Notes on Travel, Anthropology, Photography, the Environment et cetera

One Year in Namibia and Southern Africa: Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship Final Report

Thu, 24 Jun 2010 14:36:03 -0400

Looking back on my year as Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar I feel incredibly thankful and honored to have had so many diverse experiences and met so many inspiring people during my time in Namibia and Southern Africa. I am particularly grateful to District 5710 and the Manhattan Rotary Clubs for making this scholarship and opportunity possible. I have been honored to serve as your ambassador to Namibia and District 9350.
Most students that receive the Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship choose to take formal classes at a university, and the majority of scholars that come from overseas to Southern Africa choose to live in one of the large cities in South Africa. However, thanks to Rotary, I was able to use my scholarship to fund a year of field-based research in rural Namibia as part of my PhD in Sociocultural Anthropology at Michigan State University. The Otjiwarongo Rotary Club, located in a small town in north-central Namibia, offered to serve as my host club. I felt honored to be the first Ambassadorial Scholar in their 50-year history, and although I traveled frequently around the country, I always had a home base and support system in Otjiwarongo.

In addition to attending most of the weekly meetings and participating in the majority of fundraisers and projects organized by the local Rotary Club, I opened myself up to opportunities to serve and interact with the community. For example, I gave two presentations to classes at the Otjiwarongo Secondary School related to linguistic and cultural diversity and environmental conservation. I also helped to lead a school group excursion to the Cheetah Conservation Fund, where we toured the facility, watched a film about community-based conservation and held a discussion about the students’ thoughts and opinions on conservation, tourism, agriculture and other cultural and environmental issues in Namibia.

I was invited to provide training on questionnaire and survey research methods as part of the 3rd International Integrated Livestock, Wildlife and Predatory Management course at the Cheetah Conservation Fund, attended by community leaders and environmental managers from a number of countries in Southern Africa. Following the training session, I assisted the participants in the application of these methods during a day of research at a nearby resettlement farm.

In cooperation with my professor and advisor at Michigan State and another colleague—both anthropologists with decades of experience in Namibia and Southern Africa—we published a book chapter on indigenous issues in Namibia, describing current matters including land conflicts and reforms, natural resource exploitation, labor struggles and movements for indigenous rights. Additionally, as an example of my desire to engage with community concerns and utilize my training in research and writing, I helped to organize research and produce a letter of concern at the request of local parents about the potential risks of long-term, low level exposure to electromagnetic radiation due to the placement of cell phone towers near school children.
I took thousands of photos during my year in Namibia, and I provided prints for many of the families and friends who hosted me, especially those without the financial means to own cameras or make prints of their own. Photos of our families, loved-ones and ourselves are something we can easily take for granted. Through this awareness, I found such satisfaction in seeing the joy that having photos can bring to others—a simple gesture of goodwill in which others find great value. Three photos of farm worker families—including one capturing the joys and happiness of childhood—won awards in the 2009 American Anthropological Association photo contest.

Throughout the year, I also had the opportunity to visit and give presentations to a number of Rotary clubs across Namibia, in the Cape Town area of South Africa and in Luanda, Angola. My wife, Rachel, joined me in Cape Town and we visited the Blouberg, Somerset West and Constantia Clubs. We also volunteered with the Blouberg Club in their “Big Walk” fundraiser, in which 35,000 people walk from different locations around Cape Town and converge together in the shape of the Rotary wheel. Following our visit to South Africa, we traveled up through the south of Namibia and visited Rotary Clubs in Rosh Pinah and Lüderitz. Shortly before Christmas, we visited the Swakopmund Rotary Club and helped to hand out Christmas presents to children at a soup kitchen in one of the poorest areas of the city.

photo by Helène Visser, Blouberg Rotary Club

After visiting the Luanda Rotary Club in March, I traveled to Huambo in the central highlands of Angola, where I was invited to spend over a week photographing and writing about a project supported by World Vision, Rotary, and the Gates Foundation involving agricultural development, seed banks, and microfinance for rural smallholders. I am currently in the process of revising and finalizing documents that can be utilized by the project, as well as an article describing my experiences. I will make these documents available to Rotary as soon as they are complete.

