For my final project I choose to do a spoken word performance of a poem I wrote integrating all of my classes (Religion, African Political Science & History) as well as my internship at Physically Active Youth. The writing was enjoyable and the performance was a bit nerve wracking but tons of fun. I feel it is a good closing post as it incorporates a lot of the issues I was faced with this semester. And although it doesn't answer many questions, that is because I have yet to answer them myself. Thank you to all those who read and followed my journey!

Is It Worth the Airfare?

Is it worth the airfare,
To impose on someone’s life?
To bring what I know, what he or she or we know
Into the light?
The answer is no more often than yes,
My money may be better of with a U N I C E F across its chest.
Yet who is to say, does the amount I learn,
He or she learns,
Outweigh what we might bring back someday?
It is so easy for us, the kids of wealth,
To visit Africa and return with this misguided passion,
Almost like a change in health.
Although our ideas may seem impossible and sometimes flight-less,
Screaming help at the top of our lungs just isn’t cons-cious.

Beneath the immediate emotions of missing home,
Missing family and girlfriends and boyfriends
We can’t text from the phone.
We must stay focused on what we want to know,
For we often learn the most,
When we are alone.
Speaking of phones, thank you MTC.
The signal was great,
I even got service under the baobab tree.
We did learn a lot, its in here somewhere,
I just hope I don’t leave it on the laundry line
Stuck in Jimmy’s underwear.
Forgive me if this is too wide, or I brush things aside, even misguide,
But please let me summarize what we learned from Outapi,
To Swakopmund’s tide.
Starting from the beginning, with Romanus as our source,
We learned of the colonizers and when the country changed course.
With the Germans came violence and new views of god,
Seemingly with no one to stop and say,
This is odd.
This is not our land or our traditional way,
But they felt confident enough to wipe the whole system away.
The sad truth and one often filled with hope,
Is Namibia’s past is right here,
You don’t need a telescope.

The turn of the century came like a tornado clearing the way,
With the only difference being, the oppressor just wasn’t as far away.

But are things better? In a serious way?
A multi party system? Bullshit to me,
Can no one see we’ve gone way past just the majority.
All the false hopes and lies they feed you,
Embedded in promises of a future that seems feasible,
To some an average income and a nice home seems just unreasonable.
So SWAPO, where is Namibia going?
Or are you all just waiting in line for the next showing?
Sorry to say, but when the curtain opens and the programs read,
Vision 2030, an epic disgrace,
People are gonna be looking around the theater for someone better to run this place!

Where Nikons vanish and Canons disappear,
In desperate efforts to simply persevere.

What happens when the place we don’t want to live,
Becomes the place we don’t want to go.
Its all luck of the draw,
Just don’t take a photo.
I love Katutura with all of my heart,
PAY taught me that success and failure are not far apart.
The children are screaming education, education, education!
While the only ones responding are the churches
With salvation, salvation, salvation.
It’s not my place to say,
I’ll be the first to admit that any day.
But do all the kids want to be Christian,
Are they even shown another way?
Christianity,
Constantly putting people’s morals to the test.
But it seems that most of the country
Only uses it on the day of rest.
I don’t know much about Paul,
But I would guess that’s not what he had in mind at all.

The North brought heat and the tempers to match,
Sam and I even learned those honey badgers are damn hard to catch.
Outapi, oh how to explain?
Oh wait I have a whole lineup of kids,
Ready to complain.
Beyond my family’s immense love,
And the food I was served,
The simplicity of life,
Is what I so attentively observed.
So, thank you meme, or should I say mama,
Until next time,
Kala po Nawa.

Illness took over and nearly shattered the group,
Then came Pick n’ Pay, oh my god “I have to Boot.”
Ya ya being sick is a good story and all,
But we almost lost Alissa before she got to the bathroom stall.
We returned home with bow and arrow and basket in hand,
And even with a better understanding of this land.
Upon first glance,
This place doesn’t have much,
But when one looks deeper,
Its rich to the touch.
Very few have wages they’d call sufficient,
I’m sorry did someone say GINI Coefficient?
With so much to share and so few to use,
Why don’t we see Namibia more often in the news?

Every season is a season of change,
And Namibia’s in her spring,
Even if my analogy is strange.
What she needs is a leader and somebody to watch,
Or we could start by getting everyone a Swatch.
Maybe I’m wrong or you simply can’t stand me,
But how come I can count the number of good speakers we’ve had
On less than ten phalanges.

“If it pays it stays” a speaker explained,
But where you do you draw the line between a loss and a gain.
For those who can pay and have paid are gone,
Leaving the country with no more than a welcome song.
Namibia is left in this grey area I guess,
Filled with pawns who don’t know the first move in chess.
This lack of knowledge in board games and such,
Leaves time to learn from the best, whom we trust so much.
When I say the best I mean the rest,
Those countries who have been through this distress.
They’ll send their love,
And maybe even a soccer tournament for motivation.
Until they find what they want,
Like minerals and diamonds and an oil foundation.
We are left behind with this burning sensation,
Of a country left,
With no occupation.

Why are we so lucky, as a group I mean,
We may not realize, what we have actually seen.
Being in the trenches of a country in growth,
Has been uncomfortable,
For you and me both.

One last attempt at poetry in motion,
And I thank you all for your attentive devotion,
August 14th, imagine us all dropping a pebble,
Into this lake we’ll call Namibia, filled with rubble.
Circles move outward, ripple after ripple,
Until the surface sits still,
Perfectly level.

We falter in trial, and in trial we grow,
We decolonize our minds from moving too fast to just slow.
We learn that our feelings should not be toyed,
Or void, and most certainly not destroyed,
But instead, employed.

