Gerald Walther's Reports

On Time, Space and Goats

"Hey Gerald, have you already turned your quarterly report for Doug?" Quarterly report??? Already? But I have just been here for a couple of days - well, I guess I have to admit that it has been indeed two months since I took the Namibian Airline flight from Frankfurt and landed in Windhoek airport. Seems like a few days ago but it might as well also have been a year ago. Time in the desert, just like in Grinnell, has a will of its own. Mondays are evil, Tuesdays stretch like well chewed bubblegum, Wednesdays do not really seem to exist and then it is already Friday, not to forget the Thursday in between.

The irregularities of time also extend into the domain of space. The station is remote, yet sometimes overcrowded. You constantly see the same faces, every day, if you want to or not. Occasional visitors shape the picture but the main features are always the same. Trips into the towns of Walvis Bay and Swakopmund (little Bavaria in the desert) always promise to be fun and entertainment. However, as soon as you get there, you realize that you have already changed - not only mentally but also physically. Especially cars suddenly sound extremely annoying. Their noise hurts and distracts. Our first trip nearly ended in a minor disaster. Tormented by the wrong way of driving (left side), I was happy to park the car but then forgot to switch off the light, which was needed because of the thick fog. As we came back to the car, the battery was dead. S**t. Luckily we had taken Roxy, a staff member at Gobabeb, along and her aunt jump-started our car. I was quite amused by my stupidity.

One of the best things to do in town is eat. Food is extremely delicious. Seafood, fish, game, steaks; one better than the other. Namibia is famous for its meat, which is considered the best in Africa. Writing about meat reminds me of one of the most interesting events in these first weeks. Thomas Parr was still here and working with a group of University of Namibia students. These students wanted to buy a goat from a local farmer so Thomas, four students and me took a minivan and drove out to a Topnaar (local tribe) farmer. We had been told that the goat would already be dead but it still looked pretty much alive to me. I have never witnessed how a goat is butchered so I was quite anxious. They held the goat onto the ground and then slit its throat. As the blood was pouring out into a cup, a puppy dog already tried to drink it. He was given the blood later on. Nothing of the goat was left unused. The animal was skinned and the innards were taken out and cleaned. Even the stomach was emptied, which smelled extremely foul (you can actually cook the stomach and eat it). I was never more aware of our societies separation from our "stone-age souls" than during these few minutes. It is one thing to go into a supermarket and buy a pound of goat meat, but to see a real animal that you will eat afterwards, slaughtered, is way different.

Another good thing about trips to town is the opportunity to buy and stock up on Namibia's excellent beer, which is probably the only good thing Germans ever brought to the country during the colonial area. But town gets boring after a few days and when I see Gobabeb's water tower on our drive back, I already feel as if I am coming home.

But what is it like to live in Gobabeb? I do not think that I am capable to describe it properly but maybe the following scenes will give you a rough idea. Gobabeb is like walking to your room at night guided by the light from the Milky Way. Sitting on top of a dune and watching Shooting Stars. Camping in the dunes and listening to Jackals and Hyenas. Starting a fire for the weekly braai (braai = barbeque). Chewing on sand during east wind (hot wind that comes straight from the desert plains). Waking up to thick layers of fog in the morning. It is a world of its own, incomparable to any place I have been before and despite the frequent frustrations and troubles, it is an amazing place to live in.