In my research on the social, cultural and ecological dynamics of conservation in Namibia, I have come away with new knowledge and information about the motivations, challenges and successes of rural peoples’ efforts to manage wildlife and conserve their natural resources. My research project focuses on private conservancies in Namibia—locally planned and collectively managed areas of private land in which landholders pool their resources for purposes of collective wildlife management and nature conservation, tourism, and wildlife utilization. In my research I worked with German and Afrikaans-speaking largeholder farmers (or ranchers as we would we say in Kansas), farm workers and their families, tourists and trophy hunters, non-profit organizations, government employees, as well as rural people from a diversity of ethnicities and background.

One of the most inspiring individuals I came to know was an incredibly poor but immensely proud, formerly landless resettlement farmer named Alfred* who shared with me a level of friendship, generosity and wisdom that surpassed any connection that could be gained solely from questionnaires or impassionate interviews. During the time I spent with him on his small plot of thorn-chocked land and at his meager homestead constructed over time from salvaged and refurbished materials, I gained incredible insight from his unceasing optimism, hard work ethic and happiness. I learned about his passion for conserving the environment and his struggle to organize a conservancy comprised of other resettlement farmers, despite a myriad of obstacles including neglect from government and much of the conservation community. My plan is to return to Namibia for a number of months next year to complete my research project, and in addition to my dissertation, I hope to make many of my findings and analyses available in other useful and accessible ways. Hopefully, some of the insights or awareness generated from my research can contribute to the lives of rural people such as Alfred and similar efforts to conserve and sustainably manage natural resources and environments.

Although I felt prepared for my year abroad after having lived, worked and studied oversees before, there are always unexpected aspects of life in new places that cannot be prepared for. The Rotary Foundation provided a useful orientation prior to my departure that shared the ways in which other scholars’ incorporated these inevitable occasions into their diverse ambassadorial experiences. I would suggest to Rotary, however, that the Foundation share some advice and information to host clubs—in particular host clubs which have never hosted a scholar or who have little knowledge of the scholarship—which can highlight the range of possibilities for hosting scholars and the collection of experiences learned over time by other clubs. To future scholars who will encounter a new place, I encourage you to lace up your shoes and start walking. And as you walk, open your eyes and tune your senses, explore your surroundings and open yourself to other people, experiences and opportunities. View each day as an opportunity for discovery, and explore even the most “everyday” moments and places. You are always an ambassador; there is no start and stop. Lead by example and remember that this is often your greatest instrument of change.
In my roles as a both a researcher and as an Ambassadorial Scholar my responsibilities and goals overlapped and interconnected in many ways. In both roles I had the opportunity to interact with diverse groups of people, build relationships, learn about different ways of life, and share about my background and country. The Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship asked me to be an “ambassador of goodwill” to my host country, and in addition to presentations and projects, I came to view myself as an ‘everyday ambassador’—spreading goodwill and promoting understanding and compassion through my everyday activities and interactions. Hopefully, along the way, I inspired a few other people to do the same.

* Name has been changed to protect identity as part of university protocols on research with human subjects.

An Amalgam of Recent Happenings

Fri, 25 Dec 2009 12:16:55 -0500

A few weeks ago I happily moved out of the German school hostel and onto a nearby cattle ranch and hunting farm. Although my room at the Schülerheim provided a good base for my initial research in the region, a place to practice my German, and many contacts with local farmers, I decided it was time to narrow down and focus my research on a small group of private farms and one or two commercial, or ‘freehold’, conservancies. I’m currently living on one of the oldest German farms in Namibia, dating back to around the turn of the 20th century. The road to the farm winds through thick acacia savanna and passes over bluffs with vast views of the surrounding plains and rocky hills. Groups of oryx, kudu and warthogs dash across the roads and a family of giraffes frequently lingers near the entrance to the farm.

As part of my research on commercial conservancies and private farms in Namibia, I’ve recently attended a variety of meetings, conducted interviews with farmers and farm workers, hung out at cattle auctions, observed the operation of hunting farms and guest lodges, and participated in a conservancy game count from an airplane so small and light that the pilot could pick up the rear end and move the plane into position. Our runway was a straight stretch of sandy country road.

On many of the farms I help ‘fight’ fires, herd and care for cattle, hunt for meat as well as an assortment of other farm activities. I assist the farm workers in their daily tasks and join them at their homes in the ‘village’ for drinks and conversation. Lunches with farm families are generally heavy German food—schnitzel, sauerbraten, steaks and other forms of meat and potatoes.

