The Cafe at Zoo Park

So, I had a realization for why I love Namibia today. Namibia, being so small is like a microcosm of the world. Things that are too large to see, or to complex to understand in the world, are under your nose, or in your face in Namibia. The connections and implications are often much more clear and easier to work with. I bought a salad spinner last week. (As many of you know, one of my most prized possessions.) Most of my time at work has been spent either visiting organizations for potential internship opportunities for my students, or reading articles to decide what will go in the course reader. After I bought my salad spinner, I read an article about Namibia’s sweatshop, Ramatex. My salad spinner cost what the average Ramatex employee earns in two weeks. That puts things in perspective. But at the same time, while I’m earning a lot more than a lot of people living within miles of me in tin shacks, I’m also surrounded by people living in mansions and driving BMWs and Mercedes, while I walk to work.

One day, I was reading an article about inequality and how racial apartheid is over, but class apartheid is stronger than ever. So, there is this nice little café with a pretty little veranda in a park called Zoo Park. I haven’t been there since I’ve been back but I’ve been wanting to go. So, that same day that I was reading this article about economic apartheid, I met a friend after work. He suggested we go to the café at Zoo Park. I was quite excited by this suggestion. We walked over there, and walked right past it. I said, “Aren’t we going here?” He said, “No, that one is too expensive. Let’s go to this one.” I forgot there is another little café in the back of Zoo Park, that’s not nearly as trendy. I asked my friend how much more expensive the first one is. He said, “I don’t know, but you can just tell its expensive cause its all white people sitting there. I’ve never been there.” And sure enough, it was all black people at the one in the back of the park. I was shocked by how explicit what I had just been reading about was demonstrated to me so immediately. I joked with my friend how ridiculous this whole situation is, and he laughed and saw how insane it was, but with a sort of resignation like, “yeah, whatever, of course that’s how the world is.” I think I’ve been a lot more tuned in to noticing which social groups are where and where they are not then last time I was here.

So, I found out that there is a yoga class 3 houses down from mine. I went there and liked it reasonably well, especially considering how close it is, I’ll probably become a regular there. But of course, like the other two yoga classes, its all white women also. There is also a meditation class a few blocks away from my house. It was taught by a white man. There were two white men, a black man and me in attendance. Compared to my yoga classes full of white women, the presence of men and one black men felt like massive diversity to me. While the guy who taught the class did chat with me before the class, while he was talking, he only looked at the white guys. He never once looked over and made eye contact with me or the black guy! I was floored! This from a “spiritually” oriented kind of guy. It just emphasized to me how much is going on at so many levels that its really hard to get in touch with all these levels of consciousness. But, because of how in your face so much of it is in Namibia, it really helps me to bring so much more to the conscious level where I can work with it. So, after the meditation class, I asked if anyone could give me a lift home (yes its close, but its after dark). The black guy was running out the door – wouldn’t blame him if he was thinking, “get me the heck away from these ‘spiritual’ people” – but one of the white guys gave me a lift. As we were driving out, we passed the black guy standing on the street, apparently waiting for a taxi. I started to say, “Oh, there’s Delvin!” because my natural inclination was, “Let’s offer him a lift too!” But before I could get the words out, we were flying past him. Wow. He’s apparently invisible.

