Science Fair Episode II: The Cattle Truck of Death

Last year around this time, I had the pleasure of attending the Kunene Regional Science Fair in Opuwo. On this trip we broke down in lion country, slept on the steps of a school, ripped out a fuel line on our bus, and I got yelled at by a drunk teacher. It was time again for the regional science fair and I must have been suffering from some strange form of heat induced amnesia, because I agreed to go again. Stupid stupid stupid stupid…

The fiasco started out fairly normal: we were scheduled to leave on Wednesday afternoon and I was still helping learners get their projects finalized on Wednesday morning. Before the end of school, I was able to get all the learners, their projects, clothes, blankets, etc. in my classroom ready to go. We still hadn’t heard anything about transport. The only thing I knew was that we were supposed to be in Outjo at some point this evening and we might get picked up at school. I had heard a rumor that there might be a bus coming down from Opuwo today, but who knows how long that might take.

In the middle of taking worksheets for my other classes to different classrooms, I was stopped by the acting school secretary. I say “acting” because we don’t have an official secretary at the moment… well, wait. No, that’s not true. We do “officially” have a secretary at the moment but it is the popular opinion around the school that she is seriously crazy. I’m inclined to at least go along with this since every time I try to say, “good morning” to this woman she starts laughing at me. And, the only thing she does during the day is knit and type her name in huge font with odd sayings and the date on our office computer. Her wall is covered with pieces of brightly colored paper that say things like, “IF NOT ME THEN WHO? MINA GIENGOS 06-07-2007” and “LOVE IS A DANGEROUS GAME WE PLAY MINA GIENGOS”. I mean seriously covered. From as high as she can reach, all the way down to knee level going all the way around her office are these papers. And we employ this woman! Or at least the government does.

But this has no bearing on the science fair. I just think it’s a funny anecdote. So we have this acting secretary who is supposed to be doing a work study program to become a secretary. As I’m walking past, she tells me that there was a call for me in the office about the science fair and I need to go wait for them to call me back in five minutes. I go to the office and stare at the phone for seven minutes while Mina Geingos types a “kitchen prayer” in seventy-two point font at the computer next to me. She’s not actually typing it from memory or something. It’s from an already typed piece she has on the table, but this version is inferior because you cannot see it from fifty paces. And who prays for their kitchen anyway? I could understand something like, “Dear god, get rid of these cockroaches!” but that’s not much of a prayer and it wouldn’t do any good posted on the wall. I give up and go back to my class where more learners have started taking apart their posters and remaking them.

Just before the end of the day, I talk to the Life Science teacher, Ms. Gawises (Ga-vee-sess), who tells me that she got a call saying that all the Khorixas schools are supposed to meet up at the Ministry Building tomorrow morning at 6:30 to await transport. She says that she and the Principal will take their trucks and load the learner’s stuff to drive it up the hill tomorrow. We agree to meet at my classroom in the morning at 6 to load up and I go back to inform the learners. They are disappointed and air all sorts of suggestions about how we should borrow someone’s van to take all of us (no one wants to pay for gas), hike (not enough money), all stay in the hostel (not enough beds), or sleep in my classroom (no way). I try my best to politely shoot down all of these and get them to organize their things and meet the next day at 6 at the ministry building. At this point, things are an improvement over last year since I get to spend the first night in my own bed. This will end up being the high point of the trip.

