Breakages & Breakthroughs

For some reason, over the past four weeks, pretty much everything electrical I own has given up on life. In fact, in one 24 hour period my camera, watch, phone and car packed up J Since then the Ipod has has gone to Ipod heaven – oh, and some ruthless individual sold my small collection of eggshell jewellery.

I should be gutted – at least five times over – I remember when the first Ipod packed up shortly before I went travelling, and how my poor mum endured seven days of my moodiness throughout our Ipodless holiday in Italy. But i’m not. Well, a bit annoyed at all the time spent hanging around various electrical repair places in Windhoek, but not to the degree that I would have been 12 months ago.

In just under 12 months of living and working in a country where the most important posessions are health and family, I’ve slowly but gradually let go of all my tangible possessions and with them my ideals about what defines comfort. Everyday I’m grateful for the privelege of water on tap, after returning from settlements where water has to be collected from a community pump. I feel like a Lord returning from the shops with a £1 piece of steak, after delivering bags of maize to the community shop. And in this world, having access to a radio is as luxurious as an Ipod. I feel very lucky to have been given the opportunity to live this experience, and to learn these lessons – I only hope that if and when I do return to the UK, I don’t forget them again.

This spate of ‘losses’ seems to have marked my transition here from newcomer to known and trusted. I feel comfortable in my role here, and the beneficiaries seem to feel comfortable, finally, with my presence. Last Friday evening I drove one of the San girls back to school after a trip into town to buy toiletries. This particular girl is probably the most polite, well mannered of all the school children, but at the same time painfully quiet. I’ve spent three hour car journeys in silence after repeated attempts at conversation got no further than ‘miss’, ‘yes’, ‘no’. So I was prepared for another silent journey on Friday. To my complete and utter surprise we ended up chatting all the way back to school – conversation started by the girl, not myself. I learnt about her class, her family, her aspirations, all volunteered, and I was blown away. I couldn’t hide my smile when she finally asked, very seriously, ‘now, will Kathryn still be here next year?’. Would I ever have experienced a moment like that if I had continued working for the Post Office?

This year I’ve un-doubtedly worked harder than I’ve ever worked before in my life, but I’ve also had more rewarding and enjoyable conclusions to match the effort than ever before as well. I’ve also met more eclectic and personality rich people in these 12 months than the whole of my ten years in London – fearlessly intrepid Hattie, running her own project & living in her own mud hut, hopelessly devoted Renee, who’s spent the last 15 years returning annually to Omaheke to study and live with the San communities she loves, retired Dr.Dekok, running a free medical clinic and as she puts it ‘upliftment programme’ for another San community, Anthropologist Gertud author of many books about the San culture and traditions, not to mention all the courageous community activists like Ben who takes street kids under his wing for no pay.

I’m looking forward to coming home at xmas – to see my family again, and my friends back home – but also to put all of this into perspective. Most of all, to experience this time the feeling of looking forward to coming back to Namibia & my job hereJ

 

The African Male

Last weekend was the Kuru Dance Festival in Botswana, an annual event run solely for (normally) just the San from around Southern Africa to showcase their culture. The idea was that I would be taking along one of the cultural groups as a work trip…..unfortunately after spending approx. 200 quid on temporary passports, they didn’t get in L so it turned into a pleasure trip instead. Myself, Paddy, Ghada, Ghada’s sister & the two peacecorp, Jay & Lily, all crammed into the bakkie instead and headed off for the border last Thursday afternoon.

Fortunately even the Americans were let into Botswana, and we finally reached the game farm at about 9pm Botswana time. Unfortunately we then discovered the ‘far’ campsite was pretty well named. After a further 20mins drive through the bush we finally reached some open ground with a toilet block.

We spent the morning baking under any shade we could find (winters most definitely over) whilst Lily & Jay amused themselves taking photos of phallic shaped birds nests. For some reason we were told the festival started at 12noon, so we drove the 20min trek back up to the (near) camp and bumped into our VSO friends Laura & Saskia who had wisely chosen to camp there instead. Of course the festival wasn’t starting until 6pm, which meant that 1) we could have travelled during daylight on Friday morning and 2) we had six hours to kill. Cue a road trip back to Ghantzi, the nearest town.

All in all it was a successful trip to town. Ghada, under the orders to find something to protect us from the sun, managed to find three kids umbrellas complete with emergency whistle attachment?! And Laura, Saskia & I managed to find alcohol J I think Paddy might still have been stuck in the back of the truck…Best of all,on the way back to the farm we were treated to the (extremely) rare sight of a wild leopard sprinting past our car in broad daylight.

When we arrived back at the farm, the festival admin was in full swing, and the gate police were out …checking for alcohol. I rolled down the window & greeted the guard cheerily, waiting for him to wave us on…and the guard says “have you got any alcohol?” and I reply really un-convincingly, “er, noooo, I don’t think so..” at which point he suggested he check the back just in case I might be lying though my back teeth. Fortunately it seems the sight of Paddy in there was enough to put him off, and we were waved on cheerily.

We managed to sit through about 2 hours of monotonous dancing (with all due respect – some fool decided to lump all healing dances together which…are all the same) before breaking for dinner and drinks round the fire. For 10. My catering was for six, but a few extra cans of tomatoes seemed to eke the food out for all of us in the end.

Next day went by pretty quickly and the dances were amazing. The Hambukushu tribe were performing for the first time & they were spectacular. Their dance basically consisted of three guys on hand drums (big enough they required being tied around the waste and wedged between their legs) a load of ladies not doing very much, wearing a hotchpotch of western clothing, and then one guy dressed up to the nines (you can imagine the pre-performance conversation: Ladies= “so wheres our festival costumes then” Alpha male= “ er, I kind of spent the whole budget on my outfit?”. Really, it was a great outfit – kind of like the african version of a one man band – a hula style skirt made of beads rather than grass, a bead shrug style arrangemnt across the back, a cow bell belt, and to top it off a mohawk headdress. Beautiful….and v musical. He basically shook his booty, bells and marracas for all he was worth to a fast paced deep tribal drumbeat. I loved it! Somehow even with a skirt he managed to wreak of testosterone and have all the ladies come flocking around his ankles. The African male.

That was the highlight of the festival for me – that and finding the way back to the main track after an hours un-planned ‘game drive’ not panicking at all as the sun went down…We drove back to Namibia on Sunday morning and I enjoyed a week without any driving before heading out to Jo’s fiancees farm this weekend.

