Stupid Little Boot Puzzle Piece

The same day that we found out language, was also the same day that I met my host family for the first time. The Peace Corps training staff had all of the trainees and host families together in the Kukuri Centre dining hall. After we went over all of our fears and concerns about hosting and being hosted, the trainers handed out puzzle pieces to the group. The purpose was to have the trainees seek out and find which family they “fit together with.”

I had been eyeing this one family from the moment they had stepped into the centre. They looked very friendly and had tons of cute kids that I knew I would just have so much fun playing games with. We even had a “moment” outside when I greeted them all and they smiled ever so kindly and greeted me in return. When I saw that they held a triangular shape puzzle piece that looked similar to mine, I knew it was destined to be. And just as I was standing up to let the family know the good news, Anika swooped in, and in one instant demolished a perfectly imagined future full of Phase 10, Canasta, and more games and fun than a person could hope for.

As I sat there devastated, watching Anika in the center of a swarm of fun and loving children, receiving countless hugs, I knew it was time to go look for the other half to my dumb and ugly boot puzzle piece. After scanning the crowd over and over, I finally found my host parents. We connected the awkward puzzle pieces and introduced ourselves. Then as we were going outside to talk more and get to know each other, the host mother vanished from sight. All I could think was that she really disliked me, because she hardly said a word to me, barely gave me any eye contact, and then just left without saying anything. (Anika’s host mother wouldn’t have done that to me, we would have talked and laughed and instantly bonded in that short introduction section. I just know because of the moment we had earlier that day.)

Before my new host mother left, she did answer one question for me. You see, I had heard many stories from volunteers about their Memes and Tates, and I was excited to be accepted into the family as one of their own children and to call my host parents Father and Mother in the native language. So when I asked my host parents what I should call them, I was just looking for a confirmation that I could call them what all of the other volunteers have called their host parents, Meme and Tate. But instead of hearing those wonderful words I had imagined saying (and that Anika was probably saying at that very moment), I was told to call them Mr. Nikolas and Mrs. Veronika. (Yes sir and Ma’am)

Me and the host father talked a bit outside. I asked questions about the family, and learned that I had a 19 year old host brother named Sien, two host sisters named Nikoleta and Marina, with ages 12 and 9 respectively. Then we talked about other various random topics for a while before I gave him the bad news. I told him the one thing no Namibian parent ever wants to hear their child or guest say. The thing that had caused families across the centre to breathe a sigh of relief when they found out they were one of the “lucky” ones who hadn’t been stuck with “one of those”. You see, the families had been prepared for, and known that there were some of us in the group, and they were dreading being one of the few who “drew the short end of the stick”. So I mustered up the courage and told him the truth, that I was one of the diseased and unwanted lepers, I was the shame of Namibian society…I was a VEGETARIAN!!! (dum dum dummmm)

Right at the moment I spoke the horrifying words, I bet he was wishing some omnivore (probably frickin’ Anika) was staying with him. From the look on his face I can just imagine that I had crushed his grandiose vision of braiing (Afrikaans for grilling) more meats than one could dream of. Homestay was not off to a great start (at least not as great as Anika’s). Damn you stupid little boot puzzle piece…damn you to hell…