Out with farm workers, helping to control a grass fire

Recently, the farmer and his wife in charge of the 10,000-hectare farm where I have been living left for a four-day excursion to the capitol city, which, as I discovered, left me as the defacto ‘farmer’ in charge. I had little desire to be the big, bad farm “boss” like many of the other farmers in the region, but instead I stressed my role as a researcher and helping hand. Nevertheless, I became sought out as a source of approval and authority, and as the only one allowed to drive the farmer’s Toyota 4x4, I became responsible for collecting forage and fencing at the local farm store, transporting families to and from town, helping workers fix machinery and delivering feed to bulls in far-off corrals.

After much anticipation, Oktoberfest brought a night of beer, sausage, and dancing to Otjiwarongo, as well as an opportunity for German-Namibians to live out their fantasies of the traditions of the German forefathers (Yes, I—as do many Americans—do this too, and I would have worn lederhosen if I could have found some).

Rachel arrived in Southern Africa two months ago, and unfortunately, she returns home next week. After a long drive through the open plains and shrublands of southern Namibia and the Northern Cape, I made my way to Cape Town and greeted Rachel at the gate of the bustling airport. During our ten days in Cape Town, we were graciously hosted in the homes of Rotarians and visited the Blouberg, Somerset West and Constantia Rotary Clubs. We also had the opportunity to assist the Blouberg Club in their annual fundraising walk, in spite of the rainy weather. While in the Cape, we went wine-tasting, visited the Cape of Good Hope and the southern-most point in Africa, hung out with penguins, and even had the chance to meet up with my younger brother, Cary, and his Capetonian lady-friend.

photo credit: Helène Visser

On the drive north through Namibia, we visited Rotary Clubs in the isolated mining town of Rosh Pinah and the colorful German colonial fishing village of Lüderitz. After visiting the sand-swept ghost town of Kolmanskop, which once overflowed with beer, imported caviar, spectacular entertainment and diamonds, we traveled north on dusty back roads, through small towns with names like Helmeringhausen and Maltahöhe.

Following a number of weeks of research on farms and commercial conservancies with my trusty sidekick (Rachel), we traveled to Damaraland and the communal conservancies of the Northwest with my Namibian friend, Uapii. We camped under an ancient rock shelter, most likely once the residence of San or Damara peoples. As the sun was beating down with its full intensity, we drove for hours along winding paths of rock and sand, until we arrived at a remote Himba village, where we were invited to pitch our tent for the night. The stars in this distant part of Namibia are unlike anywhere I have ever seen. During the days, we tracked elusive desert elephants and hiked through grassy hills and rocky canyons with Uapii and a local Himba herder. Our short visit to the Northwest ended with a memorable visit to Uapii’s home village. We enjoyed an afternoon of conversation on mats made from cattle hides, shared a dinner of “fat cakes”—a Herero favorite similar to fry bread prepared in a cast iron pot over a small fire. We slept in a cozy house made from mud and dung and woke the next morning to roosters and the first rays of sun.

I leave you on this Christmas day from Swakopmund, a lively coastal colonial German town surrounded by the sand dunes of the Namib Desert. Instead of turkey, ham and a Midwestern blizzard, we have fresh oysters, Munich-style weisbier and lots of sun.

Often in Namibia, however, and especially at Christmas time, it’s easy to feel the vastness that divides the poor from the wealthy, as well as the emptiness in between. In fact, this country has one of the greatest divisions of wealth in the entire world. On Christmas Eve, we joined the local Rotary Club in handing out small Christmas presents to children at a soup kitchen in the informal settlement of tin shacks and makeshift homes in the desert outside of town, where children survive off of others’ waste in the nearby garbage dump.
Unfortunately, this gesture of goodwill actually only makes a minor and ephemeral difference in the lives of these impoverished children, but it is a definite and humbling reminder of how lucky I am, how thankful I should be for all that I have, and how much more we can all do to make this world a better place.

Merry Christmas!