Jo is an ex-vso who’s engaged to an Afrikaaner who’s family live just outside Gobabis. So she invited me for the weekend whilst they were visiting his parents for his dads b’day party. I drove over Saturday afternoon, and sat out in the sun with Jo drinking beer, whilst the Afrikaaners painted a vivid picture of male female stereotypes. The boys were all out hunting bar one left in charge of the braii/b’bque, whilst the girls were in the kitchen. Apart from Jo & I who were sat around drinking J Jo’s fantastic company – very bubbly and funny, so we had a good old chinwag before the party got started later in the evening.

The cooking was fantastic and the family were extremely welcoming, so I felt very lucky to be enjoying their food on their beautiful farm. I was pleased to find not all farms include a kitchen full of tractor parts and meals which come with added cat hair, like the last one I visited.

Later in the evning we drove over to the ‘spare’ ?! farmhouse about 5km’s away where us ‘youngsters’ were staying the night. It was then that Jo and I discovered that the ‘African male’ was not all he seemed…..or at least the Afrikaans version. Turns out the favourite beverage of the Afrikaans hunters is….something which tastes suspiciously like sherry, and which we promptly renamed as ouma (grandma) juice just to make a point for them J Not only that, but on occasion, they let slip, they enjoy a (in their words) candle lit aromatic bath!!!!!!!! That was it, cover blown, no amount of drunken Spring Hare shooting later could restore their masculine personas for Jo & I. We baited them mercilessly before retiring to bed at the ungodly hour of 12 (they managed a whole hour more but I think they were only trying to prove a point….).

I left Jo a hunting widow on Sunday (still trying to prove a point….) after a great Sunday lunch and a film on comfy chairs! Then last night I had the pleasure of Amanda & Craig vsiting on their way back from Botswana and today after waving them off, I’m enjoying a day of nothing!

What I learnt:

1.    Putting a picture of a man shooting on the label of sherry does not disguise the fact it’s a ladies drink

2.    Even collecting water from inland crocodile free boreholes comes with danger…when a solar panel drops on your head (poor bandaged Oba)

3.    A knee length black slip under a thigh length leather skin skirt doesn’t quite work…..

4.    One of the Hambukushu ladies loved New York. According to her t-shirt.

5.    The sight of an ostrichs backside is not a pleasant one.

Third time lucky

Last month I attempted a trip up north for the second time (the first ended in a hospital half way up & an overnight stay), to see my vso friend Lian, & visit Ngepie on the Kunene River. I planned to drive the 800km, after a night in Windhoek, and picking up a couple more vso’s along the way. I got as far as Windhoek this time L

I arrived in Windhoek around 3pm, at the office of my VSO colleague Mark, and parked the bakkie outside whilst Mark & I ploughed on with our proposal/business plan. Less than an hour later I heard ‘is that your car outside that’s been broken into?’. On a busy street some opportunist had managed to smash both windows on one side & make off with my backpack & tent. Five days worth of clothes & all my toiletries gone. I was gutted – 5 days worth of clothes was pretty much my entire wardrobe in Namibia, and my entire wardrobe in Windhoek. I was staying at Robs that night, so he caught a lift back with me as planned, trying his best to cheer me up by likening the experience of travelling through a frosty Windhoek in a windowless car to a trip in an open top car. I brightened momentarily after another couple of hours of Rob humour & cooking, but by bed time at the thought of sleeping in my clothes of that day, I felt thoroughly miserable. My one pair of jeans & my one nice top gone. Still the tent was broken so good luck to them trying to put that up…….

Next day despite everyone’s attempts to persuade me to carry on with the trip up north as planned, I spent 6 hours trying to repair the damage. Car went to garage for new windows, & I went to the shops to try & replace my belongings. My heart wasn’t really in a shopping spree at Mr.Price though. So back to Gobabis for a weekend of darts & football down the pub instead.

That was nearly two months back now. Last weekend I finally made it up north (despite suspected stroke/trapped nerve (!)) third time lucky! Again I headed to Windhoek for a stopover at Robs & some meetings, had a nice meal out with a collection of folks who’ve passed through Gobabis at one time or other & all happened to be in Windhoek – our chairman, two anthropologists, a rape withdrawal researcher, Lily Peace corp, Josie VSO & Rob. Indian food never tasted so good….only takeaways in Gobabis are of the burger & fries variety (bloody good burgers though it has to be said).

So this time I left the car in Windhoek & hit the minivans. Fortunately I was by the window which meant some relief from eau de B.O. which most of the other passengers seemed to be sporting. 9 Hours later I arrived finally in Rundu just after dark, and travelled onto Lians residence with her to enjoy a few over due drinks.

Next day I slept in whilst Lian completed her school duties before we headed off to Ngepie for two nights camping. We picked up two US World Teach volunteers, Amanda & Craig, enroute, and had our tents up by the river enjoying our first beers by 5, sound of hippos behind us across the river. Magic.

I sensibly put on full thermals before bed, plus pjs & my sleeping bag. I woke at about 2am absolutely buckin freezing! I put my padded coat on over the pjs & just about felt not cold, but barely managed a couple of hours kip (not helped by 4am phone a friend call from my inebriated sibling, which I’m sure the rest of the campsite appreciated as much as I did) and ‘woke’ feeling and looking rougher than Pat Butcher. I spent most of the day in a daze after my pitiful sleep, including half an hour sat in a towel waiting for non-existent water in the novelty shower (all the camps toilets & showers are themed). Fortunately I perked up by the evening & enjoyed the bush hen do for Jo, an ex vso, which involved her sporting a loo paper dress complete with mosquito net veil. Guessing it was the first Hen do at Ngepie, and probably the last too. No stripper but Lian more than made up for this with her replay of her teenage disco dance north west championship winning routine. We salute you and your spandex Lian!!

I travelled back Sunday night with Jo on the intercape, and again froze my ass off courtesy of gale force inappropriately cold air con. Was mighty relieved to get back to my warm bed in Gobabis on Monday. On Tuesday I drove to corridor to pick up our cultural group for a gig in Windhoek. All 13 of them packed into the bakkie. They spent Wednesday practising & Thursday we headed to Windhoek, arriving just after lunch. Dropped them off at their hostel before grabbing lunch & then taking them on to the club for their sound check. Seeing their faces when they spotted the posters plastered everywhere outside the club advertising them was priceless.