Thursday morning, I meet the principal outside my class and he shows me a fax he had received Wednesday at 4pm. It says that no teachers from Khorixas should attend the science fair since there’s not enough accommodation or food for them except for a listed two. I’m not on the list. But, Ms. Wasserfal (Vasserfal) from the drinking bus fun of last year is. At least they bring out the varsity team for these things. My principal says he told Ms. Gawises she didn’t have to go, but he told them that I would be attending. I would have gone anyway, but I know this does not bode well for the trip. We load up the projects, blankets and bags and head up to the Ministry building. My kids are already there along with Ms. Wasserfal and her kids. We unload and the primary schools show up. At around 6:30, a bus comes barreling up the hill in a cloud of dust and rocks. The driver jumps out and informs everyone of what the plan is. Unfortunately, it’s all in Afrikaans so I get nothing until I get one of my learners to start translating for me. There’s no diesel in Khorixas and no government credit card to charge to anyway so we won’t be taking the bus. Instead, we will wait for two pickups, a minibus, and a big truck to take us to Outjo. The bus leaves and a few minutes later, the vehicles arrive. Two covered pickup trucks and a minibus will take the girls and most of the projects. The boys and the remaining stuff will go in this behemoth cattle truck. We enter a ten minute period of absolute chaos where the learners start rushing the different vehicles. I’m yelling that everyone should give their projects to the girls who have real seats to sit on and all the boys need to get their blankets since we are looking forward to a one hour ride in status reserved for cattle being taken to slaughter. We’re most of the way loaded when I ask the transportation officer if we will pick up Braunfels.
“We’re not picking up Braunfels”
“Who is?”
“No one. They’re not on the list”
“They are on the list”
Checks the list “Nope. They are not on the list”
“Well they have kids there with science fair projects and they are waiting for us”
“You just want to help your friend”
Yeah! I do, you moron! I also know that you are too self-centered and incompetent to think of anyone other than yourself so shut up and tell this guy to go pick up Braunfels! “No, I’m just trying to make sure that all the schools get to go” is all I say. He does and we peel out of the ministry building with kids, posters, and bags rolling around in the back end.

This cattle truck we are riding in is a Chevy S10 Exterminator of DOOM (yes, it must be capitalized and you should read it with emphasis) with a twelve by seven foot flat bed that has four foot high metal fences along the sides. It is normally reserved for transporting four to five cows, a herd of goats or an M1A1 Abrams Tank. A commonly known conversion in Namibia is one cow equals six kids for purposes of space (or financial bartering) so we will easily fit thirty kids in here. I figure we will be rolling out in typical government style with a rickety 80kph. What I forgot was that livestock is much more valuable than human life so the vehicles designed to transport cows are kept in top form. When we leave Khorixas, we are flying, some smaller boys literally. We dive to keep the posters held down and blankets in hand. Thankfully it is a fast twenty minutes to Braunfels. Along the way, we hit a Dikdik and have to turn around to pick up the carcass. If you don’t know what a Dikdik looks like, think of Bambi. That’s it. Bambi versus the Cattle Truck of Death ends with one flat Bambi and us slamming on the brakes, going back and tossing Bambi in the cab for later consumption. In flattening Bambi, he lost his bowel control and I think we split him open so the cab might need a new air freshener. Suddenly, the wind blown back end isn’t so bad. We pull into Braunfels and Carl hangs his head in his hands at first sight of us. We take the stationary moment to lay all the posters flat and get everyone pushed up against the front of the bed where it is less windy.

As we leave Braunfels, the bumpy, up-down dirt road is too much for one boy and he walks to the back to lose what little he had for breakfast. Once back on the main paved road we really get moving. I mime to one of my learners asking what the speedometer reads. He gives me a zero sign in reply. The speedometer is disconnected, the oldest trick in the taxi driver book. Carl times how long it takes us to go the 10km between the distance signs to Outjo and calculates that we’re going 150kph. That’s 94mph. I’m sitting in the back of a truck with thirty kids going close to a hundred miles per hour. Science Fair sucks.

