Wow. I’ve realized that time really flies by and I am not very good at blogging. A lot has happened in the past two months, but hopefully I can catch up in the following paragraphs.
Ryan
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In many ways, my roles, responsibilities and goals as a researcher and as an Ambassadorial Scholar overlap and interconnect. In both roles I have the opportunity to interact with diverse groups of people, build relationships and learn about different ways of life. For an overview of my research project, click here. Recently I have had the opportunity to visit many different farms, from some of the oldest German farms in Namibia to some of the newest resettlement farms as part of current land reform efforts. Note that when I say “farms” I am generally referring to what most Americans would call “ranches”—large expanses of rangeland (the average farm size in the region where I live is more than 12,000 acres) typically engaged in livestock production and more recently wildlife-related enterprises. On these farms and in these rural regions, I spend my time interacting with farmers, farm workers, their families, and various other rural residents, which always includes intriguing exchanges and invaluable insights into rural Namibian life.
Warthog on farm road
Local farmer and businessman
Resettlement farmer meeting
Farm worker family
Farm workers’ kids having fun and acting silly
Much like Kansas and the Great Plains, the distances in Namibia are long and one can drive on the rural roads for hours here without ever passing another soul (unless cattle and sheep have souls). Because of my necessity for mobility and my desire to “do as the Romans do”, I decided to purchase a Toyota Hilux turbo diesel pickup truck—one of the most popular vehicles in rural Namibia. Now, adorned in my canvas “farmer” shirts and leather boots I am nearly indistinguishable from the local German farmers!
Soon after I bought my “bakkie”, as they’re called here, I found myself ‘lost in translation’ one afternoon as I attempted to tell an old German guy about my recent purchase. I thought I had figured out how to say this in German. It seemed simple—a few words I was confident about. “I bought a bakkie,” I said in German. My old friend smiled and seemed so pleased. “Oh, you bought a goat?” he responded excitedly in English. “Are you going to eat it or are you keeping it as a pet?” Something was wrong in this conversation. How did I screw it up? I later found out that I had obviously tweaked the pronunciation of the word “bakkie”, just slightly enough to change its meaning from pick-up truck to farm animal. What I find to be hilarious, however, is the mental pictures that must have been flowing through this guy’s head. He seemed so proud of me for my first goat purchase. But what was he thinking I would do with it? Keep it tied up in my little room, or slaughter it here behind the pool where I’m living?
A lot has changed, however, since I bought my bakkie. Interestingly, while I have become significantly more mobile, I have also felt much more disconnected from a large part of Otjiwarongo. The majority of the town’s residents do not own cars and automobile ownership is blatantly divided by skin color and social class. From inside the comfort of my Toyota, it’s easy to see the town from the singular perspective of some of those who pull out of their gated homes, drive to work, drive to the store and return home without ever walking more than a few paces or interacting with more than a few other people. Unfortunately, this isn’t unique to Otjiwarongo or Namibia but seems to be an endemic feature of countless small towns, including—in many similar ways—my hometown in Kansas. What get lost are the bonds and relationships that build community. As in many other places I’ve visited, a different world seems to exist when one takes the time to walk through it—one with unique smells, sounds, tastes, conversations and a diverse convergence of lives.
I’ve recently, for example, spent a number of fascinating afternoons in parts of town where almost no tourists and few locals visit. These former township areas, called “locations”, on the edge of town were once the required residence of non-white Namibians during Apartheid years and continue to be the home for thousands of Otjiwarongo’s residents. Beyond this part of town, further out into the savanna, the poorest of the poor live in an area of makeshift homes referred to in English by some as “Tin-town”. I have had many enlightening opportunities to visit people’s homes, share a jar of home-brewed “tombo” (yes, my stomach was a bit queasy afterwards) and hear incredible stories and perspectives on life. This I believe is not only one of my responsibilities but one of my greatest rewards as an Ambassadorial Scholar and researcher.
Our host standing by her neighbor’s house
Drinking “tombo”, home-brewed beer
The diverse relationships that I have developed in Otjiwarongo and around Namibia are definitely the highlight of my trip so far. I have been invited to family gatherings on farms, backyard braais (barbeques), hunting trips and fishing excursions on the desolate Atlantic coast. Almost everyone I have met as part of my research so far has been incredibly generous and hospitable, welcoming me on their farms and in their homes and answering my barrage of questions.
My fishing partner
Backyard braai with friends
I’ve also continued to be active in the local Rotary club and have made a number of presentations at other clubs and groups. In addition to attending every club meeting since my arrival, I helped set up and volunteered at the club’s cake and coffee stand at a recent community event, and I am currently working to organize a service trip to a Rotary-sponsored soup kitchen that primarily serves impoverished San (Bushmen) communities in eastern Namibia. At the moment I am planning a trip in November to South Africa and visits to a number of Rotary clubs around Cape Town, where Rachel and I will spend the first ten days of her two-month trip to Southern Africa. I have been told that it will be the perfect timing for a break from the upcoming onslaught of summer heat in the Otjiwarongo region.
News of my research and scholarship in Namibia has also recently reached an incredibly friendly reporter from the Windhoek-based Afrikaans newspaper, the Republikein. I’ll include a page with a quick translation of the text and a link to the actual article in Afrikaans. More to come soon!
Cheers,
Ryan