I picked them up again at 8pm to take them to the club for the gig, and waited backstage whilst they adorned themselves with the contents of our craft shop (price tags still on), including our bok skin rug! The boys practised their quirky synchronised dance moves whilst the girls (and myself) giggled at them, before they finally got called out.

I watched like a proud mum as they performed mesmerizingly – their chemistry is amazing & their smiles whilst performing tell you how much they’re enjoying themselves and each other. The gig was a sellout & the audience thoroughly enjoyed the performance begging them back for a further half hours encore. It was a success all round culminating with the club asking them back & the group being mobbed by fans outside the club & enjoying their new superstar status! I’m expecting demands for white lilies and candles backstage next time….

The journey back was a little bumpy & I was very conscious of the car being put under strain with 14 occupants plus baggage. Fortunately it chose to hold out until 10ks outside Gobabis when the tyre blew out unsurprisingly. Surprisingly Toyota had ‘forgotten’ to replace the spare tyre, cue a mercy mission from DRFN to bring out their spare & get us all back in one piece, if a little sunburnt. The wider role of the volunteer…..stocktaker, school chaperone, and now road manager……next week, hearse driver L

What I learnt…

1.       Need a new laptop? Help yourself down at Windhoek police stations lost property – they’re seemingly giving them away to anyone looking for lost property….

2.       Give a cat a bad name…and find two dead birds & a half dead lizard in your house

3.       Greyhound Ford has a rival. Step forward ‘we just found your spare tyre in our back room haha’ Toyota Gobabis L

4.       It’s possible to pull off a deerskin rug as an item of clothing….if you’re a San

5.       I will not be wearing the San traditional skins ‘without bra’ as requested by the cheeky girls in the group J

Blowing Hot & Cold

Last time I wrote I was just about to set off for a few days in Joburg to see if I could charm our donors into parting with a few more pennies. All I was given was the name of the designated driver to pick me up from the airport – trusting that he would know where I was going! So i arrived at Joburg airport late Sunday evening, surveyed the boards…no Kathryn there…..cue phone call to Godright (the drivers name – honest) ‘oh, i didn’t know what time you were arriving’ – hmmm, clearly a well organised donor. Fortunately the guesthouse I was deposited in was absolutely lovely & more than made up for the hour spent waiting at the airport – especially the electric blankets in freezing night temperatures. Not too sure about the complimentary sherry though….

Funny old trip all in all. The other donor partners spent about an hour debating what the agenda should be, and then proceeded to completely ignore it. When we arrived at Xenophobia, I was a little surprised to find them slagging Nigerians for a good half hour….I should point out they were all black Africans, bar one strange American lady who thought the San were rich ?! As I was there to find funding I felt the need to be extra specially pleasant…and this became exceedingly painfully difficult when one obnoxious Nigerian hating partner started trying to get his hands on me at every opportunity and thought it was ok to pass me notes telling me he was going to marry me! I’ve never been so glad to get out of a meeting in all my life – I felt sick after four hours of that creep. I really appreciated the opportunity for some tlc later when I managed to fit in a visit to the hairdressers…followed by a takeout of Thai Green Curry – bliss!!!

Was surprisingly glad to get back to Namibia – but sad to say goodbye to my co-volunteer, Rob, who left Gobabis the night I arrived back. Since then I’ve also said goodbye to Hattie who’s returned to the UK for three months. The three of us had good fun together for a month – which was especially nice for Hattie & I after the stresses we’ve both gone through with our work.

Still there’s a steady stream of Gobabis visitors to keep me entertained – Renee & Roque – Canadian anthropologists with plenty of interesting tales to tell, Silke from WIMSA, Belinda (the crafts trainer) and this weekend two other volunteers – one of which proved v useful after bumping into an acquaintance in Gobabis who happened to date one of the guides at Harnas wildlife farm, Angelina Jolie’s favourite animal rescue place 150kms from Gobabis. Cue a fantastic complimentary guided tour this last weekend involving cheetah petting & lion feeding – it was an amazing experience to see these beautiful animals close up. Little freaked out when stood between a 3 stranded electric fence and the biggest lion I’ve ever seen, with the lion giving a warning roar & the handler telling us ‘don’t get him angry cause if he wanted to he could go straight through the fence’. Cue slow back steps towards the van….

I now have a new friend to keep me company in Gobabis – another Killer like the big cats, except he’s about the size of my handbag…..my little kitten Killer. He’s providing me with hours of entertainment, switching my lamp on & off & jumping out at me as if he were about as threatening as a Rottweiler. Fortunately he knows when to snooze and concentrate on keeping my toes warm too.

What I learnt this month:

1. Africa has Autumn & Winter….which birkenstocks are not appropriate for
2. It’s possible to have an RTA in Joburg without getting mugged
3. Torture is…. a one winged vulture kept in a rabbit enclosure at Harnas
4. Life is sweet when….you enjoy your first haircut in 9 months at a place that doesn’t involve braids or weaves.
5. Life is a bitch when…..the heavens open after you walk out the salon door.

 

Fire To Ashes

The last few weeks have been a rollercoaster ride with literally a different emotion for every day of the week. Since I last wrote I gained a new colleague, Joyce, who is an absolute angel and fantastic company to work with J. I had a week of enjoying Joyces company & being able to halve my workload before I received a shocking email from a friend asking for help from the site of their car crash L(mobile internet) – fortunately they were rescued shortly after and are now recovering slowly. The weekend after Hattie and I took off for some r&r to Botswana (just an hour from Gobabis) – we both needed a breather from our work & some time to just chill out & chat. After a disorganised start (Hattie was sick & neither of us managed to secure any bookings in Botswana!) we had a great time off roading into the CKGR (two hours to travel 40kmsinto the reserve – the roads were THAT bad) – few moments of panic  (no spare fuel can/mobile coverage….) but we made it to the reserve in one piece.