We’re in Outjo in forty-five minutes, a drive that normally takes over an hour. When we arrive, no one is really expecting us. We get dropped off at the boys’ hostel and, like a fool, I start asking who I should talk to about getting accommodation for my kids. No one really knows, and I finally get to talk to the Hostel Head Boy which is a sort of misleading term since this is certainly not a boy, though he is a learner. He lets us store our stuff in his room since most of the learners are in class and there are no keys to any of the rooms. We walk back to the school to get our projects set up. No one has eaten breakfast and I can’t find two-thirds of my kids because they were in the other cars. Carl takes the kids and their projects over to the school where the exhibition will be held while I finish unloading the rest of our stuff. I meet Carl in the exhibition hall where he is in the middle of telling them to head over to the opening ceremony and put on their school uniforms when they get back. Wasserfal is there, on her way out and asks if we will go to the opening ceremony. I say no and she hands me a stack of papers and tells me I can number all the projects then. She yells a thanks over her shoulder as she leaves and I tell her to go to hell, though she is out the door by the time the words leave my mouth.

There is no lock for the door and I want to pick up some things in town just in case my kids are missing something so Carl stays behind while I run around town for an hour or so. When I get back, we number the projects and have a quick lunch I had picked up on my way back to the school. Carl and I take turns going back to the hostel to change into some different clothes and check on our stuff. A little before lunch, most of the kids are back from the opening ceremony and we form a sort of plan for the day. The learners will use the time before lunch to get most of their stuff ready and then change after lunch and come back for judging at 2:30. During lunch, Carl and I stash our bags in the principal’s house since he lives on the hostel grounds and it is a much more secure place than the random unlocked room we found in the hostel. When the kids get back, we help them finalize the rest of their projects and take a few pictures before we take off into town. Like I mentioned before, we are not technically supposed to be there so we really feel no obligation beyond our own learners, especially not to judge so we have to get out before the judging starts. We head into town and run some other errands, wander the culturally rich sites, and generally complain about how much Outjo sucks.

We got back to the school at 5:30 and are quickly swarmed by learners complaining that no one has come to judge them yet. These kids have been preparing for this moment for… well… not long enough, but they are ready! Carl and I go back to where the primary projects are being judged a few blocks away. Sitting outside the exhibition hall is Ms. Jagger (Ya-gghhherr, you should make a hacking sound when you read the two ‘g’s) in her truck. This is the woman who has “organized” this debacle and I bite my tongue since I know this will do no good. Instead, we go inside and survey the situation: the judges are a mixture of primary and secondary teachers and only a few have finished judging all the primary projects. I walk up to Wasserfal and ask when they are planning on judging the secondary projects. She complains about how they are very far behind and we (her, Carl and I) can just judge them ourselves. She starts trying to pull us out of the hall and just go do it now. I mention the crazy concepts of objectivity and fairness in addition to a quick multiplication lesson on how long it will take three people to judge over fifty projects even if we only spend a minute or two at each project. She’s having none of it and continues to try and pull us out the door. We suggest the alternative that the kids go to dinner now and do judging after dinner. She says the kids won’t come back which means that she won’t come back. It is pay day after all. We get more judges over and they shoot down her idea so she immediately suggests our idea. People sort of grumble a little but resolve that it is the best solution possible. Carl and I volunteer to go back and inform the learners, which we do.

Now, a year ago, I would have stayed. A year ago, I would have thought the worst thing I could possibly do at this moment would be to grab my things and go to another town. But that was last year. This is this year. First off, we have no place to stay here. Our most likely bet is to sleep on the floor of the principal’s house. Second, we were told, via fax, that we were not needed. Third, and most important, this is the way things always turn out. Shit hits the fan due to bad planning and when we walk in and ask what that smell is, everyone suddenly realizes that someone screwed up big time. But then they look at us to help clean up. And since we’re nice guys, we grab a mop and start directing people to try and salvage what little is left. For once, we decide it’s time to let that big bag of donkey dung go sailing into the propeller and see how bad it turns out. Screw being nice.

