s achieved passing marks in 2009, and although various offices find that rate acceptable, Shapaka thinks “that is not good enough, not good enough.” I continually find my principal demonstrating this obvious, sincere concern for the learners’ and school’s success (did I mention I am a fan of his?). He told me that the learners said they particularly struggled with the listening portions of their exams. I thought to myself, “Hip-Hop Night!” What better way to practice listening than to jam out and read along with the lyrics? I had always wanted to share my strange, underground rap music with my learners because previous volunteers swore that the kids can’t get enough American hip-hop, and now I finally had my excuse!
I planned carefully. I revealed my neo-natal idea to only a few teachers. I only occasionally shared my iTunes library with the learners and subtly asked questions to gauge the demand for such an event. I went through my music and selected a playlist of songs that were relatively slow so as to not be too difficult, reasonably clean (I wasn’t going to concern myself with a few “damns” or “hells”), and contained a positive message. I emailed the list of artists and songs to my brother with my plan for a weekly jam session, and within twenty four hours I had in my possession a word document with the complete lyrics of approximately twenty songs.
The school owns small stereos that accept mp3 players, so I intended every week to just transfer a few songs to a thumb drive and pop it in. On the eve of my first planned music night I tested the equipment, and it failed. The majority of my music files apparently are of the type m4a, not mp3, and the stereo did not recognize them. I would need blank cds. Also, after polling the learners and teachers to learn their favorite artists, I realized that I didn’t own any music by the pop sensations that they know and love (Chris Brown, Beyonce, Akon, Ne-Yo). Moreover, on the few trial runs when I shared my music with teachers it was disappointingly poorly received. A new playlist needed to be created. Vilo and I went through his library and pulled about 40 songs that were exactly what we needed. Slow paced, clearly sung, catchy, and by artists that the learners wanted. It was a Tuesday, and I wanted to try to host the first music night the following day. I shot an email off to Brad: Brad, can you find all of the lyrics to these songs for me in one day? (I didn’t use those exact words, but that was the gist of it.) A file with the lyrics for all but 5 or 6 songs (by international artists) was in my inbox the next afternoon.
So hip-hop night had transformed to simply music night (Britney Spears is NOT hip-hop), but the enjoyment of the learners is far more important than the satisfaction of my bizarre musical tastes.
The first session was going beautifully. We were listening to Alicia Keys. The learners were nodding their heads and singing along as their eyes traversed the lyric sheets in their hands. I defined words and expressions they didn’t understand. I explained that “gonna” and “Ima” mean “going to” and “I am going to”. It could not have gone any better until we were shut down by another teacher. A noise complaint! So maybe hip-hop night turned music night, will turn into music afternoon, but the learners want it, and I have enough songs and lyrics to do this for months. Thanks Brad.
March 19, 2010
Sometimes We Are...
Episode 1:
Early one evening as the incredible African sun cast its deep purples on the horizon’s edge I returned to school from town to find two teachers digging a trench in the dirt with spades. My interest was piqued, but while carrying a cumbersome load of groceries I had energy enough only for a nod and hello as I scuttled past. I entered my house, put down my bags, flicked the light switch, and noticed that nothing happened. Hmmm, what exactly were those teachers up to underground?
I sauntered back to their worksite to investigate. Sure enough all manners of wires were exposed in the ditch. “What’s up guys?” I inquired. They explained that the original wiring of the school site was perfunctorily done (tell me about it), and that they had lost power in their home. All of the connections were “bent” (a term that means tied, broken, malfunctioning, any number of things really), and they had cut the power so that they could redo the circuits safely. “Sometimes we are electricians,” Mr. Nangolo explained to me with a slight grin. I had no knowledge with which to safely or productively assist them, so I wished them good luck and busied myself with something else. Sure enough, not an hour later my lights popped on. From my window I could see lights on in the two teachers’ house as well, and I could also see them filling in their trench - a job well done.
Episode 2:
Ivan was driving at quite a clip. It was Sunday afternoon, and we were making great time returning to school from town. Our speed made the dirt road a little bumpier than usual, but it wasn’t uncomfortable enough to keep my eyelids from periodically closing for a few moments. Suddenly, there was a large bump. The sound of the car’s pieces moving around inside and underneath immediately and obviously changed. We continued slowly for a short distance with Ivan cautiously trying different pedals before he brought us to a stop. Everyone in the car climbed out, so I decided to follow suit. Everyone also crouched down and looked with furrowed brows at the underside of the car’s trunk from a distance, so I did too. Despite my encyclopedic ignorance of how moving parts interact, I could easily see that our exhaust was dislodged and hanging much lower than it ought to.