We spent the first night entertaining two CKGRwardens around our campfire in exchange for fire wood, learning about the situation of the San in the reserve and their struggle to survive without government support, and pleasantly surprised at not being hit on. Just before they left they asked if we were Sisters (of the religious variety)…..that would explain it (!) Next day we headed off in search of wildlife, but being rubbish we set off an hour too late (Botswanas an hour ahead of Namibia) and had to settle for Gemsbok/Springbok/Wildebeest and Warthogs. But the scenery was stunning – miles and miles of savannah/pans and only two other cars in three days. Perfect. On the last night Hattie decided we should camp where the warden said there were ‘small predators & possibly cheetahs’ (!) I went along with the plan thinking the night would run along the same lines as the day in terms of our luck with animal sightings. Two hours later I was sat in the back of the truck , hands shaking, reappraising the benefits of roof tents after Hatties strangled shriek of ‘get in the car’ following an alarmingly close crashing noise in the bush! After a few minutes of silence I tried to determine what exactly it was that she saw….nothing, but it was a loud noise, so it couldve been a cat….(!) In fairness we heard a fair amount of hyena/jackal howling later …but we managed to ‘enjoy’ our third dinner of lentils & rice (talk about extreme detox…felt great afterwards…maybe it was the lack of sugar that led to the shaking?)

In the morning I woke at about 5 (I think Hattie thought I was just sleeptalking at 3am when I asked if it were a tent or an igloo) to a snuffling sound by my head (not Hattie – outside the tent) so I prodded Hattie to let her know we had visitors. After some discussion Hattie decided to investigate, opening the tent door with the instruction ‘if theres anything out there, I want you to grab a piece of firewood & hit it’ (!) I nodded…thinking unlikely Hattie….I’m staying right here. Fortunately whatever visited us had obviously taken off after hearing this not so quiet conversation – and all that was left were little hoof marks around the tent – a deer. We then made the mistake of trekking up to the nearest pan in our pj’s & the truck, to catch the early morning action – and getting stuck in the sand. Cue us both digging the truck out with our hands for half an hour before freeing it & finally heading back to civilisation (after changing our pj’s of course) J

We arrived back in Gobabis to find Rob, another VSO working here for a while, had arrived. Had a couple of days of great cooking (courtesy of Rob) and good banter between Joyce, Rob & myself, before I headed to Windhoek for two days of meetings & more good banter. Enjoyed the delights of the city – cinema, good food, and other vso’s, before heading back to prep for our Board meeting the following week. Rob & I trekked out to Donkerbos on the Sunday to pickup some board members (and treat them to very bad karaoke!), Monday my deviant schoolkids caused havoc refusing to return to school without new uniforms (apparently burning the last lot is a good enough reason to get new ones..) which the donor refused to pay for. Tuesday I was completely on edge as it was judgement day for me – finding out if the board would approve my contract renewal. And Paul (VSO program manager) was coming to witness the event.

Rob & I had prepared all the sessions the night before, but for some reason i found myself making sandwiches at 6am on my own…..the wider role of the volunteer. It was a really tough day (oh, yeah, the day before the chief had threatened to beat me L, forgot that bit..) with a good old slagging from the chief after the education donor let slip my opinion of the education program – corrupt. But the rest of the board supported me & agreed that I should stay another year. We then had to go through the saga of the fieldworker and his storytelling to establish his future at OST before he finally confessed to having another job anyway, praise the lord J

The afternoon was great though – Rob & I facilitated a 5 year planning session (it was a tough choice – puppet theatre vs decision trees…) and got some great material from the board to build a comprehensive proposal for the organisation. Since the board there’ve been a few more trips to windhoek (including a (car!) breakdown L), some better than others…..and finally this weekend the ‘Gobabis San Festival’ should be J but was more of a L. Well,a farce. I could write for hours on this one, but I won’t. All i’ll say is private promotions company+council+private donors=not much love for the San. Spent a lot of this week trying to effect damage limitation by pointing out that stealing our logo without our consent may at least be tempered by showing some shred of respect for our board and inviting them to the event LSpent most of yesterday directing a lot of unhappy/hungry San to the disgrace of an ‘organiser’, Isabella Hauses (exceeded Greyhound Ford in the laughable service stakes), before shivering alongside 80 or so San at the outdoor dinner, with no cutlery and no food for the performers! I have never experienced so much anger on behalf of someone else before but the complete disrespect of these beautiful people with more substance in their little fingers than the shower of vacuous idiots that purported to be ‘organising’ this event was beyond shameful. L

To take something positive out of the whole debacle – the performers were breathtaking, and Paulus & Besa (board members) did themselves and the OST proud with their confidence & poise whilst delivering great speeches.  Today i’m flying to Joburg to see our donors….first on the list of requests? Money to fund our OWN San festival J

 

Broccoli & Babboons

Hello, hello – sorry to anyone who’s actually bothering to read this on a regular basis for the radio silence for about a month – I was enjoying myself so much I forgot to write (!)

Managed to finally see a bit of this country and also South Africa over Easter. Spent a fab week in 5* luxury courtesy of Mark & Colin (bless you both!) in Cape Town – attempted to se the sights but lazyitus got the better of me. I got as far as the top deck of the tourist bus – though I made an extra special effort to visit the penguins at Boulders. After 7 nights of drinking I can’t say I felt particularly refreshed on my 24hr birthday bus ride back to Windhoek, but I’d do it all again (well apart from the 24hr bus ride – at least until they fix the dvd player).

When I returned it was Global Ed. Right around the corner, so more boozing! 4 days with VSO’s in my region (woohoo – my first vso trip….to my home town!!) – met my co-worker from May, Rob, who seems reasonably sane compared to all past co-workers. We drove out to the San campsite at Corridor for one night, then back to Gobabis for two nights at Sandunes – a lodge just outside Gobabis. It was all a bit of a busmans holiday, but I met some fun vso’s & had a good whinge to anyone who’d listen (!)

After one more week in the office, yup, off again (!) This last week was spent with VSO’s again at Tsumeb, 5 hours north of Windhoek, doing the induction training week I lucked out on by one week when I first joined. So for Ghada & me it was a bit of jolly! I travelled up from Windhoek on the Sunday with the Whk VSO’s – Jeske & Claude & two newcomers – JB & Lesley. Got there just in time for Tea & Sundowners. It’s a hard life out here……

Had a great week learning more about Namibia & my fellow volunteers – such as Paddys aversion to Broccoli. Poor Paddy. With a little help from the VSO’s the hotel managed to creatively include broccoli into almost every meal – who knew they’d adopt the menu sheet addition of ‘big broccoli pie’ into their repertoire?!

