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
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