As I began readying my psyche for a good long sit and a late night of planning, Ivan opened his trunk, grabbed a jack, and handed Eslon a blanket and a few lengths of wire. With the car propped up slightly, Eslon placed the blanket on the dirt, quickly scanned the car’s underbelly, and crawled underneath. I didn’t have a view of what exactly he did, but my assumption is that he yanked a few things around, put them back into place, and tied them up tightly. Eslon pulled himself to his feet and wiped off his hands. “Sometimes we are mechanics,” said Ivan matter-of-factly. Everyone got back in the car, so I joined them. We arrived in Oshikunde with time to share a Coke before returning to work.
Early one evening as the incredible African sun cast its deep purples on the horizon’s edge I returned to school from town to find two teachers digging a trench in the dirt with spades. My interest was piqued, but while carrying a cumbersome load of groceries I had energy enough only for a nod and hello as I scuttled past. I entered my house, put down my bags, flicked the light switch, and noticed that nothing happened. Hmmm, what exactly were those teachers up to underground?
I sauntered back to their worksite to investigate. Sure enough all manners of wires were exposed in the ditch. “What’s up guys?” I inquired. They explained that the original wiring of the school site was perfunctorily done (tell me about it), and that they had lost power in their home. All of the connections were “bent” (a term that means tied, broken, malfunctioning, any number of things really), and they had cut the power so that they could redo the circuits safely. “Sometimes we are electricians,” Mr. Nangolo explained to me with a slight grin. I had no knowledge with which to safely or productively assist them, so I wished them good luck and busied myself with something else. Sure enough, not an hour later my lights popped on. From my window I could see lights on in the two teachers’ house as well, and I could also see them filling in their trench - a job well done.
Episode 2:
Ivan was driving at quite a clip. It was Sunday afternoon, and we were making great time returning to school from town. Our speed made the dirt road a little bumpier than usual, but it wasn’t uncomfortable enough to keep my eyelids from periodically closing for a few moments. Suddenly, there was a large bump. The sound of the car’s pieces moving around inside and underneath immediately and obviously changed. We continued slowly for a short distance with Ivan cautiously trying different pedals before he brought us to a stop. Everyone in the car climbed out, so I decided to follow suit. Everyone also crouched down and looked with furrowed brows at the underside of the car’s trunk from a distance, so I did too. Despite my encyclopedic ignorance of how moving parts interact, I could easily see that our exhaust was dislodged and hanging much lower than it ought to.
As I began readying my psyche for a good long sit and a late night of planning, Ivan opened his trunk, grabbed a jack, and handed Eslon a blanket and a few lengths of wire. With the car propped up slightly, Eslon placed the blanket on the dirt, quickly scanned the car’s underbelly, and crawled underneath. I didn’t have a view of what exactly he did, but my assumption is that he yanked a few things around, put them back into place, and tied them up tightly. Eslon pulled himself to his feet and wiped off his hands. “Sometimes we are mechanics,” said Ivan matter-of-factly. Everyone got back in the car, so I joined them. We arrived in Oshikunde with time to share a Coke before returning to work.
March 13, 2010
The Oshikunde Photo Shop
Since we are on the subject of pictures, I thought this would be a good time to describe my latest little project, the Oshikunde Photo Shop.
From the moment I first pulled my dinky Nikon Coolpix from my pocket one fateful afternoon, I was hounded by learners with requests to take and print out their pictures. After talking to other volunteers I learned that it is not uncommon for Americans who have cameras to snap photos of people around their school, and for a few dollars apiece, take the pictures to a photo shop in town, get prints made, and distribute them. I do go into town with some regularity, but I thought to myself, “Why not do it all in house?” So over the past few weeks I have been gathering supplies for my business venture. I sunk a few hundred of my own capital (I am going to try to use as many professional business terms as possible) into the acquisition of the necessary supplies: paper, camera batteries, and ink cartridges. Then I typed up a budget with places to record my expenses and revenue, and at the morning assembly on last Monday I announced to the learners the grand opening of my shop.
In its first week my entrepreneurial brainchild (the learners think the word “entrepreneurship” is ridiculous) proved itself to be more than a modest success. After making over $70 in revenue in the first couple hours, I had to turn learners away so that I would have time to print out the remaining shots I had taken and still be able to finish my teaching duties that day. The system became refined over the next days with the addition of an order booklet to record names, image numbers, sizes, and quantities, and the institution of times for picture taking, picture printing, and picture retrieval. I have even begun typing captions with names and dates directly onto the images upon request, which I see as a nice added bonus to not outsourcing my printing.
The start-up is still very much in the red, but the revenue is coming in at a much faster rate than I originally expected. If the trends continue, my projections show I will start making a profit in the next month and a half. I intend to use the proceeds, should there be any, to improve the shop (i.e. invest in higher quality printing paper) and to purchase supplies for the school, which seems to be perpetually out of ink otherwise.
