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.