Carl grabs one of his learners and I grab one of mine. We tell them what is happening and why we are leaving. I’ve already given my kids the twenty bucks each that the school budgeted for them, so I assume they’ll be fine until I get back the next day. Carl leaves a hundred for his kids in case no one provides food. We do a quick double check as we walk back to get our bags from the principal’s house. Our kids are here, they have a place to sleep, they have some food, some money, their projects are set up and someone is going to hopefully judge them. Staying will make no difference to the outcome of this farce so we leave. We go to Megan’s in Otjiwarongo where Benny is house sitting for her while she is on vacation. We have a decent dinner, a hot shower and sleep in until well past seven the next day.

Friday, Carl runs a few more errands in Otjiwarongo and we part ways. I’m going back to Outjo to make sure our kids get back to Khorixas and Braunfels intact (and see if I can finagle my way into an Etosha trip) and Carl is going to visit his better half in Kalkfeld. Carl gets the first hike since his trip is on a busier road and I wait around for an hour or so until the most decrepit Isuzu pickup gives me a ride. It’s a two-tone of baby blue on rust and I get the comfortable seat stretched out across the dented tool box, empty fuel jugs and greasy spare battery.

When I get to Outjo, three of my learners see me get out of the truck and they holler across the street, “Sir! Luxury transport!” Did I mention that I love my kids? I get the rundown of the previous night. Most projects only got judged three times, and some only twice. Most of the awards went to learners from Opuwo schools which is questionable since the Head Judge was from Opuwo. And Wasserfal was seen passed out at a bar. What were my learners doing at a bar? “Looking for someone, sir” I’m not going to argue.

It’s getting close to noon and no one knows what the transport situation is so I start walking through town. I see most of my learners and the bus which will take the Opuwo schools back, but none of the other organizers. I make it all the way back to the secondary school, drop my bag in the principal’s office and call Jagger. She is back in Khorixas and says transport will come soon. What transport? She doesn’t know. Where should the kids be? That was announced to them. What time should we expect the transport? She doesn’t know. I can tell this is going nowhere so I hang up on her since I can’t stand to waste anymore prepaid airtime on this nincompoop. I call the transportation officer, Timbo, and he says he is actually in Outjo. Thank god! I meet him at the grocery store and get that there will be some trucks and some minibuses coming “soon” and everyone should wait at the primary school. I tick this one in the ‘win’ column since I was able to get some sort of an answer. A truck or two does eventually come and we load in everything possible and hope for another when not everything and everyone fits.

I go for lunch and to cool off a little since the high stress and general stupathy is getting to me. After finishing a delicious bacon, egg and pineapple toasted sandwich, I get a text from one learner asking where I am. The cattle truck of death is back and I need to meet it at the grocery store. I’m touched, my kids are making sure I don’t get left behind! Seriously, this is really nice. Anyway, I get to the grocery store and find no one there. I give my learner a call and he says they are driving around town doing some other stuff so I get to wait. They eventually return and I see the delay that I’ve been waiting on. In the back of the truck are all the supplies for the next month for the Ministry of Education offices in Khorixas. Boxes upon boxes of copy paper, mops, cleaning fluid, and ink cartridges are all stacked neatly in the front half of the truck with a, get this, full size bed complete with box spring. We are transporting half as many learners but with half the available space so things are back to normal. We also cruise through Outjo picking up every single person who is attempting to get to Khorixas.

We finally start to leave town and, true to form, the driver accelerates with break neck speed. I’m sitting in the back corner of the truck leaning up against my bag with one of my learners standing next to me. I’m busy looking at my phone when I hear “WOOOOOSH!!” and my learner is curled up on the bottom of the truck next to me, holding his head. I look behind me and see the box spring sliding to a halt on the road behind us. The wind had kicked up the box spring and sent it into the top of this kid's head before spiraling out the back of the truck. There’s no blood, but a nasty bump is already developing. But these are tough kids and he turns out to be alright. We go back and pick up the box spring and reorganize stuff to make sure no other missiles develop. We are back to Khorixas again in under an hour and I finally get to my house a little after dark, vowing again (and I mean it this time) to never go on another Science Fair field trip.