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Issue date: 2/4/10 Section: Columns

My host brother, Dankie (4), smiles for the camera, fascinated by seeing what he looks like afterwards.

Rosalin (3) my host sister enjoys a dinner with her plastic toy train at sunset.

It was a single room made of dung. Its one window was nothing but a mesh-covered hole in the wall, the roof made of tin, the door constructed from scrap metal and pieces of old rubber tires for hinges. The kitchen was outside the room, a mere cupboard and fire pit for cooking. The bathroom? An outhouse without a door, which made for some wonderful scenery while you did your business.

I was a temporary member of the Ubu-Khaes family during my visit to Khorixas, Namibia and resident of this dung home. I found myself reeling in disbelief at first, in shock about where I was, whom I was living with, and how we were living. I felt like I was in Paris Hilton's "The Simple Life," minus the cameras.

The experience was a step outside of my comfort zone, but it was just one part of the "cultural immersion" I had signed up for when I decided to study abroad in Africa with Augsburg College's Center for Global Education. The program, "Globalization, Nation-building and Decolonizing the Mind," included homestays, giving my 25 peers and me the opportunity to live with families in different settings around the region and outside of the classroom.

Namibia is a country within the southwest region of Africa. Namibia gained its independence just 19 years ago in 1990, after years of systematic racial segregation and oppression. It remains a relatively small country with only two million people and one of the lowest population densities in the world. It also has a wide chasm between the rich and the poor.

Despite these facts, my life in Windhoek, Namibia wasn't too drastic of a change from life in the U.S., as we had access to basic utilities and modern conveniences like cell phones and internet access. But life really became different, however, during my stay with the Ubu-Khaes family. That is, once I moved into the hut.

In the weeks prior to living in a rural area of Namibia, the program staff had tried to prepare me, the best they could, for my experience with my new family. I had meetings to discuss expectations, precautions, and possible cultural differences. I had to attend weekly language lessons in an attempt to learn Damara, an African click language, which was unlike anything I had ever heard before.

Nothing could have really prepared me for my adventures on the Ubu-Khaes' farm, as the week proved to be nothing short of a blast into the past. Water was drawn from a well with the power of a windmill, laundry was washed by hand and hung on the line to dry, donkey carts were used for transportation, cooking was done over a fire and candles were used to provide light in the absence of electricity. Observing and taking part in this lifestyle, I realized how some of the more primitive methods of living, although they take longer to accomplish, are still effective today.

This week was also the first time I truly experienced the poverty we had merely seen on various occasions. My first full day, we were greeted by a government food truck bringing food-aid to the residents of the farm. It carried packages labeled with "For vulnerable groups only. Not for sale."

The food is provided by the Namibian government several times throughout the year, to help those who rely on the land for their livelihood during drought season. Receiving my bag of maize meal (corn) and canned pilchards (fish) was a humbling experience and one I thought I would never have.

My diet during this week was a reflection of the poverty in which I was living. Many meals consisted of meager and unsatisfying portions of food-fat-cakes (fried dough), pasta with tomato sauce (ketchup), or bread with peanut butter-a high starch diet, lacking many tiers of the food pyramid.

Halfway through my week on the farm, I was looking my finest-my hair covered in natural oils, my skin covered in dust and dirt from the land and smelling like the camp-fire that was always burning right outside our hut. To remedy the situation, I was given the opportunity to take a bucket bath, a totally new and unique experience. I was given a small bucket filled with no more than a gallon of hot water, which was heated in a teapot over the fire and a cup to assist in rinsing off.

At first I was slightly overwhelmed by having to bathe with so little. I thought to myself, "How am I supposed to wash my hair without a trickle of water coming from above me? Is there some crazy Yoga position I'm supposed to strike in order to wash myself?"

Realizing asking for instruction was nearly impossible due to the language barrier (not to mention humiliating), I adapted the best I could and ended up finishing my bath only slightly cleaner than when I started.

Days on the farm were relatively uneventful and what some might consider boring. They were spent tending to the cows and horses, socializing with people on the farm and doing a lot of contemplating and self-reflection. The afternoon was time for naps in the shade outside, where I sought some relief from the hot African sun.

At the end of my stay with the Ubu-Khaes family, I left with mixed emotions. I felt relieved to enter back into my comfortable lifestyle, although troubled by knowing the conditions in which the family lived and continue to live. I wanted to be able to remedy the situations of the people who had so warmly welcomed me into their home, and yet knew that giving them all of my possessions wouldn't serve them. I walked away appreciative for the things and opportunities I'd had and for the life I live. I had gained perspective on what it meant to be poor, but rich in spirit.

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