So, many of you know Kafunda. My student who was originally from the Democratic Republic of Congo that I tried to raise money for by selling Namibian crafts on ebay. I’ve had the feeling recently that he’s doing a whole lot better financially , and I’ve felt really weird about my tear jerking plea for people to buy his stuff, because I had this feeling he was far from destitute, and that he was quite an entrepreneurial capitalist and doing quite well for himself. He’s working as a tour guide as his main employment, so I didn’t have a chance to see him till today, cause he’s been out of town. So, he called yesterday and suggested we meet for lunch today and suggested the Café at Zoo Park. I eagerly agreed, curious to see which café he meant. I was fairly sure he probably meant the trendy one, since he works with tourists, and he knows I’m a foreigner, but one never knows. So, as I was walking up, I saw him sitting on the trendy veranda, sipping a foofy coffee in a little white cup and eating a trendy desert on a big white plate where they dribble powdered sugar all over the plate for ambiance. Wow. This is my little grade 10 Kafunda. He’s not in grade 10 anymore. My favorite drink, appletiser, costs 50% more at this café than the other. But here it comes in a bottle and is served with a wine glass. At the other one it comes in a can with a straw. There you sit on molded plastic patio chairs and the tables have vinyl covers printed with beer logos. Here you sit on a fancy patio chair and the tables have linen covers. Anyway, it was great to see Kafunda. He’s doing really well for himself. He was telling me about all of his little projects and businesses (and how the African elephant calendar works!). I started putting things together and realizing that altogether he makes almost as much money as I do. For some reason, this made me feel threatened somehow. Wow! That’s an interesting emotion to get in touch with. Me, who claims to not care about my salary, just the work that I do, felt like, “How can my little Kafunda earn as much as me?” I think that feeling came from me being the benevolent rich American that helped the poor African by selling his things. I patronizingly loved to “help” him. How could he possibly be so far from needing my help? Fascinating. Apparently, I like the power that comes from being the benefactor, and don’t like it when the beneficiary surpasses the benefactor. I actually owe him a ton (in any currency) of money right now for things that I sold over the last year and was planning to give it to him when I got here. One of the reasons I was looking forward to meeting him was to discuss what would be the best way to get it to him (I don’t feel comfortable walking around with that much money.) So, I asked him how I should get it to him and he waved me off, “Oh, don’t worry about it. I don’t need money, I’ll just spend it and waste it.” What??? My little Kafunda is waving off a HUGE chunk of cash? I must admit its been a nice padding in my account, but I would like to get it to him so that I don’t accidentally spend it. I decided I’ll just transfer it to savings and when he needs it I’ll offer again. He’s talking about building a house (he already bought property), so maybe when he starts building I’ll offer again. Alternatively, I could go through my old emails and dig up his account details and just put it in his account, but if he will just waste it like he said and he really doesn’t want it right now, maybe its better I hang onto it until he could use it. Anyway, so after we finish our meal, Kafunda told me not to worry about the bill. My little Kafunda, is buying me lunch at the trendy Café at Zoo Park! Wow! I think I keep referring to him as “My little Kafunda” in order to retain my power over him.

So, otherwise? I’ve started getting arrogant about my kombi driving skills. I’m been driving on gravel roads, busy roads, you name it, I’m no longer afraid. So, on Thursday the driver came back from holiday and offered to drive my colleague and I to a meeting. “Nah”, I said, “I can do it.” The parking lot was a little small, and so it was a bit challenging to turn the thing around to leave, especially without power steering, but I thought I was doing pretty well. I got the kombi halfway through the gate, when it stopped. I looked in the rearview mirror, we had been clear on the left, but apparently I wasn’t noticing that I caught the right rear wheel well on a cement block. Ooooops. I felt dumb. So, I started reversing. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t back up. Apparently, I hadn’t just hit this little cement thingy, I had really stuck it on it. Two guys were walking by and came over to help with my predicament. They were looking and pointing and telling me to move the wheel this way and that, but no luck. I was freaking out. Four guys came running over from a car dealership across the street and also started looking and telling me to move the wheel this way and that. Finally, the six guys just lifted up the rear end of the kombi and moved it over! I was so embarrassed but laughing so hard at the same time. It was like a parallel parking dream come true. "Can you just put the car where it should be?" My kombi-driving-ego dropped several notches.

