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