Ryan

Update from Namibia

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 14:13:16 -0400

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
**********
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

Small town life and Otjiwarongo

Sun, 26 Jul 2009 16:01:24 -0400

Small towns can be great places. There is nothing inherently spectacular about a town small in size and population, but when you find a community with the right mix of attitudes, environment, activity and outlook, it is easy to know that you have discovered a special place. It’s hard to describe this recipe for small town vitality and charm, but I have experienced a similar sentiment in a diversity of small towns, from a cheerful farming community along Nova Scotia’s Bay of Fundy, a sandy and verdant Mexican beach town, a fishing village in northwest Michigan, a foggy Irish hamlet, to a quiet ranching town overlooking the Nebraska Sandhills. It has its share of challenges, but Otjiwarongo also seems to be a special place and a charismatic small town.

I’m starting to feel as though I’m becoming part of the of this rural Namibian community. When I walk around town, people are beginning to recognize me and remember my name—at the bank, the grocery store, the cafes, and in downtown shops. As I stroll along the many dusty streets each day, I pass by so many familiar, friendly faces and always return home having made new friends and acquaintances. Many of the connections I’ve made so far have resulted from my association with the Otjiwarongo Rotary Club; however, many others have grown from a simple handshake, a smile, a cheerful conversation or a tap of a glass at a bar.

One of my favorite ‘hangouts’ in town is a small and eclectic café, the Kameldorn Garten. Its shady patio is nestled behind a colorful house and is decorated with a pleasantly random mix of art, flowers, plants and old metal gardening implements. The atmosphere seems to invite friendliness and conversation, and I almost always encounter interesting personalities. The café is run by a fantastic family, primarily by a warm-hearted middle-aged woman with bright red hair and her daughter—a creative musician and one of my new friends in this small town and my tour guide to the fledgling Otji night life. After an introduction to the handful of bars in town, we spent Friday evening among a well-dressed crowd at a downtown bar—aptly named Downtown Bar—chatting and laughing with two aspiring Zimbabwean rap artists and listening to the music of a local hip-hop DJ.

For a town of its size, Otjiwarongo has a number of other enjoyable cafes. For example, Carstensen’s Café looks out on a busy downtown street corner, and with a strong cup of German-style coffee and a fresh apple strudel, provides a great place to people-watch. In the past few weeks I have gladly joined in on a Friday afternoon coffee-drinking ritual, following the lunchtime Rotary meeting, in which a few Rotarians—primarily older gentlemen—gather around a table at this café. Although I usually leave this ritual nearly overdosed on caffeine, I’ve had the opportunity to hear many fascinating stories, discussions of politics and perspectives on Namibian history.

I’ve enjoyed exploring town, walking down new streets and stopping in to chat with local business owners. The considerable amount of time I’ve spent walking around town in the past couple of weeks has resulted in large part from my difficulties finding a suitable 4x4 vehicle for my research. However, walking—I believe—is also one of the most rewarding ways to learn about a new place and open one’s self to new people, as well as humorous, insightful and unique experiences. I can now stop in to say “hallo” to acquaintances in the local hardware shop, the tractor dealership, or the gun, ammunition and outdoors store. These visits also provide great opportunities to improve my German, which is coming along nicely, as well as to practice and experiment with Afrikaans, Oshiherero, Oshivambo and Damara. Who would have thought that three years of high school German would come in so handy in rural Africa?

It also feels good to begin to fit in with the sketchy guys on the corner who once hassled me. At first I would pass by these characters and they would try to sell me nuts with my name carved into them, or try to convince me that they could give ‘fines’ to foreigners. “Hello, sir!” they would say in an accent that seemed to be mockingly designed for the generic foreigner. They now know that I live here in Otjiwarongo and I can walk by and either be pleasantly ignored or exchange nods and a local greeting, “Moro, moro!”

Although building networks and contacts is moving along quickly, other activities proceed at a slower pace. For example, one of my goals this past week was to collect maps of farm and property boundaries. After following leads to various government offices and businesses without success, I ended up at a local extension office, where a very kind lady provided me with a photocopy of their most recent and only map—from 1966—over twenty years before Namibia’s independence. She assured me that it was up-to-date with all the information I could want. I think I’ll keep looking.

