Namibia

The four places we have stayed in Namibia have been quite the contrast from Cape Town. Windhoek (the capital in the center of the country), Swakopmund (a coastal town just west of Windhoek), Ongha (a remote village near the Angolan border). and Katima Mulilo (a small town on the Zambian border) were all incredibly distinct from each other, but ESPECIALLY distinct from Cape Town.

South Africa and Namibia are friendly with each other but completely different. Namibia is the second least population dense nation in the world (behind Mongolia) with just over 2 million citizens. South Africa, conversely, has over 56 million people despite being only slightly larger. It was colonized by the British and gained independence in 1961 (though it still remained under apartheid until 1994) while Namibia was colonized by the Germans and became the second to last African country to gain independence in 1990. Despite the recency if colonization, racial tensions are strikingly dormant in Namibia. In the capital, Windhoek, white German-Namibians who had been living in Namibia their entire lives walked the same streets and stayed in the same neighborhoods as black Namibians. In the northern Namibia-Angola border town of Oshikango, Chinese immigrants sold an assortment of products throughout the city streets. Nearby, Finnish-Namibians, who are the descendent of Finish missionaries who came to spread Christianity in the early 20th century, speak the indigenous language, Oshiwambo, fluently. This unexpected mixing of cultural groups and relaxed racial tensions is a stark contrast to the intense racial and political division of South Africa. Each Cape Townian neighborhood is extremely racially segregated, and while a younger generation of South Africans have embraced a vision for a more inclusive nation, the fear and division of apartheid remain.

The easy going Namibians we met constantly warned us about the evils of South Africa with their high crime rates and cities that are far too busy. Namibians seemed too care-free to hate their neighbor. People seemed content, sometimes complacent, with whatever situation they were in. Meanwhile, South Africans seem to be constantly staging political protests and advocating for better lives for themselves. But in Namibia, any sort of change from the status quo seemed to be frowned upon. The Namibians we met seemed to follow this mindset to the extreme. Throughout our 11 days here, we only heard 4 unique songs, and it wasn’t like we weren’t in places without music. The people we were with just were so content with listening to these same four songs that they saw no reason to ever change the music. On multiple occasions, this song called “Dumbalana” was played over 20 times in a row. The song was catchy enough the first couple times but quickly got repetitive as we neared the 45 minute mark of it playing on repeat. No one around me seemed to notice and actually seemed more into it than they were when it first started playing. I was in absolute disbelief and nearing mental breakdown. I kept asking different people why no one ever switched the song. The response I got, again and again, was the same: “it’s a nice song.” That seemed to be the Namibian philosophy for life in general…it’s a nice song, why change it?

Two years ago, when I first travelled to South Africa, I was introduced to the concept of “African time”. After traveling to a rural village in Namibia, I know understand there are different levels of “African time”. Rural Namibian lifestyle makes South Africans look punctual.

It is almost as if the concept of time doesn’t exist at all. When I was asked how far away a place was, I received one of two answers: “near” or “far”. When I asked how long an activity would take, I got “not too long” or “a little while.” If I made the mistake of asking for specifics or an actual time on a 24 hour clock, I was typically met with blank stares or confusion. Not one time did I see a Namibian in a rush, or even lightly jog, or even speed-walk. When time isn’t used, it’s impossible to be late.

As someone who is an absolute freak about meeting deadlines and maximizing my productivity in each second of the day, living in South Africa for 5 months was really good for me. I took away from my experience a new appreciation for living in the present moment and genuinely sharing time with people. I still blocked off time where I worked hard to achieve my goals, but also found time to not worry so much about commitments and others expectations. I’m still working on trying to find a good balance. I know I still lean towards the “worrying about time” side of the spectrum. So rural village life in northern Namibia was an absolute shock to my system. I know it’s good for me to slow down to that level at times, but to be perfectly honest with you, it was very hard. I had to suppress my Type A sirens in my brain at every turn. Food was prepared 3 hours after it was promised, and I get really hungry. Transportation we were paying for was delayed hours without an apology because nothing was presumed to be wrong with that situation. At one point we had only one thing we needed to accomplish all day and we didn’t even get to do that because we spent 11 hours at a bar just hanging out with people and our driver (who was with us) wouldn’t leave to drive us home.

Now, I’m not here to say my eyes have been opened and I was wrong all along. That I’m going to start spending my full day doing nothing but drinking and chatting with people in town. But with every experience there are lessons and things you can take away, and there is something beautiful in enjoying a song as much the 40th time as you did the 1st, even if I’m entirely incapable of that right now.

Cape Town, South Africa and Ongha, Namibia might seem worlds apart, but the one thing that unified both places is the love of braai (barbecue). “Namibians and South Africans are the two best at braai in the world” one Namibian told us. In both places we enjoyed some memorable braais, the most memorable being when we killed our own goat to braai in Ongha. We were staying with a friend we met, Susan, and her family. When we let out the goats one morning, her father approached us asking if we wanted to buy one. We wanted to somehow repay Susan and her family for welcoming us into their village and sharing their traditional Ovambo way of life with us, and this seemed to be the perfect opportunity. We told him we would like to buy the biggest goat and share it with their family for the rest of our time there.

So, the very next day, we woke up and had a goat to kill. Not what I was expecting for my time here, but when you’re in Namibia, you go with the flow, and the flow was taking us to the goat pen with a rope in our hands.

I’ve been hunting with my dad before, but killing something with knife is a lot different than using a gun. You’re much more connected with the animal, and you have to watch it struggle as you drag it to the chopping block and hold its squirming appendages. There is absolutely no joy in killing anything, and the experience really made me second guess my consumption of its meat. But ultimately the work we put in, from killing to skinning to gutting to butchering to cooking, made me enjoy it even more. I felt compelled to use its life for good, not to just mindlessly feast as I usually do, but rather to deeply contemplate how this nourishment will sustain my own life as I continue on this incredible journey.

Ultimately this is the best and most sustainable way to eat meat. We consumed literally every part except the skin and hooves, including the tongue, stomach, intestines, liver, kidney, eyes, ears, and brain. Nothing was wasted and each bite was thoroughly enjoyed (with the exception of the brain….)

This connection to our food’s source is so often lost in the convenience of American society. What I learned from my experience living amongst the Ovambo people was the importance of being grounded…not only to one’s food but also to one’s family and natural environment. A traditional Ovambo home consists of a group of straw huts within a fence, so to go from room to room, you must go outside. We brushed our teeth outside and went to the bathroom outside. Nearly everything we consumed was grown, processed, and cooked at home. Every night the family gathered together around a fire for “devotion” where they sang songs and said prayers. Looking up at the night sky illuminated with galaxies of stars, it was so much easier to understand our connection with nature and each other. It’s easy to forget this in our often disconnected society, yet it is entirely possibly to be mindful and intentional about becoming more grounded and cultivating this sense of connection within our own lives. I’m thankful for this completely unplanned, yet wonderfully unique experience for reminding me of this important lesson.