Gary’s House

There’s enough “bolognese” lentil spaghetti in the fridge to last me a lifetime. And it’s really good. What makes it even better is that the spaghetti is stored in our fridge, in our house, in our 6 inch deep tupperware. And whenever I desire, I can turn on the stove, reheat the spaghetti, and have a delicious meal that I cooked! I figure the secret ingredient to such a meal must be contentment. How lucky I am to have access to fresh vegetables and vegan protein sources, only 10km and a friendly taxi ride up the road. 

I officially moved into my permanent home 2 weeks ago (the house with the former (yes, no longer) electric shower). Following my last post, the site visit ended and Matias and I spent another month back in Okahandja to finish Peace Corps training. I don’t want to dwell on this time for long because boy, it was a drag. I was unmotivated, bored, and very ready to move on. Just when I thought things appeared at their lowest, life picked me back up again. Since getting back home, things have changed for the better. 

We arrived two weeks ago with a heap of dirty laundry. Now to wash it, we place two buckets in the backyard. One is propped up on the sink, waist-high and filled with detergent, while the other is placed by our feet and contains just water. I sulk at the thought of this task, as it can be time-consuming and daunting. Squish, plop, my clothes splash into the water bucket; cluck, cluck, I turn around. There is a flock of three chickens in the backyard. One black, one white, and one brown. They are fearless, bobbing up to me and making me smile. There are just.. loose chickens.. that like to hang out in the backyard! Everyday I wake up to the hello of a cluck and I greet them outside. Sometimes they even bring their friends to stop by. Although we haven’t given them names yet, the same can not be said for Trisha and Gary. Trisha is a wall spider who lives in the bathroom and Gary is a gecko that lives behind the kitchen cabinets. 

Gary enjoys watching me cook occasionally, although she is a little shy. She’s smelt the aromas of sweet basil and oregano when I make lasagna sauce and spiced chili powder over fajitas. She’s smelt the familiar scents of traditional foods, such as mahidi lyomalayangwa (pumpkin leaves) and eguni (Kavango orange). The pumpkin leaves smell of sweetgrass and sugary spinach when they are being boiled. They went amazingly with onions and tomato over rice, with a side of black beans. The eguni has a hard orange shell, ranging from the size of a tennis ball to the size of a small bowling ball. Once cracked open (either with your elbow if you’re Namibian or by throwing it forcefully at the ground if you’re Matias or Helen), there are around 50 large seeds covered in delicious sweet pulp. Plop a seed in your mouth, suck off the pulp, and then accumulate enough seeds to plant a grove of eguni trees. 

Both the pumpkin leaves and the maguni (plural of eguni) fruit were wonderful surprises by my colleagues. It is exam season at school until the break in December, so I have been spending much time in the staff room grading tests, reading the book Braiding Sweetgrass, and talking about plants. Plants are at large a main topic of conversation in the staff room. Even the work group chat is 80% messages about plant sales. People talk about plant grafting while they peel their mahidi lyomalayangwa leaves after buying them from a vendor just outside. Once they are done peeling, they head outside to plant seeds in the school garden. Last week I planted corn kernels. When I am nose deep in my book, my colleagues will tap me on the shoulder and give me a plant. They’ve gifted me two maguni, one for me and one for Matias, pumpkin leaves, red mizuna microgreen seeds, and a cooked potato. Just when I was getting hungry and forgot to bring a snack, my colleague gave me a baked potato on a plate. Where did it come from? I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. It was exactly what I desired most at that moment. She even gave me a jar of salt. 

Just when things appear they are at a low, they somehow work out in the end. Our electricity goes out here and there, mostly when it rains. It usually goes out around dinner time because that’s when the rain storms happen. Just when I think I am not going to have cooked pumpkin leaves for dinner, the electricity comes back on. Every time. I am very grateful for it. For the electricity, for Gary, for my rotating fan, for two-player dice games, and for a lovely cabinet of every spice imaginable. I have everything I need, and I have a whole lot more.