I have this habit of shopping at a grocery store called Pick ‘n Pay. Its where I shopped before, so its where I’ve been shopping.Their produce selection has been disappointing, but whatever. Ironically, I noticed that there is a huge new store next door called Fruit & Veg City. Now, don’t ask why in the world I haven’t been there. Other than that’s its closed on Sundays and I usually grocery shop on Sundays. But for some reason, even with a name like that, I didn’t go there. So, I had heard that there is a German church that has an organic farmer’s market sort of thing on Saturday mornings. So, yesterday I got a taxiI have this habit of shopping at a grocery store called Pick ‘n Pay. Its where I shopped before, so its where I’ve been shopping. Their produce selection has been disappointing, but whatever. Ironically, I noticed that there is a huge new store next door called “Fruit & Veg City”. Now, and set off to find this church. I found it. I was quite disappointed. It was a bunch of Germans selling meat, cheese and bread. There was one person there with spinach, which I bought. I also let some friendly Germans talk me into buying some cheese. And some other friendly people convinced me to buy bread and marmalade. I was frustrated that again, it was all white people. Not sure what I expected at the German farmer’s market, but still. So, as I was walking away from there, I was thinking to myself, “So, self, just who is it that you want to be friends with? You go to all these places where white people hang out, apparently you like things that white people like, why do you resist making friends with white people? You are a white person you know, if you haven’t noticed.” “Yes, self, I have noticed. Its just that so many white people in Namibia are so explicitly racist, and it makes me really uncomfortable to chat with them. And well, okay, getting really honest with myself (and the blog) here, its an appearance thing. Many black people in Namibia assume that white people are racist until proven otherwise, and if I appear that I prefer hanging out with white people, they’ll assume I’m racist.” “Wow, self, so is what you are telling me that you want black friends so people don’t think you are racist, and you don’t want to be seen as someone who prefers hanging out with white people? That sounds a bit racist, self.” “Wow, self, I guess it is.” Hmmmm. Oh the complexity of race relations in Namibia. Anyway, I then got a taxi back to town and decided on a whim to go to Fruit & Veg City. It was amazing! They had a bunch of organic locally grown veggies! They had bulk dried fruits and nuts! They had smoothies and fresh squeezed juices! They had coconut milk and all kinds of previously hard to find spices. Of course they had a beautiful variety of tons of fruits and veggies. And, it was super crowded, with a broad cross section of Namibians! It was so beautiful I wanted to cry.

Okay, and I’ll end with some logistics. I got a battery charger The thing is, I never take it with me. Here is a picture of my bedroom (You have to love the safari theme. The whole house is decorated that way. It never ceases to crack me up.) and one of my cubicle (mine is on the left, closer to the photographer). Yes, the rest of the pictures are from google image searches if its not obvious. Let me know what other sorts of things you would like pictures of and I’ll try to remember to take my camera with me to take pictures. I also now have the ability to charge my laptop, so I can compose blog entries at home, and just post them at work. Which means I don’t have to wait till weekends to post. I don’t know when I’m heading out to Tallismanis. Mbanjanda keeps being busy, then I’m busy, so I don’t know when it will fit both of our schedules. Its bugging me, but hopefully it won’t be TOO long. I did go visit my principal. He was here in town recovering from knee replacement surgery. I asked him about tons of my students. Most of them seem to be either , so I can use my camera again.looking after cattle, in jail or wondering around unemployed. There are one or two that seemed to be doing something semi-constructive. The one that I had heard was at UNAM, apparently isn't actually at UNAM. My friend Mira (who was a PCV at the same time as me here) was here visiting coincidentally and was telling me about all her former students who are now at University and doing all these neat things. It definitely makes me wonder. I keep wanting to blame it on myself not being as good of a teacher as Mira. But then I remind myself that these kids have 50,000 other influences and it probably has nothing to do with my teaching versus hers. Then I want to blame it on tribalism. Her students are from the majority ethnic group which is perceived to be in control of everything. Who knows. Regardless, it made me feel a little better to see Kafunda today to see that, even if he’s not in University, at least one of my students seems financially secure.

Settling In

Its amazing how when you are in a routine, a week can go by unnoticed. But when you are in a new job, place whatever, a week can be forever. So, there is lots to report since last week. But first, huge apologies. I took some pictures and brought my camera today to post them, but my batteries are dead! I promise to figure out a way to charge them and to post pictures soon.