Following a day of explorations in town, I return down the quiet neighborhood streets to the German school hostel where I rent a room, which will serve as my ‘home base’ as I live, work and conduct research on farms around the country. Meals have been simple but satisfying: porridge for breakfast, a hearty lunch, and then light dinners usually consisting of bread and cheese, sliced tomatoes and cucumbers, and hard-boiled eggs. My room is also simple, in fact quite spartan. The walls are bare and my bed is miniscule, but it is a quiet place to read and write. My roommate is large black spider, slightly smaller than my palm. He comes out at night and hangs out on my walls and ceiling, but takes off at incredible speeds at the slightest of movements. One of my Namibian friends insists that I shouldn’t try to kill him or remove him from my room, but rather should appreciate his skills in catching mosquitoes and other small insects. Supposedly, the spider will eventually grow used to my presence and become quite tame and friendly, so I’ve been told. I’m not so sure that I’m looking for that kind of relationship.

When I first organized my room at the hostel, I went into town to purchase bedding and other household items. After unloading my luggage, hanging up my clothes and setting up my room, I realized that I was missing one of the shopping bags with sheets and pillowcases. I couldn’t find the bag anywhere, and my original host family searched their home and car with no luck. We were perplexed as to how it could have disappeared. After a number of days, I decided I would just return to the store and buy a new set. Moments after I entered the store, the same lady who sold me the bedding smiled at me and excitedly exclaimed, “Wait right there, and I will be right back!”

She returned from the back room with two other workers, holding out my bag of sheets and pillowcases. “You forgot this.” Their eyes were so kind and eager. I appreciatively thanked the lady for both her warm-hearted deed and her memory. “This is why I love small towns!” I said.

Settling into small town Namibia: My first two weeks

Tue, 14 Jul 2009 07:27:18 -0400

After two weeks of settling in, organizing and shaking hands, I’ve finally found a quiet moment to sit and write, as the warm Namibian day turns to a cool winter night. In many ways, the beginning of my time in Namibia and the small town of Otjiwarongo has been quite different than one might expect for a trip to rural southern Africa. As I am continually learning, this country does not lack in unique and diverse people, places and experiences.

My first few days struggling with government bureaucracy in the capitol city of Windhoek, however, are probably one of the exceptions to the uniqueness of my trip so far. After waiting in a long line at the Ministry of Home Affairs and Immigration, I reached the understaffed counter and specified that I was there to pick up my research visa, for which my application packet had been mailed weeks earlier. I was sent up to the third floor in search of one specific man, and was guided through a crowed office and down a hallway to a discrete metal door. I knocked and entered to find the person I needed, sitting amid stacks of files and mountainous piles of paper. “What do you want?” he said.

I explained my situation, showed my receipt of application and politely stated that I wanted to pick up my research visa. “For how long is your research?”

“Well”, I responded, “I applied to do research until June 30th of next year but I…”

Without looking up, he gruffly interrupted and firmly repeated, “For how long is your research?”

“For one year until June 30th of 2010, sir.”

I wrote my name and number on a small piece of paper and was told he would call me when he found my paperwork. I uncomfortably inquired about how much time to expect. “I have no idea…I’ll call you if I find it” he said sternly as he continued to increase the size of stacks around him. I closed the door behind me and knew I had to develop a new plan of action.

As I have been told many times before, much of life in Namibia—like many other places around the world—is all about the people you know. Fortunately for me (follow closely), I was staying in the apartment of a fantastic friend and fellow PhD researcher who I met on a plane during my first trip to Namibia, which connected to the house of her research supervisor, who also happened to be one of my research supervisors at the University of Namibia. His wife made a call to one of her friends, who happened to have close connections at the government agency. The following day I met this friend at the downtown building, paid the cashier what seemed to be a quite large amount of money on top of what I had already paid, and handed over my passport, receipt and trust to this friend of friends. I waited in the lobby—she told me it was best if she worked alone—and after a number of hours doing whatever she had to do, she reappeared with my much needed stamp. It’s all about connections.

My connections with the Rotary Club in Otjiwarongo don’t seem to be too bad either. Last Friday afternoon, my Rotary host, Dieter—a well-dressed businessman—picked me up in Windhoek in a shiny new Audi. We drove north toward the rural community of Otjiwarongo, where I will be living for most of the next year. After arriving at his family’s charming home, my first evening in ‘Otji’ ended with a steak dinner at a nearby game lodge.