Even if I overestimated demand, set prices too low, or made any other mistakes that may cause the business to fail, the learners have gotten a kick out of seeing their likenesses slowly emerge from Mr. Vilo’s printer. And although in Namibia most people seem to prefer a serious face to a toothy grin, my shop has coaxed out a handful of smiles. Mission accomplished.
From the moment I first pulled my dinky Nikon Coolpix from my pocket one fateful afternoon, I was hounded by learners with requests to take and print out their pictures. After talking to other volunteers I learned that it is not uncommon for Americans who have cameras to snap photos of people around their school, and for a few dollars apiece, take the pictures to a photo shop in town, get prints made, and distribute them. I do go into town with some regularity, but I thought to myself, “Why not do it all in house?” So over the past few weeks I have been gathering supplies for my business venture. I sunk a few hundred of my own capital (I am going to try to use as many professional business terms as possible) into the acquisition of the necessary supplies: paper, camera batteries, and ink cartridges. Then I typed up a budget with places to record my expenses and revenue, and at the morning assembly on last Monday I announced to the learners the grand opening of my shop.
In its first week my entrepreneurial brainchild (the learners think the word “entrepreneurship” is ridiculous) proved itself to be more than a modest success. After making over $70 in revenue in the first couple hours, I had to turn learners away so that I would have time to print out the remaining shots I had taken and still be able to finish my teaching duties that day. The system became refined over the next days with the addition of an order booklet to record names, image numbers, sizes, and quantities, and the institution of times for picture taking, picture printing, and picture retrieval. I have even begun typing captions with names and dates directly onto the images upon request, which I see as a nice added bonus to not outsourcing my printing.
The start-up is still very much in the red, but the revenue is coming in at a much faster rate than I originally expected. If the trends continue, my projections show I will start making a profit in the next month and a half. I intend to use the proceeds, should there be any, to improve the shop (i.e. invest in higher quality printing paper) and to purchase supplies for the school, which seems to be perpetually out of ink otherwise.
Even if I overestimated demand, set prices too low, or made any other mistakes that may cause the business to fail, the learners have gotten a kick out of seeing their likenesses slowly emerge from Mr. Vilo’s printer. And although in Namibia most people seem to prefer a serious face to a toothy grin, my shop has coaxed out a handful of smiles. Mission accomplished.
March 12, 2010
More Pictures
Oshikunde:
When the water is running, we get it from those taps.
The tents are where the learners live. They don’t do diddly squat keeping the rain out.
When the water is not running, we get it from the gutters and from that watering hole.
The tub is filled with a lot of fish. The learners are fed three times a day by unpaid members of the village who arrive at school several hours before sunrise and cook all day. Every time I see them I say, “Tangi, tangi, tangi, tangi, unene”.
Learners will turn absolutely anything into a ball and kick it. In this picture they have tied a bunch of plastic bags together. Game on!
The picture with the learner standing on a desk was taken at the Miss Valentines Day Pageant. The event lasted for approximately eight hours and finished at 3am.
The man in the pink shirt is the honorable Waardheim Shapaka, my principal. He has proven to be quite a remarkable human being.
(Side note: short ties are all the rage in Namibia. I LOVE IT.)
The guy in the green is the Head of the Language Department, Vilo Shitataala. You may recognize his name from previous posts as the person who did such crucial things for me as bring light into my room. He is the man.
The lady sitting on her car is my next door neighbor, the wonderful Meme Antindi. If I’m not careful I may slowly fall in love with her.
Ruacana Falls:
The two white people climbing over rocks are Julia and Kyle.
The guy relaxing on a rock is “Pa”, one of Kyle’s colleagues. He said the words “nature” and “beautiful” numerous times.
When the water is running, we get it from those taps.
The tents are where the learners live. They don’t do diddly squat keeping the rain out.
When the water is not running, we get it from the gutters and from that watering hole.
The tub is filled with a lot of fish. The learners are fed three times a day by unpaid members of the village who arrive at school several hours before sunrise and cook all day. Every time I see them I say, “Tangi, tangi, tangi, tangi, unene”.
Learners will turn absolutely anything into a ball and kick it. In this picture they have tied a bunch of plastic bags together. Game on!
The picture with the learner standing on a desk was taken at the Miss Valentines Day Pageant. The event lasted for approximately eight hours and finished at 3am.
The man in the pink shirt is the honorable Waardheim Shapaka, my principal. He has proven to be quite a remarkable human being.
(Side note: short ties are all the rage in Namibia. I LOVE IT.)
The guy in the green is the Head of the Language Department, Vilo Shitataala. You may recognize his name from previous posts as the person who did such crucial things for me as bring light into my room. He is the man.
The lady sitting on her car is my next door neighbor, the wonderful Meme Antindi. If I’m not careful I may slowly fall in love with her.