Yeah, it was a v silly week. Other highlights included the abuse of a stuffed babboon for photo opps. & ‘beetle rescue’ (kharma – made up for the babboon abuse) which involved fishing out dozy dung beetles from crash landing in the pool.

Managed to maintain some level of decorum until the Friday night back at treesleepers San camp. We hit the bar at about 4pm & after about 3 bottles of wine I had to check out of the party when speech & mobility began to be a bit of a struggle (!) It was a great night & week though – bar the horrendous hangover on Saturday. Sadly said goodbyes on Sunday & made my way back to my little hovel in Gobabis – beautiful sunset behind me & a full moon in front.

What I learnt this week:

1.     The dung beetle really needs to work on its landing skills

2.    I’m still pants at pool

3.    Quinine in Tonic is a great excuse to drink G&T’s in malaria zones

4.    Namibian Rural Development can be shoe horned into the Blind Date format if you try hard enough

5.    Irony is – finding out you’re responsible for the meal taking 3 hours to arrive on the group outing at one end of the country….cause you successfully recruited the waitress to be your new finance manager at the other end of the country.

 

Strains, Pains & Mud Stuck Wheels

It’s been a while since i’ve had the time to sit down and write this blog – probably since my Finance Manager left & I ended up running an organisation on my own! Still, i’m not complaining – it’s great experience and i’ve probably achieved more here in 5 months than in ten years at the Post Office.

Anyway, since I last wrote I’ve managed to suspend my field worker, recruit a finance manager, organise & run a four day board meeting, discipline my field worker, spend another half day goat searching, be offended by two lots of rude english people (!) and get stranded in the bush in my mud splattered truck for three hours before being rescued by DRFN.

It’s been rather a long two weeks (or is it three..they’ve kind of all rolled into one..) planning the Board meeting, making sure 9 people scattered around Omaheke (which is about the size of Lancashire, Yorkshire, Merseyside, Cumbria, Midlands & Anglia all rolled in together) got the message and turned up, planning and writing the agenda, booking the venue, arranging accommodation & food, budgeting, asking the council to release the chairman (whilst the council secretary had an epilieptic fit & got carted off to hospital), training the board to interview, arranging interview schedules, writing the practical test, hiring someone to adjudicate the practical test and ‘gently’ guiding the board in making the right selection (!)
Sunday was supposed to be my session writing day, with the board meeting starting at 9 on Monday. I’d also agreed to talk to 32 Uk Uni students about the San Trust at 10.30am with the Board chairman, so I was up bright & early & myself & the chairman were waiting expectantly from 10.15 for Deborah Sporton to arrive with her students.

At this point the chairman expressed concern that the donkerbos board members didn’t know about the meeting & were still in Donkerbos (!) After a quick discussion we decided i should drive out (3hrs there, 3hrs back) to get them after the students had been. At 11.40 we were still waiting for them. When Deborah called back I explained that we had to leave town oursleves, but as this was a good awareness opportunity I offered to make time for her & her students on Tuesday lunch time between Board sessions at 12.30.

I got back from Donkerbos at 8pm on Sunday, so we postponed the start of the Board till 12.30pm so that I could finalise the preparations. Poor Esther bore the brunt of my frustrations on Monday morning when she arrived from DRFN & I pointed out that I hadn’t downloaded from her memory stick yet because i’d been too busy driving out to donkerbos because her colleague forgot to tell them about the board (!) However, my first Board training went well, & I sat like a proud mum the next day when they professionally interviewed their first candidates. Heck, the Chairman was even cracking sarcastic jokes to put everyone at ease (not sure where he got that from..) by the second candidate!

We managed to get through the morning candidates in time to be back at the office for 12.10 (whilst the others had lunch) to prepare for the students at 12.30ish. Deborah called at 12.15 to say they were just eating lunch, but would be there 12.30. 12.30-1 which I took as from 12.30 until one. At 1pm we decided we had to get back to the board and get some lunch ourselves, so we had just locked up when up rolled Deborah at 1.10. I thought at least an apology might be forthcoming but instead I was greeted with a breezy ‘Hi here we are!’ – as I was pissed off to say the least that she thought it was ok to turn up whenever she pleased when my lovely San people were sat patiently waiting for her foregoing their lunch (bearing in mind most of them wouldn’t even have had beakfast) whilst she & her students had their leisurely lunch, I could only manage ‘it’s 1.10’ in response. To which she replied ‘but you said it was ok between 12.30 & 1’ and then like a spoilt child ‘well its ok if you dont want to thats fine’ (she was at least late 30’s) ‘we’ve been all the way to the campsite’ (ie she’d spent money at a San camp therefore she was entitled to take liberties now because she’d invested in the community) & she qualified her lateness by complaining about how difficult getting students together is. I was pretty disgusted and I pointed out that we had only a few minutes left before we had to go back. But we took their questions for a good half hour sat in our craft shop, and at the end we were rewarded with ‘no you can’t make purchases as they have to go back to the board meeting, don’t you Kathryn?’ Fortunately i’m getting very used to biting my tongue these days, but to say I was disgusted by her is an understatement.

Anyway, the rest of the board went very well – the candidates were very promising, though I was absolutely shattered by Wednesday morning, after working before and after the board & taxiing people to & from epako outside Gobabis (the township) to the venue. So I was quite low on energy when the actual meeting took place on Wednesday & I was a little apprehensive as it was my turn to talk through my work & open myself up to criticism. I wouldnt have been so apprehensive had I not read copious back copies of previous boards and the terrible arguing & mud slinging that seemed to be a regular fixture.

So I somewhat defensively invited feedback, and the chief had her first rant…about me not putting the car in the garage (!) Guilty. But then…..nothing. No other criticism. Lovely quiet Frans from Donkerbos starting speaking in Afrikaans, and I waited for the translation to hear his complaint…’we think you are doing a good job, when we need help you come to see us like when our shop was robbed you came and went to the police for us, so we are happy’ (!) I was really touched. Only the day before I wrote an email to my brother to say how tired I was and how I don’t get thanks for it (not that i’m doing it for thanks)… But the biggest surpise came at lunch break from my ex-finance manager. She told the board she was sad to leave and wished them well, but had never seen them be so professional & so polite & working together like this and that she was really shocked. I was really shocked when she then suggested I was doing something good for them to make them be like this. But most of all I’m really proud of my board because they showed us all that they can be just as good as anyone else with just a little bit of encouragement.