For the past week I have been graciously hosted in the family’s home—a family of German and Afrikaans backgrounds. Conversations in the family, as well many others in the community, take place in a blend of German, Afrikaans and English. Others have referred to the unique German spoken in Namibia as “Südwest Deutsch”. My host family has been exceptionally hospitable and welcoming, and within a short period of time I’ve become close with three new ‘host brothers’. We’ve hiked to the top of nearby hills, watched movies, played video games, gone hunting and shared many photos, stories and laughs. Their father—my Rotary host—works in real estate and property management and their mother is a teacher at the local high school. Both are exceptionally friendly, and we have enjoyed many conversations and meals together.

Beyond the walls that surround their home and lush garden lies a relaxed, pleasant, and for me a fascinating small town, but one with many contradictions and disparities. Much of the town consists of dusty streets, lined with colorful adobe-style homes and green gardens. Shops fill only a few streets in the in the downtown, but the town hosts a number of fine cafes, serving strong German-style coffee, fresh bread and fantastic breakfasts. The streets, sidewalks and businesses are often busy, and most of the faces reflect the town’s majority populations of Herero, Damara and Ovambo peoples. On the edge of town are the “locations” or former townships, areas once the required residence of black Namibians during Apartheid years, which 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 referred to in English as “Tin-town”.

My experiences and insight into rural Namibia and small-town life at this point so far, however, have been from a much different perspective. For example, large portions of last week were dedicated to participating in and concurrently recovering from the Otjiwarongo Karneval, a traditional German festival that supposedly rivals the town’s Oktoberfest. Essentially, like most festivals, Karneval is a ritualized reason to come together, drink and dress up funny. Beer and liquor flowed faster than any river from here to the Zambezi. Students returned home from universities across the region, farmers trekked in from rural regions, and German Namibians descended on Otjiwarongo from other parts of the country. Both young and old lined long tables and watched as participants adorned in elaborate and often comical hats and costumes performed skits, comedies, and dances. We stood often—frequently on top of chairs—and sang out loud in unison, locked arms and swayed with the music, and shouted “prost!!” as we tapped our glasses and bottles together. A Karneval king and queen sat on a throne overlooking the packed hall and a special group of girls in bright red skirts and white boots danced on stage and motivated the crowd. After two nights of festivities, downtown Ojtiwarongo was bustling on Saturday morning for the closing parade—not dissimilar from many small town Kansas parades. Floats, tractors, and school groups proceeded past families with children scrambling for candy. With the local group of college-aged guys, I rode atop a flatbed trailer pulled by a shiny tractor, advertising the local Massey Ferguson dealership. We rolled along drinking from a keg of Namibian Tafel beer, throwing candy to the crowd, and blasting German and Afrikaans dance tunes. The parade ended at the nearby fairgrounds, just in time for skewed meat and a bit more beer.

Now please don’t misinterpret the beginning of my research and my time as a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar as only parties and brewed beverages. Last Thursday I had the opportunity to give a presentation to two classes at the Otjiwarongo Secondary School. I was asked to speak about my background, including life in Kansas and Michigan, my experiences in Namibia last year, as well as linguistic and cultural diversity in order to complement the week’s discussion on language and culture. I showed a series of photos, and of course, the first reactions came in response to photos of Rachel, who I think is now well known especially among high school-age males in town. The largest reaction—an uproar of cheers and applause in fact—came in response to photos of me during out a night out with friends from Caprivi in Katatura, the former township and infamous section of Windhoek. Interestingly, however, the reaction was distinctly different and split within the class. Black students jumped from their seats and cheered with awakened smiles, while most of the white students sat still, unsure, with hesitant eyes. I proudly showed photos of me and Besty, an engineer from Caprivi and one of my first and closest Namibian friends.

Toward the end of my presentation, I presented slides with facts on the world’s languages, the rapid loss of linguistic diversity, efforts at revitalization, and voiced my interest in the rich linguistic and cultural diversity of Namibia. To end my visit, I told the students that I would really appreciate the opportunity to hear the variety of languages represented in their class. Students were eager to share phrases in Oshiherero, Damara, Oshiwambo, Tswana, German, Afrikaans, Silozi, as well as languages from Nigeria and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Not only was this exercise captivating for me, but feelings of pride seemed to fill the room as the students described their language, ethnic heritage and homes. When asked about their impressions of President Obama, a young refugee from the DRC gave a moving and eloquent description of his desire for a leader like Obama to bring hope and peace to his war-torn country. I told him that perhaps one day he could be that leader.