My most exciting news is that I got a place to live! I’m renting a room in a 3 bedroom house. I share the bathroom and kitchen and there is also a lovely porch type area. It’s all furnished. I looked at a lot of apartments and just got so overwhelmed by their emptiness. They don’t even come with fridges and stoves here. The thought of having to buy EVERYTHING overwhelmed me. I have cool flat mates too. One is the landlord’s daughter. She is about my age or a bit younger and seems really nice. Although the first night that I was there she talked the whole night about her plans to buy a Hummer. Apparently they manufacture them in South Africa now. My other flat mate is a guy from Swaziland who is probably also about my age or a bit younger. He’s a hilarious combination of a born-again Christian, Rastafarian and Pan-Africanist. He makes for great dinnertime conversation. Last night he gave me a long monologue about how he supports polygamy and doesn’t like it when people criticize the King of Swaziland, but he thinks polygamy ruined his own life (his father had multiple wives) but yet he definitely wants only one wife. The owner of the house is an African-American woman who happens to be visiting right now. I haven’t quite figured out how she is African-American, lives in the States but has a Namibian daughter. I’ve tried to be conversational and ask her, but she seems to not like me much and isn’t too conversational. Oh, well, she is leaving soon anyway. There are also two furnished flats attached to the house that will be opening up within the next few months. If I decide I want more privacy, less socialness and to pay more money, then I’ll have the option to move into one of those when they open up.

I also just wanted to clarify from my last blog post, when I say that I wonder what I’m doing here, that doesn’t mean I’m regretting my decision or thinking about leaving. I’m just wondering what the heck I’m doing here sometimes. I think its perfectly normal. Another interesting thought that I had recently was about my nieces. I’ve always thought of myself as a deadbeat Aunty for living far away from my nieces and nephews all the time. I always sort of assume that they see me as some random woman who pops in once in a blue moon. I keep thinking that I would be a more responsible and effective Aunty if I lived closer to them. The other day it occurred to me that maybe I’m a better Aunty doing what I’m doing. None of my nieces and nephews are lacking in the being surrounded by people that adore them department. One more Aunty won’t make a big difference. But maybe having an Aunty that demonstrates that work doesn’t have to equal boring (as one of them said recently) makes me a good Aunty. (I’m not implying that everyone who lives near them has boring jobs, just that if I lived near them, I would probably have to find a boring job in order to do that.) Maybe I’m rationalizing my decision, but maybe I’m demonstrating to them that a job can also be a way to live out your life’s passions. As Bo Lozoff said about that ultimate child that generation after generation was working super hard for so that their children wouldn’t have to work super hard, maybe I’m being that ultimate child, and letting my nieces and nephews know that that’s an option too. (If you don’t understand the ultimate child reference, I don’t feel like getting into it here, but I think its in “Deep and Simple”)

Anyway, other little exciting things. I started attending yoga classes. I asked all over and could only find the two yoga instructors that I had previously, so I’m taking classes from both of them again, at least for a bit. I was hoping yoga classes would be a way to develop a social life, but so far it seems that only the highest class people attend classes. They all sort of gave me a look down their nose when I asked if anyone could give me a lift home afterwards. I just discovered a meditation center down the street from my house! Its affiliated with one I used to go to sometimes in Boston, so I’m fairly excited about that. I’m hoping by virtue of their more central location and “donations only” policy that they will attract a more diverse crowd than my yoga classes.

I drove a Kombi! That’s one of those 15 passenger mini-bus thingies. I knew I was going to have to drive one eventually but I was hoping to put it off for longer. Anyway, it was fun. The stick was on the steering while, like where you would expect the PRNDL to be, except its manual. The steering wheel was almost horizontal like a bus. Anyway, I made it, I stayed on the left, and feel more confident for the next time I need to drive it.