The next day was a little trickier as the Board had to select a finance manager & also discipline my devious, suspended field worker. It was a looooong morning of voting & deliberations (and me trying to be neutral whilst trying to project the name ‘joyce’ telepathically to the room). They wanted Paulina. Yikes. Cue lots of ‘but she was late & do we want somebody unreliable?’ (!) Very interesting to listen to their reasons though. Paulina was non-threatening, older (young ones are hard to control) and non-hererro. The two best candidates were Hererro. The racism issue finally came out & once we tackled it head on, they re-voted and picked what seemed to be the right candidate, regardless of race. Fast learners.

The field worker kept his job, but it was a fair decision. He gets one last chance. Unfortunately driving me mental isn’t a good enough reason to go – or theft/petty corruption/lying/not turning up for work.

So, Friday morning I set off at 6.30am in the pouring rain with Paulus & Skepes to take them home & also take part in a Campsite meeting in Corridor. It took us 5hrs for a 3hr journey due to the amount of water on the sand/gravel roads – it was like driving on ice. My knees had turned to jelly by the time we reached the camp. But we made it in one piece and we had a good meeting with our new & improved manager (which the uk students raved about).

I then drove another four hours to Blouberg (by Botswana border) with Paulus & enjoyed less rain, and more wildlife – kudu, tortoise, foxes, squirrels, monitor lizards & babboons! Paulus was particularly amused when one Babboon stood up ‘like a human being’ heehee. I’d just dropped off Paulus at blouberg, was literally 5mins drive from tarmac & the transkalahari at 5.30pm, when disaster struck!

I was doing about 40k’s/hr when I hit some mud, the wheels skidded, so I did what you do & let the clutch off and steered into the skid….except the car decided to steer straight into a foot of water & mud at the side of the roads…..and it didn’t want to steer back out again.
Despite its protestations, I clambered out of the drivers side & into the foot of water & mud beneath (fortunately I had cropped jeans & flipflops on) and plunged my hand into the gunk to put the wheel locks on. Ick. Then I tried again back & forth with the 4whl drive, but I all I did was create a bigger hole – physically & metaphorically! Slight panic. Middle of nowwhere, about to get dark, what should I do?!! Think, think. Does my phone have a signal…yes, phew! Who to call?? The San don’t have cars…Gobabis is over an hour away. Lily. I called the peace corp because…she’s sensible?! So she tells me to call the police…and gives me a number that doenst work. DRFN? I try Klaus’ mobile – stright to answerphone. Try Hosabes, again straight to answerphone. Shit. Who else?! I have the office diary with numbers in, I flick through – I could try the DRFN landline as a last resort (by this point I have about 50p of credit) – Klaus answers – hurrah!!! They’re in Gobabis. Klaus straightaway offers me Simon & their truck plus tow rope & promises he’ll be there in an hour. Two hours later, at 8pm in the pitch black, I’m starting to feel a little vulnerable out there on my own….but finally I see headlights & after half an hour of mud slinging (I knew there had to be some this week!) we finally get me out & on the road home…to bed at last after a vvvvv long week!

What I learnt:

1. English folk can be v rude
2. Kalahari mud is not restorative in any way
3. Oba didn’t select the born again christian becuase he thought his ‘Father’ would look after him if he didn’t get the job
4. Sarcasm is alive & well in Gobabis
5. I love my San people

A Good Week to Bury Bad News

It seems that Marcellas death was the start of an unfortunate week. I spent the weekend settling into my new ‘flat’ behind the office. On Sunday I realised that I was without hot water, cue handwashing back at my old place…and cold showers for the next five days. Monday ( a week all to myself in the office, time to write my financial & work plans for the year) brought news of Monica, a child in grade 1 at one of the schools (approx 5) who’d broken her leg badly and had to be taken to hospital in Windhoek…and  I had no idea where her parents were. I spent half an hour asking the local San & texting contacts from her home community, but no news. Then the chief arrived to give me her orders for the day, which are generally the same – ‘you will phone police/you will buy for children/you will drive to…’ and my response is always, ‘no, that’s your responsibility’ followed by her ‘i’m sick,neh – am go to bed’ (!) Except today she told me the story of lovely Jan from Blouberg. Jan is about my age, motivated, bright & enthusiastic about improving his community & the last time I saw him he was talking of heading to the big smoke to find work, which I attributed his apparent sadness to.It turns out Jan never went to grootfontein – he’s still in the ‘location’ (township) outside Gobabis, talking suicide L Again, I spent a good proportion of my time trying to track him down this week to no avail. Tuesday was slightly more upbeat – I attended a meeting of local businesses and council members with an interest in Tourism & had an opportunity to say my piece about the unique opportunity Omaheke fails to exploit in terms of Tourism – the San. All cultural tourism takes place in the North of the country and Omaheke is completely overlooked – due to a lack of foresight from the local council & a lack of national marketing of the region. I was invited to submit proposals around improving the Tourism infrastructure (ie our campsite/craft shop etc) in a bid to a pot of £4m!! J I was momentarily uplifted by the positive thinking in the room up to this point…it didn’t last….my spirits dropped half an hour later when they nominated me as committee secretary L  After pulling a suitably ‘dissapointed’ face at my nominator, I declined politely on the grounds that I was too busy. Sexism lives on in Omaheke. Mind you, sometimes it can be useful – I didnt turn down a  free lunch courtesy of a local hotelier.Wednesday started bright & sunny (after a spectacular lightning show the night before) until Simon arrived from DRFN to bring more bad news. Our shop in donkerbos was broken into & £300 of takings were stolen L So much for a week in the office – that was Thursday written off as a trip to Donker & the local police. I spent the rest of the day working on my Tourism proposal – though with no help from my local tourism guy who’s idea of providing me with a marketing proposal was to suggest that I pay him to write it (!) Surprising considering he’d earlier been begging me to re-write his own funding proposals, of which I would receive no benefit, for free!!!  Born yesterday?! Not this secretary….Throughout the week I received a steady stream of phonecalls & visits from largely unsuitable, but very keen prospective Finance manager candidates. I also received a bus load of school girls singing hymns. Never a dull moment here. So Thursday I headed out to Donkerbos with Klaus …and a swarm of bees. Like I said, never a dull moment (!) Two of the community members had been trained in Bee keeping & were receiving their first hive full. The swarm were asleep when I joined the car at 6.30am. After 3 hours of sand tracks & dancing car they were awake. And they weren’t looking happy. Sandra (Klaus’s other half) and myself made the decision to stay in the car, windows closed/doors locked, and wait till the community members evicted the little beasts from the back of the truck. The following farce went like this – Sandra & I began to sweat profusely in the midday sun with no aircon, but were trapped in the car which by now was surrounded by bees. Klaus ran around the bush trying to escape the runaways, as did some of the other community members who came to take an un-protected and foolish peek. Klaus then did a mad dash back into the car so that he could drive it through the bush for a further half an hour at top speed whilst a brave community member hung out in the back beating the swarm out with a branch! Eventually we got the majority out & the aircon back on. And finally made it to Talismanus to report the crime. Klaus then broke the next piece of bad news – Hosabe (his colleague) had resigned and he was also planning to L Very sad as they’ve been my support system in Gobabis in terms of their knowledge, humour & funds – not to mention comedy moments like this one.Arrived back to hear that I’d missed Marcellas funeral, & just to round the week of nicely, another young San had been killed in a road accident and his friend seriously injured. Things can only get better right?!!

