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When my plane was mid-air between Johannesburg and Windhoek I realized that I had no phone numbers to call if no one was at the airport to pick me up. Panic kept me awake during the flight although I was exhausted. I spilled food on myself and in a moment of delirium thought I had lost my passport. Upon arrival I maintained composure through immigration, salvaged my three huge bags, and precariously loaded them on top of one another onto a tiny courtesy cart. As I wheeled through the automatic doors I saw Kate waiting for me. At the same time that she and I made eye contact my little cart hit a break in the linoleum and my heavy bags hit the floor with three consecutive thuds. Kate, a polite Afrikaner man and I scrambled after them and a little courtesy cart traffic jam ensued behind us. It wasn't the graceful entrance into Namibia that I had anticipated, and I could only hope it wasn't an indication of the year ahead.
When I arrived Kate and Shannon had been in Namibia for several weeks and last year's fellows were still drifting in and out the house before and after their travels. I was living in Adrian's room, who hadn't actually left yet. I couldn't navigate the car, let alone the Windhoek traffic. It took me a while to get acclimated and to the point where I knew what was going on. I had never been to Africa before, and I was abroad for the first time junior year when I studied in Sweden. Unlike Kate and Shannon I couldn't name the major tribes in Namibia or the presidents of major African countries. Adrian would make sarcastic remarks and I wouldn't catch the joke. Apparently someone wasn't paying attention in Southern African History class.
Work
I came here fully aware that arid environment ecology was not something I had a lot of expertise in. I felt like this fellowship would be a good combination of things I knew well (how to write clearly, edit, multi-task and work independently) and things I didn't know well at all (African culture and politics, environmental education, ecology). For the most part I feel that this still holds true. I have been slowly learning the basics of aquifers, Namibian biogeography, and desert ecology. But more importantly I have been learning the projects-- Hoanib, NAPCOD, Rio+10, SDP-- that I will hear about for the next year. I have also been gaining valuable skills, such as how to use PhotoShop and PageMaker, and produce publications that are attention-grabbing and informative at the same time.
So far my work has been a healthy mix of long-term projects and smaller day-to-day tasks. I have been editing the Hoanib River Catchment papers, fighting with Microsoft Word in the attempt to get the papers into a publishable format. I have assisted Sharon in developing the structure for an art, poem and story competition among primary school students in the Kavango region. I have written an update on the benefits of solar water heaters in Namibia. Last week at Mary's request via Sharon I printed and laminated signs with the DRFN mission statement displayed clearly and hung them up on the walls of the offices, near the photocopier, and in the hallway. Some people were more grateful for them than others.
I think the most useful thing I came into this fellowship with was a background in non-profit organizations. I knew the typical problems-- finding sustainable funding, trying to incorporate professional and indigenous knowledge, and office personal politics that can, at times, be quite volatile. I have not been at the DRFN long enough to identify all of its features and problems as an NPO, but the important thing is that I am not often surprised. I know things won't always be the most efficient, I know some people will be very ideologically driven and others are here to collect a paycheck. I think it is helpful to anticipate these features so as to avoid burning out or viewing my contributions to the organization as useless.
My only work-related trip has been a two-day jaunt to Gobabeb. Sharon mentioned the possibility of a trip to the Kavango region with her next week as part of the Every River has its People Project, but she discovered the trip was already booked. I plan to help with SDP in the north in December or January, and hope I can go along for planning workshops and conferences to other places during the year. Sharon took the communications unit to the publisher one day to get a behind the scenes look at the printing process. I hope to go meet Sharon's contact in the Parliament one day, to get a feel for the audience I write updates for. I hope that these trips, as well as my daily trips to the mailbox (always a disappointment) and to tea will break up the monotony of staring at a computer screen all day.
Life in General
Adrian told me that Namibia is considered "Africa for Beginners." I can see what he means, because adjusting to life in Windhoek was not a particularly jarring experience. You drive on the left side of the road in a manual transmission car. When you park the car, you pay a man a couple of dollars to stand near it make sure no one breaks in. All of the houses in the neighborhood are blocked from the road by huge cement walls toped by barbed wire, with obnoxiously barking dogs close behind. Skim milk does not exist and instead you drink "low fat" (2%). You drink Tafel and Castle rather than whatever is on tap at the Pub. Instead of calling it a muffler you call it a silencer. You spell things like a Brit-- with "organisation" and "theatre" (although Microsoft Word challenges you on it). You drive from home to work and back again, Monday through Friday. On Friday nights you can go to a club and it is sort of like a Harris party (except for the "smart casual" dress code and occasional Angolan music), and
you can even have your pick of mostly black, mixed, or mostly white atmospheres.
Although most of the differences are slight, the combined effect is often one of confusion and disorientation. One night Sara, Becca, Kate and I went to a German Cultural movie. We sat in folding chairs in a multi-purpose room listening to a man address and welcome us in German, to the movie which was a dark look at Turkish immigrants in Germany (with English subtitles). The woman in front of us was wearing a very bourgeois-looking fur coat. People were cracking open their beers. Sarah turned to me and said that everything she does in this country has a surreal aura to it. There have been many times since then that I have known exactly what she means. Things are basically okay, but something is just slightly askew all of the time.
From reading Sarah and Adrian's reports I was prepared for several things that would have been difficult to take otherwise. It's true, the vegetable situation in this country leaves a lot to be desired and vegetarians here have my deepest sympathy. Sometimes it is hard to see how me sitting at a computer all day really contributes to "ensuring environmentally sustainable development" in Namibia and the link to "service" gets quite hazy. I find I have to think of it in broad terms: essentially, if I were not here on this fellowship my work would not get done and the DRFN as a whole would not be as successful.
I can tell also that Sara and Adrian were right about how difficult it is to meet Namibians. It could be quite easy for me to live and work here for a year without a very clear understanding of Namibian culture and people. I see the way people in Windhoek live, particularly white people and the other volunteers that we've met through Adrian and Sara. But that certainly is not indicative of way Namibians live. I know Namibians through work, but I have no idea what their lives are like after they leave the office for the day. I am sure the situation will begin to improve with time, but for the time being I feel a disconnect. Kate and I joked about putting up signs around the office requesting host families -- someone to remember our birthdays and invite us over for dinner on Sundays. Although we were joking, I do feel my connection to local people is lacking.
Today Becca left for home. At the airport there were dozens of official-looking luxury cars around, and military men mingling around with their machine guns in tow. We are fairly certain that the whole scene was caused by Joseph Kabila, President of the DRC, flying home to Kinshasa after an official visit to Namibia. Kate and I are still speculating that Becca was on the same flight as Kabila (maybe she was even bumped-up to first class!).
Now that last year's fellows have all packed up and gone home it really feels like we are on our own. No one will be dropping in to give us a context of our experience-- how they spent Christmas last year, funny stories about people in the office, or suggestions on where you can buy tofu. En route to the airport Becca said that the past year went by very fast and her memories are starting to blur together. Considering I have been here for nearly two months already, I see what she means.
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