I’ve started running into people that I knew! The first was an old Peace Corps language instructor (Baby). I almost hugged him I was so excited to finally run into someone. I don’t think he understood my excitement. Much more excitingly, on Saturday I saw my old RACE supervisor (Ms. Nangolo) at a store. She had moved to Otjiwarongo last time I heard, and hadn’t responded to my letters, so I wasn’t sure how I was going to get in touch with her. It was great to just bump into her. Unfortunately for me though, she’s leaving soon for the UK for a Master’s Degree. But the funniest bumping into people experience was my pillow shopping experience. I’m quite particular about my pillows so even though my room came with one, I wanted a big fluffy one. So, I was at this department store, testing the pillows. When I test pillows, I lie on the floor and test them, cause you really don’t know if you just squish it with your hands. So, I’m there trying different pillows when this sales guy walks up to ask if I need any help. He looked a ton like one of my former students but I wasn’t sure. I’ve been wondering whether or not I would even recognize my former students cause its been 6 years and you can change a lot from 13 to 19. I smiled at him and he sort of shyly smiled back and then I asked him if he went to C. Heuva and he burst into a big grin and said, “Miss Linda!” I was so excited! It was so funny I really wanted to chat, but there wasn’t much to say, (and unfortunately his English had not improved much). He’s working at this department store, he failed grade 12, not much more to say. I asked how everyone else is doing but he didn’t really know. Then another sales guy walked by and he called to him. Holy Moly it was another one of my students and this one was one of my favorites. I was so excited! How could Kandange have claimed that he didn’t know how anyone else is doing when he works with Pineas! I mentioned to Pineas that I had talked with Mbanjanda and he said, “Mr Katuamba? You have his number? Can you give it to me?” So I gave him his number all the while thinking, “What the heck? You want Mr. Katuamba’s number but not Miss Linda’s?” But then he came to his senses and asked for my number also. He later told me, “Miss, the face was familiar, but you have become so fat, I wasn’t sure if it was you.” Amazing how quickly someone can go from being one of your favorite learners to being one of your least favorite. Anyway, I was shopping again today and at one of the stores I went to the cashier was another one of my former students. She also gave me that funny, “I think its Miss Linda, but I’m not going to say anything” look. I guess its been awhile. But when I recognized her she was happy to see me. I’m starting to feel like I am back in Namibia. As soon as I get settled I plan to take a weekend and hire a car and run out to Tallismanis. Its driving me nuts. Although Mbanjanda told me that most of the teachers that were there when I was there are no longer there. So I would basically be visiting Mbanjanda, but alas, I still really need to go.

Okay, that’s all I’ve got on my notes for today. Have a great week. See you when you see me!

First look right, Then left!

Well, I’m here! Sorry for not blogging sooner. I keep thinking I have something to say, then keep wondering what I’m trying to say, so I decide not to say it. But since I’m here, I figured I should write. Apologies also because I keep forgetting to bring my camera so that I can show you a picture of my office. I promise I will one day though. Another note, this post is a bit long. But you can read it in chunks if you prefer. That way, if I don’t post for a while, you’ll still have new stuff to read!

So, I guess what I want to say in this email is that life is complicated. While in many ways I’m thrilled to be back in Namibia, I’m also experiencing very mixed emotions. It’s probably all part of the settling in/transition process but that’s what’s true for me today.

Let’s start with my good-byes. So, last Wednesday, I hugged my parents good-bye and got on the United Limo to O’Hare. The bus passed lots of pleasant looking houses surrounded by green lawns (regardless of the rainfall the Midwest has not received this summer). I kept thinking to myself, “Why don’t I live in one of those?” “Why am I on my way to Namibia with all my positions either on this bus, or in a cabinet in my sister’s garage?” “What am I doing?” Its not an uncommon thought, I should tell you. I had that thought last summer when I was dehydrated at a busy bus station in Managua. (If you didn’t hear that story, just know that it had a happy ending and I’m now well hydrated, and that’s all you need to know.) But I can’t help but having that question, especially when I think of the look in my parents’ eyes as we said good-bye and the hugs from my nieces and the sweet little “I love you” from the youngest. I also had been thinking a lot about what one of my friends said. He compared my love of Namibia with his love of Hawaii. For some reason, that comparison didn’t work for me, but I couldn’t figure out what it is that I do love about Namibia, and why I was so excited to go back. I’ve been trying to sort that out for a while. So, looking at these happy houses, I was thinking about it more.

