Good Hope

With less than a week left in Windhoek, the semester is coming to an abrupt end. As often as I have wished to be home and with friends and family, I am left now with a feeling of understanding of how lucky I have been to have this experience in a foreign land. My Father came and went in a flash although he explained, “I feel like I have been here for a month.” I understand his feeling and have found that the heaviness and in-your-face experiences of Southern Africa can be both taxing and mentally straining. I do not mean to over-dramatize my experience, but do want to convey that many days are very intense while others are relaxing and spent by the pool in our enclosed and well-manicured CGE home.

My father was welcomed to PAY by Chacooley limping outside, bleeding from his ears and forehead. Chacooley, a really bright and friendly 10th grader, had gotten in a car accident earlier that day while on an errand for his mother. He was alone driving, in the ever-busy and always dangerous roads of Katutura. I asked Chacooley if was ok and replied with a sound yes and clarified that he was just going to go walk to a private doctor because the public hospital wouldn’t help him with any medication or even clean his wounds. My father was left silenced and saddened and I quickly assured him that standards are just different here. That said, I learned very early on to leave my western solutions and mindset at the door. “People are always bringing foreign solutions to an African problem” is a lasting quote from one of our many speakers. The rest of my father’s time at PAY passed with smiles on each of our faces. He had some great discussions with a few of the students and even held his own as a right-back on the soccer pitch. After a whirlwind tour of Windhoek and some great meals, we headed to Cape Town for a too nice and too luxurious weekend. After a Santos soccer game, a hike on the Cape of Good Hope, bike rides and drives up the coast (on the left side of the road) I was back on the plane to Windhoek. Cape Town was the most stunning city I have ever seen, yet everything seemed to be a step up from Namibia. These increases are seen in everything from division of wealth, retail opportunities, food, and violence. I loved the city but am a bit apprehensive about returning there in week with my group.

This week will be spent sharing and performing our Integrative Projects, which are creative projects that “integrate” all of our classes and experiences. Topics and ideas include documentaries, websites, constructing a Namibian flag out of beer caps, and of course Sam and my spoken word. I am very excited for all of them and hope that my years of listening to hip-hop will aid me in my first public lyrical attempt.

South

We just returned from a short trip to the south of Namibia where we focused on sustainable development. We did this by staying at a government-run, community-run, and private-run campsite. The different ways in which these campsites were managed was a great window into Namibia’s ever-present development and internal turmoil. The first night we spent at a National Wilderness Resort (NWR) about 3 hours south of Windhoek near Namibia’s largest dam. Hardap dam is an odd place where we often felt like we had been dropped on Mars to explore our newfound territory. The campsite was run down and had nothing to offer other than a few cold Tafels (beer), which we enjoyed while watching mysterious and enormous fish feed of the surface of the lake. The government shovels large amounts of money into NWR’s sites, yet nothing improves. The money is lost somewhere (think corruption) and the prices rise at the sites making them unaffordable for the locals. Between these problems and the lack of anything, Hardap campsite is closing shortly.

The community run campsite sat at the base of Brukkaros Mountain, which was at one time an active volcano. Not many communities would choose volcanic rock and thorny African bush for their visitors to sleep on, but the lovely people of Berseba did. The community is working hard to improve this campsite from what little is there now. Finances are tight and they are barely creating enough revenue to pay the man who works at the gate. We spent the day in Berseba visiting a school where we planted trees, cleaned, and shared a lunch with the students. As usual, the students and faculty greeted us with beautiful traditional songs as we watched clapping and moving our feet to the beat. Once they finish their set of songs, we, the Americans, are left choosing between “Take me out to the Ballgame” or “The Star Spangled Banner” to belt out of tune to smiling onlookers. Needless to say, American culture is lacking in certain departments.

We spent our last night at a privately owned, and well recognized, campsite called Kalahari Anib lodge. As you may guess, this one was clearly the nicest and most well operated. My group of friends and I were in charge of cooking dinner for the group this night. Trying not to be boastful we created a great chicken stir-fry type dish, which we put inside toasted pita rolls. And for dessert we made chocolate fondue over the fire! The meal was very well received. We had the chance to hear from a fifth generation Namibian who was a manager with the Kalahari Anib group. He shared with us the great achievement of Namibia in the world of conservation, but also the struggles of finding a sustainable way to grow a tourist business. “If it pays it stays,” he kept explaining. He elaborated on the Namibian wildlife numbers being higher than ever due to the tourism and hunting industry. Sort of ironic to think about I know, but since the hunting and tourism industries are so valuable to the country, Namibia has been taking care of and managing animals more than ever before. He also shed light on the reassuring fact that Namibia has only been around 25 years, making them sheer novices in everything from the tourism business to an educational system compared to those of European countries or even Northern Africa. Sam and I spent each of the three nights sleeping outside although often urged otherwise. The stars were magical and certainly some of the brightest I will see in my life. I often looked to the stars as I fell asleep and was reminded that I have experienced such a tiny fraction of Africa, and am already overwhelmed. With two weeks left of class I have learned enough to know that I wouldn’t begin to pretend I know anything about Africa. It is easy, even when here; to get trapped into thinking Africa is just one homogeneous place, whereas it is more rich and diverse than any chunk of land on earth.

We are on to soccer ball number 6 of the trip and still hop out of every van with the same vigor to share it. Not a trip or day goes by where we aren’t juggling and exchanging tricks with a group of children on the street. Joga Bonito!