The following day I made my first visit to the Otjiwarongo Rotary Club. I gave an introductory presentation and slideshow, including discussion on the similarities between Namibia and Kansas, an overview of my research and my goals as an Ambassadorial Scholar. The club is small, with only about 16 members, but everyone seems to be very interesting and friendly—with many great connections for my research. After lunch and conversation at the Otjiwarongo Crocodile Ranch, a number of members graciously invited me to visit and stay on their ranches in the upcoming weeks. Following the meeting, a number of older gentlemen, as well as my host Dieter and I proceeded to a small German café downtown for coffee. It is obvious that all have intriguing stories and perspectives on history; however, one man fascinated me with his memories of his visit to the Kansas Flint Hills 55 years ago.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to visit his home and expansive ranch, located down long sandy roads near the hills that rise up from the plain outside of Otjiwarongo. He was in need of meat for his farm and farm worker families, so he invited me and my host brother Christian to come hunting and harvest a kudu on his property. He led us far out into the savanna, to a stone blind perched high on a rocky hillside overlooking a waterhole. Wild guinea fowl and small antelope called dik-dik wandered around below, and hornbills squawked in the treetops. After taking turns napping in the warm sun and holding watch over the waterhole, a massive kudu bull with spiraling antlers approached the water’s edge. Soon, four females ambled forward for a late morning drink. We watched closely, snapped photos of the handsome animals, and then I peered into the scope and pulled the trigger for a successful shot. We returned to the farmstead with what would surely feed the farm for weeks to come, and sat down for a home cooked meal of potatoes and chicken with mushrooms found only once a year around the region’s towering termite mounds. The beautiful scenery and enjoyable camaraderie provided a memorable hunting experience and insight into one of the most talked about activities in this rural part of the country.

Yesterday I moved into my own place, a small room I rent in a German school hostel where kids from farms and distant towns live and attend class during the week. I’m provided with three meals a day and many opportunities to improve my German. I will continue to stay often with my host family and will spend many days and nights on nearby farms, while maintaining my own room as a ‘home base’ in town. The past two weeks have flown by, and have included such interesting, unique and entertaining opportunities to learn about a portion of life in rural and small town Namibia. Many more are sure to come.

A Note to Rotary

Wed, 1 Jul 2009 17:25:19 -0400

It seems so long ago that I stood in front of Rotarians in Atchison and enthusiastically accepted a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship. Finally, after just over two years since that day, I am beginning my ‘ambassadorial’ experience in the southern African country of Namibia. Before I go on, I want to sincerely thank District 5710 for this opportunity and all the Rotarians who help to make this scholarship possible. In particular, I greatly appreciate the immense support of the Manhattan Rotary Clubs and the many members who have encouraged, mentored, and done so much for me in many aspects of my life--in and beyond Rotary. I am very grateful to serve as your ambassador.

As many of you may know, I am currently a graduate student in Anthropology at Michigan State University and I have been married now for almost two years to my supportive wife Rachel, who once served as the president of Rotaract at KSU. Although she is working hard in Michigan, she is looking forward to visiting me for two or three months here in Namibia. I recently received my Master’s degree and I am appreciatively using my Ambassadorial Scholarship to fund research in Namibia toward my PhD. Very broadly, my research project is examining the relationships between environmental conservation and rural change in Namibia. This project builds on my interests in social, cultural and environmental interactions, rural communities and livelihoods, as well as grassland and savanna environments, and furthermore, it is part of a larger goal to connect people, places and similar issues from Namibia to the Kansas Flint Hills.

I just arrived in Namibia on Monday and I am currently organizing myself in the capital city of Windhoek. On Friday, I will be traveling a few hours away to the rural town of Otjiwarongo, where the Otjiwarongo Rotary Club will host me during my stay in the country. I am excited to be the first Ambassadorial Scholar in their club’s 50 year history and I am also looking forward to visiting other parts of District 9350, which includes Angola and part of South Africa.

I will be posting updates on this blog during the upcoming year, and I invite all of you to follow along, start a conversation or pass along the link to a friend or fellow Rotarian. Feel free to post on my blog or write me a personal email. As your ambassador to Namibia and southern Africa, please let me know if there is anything I can do. Once again, thank you for your support and this incredible opportunity.

Cheers from Namibia,
Ryan