When I got to O’Hare, I talked to a friend of mine and mentioned what I was pondering. She reminded me that I would go nuts if I lived in one of those houses. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.” It’s true. But on what do I base that belief? Hmmmm. On the plane to Joberg, I could hear South African accents all around me. I had my first appletiser in four years. (A carbonated apple juice which was the only food item I could think of that I was looking forward to in Namibia.) I felt really happy and excited. I was still sorting out the “why” question though. I thought of what one of my friends had said about how she was excited to go to the country where she is going because “the people are so friendly.” I had a twinge of jealousy. “Why don’t I go to countries where the people are so friendly?” Don’t get me wrong, there are lots of very friendly Namibians. But I don’t feel comfortable generalizing and saying, “Namibians are friendly.” I have white skin. Lots of Namibians have reason to distrust white people. I am from the US. Lots of Namibians have reason to distrust people from the US. I feel like people in Namibia, in Windhoek particularly, approach foreigners with caution. And for some reason, I think that’s one of the reasons I love Namibia. It feels very real in a certain sense. People don’t just think I’m the greatest when they first meet me. I have to show them that I’m okay, then they may love me. That, in addition to everything else that makes Namibia so great. ;-) They showed a little video of South Africa from the tourism bureau on the plane. It showed white people enjoying fine dining and wine tasting while black people served them. It showed elephants and giraffes and lions. It showed lovely beaches. It showed smiling black people in their “traditional” dress performing their “traditional” dances. I suppose that is one way to depict South Africa. But its not the South Africa or Namibia that I know or would like to visit. Its complicated.

So anyway, I arrived, and am still quite excited about my job. My coworkers seem great, the internet in the office is working (albeit slowly), I got my cell-phone, things are okay. I met someone who knows people who are teaching yoga in Windhoek and will be sending me their contact info. The apartment search has been frustrating, but I have a month, I imagine something will work out.

So, being here has been interesting. I’d be lying if I said I don’t still have that “What the heck am I doing here?” thought wash over me from time to time. But its amazing how comfortable it feels here. I often feel like I never left. I’ll be walking along, and everything is just as it was and I feel like, “yup, here I am, never left, dooty doo” But then there are changes. First, I’ve walked around town several times and have not once yet run into someone I knew. I keep wondering if I just don’t recognize people, and they don’t recognize me, or if everyone I knew moved out of Windhoek and new people moved in, or if I just haven’t bumped into people I knew yet. Secondly, two malls have expanded a lot. (Wernhil and Mereau for those of you who know Windhoek). That has sort of freaked me out. There are lots of ice cream places. There is a “Curves” and a “Body Shop”, for goodness sake! Generally Namibia is good about keeping out multinational chains. So, Curves and The Body Shop threw me. I left my Body Shop Frequent Bather card in the States thinking I wouldn’t need it here. Who knew I could get all the body butter and bath oil a woman could desire right here? Wow! When I was here before, I used a camping pad for a yoga mat. This time I brought my own. There is now a large sporting goods store that not only sells yoga mats, it sells yoga blocks and straps as well. Anybody remember my home made “Step”? Well, the sporting goods store sells “Steps” as well. There are several restaurants that serve sushi, there’s a few coffee shops with cappuccino, no Thai food yet, but I did get great Indian food delivered to my hotel the other night. I’m just not sure what to make of it all. I suppose its progress, but I went to Katutura (the township) yesterday, and its still there also, and poverty is still here also. Maybe that’s another reason why I love Namibia. Its so complex. Just as you can’t say, “Namibians are friendly.” You also can’t say, “Namibians are poor.” Or “Namibians love to shop at the Body Shop.” Or “The expansion of the mall is good.” Or “The expansion of the mall is bad.” Its complicated. Much more complicated than a 5 minute video from the tourism bureau can depict. Just like my feelings about being back. I can’t say I’m thrilled to be here, but I wouldn’t say I’m miserable either. Its complicated.

I’ll end with a quick amusing story. I was in a taxi and the driver asked, “You are American?” I said, “Yes, is it obvious?” He said, “No, but how does it feel to be American right now, when most of the people are just hating the Americans?” “Not so good, but, I should tell you, that most of the American people, they are also just hating their government.” “Then why don’t you vote them out?” “I believe that we did, but that the elections were rigged, just like Zimbabwe. It’s difficult.” “Then how come you tell other countries how to run their elections?” And as I got out of the car I answered with, “I don’t know. It’s ridiculous.” When I first arrived in Namibia, under the Clinton administration, people seemed to generally have positive feelings towards Americans. When we were building up to the war in Iraq people started questioning me on US foreign policy a lot more. This is the first snapshot I’ve had of how Namibians generally feel towards America now, four years later. Once again, its all very complicated. I did have a conversation with some friends last night who seemed to all be vying for Hillary, but excited about the idea of Obama as well. Lets just hope the UN sends in observers to ensure free and fair elections.

All for now, I’ll post pictures later.