And as much as I value these tools, I hope not to install
them in such a way that leaves me from the outside looking in. I am not a fly
on the wall of Swakopmund. I am a member of this community now – or at least I
should hope to eventually be accepted as one. I hope to define Swakopmund not
as an anthropologist would, but as a participant.
At NCCI I’ve had the pleasure of working with really helpful people. I work in the office with my colleague Danielle. The rest
of the Executive Committee that comprises the Swakopmund branch of NCCI are
business folk themselves and operate on the board as volunteers. For my first
couple of weeks here all efforts were focused on preparing and marketing the
first ever Swakopmund International Trade Expo that was run by the NCCI. Now
that it has ended, I’ve been spending my days meeting with SME’s, the
municipality, ministries, and other regulatory bodies that play a role in the
SME/business community in Swakopmund. I’m really focusing on getting a lay of
the land in these early stages. It has only been a month, but I already see
some exciting potential opportunities.
The front view of my house.
My housing is more spacious than I imagined it would be. It’s
a two bedroom, concrete, tin-roofed house in Mondesa (Google Map it, if you
please, so you can see its nearness to the town), one of the many neighborhoods
in Swakopmund. The other bedroom belongs to Mike, the owner – a 25-year-old art
student in Windhoek. That being a 4-hour drive from here, I will very rarely
share the space with him. There are two other rooms in the house – a kitchen
and dining/living area. The kitchen has a refrigerator and stove. Since
electricity is rather expensive, and the massive oven with a stove top consumes
so much of it, we leave it unplugged. There is a mini, electric, two-burner
stove that is placed on top of two of the built-in stove-top burners that
suffices. To the right of that is my washing area. It’s a two bucket system.
Since there is no running water in the house, I get my water from the tap a
short walk from the house in the back. I fill my main bucket and sit it next to
my wash bucket/tub for dish/food washing. When the water in the wash tub fills
up, I carefully (a full tub of water is deceptively heavy and there is nothing
more unpleasant than a misstep, resulting in a drenching of yourself in dirty
dish water) bring it to the back, by the tap, where there is a drain. It’s an
incredible exercise in water usage reduction – and maybe less for environmental
reasons and more for the hassle of having to shuffle with a stinky tub of
water.
And as I scoot by to the drain, I pass by the smirks of what
I’ll call my plot-mates, who seem, always, to glide to the drain with effortless eloquence
with their full buckets. It works in Mondesa, and many other townships in
Namibia, that formal housing will also host some informal settlements on the
same plot. These residences are often constructed of wood, metal, aluminium, or
any other materials that can be sourced. It is affordable housing as
residents are either renting from or are family of the main landowner. So
immediately, when I moved in, I had people to help me acquaint with the area. We
share the toilet in the back and the water tap. Bathing is done from a
bucket inside the outhouse. Every morning before preparing breakfast I fetch
water and boil it. Lately though I’ve just been using the water unheated for
bathing. I’m sure this is a combination of built-up tolerance and laziness, but
I’m telling myself it’s just the former.
I’ll admit that the language barrier is a bit tough when
trying to connect with my most proximate neighbors. Most of my plot-mates speak
Oshiwambo and a little Afrikaans. I have enough Afrikaans, I feel, to introduce
myself, buy things, identify animals & foods, get directions, report a
crime, go to school, and understand the context of most, slowly spoken
conversations. But I can’t, yet, rely fully on my Afrikaans to build
relationships (I have, though, found an Afrikaans tutor who I will be seeing
everyone MWF for one hour). My broken Afrikaans and their English seem to get us by just fine though. As time has gone on though, I feel more connected
with my plot-mates. One of the boys, Oscar, is a 3rd grader with shy
demeanour but an insatiable curiosity. Whenever I get back from work at a
reasonable hour, him and his friend Ali come to my main room and go over with
me what they learned at school that day. I then quiz them on some basic math /
reading / spelling. Whoever gets the answer right first gets a cookie. Oscar,
being a bit older, usually takes the cookie. Being the renaissance man that he
is, he usually splits his spoils with his trusted playmate. I enjoy those parts of my day and am
realizing how I’m slowly becoming my father.
When it gets a bit later, I usually start to cook some
dinner. I’m trying to save up for some travels so most dinners consist of
parboiled rice and the addition of one the following: canned beans, curry
vegetables, mashed potatoes, steamed onions/peppers/tomatoes. A novel idea was imparted on me by a fellow Swakopmund volunteer, Justin - occasionaly
buy this loaf of bread at the grocery that resembles a personal pizza
(everything by the sauce) and make some marinara sauce to dip it in. Then I
smother it in sweet chili sauce. Dining is simple in my kitchen, but Sweet Chili Sauce is
where my culinary joy comes from. Holy cow is that stuff delicious. I could spoon eat it. I
haven’t. But I would. Okay I did. But it was just once. Judge me - I dare you.
Going out after the sun goes down isn’t necessarily
advisable. Mondesa and Swakopmund in general are pretty safe places, but no
need to take a chance in a place that doesn’t really have many street lights.
Speaking of crime though – had my laptop stolen the day before my birthday. It
was a pretty big bummer. I had all of my pictures and videos on it. But, hey, at least it can’t get stolen again, right? I had
it covered by insurance – still waiting to hear back from them, but I’m hoping
for the best. But I digress. So, nights are typically spent reading, writing,
or watching my recent addictions – The Wire or The West Wing. I’ve had a fair
amount of literature about the economic environment in Namibia that I’ve been
familiarizing myself with, but I’ll save those findings for another post so as
not to bore you away, assuming you’re still with me.
Walking about my street, I do feel warmly received. Initially, I get
quizzical looks, often accompanied by giggles. People seem to think
I’m either a lost tourist or one on a township tour. But everyone is hospitable
and welcoming when I introduce myself. There’s a collection of people here who
insist that I’m an actor on a popular Telemundo show that airs here. Yes,
Telemundo made its way out here – dubbed in English. They’re called ‘Soapies’
and they’re amazingly entertaining for all the wrong reasons.
This town is fascinating. Swakopmund is really quite unique.
A town that is so close to the dunes that a strong enough wind can cover the
cobbled streets with a fresh sandy coating and close enough to the ocean that
sea salt scents and a surprisingly chilly breeze hit you right as you square
yourself up with the shore, Swakopmund
is a geographical juxtaposition. Immediately,
when you pull into the city limits, after about an hour and a half ride along
the B2 from Usakos, you notice change. The air is a bit lighter, the
architecture different, vegetation – whether indigenous or transplanted –
unlike what I’ve seen in Namibia yet, and depending on the time of day the
overcast is a massive change. It’s a bit to adjust to, but the line from the
national anthem rings true – “Contrasting,
beautiful Namibia”.