Experiential is what they said,
At the beginning and end of the trip,
And with that I’ll agree,
For in between is where the memories sit.
So is it worth the airfare?
The last question I’ll pose to you.
Cause I don’t know the answer
And don’t think you do too.

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!

Happy Halloween

I hate Halloween. Having to justify my distaste, and lack of costume, every year to a group of loud, camera happy, plastic mask smelling, hair sprayed friends, I have gotten pretty good at explaining my feelings. Like most deep-rooted hatreds, I had a bad experience. I was seven years old, Halloween night. We had just bought our current house, which looks over a nice park. My Father, in cahoots with my mother, walked us through the park looking towards our new home. Inside running through the large arching windows was my mother in an enormous white dress. I can’t remember if she was screaming but I always associate the memory with high pitched moans running through my head. Her hair was long and sprouting in every direction as her candlelit silhouette ran through our new house. My sister and I immediately began to cry and my dad quickly realized it was not humorous and he would potentially need to get the down payment back on the house. Little did we know the house was and still remains one of the scariest houses in the greater metro Denver. The second reason I detest Halloween is because I am allergic to peanuts. Unfortunately this has never hindered my consumption of candy, but on Halloween it does. At least 80% of the grub on the streets Halloween night contains peanuts or peanut butter. At the end of the night, I would be forced to shovel away nearly two thirds of my merchandise in return for flavorless Dots or something of the sort. This is most certainly not to be confused with me being deprived of any candy or food for that matter throughout my whole life, but one night every October, I was left to starve. I enjoyed some moments, it was just the idea of going out and dressing up like somebody I wasn’t and then asking for candy of all things, only to end up with 31 packs of Dots, a rogue Snickers and some Nerds at the end of the night wasn’t my idea of fun. Finally, I have an immense fear and disgust towards hair die. The smell makes me want to vomit and the appearance of a crusted vibrant color in someone’s hair has always deeply haunted me. I do not mean to put a damper on anyone’s Halloween, just wanted to say I didn’t like it. I find Namibia one of the more enjoyable places to not celebrate Halloween. First of all, there aren’t many people here, and I don’t think they know what Halloween is. Unfortunately, I live in a house with 22 Americans…

The Big O

Fall break came just at the right time and with an abundance of relaxation. It all began with the roomy and surprisingly comfortable accommodations of the Intercape Bus Service. Our Sleep-Liner bus had two levels and we each (6 friends) slept comfortably in our own row on the top deck. After a half an Ambien and some Cadbury Milk Chocolate I was at the South Africa border. We were picked up by our young yet weathered 25-year-old guide, Dylan, in a rickety Land Rover and taken to the Umkulu base camp. The base camp was beautifully situated between other outfitters, farms, and vineyards along the bank of the Orange River. The remainder of our week went by as perfectly as one could imagine. We paddled about 45km total over three and half days which resulted in lots of laying on the back of our inflatable boats and swimming when we felt warm. The river itself runs through the incredibly rugged, uninhabitable, and striking Richtersveld Mountains. We passed by hundreds of wonderful birds, including Fish Eagles, Goliath Herons and Giant Kingfishers. We also were lucky enough to see several wild horses, baboons, and plenty of sheep and goats. Our guides prepared superb vegetarian meals for us all week and we never had problems finishing our first and second servings. We spent our afternoons napping, reading and hiking and our evenings sleeping under the stars. Now back to my last few weeks of class…

The Watering Hole

Etosha National Park

• Throwing up 5 times on the way there, twice in a grocery store (bad)
o Getting to sit in the front seat of the air conditioned van to “heal”
o Front seat means great pictures on the game drive
o Getting sick all part of a photography plan

• Giraffes
• Rhinos
• Oryx
• Springboks
• Wildebeests
• Elephants
• Hyenas
• Jackals
• Leopard
• Lions
• Lots of Birds

•Our beloved soccer ball being stolen and ruined by Honey Badgers despite Passat running and yelling after them. RIP Soccer Ball, it was a good run…

• Last van ride home from an incredible, exhausting, challenging, and unforgettable two weeks

Fila

From our home-stays and Outapi, we drove a few hours towards the ocean and into the land of the Himba. The Himba people are one of the oldest groups of humans and remain almost how they were over 900 years ago. Many of you may have seen pictures of these beautiful people covered in a red paste with braids of thick red clay. CGE had worked out a complex deal with a chief, for only the second time, that we could camp next to his village if we brought some food and supplies for his people. This resulted in us staying within throwing distance of an ancient community for 3 days. First and foremost the Himba are the most beautiful race of people I have ever seen. The women, bare-breasted, wear ornate belts and anklets according to how many children they have and the girls wear brighter colored beads around the chest and hair. The boys wear loin clothes and minimal coverings but the modern dress is beginning to creep in as many boys wear torn shirts and shorts. Each night we would light a fire and eat dinner beside it as the Himba children and women would appear out of the darkness only to sit down peacefully next to our fire. When we gave them food, the peace was quickly put on hault and it turned into a scene of aggression and fury. The boys were responsible for all of this chaos, while the girls sat quietly and politely and would even wait for the boys to arrive to eat their food. We communicated with each other through body language and our hands and taught each other words in our respective languages. I spent both nights sitting and talking with a beautiful and bright 12-year-old girl named Fila. We exchanged words for star and the moon and told each other of our families. Fila will remain one of the main figures in my memory of this semester and I apologize for not being able to elaborate on that further. The experience of sitting with this community by firelight was nothing short of surreal and in that sense very hard to describe. I took walks at night and early in the morning guided by the fires of the different families and realized that this thousand year old community will be gone, certainly in this form, before I turn 50 and most likely sooner. We discussed as a group if this modernization is an avoidable, negative, and necessary thing? We didn’t come to any conclusions, but how could we, and most importantly how could they?