High’s and Low’s & Marcella

Apologies for my infrequent blog entries of late – my long leisurely Gobabis weekends have been stolen away & replaced by city breaks. Now that I finally have good friends in the city it’s always too much of a temptation to getaway from Gobabis & swap solitaire for sundowners!

 

Rewinding slightly, work has become a relentless juggling act with the departure of my trusty Finance girl & I’m now stock controller, camp site manager, craft shop owner, community worker, concerned parent AND Finance manager….oh, did I forget Organisational Development Co-ordinator – silly me! In fact unless you count packing off the Trainee Field Worker for two weeks training/exile, I’ve done absolutely zero what I came here to do & time has starting ticking, reminding me that if I’m going to achieve anything I really need to shut the office door & get my head down for some serious report/proposal writing. Hence the reason I packed Gert off for two weeks…breathes sigh of relief.

 

Week before last was a whirlwind of tasks against the clock (which is highly irregular for Africa) I a bid to get my house straight before a week away with VSO. It started with Gerts 3month trial review (best skim over that), another visit to the headmasters office (again best skimmed over), stocking/reviewing pricing structures of the shop, an overnight stay at the camp site/morning meeting & re-election of campsite committee (me spinning the car on mud tracks…yes, we’ll skim that too), packing Gert off to the North & submitting advertisements for a new Finance manager – phew! I really enjoyed my G&T’s at Ruths place on Saturday night!

 

Sunday was spent at Daan Viljoen Wildlife Park (pronounced Dan villoon) just outside Windhoek. I was shamelessly unfit, trailing behind Ruth (in her 60’s) & blind as a bat – relying on her eagle eyed animal spotting. Unfortunately none of the big 5 (which is probably why they allow you to walk freely) – but I did see my first Wildebeest and Hartebeest along with the usual Gemsbok/Springbok/Kudu & Warthogs – get me, African wildlife specialist (!)

 

Monday I got to meet the rest of my secure livelihoods vso buddies – Pratap, Mark, Geert, Penny, Alun, John & Paul. We bussed up in the vso minivan to a place called Tsinstabis & the San Treesleeper Camp where Alun works. Out came the tent again (camping pro now!) …and some more G&T’s (!) Ever so slight colonial feel with Marks public school bellows of ‘Helleeew my dear/old chap’ whilst ‘continuing the struggle to fight dehydration’ (!) But a great 3 days was had by all – with a little bit of work thrown in (!) And I have only myself to blame for the dodgy stomach on the way back after supper of termites & local liquor. It was sad to leave the camp – not least because the San there were so great/motivated/helpful/kind & all round fantastic…..in other words a little dissimilar to those in Omaheke. So I said goodbye to the camp & my new vso buddies & a little jadedly returned to Gobabis/back of beyond.

 

Just to make sure I was truly miserable, on my return I had to move to the ‘flat’ behind the office to make way for the anthropologists I so kindly agreed to rent out my house/the training center to. So I moved into a squalid little room, battled the biggest cockroach I’ve ever seen (bout the size of a medjool date, not as tasty), and contemplated again why exactly I was here.

 

In the morning I put on a positive front, had a workout at the gym & came back to tackle the hovel. Then Gertud came knocking (german anthropologist) just to see how I was – generally upbeat until she arrived in actual fact. Firstly she informed me that she’d just carted Maria & her mum to hospital as Maria was coughing up blood (Maria is going for an operation on Thursday related to her throat, I can only speculate on what might be the problem), she then followed this up with news from Corridor (where Hattie lives) asking casually had I heard about the murder there L of course I replied yes as Hattie mentioned about it happening last year. But that was last year…in fact someone was murdered just last weekend. Then it came out in dribs & drabs that it was a wife killed by her husband, and the family had gone off dancing as if nothing had happened the morning the body was found….and the woman that was killed was the lovely Marcella. Marcella was a very talented & beautiful musician who featured on 3 cd’s of San music and was the inspiration for Hattie’s work in that community after discovering her whilst working for a record company in London. I’m still in shock writing this & I can’t comprehend how someone could do that (although as can be seen from the communities reaction, its almost a normality in a place where domestic violence is as regular as brushing your teeth) or that she’s gone now for good and before she ever achieved the success that she was due for her outstanding talent.

A very sad day – rest in peace Marcella.

 

Hotel Manager & Mother?!

As I write this, I’m enjoying the peace & quiet of an empty house for the first time in three weeks. Talk about a reversal from Gobabis 2007. Three weeks ago  I received my first guest, Belinda, on Monday evening, here to run a craft workshop at Drimiopsis (about an hour from Gobabis) on behalf of DRFN/LISSOP. Karen (craft centre manager & co-teacher) & Belinda were offered beds in the DRFN/boys house but declined (!) So I am now officially the ‘girls’ house in Gobabis. Karen turned up on Wednesday night & the three of us christened my house properly by having the first Braii, and a well earned glass (or two) of wine after my school run….

The school term started on wednesday, so on Tuesday Gert & I loaded up the school bus full of miscreants & headed off to Drimiopsis school – twice. But first a lesson in manners for the boys- out of the back seats & into the back to make way for the ‘ladies’ – it was a struggle but I finally managed to ‘persuade’ one of the boys to be a gentleman after much protestation of ‘they’ll think she’s my girlfriend’. Unfortunately for us, the community at Epukiro where we arrived at 4pm for the third load, had made the executive decision not to send the kids back this term   Apparently they were tired of the children being ‘chased away’ for not wearing uniform/paying fees etc. So we headed back to Drimiopsis to enroll the kids we’d dropped off earlier.