Ruacana Falls:
The two white people climbing over rocks are Julia and Kyle.
The guy relaxing on a rock is “Pa”, one of Kyle’s colleagues. He said the words “nature” and “beautiful” numerous times.
March 11, 2010
Picture MOTHERLODE
I have finally figured out how to upload pictures to my blog! (It’s okay if you aren’t as excited as I am) This link:
http://picasaweb.google.com/104184428031129256317 (click here)
lets you peruse my various photo albums. I have quite a few more pictures than this, but because uploading is a time consuming process I have tried to include as many as possible in the time available while being sure to include most of my favorites.
A few comments:
My home:
No, that satellite dish does not work.
The white tub is my “indini”. It is a 25L water container, and I am very very happy I bought it.
Orientation and Home Stay:
The little girl is Toto (whom I mentioned in the Night Among the Stars post). One of my favorites is of me and her dancing to “Poker Face” by Lady Gaga.
The man in the lime green suit is “Black Door” Moses Shilongo, a Namibian music artist. He is the husband of my WorldTeach field director, and a friendly enough chap to call and sing to me on my birthday.
The sprawl of shacks constructed of metal is a place called Katutura. This is basically an enormous slum on the outskirts of Windhoek, the country’s capital. It is a fairly tough sight to behold, but one image I doubt I will ever forget is that of a middle-aged man sharply dressed in suit and tie returning from work to his makeshift home. In just a glimpse of him I could tell he didn’t want my pity, and his image proved that human pride and dignity exist in even the unlikeliest places.
The pictures in which I am jumping are of me playing a game called “uma”. The first person jumps in and out of two strings in a sequence (e.g. one leg in, two legs in, one leg out, both legs out), and everyone must repeat the sequence from memory over and over again as the strings move progressively higher.
The group picture is of me and Ms. Megan and our group of learners from the teaching practice session in Tsumeb.
The guy at his computer is “Maich Blaiq” Victor, a Kenyan music producer helping with Gal Level’s latest songs.
Frieda, one half of Gal Level is seated and in black in another picture. She was instructed to sing to me in order to achieve a sufficient level of emotion in her song.
Etosha Park:
On our first visit we only saw lion paw prints. On our next we slooooooowly drove through a group of six lionesses (pictures to come).
The picture of the animals lying down in the distance is of the expansive Etosha Salt Pan. It’s cool if you find enormous, flat, briney sand patches interesting. It is visible from space though!
Can you find the chameleon?
This is as many pictures I could upload before my internet cut out. I hope you all like them, and more are coming soon.
http://picasaweb.google.com/104184428031129256317 (click here)
lets you peruse my various photo albums. I have quite a few more pictures than this, but because uploading is a time consuming process I have tried to include as many as possible in the time available while being sure to include most of my favorites.
A few comments:
My home:
No, that satellite dish does not work.
The white tub is my “indini”. It is a 25L water container, and I am very very happy I bought it.
Orientation and Home Stay:
The little girl is Toto (whom I mentioned in the Night Among the Stars post). One of my favorites is of me and her dancing to “Poker Face” by Lady Gaga.
The man in the lime green suit is “Black Door” Moses Shilongo, a Namibian music artist. He is the husband of my WorldTeach field director, and a friendly enough chap to call and sing to me on my birthday.
The sprawl of shacks constructed of metal is a place called Katutura. This is basically an enormous slum on the outskirts of Windhoek, the country’s capital. It is a fairly tough sight to behold, but one image I doubt I will ever forget is that of a middle-aged man sharply dressed in suit and tie returning from work to his makeshift home. In just a glimpse of him I could tell he didn’t want my pity, and his image proved that human pride and dignity exist in even the unlikeliest places.
The pictures in which I am jumping are of me playing a game called “uma”. The first person jumps in and out of two strings in a sequence (e.g. one leg in, two legs in, one leg out, both legs out), and everyone must repeat the sequence from memory over and over again as the strings move progressively higher.
The group picture is of me and Ms. Megan and our group of learners from the teaching practice session in Tsumeb.
The guy at his computer is “Maich Blaiq” Victor, a Kenyan music producer helping with Gal Level’s latest songs.
Frieda, one half of Gal Level is seated and in black in another picture. She was instructed to sing to me in order to achieve a sufficient level of emotion in her song.
Etosha Park:
On our first visit we only saw lion paw prints. On our next we slooooooowly drove through a group of six lionesses (pictures to come).
The picture of the animals lying down in the distance is of the expansive Etosha Salt Pan. It’s cool if you find enormous, flat, briney sand patches interesting. It is visible from space though!
Can you find the chameleon?
This is as many pictures I could upload before my internet cut out. I hope you all like them, and more are coming soon.
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