Doubly unfortunately, by the time we arrived back from Epukiro at 5pm, the school was no longer enrolling, and the heavens had opened. Somehow we managed to get two loads of kids in the car & out of the rain & around to the hostels (fortunately/unfortunately? there don’t appear to be any rules around the number of passengers per car in Namibia). Before we could head back to Gobabis I had to deal with a teenage tantrum from one of the girls who was ‘tired of school’ (!) Despite her threats to hike home, I managed to persuade her to stay for a whole two weeks….

Next day, relying on Gerts words , we set off at 6.30am to arrive by 7.30am in order to get places & classes for the children. At 9.30 we were still waiting for movement other than the school assembly. We finally got into the enrollment process around 10, starting with last terms (miserable) reports. 14 out of 16 had successfully managed to fail – which wouldnt have been so bad had the girls not found it all wildly amusing. We spent a further 4 hours waiting to see if we could get them to be allowed to repeat their years, during which time I found myself shamefully grovelling to a Headmaster, and feeling for all the world as though I were the one who’d failed! It should be noted that throughout this time the children managed to re-pack themselves into the car with the singleminded goal of returning home in the not too distant future.

Fortunately for them (and me!) they were all given a second chance – and a strong talking to by yours truly. I’m still wondering where the girls got the money for the alcohol that led to one of them being carted across the yard by her pals after a bucketload too many…as recounted by the headmaster

I thought the school story would end there, but I made at least 3 more trips to Drimiopsis to variously deposit uniforms, toiletries and another errant student I found hanging about in Gobabis. On the bright side, I also got to partake in Belindas craft class at the school on Saturday & produced my first piece of art…watch this space for news of the new Marc Jacobs of bead jewellery.

This week I received my third guest, another school girl – but a well behaved one fortunately! Another favour to DRFN – Klaus asked permission for his daughter to stay the night at ‘the girls’ house when he was out of town overnight. As it happened I was also out of town, so Belinda had the pleasure of babysitting whilst I enjoyed a good old night out in Windhoek. Civilisation! Fabulous. I met up with Ghada, another VSO volunteer who arrived when I did in October, and an ex-vso, Sarah & her new ex-peacecorp hubby Peter. Had a great night & a good old gossip about our different experiences as a volunteer, accompanied a well earned beer and a decent restaurant meal – bliss!

The following weekend I received my next batch of guests – 3 other VSO volunteers. Every 6 months VSO volunteers run a ‘Global Education’ weekend somewhere around the country, to widen the volunteers’ experiences..and for some reason it was decided at the last one to visit Gobabis this time. So Vicky, Mary & Ruth arrived on my doorstep on Saturday night ready for a few days scoping before the Global Ed in April. They also came armed with food & alcohol & proceeded to cook for us all whilst I sat back with a beer – thats what I call a good house guest! Next day we headed out to one of the re-settlement farms, Drimiopsis, where they were interested in including in Global Ed. We managed to track down the Ministry of Lands appointed project manager, Lennon (one of my hospital angels(!)) , who kindly agreed to chat to the girls & show us his desert vegetable garden. He also showed us his bare chest as he emerged from his house – It’s difficult to say which the girls enjoyed the most….

We then carried on to a bunch of rip-off merchants that could give Greyhound Ford at Accrington a run for their money. Harnas Guest Farm. They supposedly rehabilitate injured animals, funded by tourists that pay to cuddle them (Angelina Jolie et al) – in reality it’s an African Petting Zoo. Anyway, our idea was to view their camping grounds with a view to the volunteers spending a couple of nights there to debate the issue as part of Global Ed. We arrived to a nice welcome from the front desk flunkie, explained we were possibly bringing 30 heads worth of business their way, & enquired about lunch at which point we were asked if we had called to say we were coming. Er, no. No worries, lunch for 4 could be accommodated. All’s well so far, until an hour later we go to pay for lunch & finalise the details of our visit in April. Then the flunkie informs us we each have to pay a day entrance fee of 160 dollars (12quid!) even though we’ve spent less than an hour, bought lunch & seen a bunch of babboons in a cage! And the manager was too busy to acknowledge let alone speak to his (lost) customers. Needless to say we won’t be returning in April.

So, my next Guests! We arived back late afternoon to collect two swedish students coming to learn about the San & also staying at Hotel Blakemore (though I did try & palm them off onto the ‘Boys’ House). I managed to make an instant impression on them by diving head first out of Ruths jeep & skidding across the gravel on my knees – it was quite acrobatic, but unplanned. To this day I still haven’t quite figured out the exact purpose of their visit, though they did cook a couple of nice meals & provide an ongoing topic of conversation around the nature of their strange relationship. Henrik was clearly older (28ish) but Victor was his supervisor & liked to point this out regularly as well as the ‘rules’ ie no alcohol. Which didn’t stop the rest of us from consuming in front of poor salivating Henrik. Victor nearly fell off his chair when I told him Ruths ginger beer that Henrik was enjoying included vodka.

Carrying on the topless theme, Henrik also treated us to half naked cooking & later at the campsite in Corridor, the girls enjoyed topless dancing. Unfortunately the enjoyment came from all the wrong reasons. Apparently our not so trusty campsite manager wheeled out all his pensionable relatives for the traditional dance, complete with breathing problems & the usual effects of ageing on the anatomy. It wouldn’t have been so bad if one hadn’t also been deaf, requiring the rest to stop every 20 seconds to communicate the following moves (!) Was there ever a ‘Carry On Dancing’ ?

I’m now guest free again – and drying out (!) But unfortunately not errant school child free. At the end of last week I spotted one of ‘my kids’ back in Gobabis, and since then another 3 have turned up & I’ve already another afternoon in the headmasters office with likely another one tomorrow… but at least today was amusing – two hours spent looking for a kid of the goat variety.

What I learned this month:

1. Skidding across gravel on your knees is quite painful

2. When it comes to male goats, size matters (height that is)

3. Children are bl***y hard work!

4. There are actually some things worth seeing in Gobabis (like Lennons chest..)

5. The campsite dance troupe have taken their last bow