This Is Africa.

No this is not a link to the Shakira song... 

So this week I got my first real experience of what it is like living in Africa. The last half of this week we were set up with a current volunteer to shadow at their site. While some lucky ducks got to travel up to 8 hours away, my SUPEP (education) South group made sure we would not be more than 3 hours away from Okahandja. Let me clarify, 3 hours of continuous driving on a tarred road with a working car.

            The plan for our first adventure was for us to be escorted to a larger town (Karibib) with a language trainer and from there the person we were shadowing was to either meet us or set up something to get us to their site. Unfortunately due to last minute scheduling conflicts our PCV could not make it into the town and was unable to set something up so he instructed us to ask around and have the volunteers currently living in Karibib to help us find a ride. Hiking is an extremely common form of transportation in Namibia because not many people can afford their own cars and this country is flipping huge with little to nothing between towns and villages. So those with vehicles generally try to find people to fill their car with to help off set the price of gas and have someone to talk to. Now I know what every one is thinking, OMG Shannon, you are going to die. I can assure you that this will not be the case as every volunteer in this country gets around like this. It is not like in the US where you see someone on the side of the street and wonder what things they have done to end up without a car of their own and without anyone in their lives to help them at this moment. That is not the case here. I promise. Obviously with every travel experience you have to exercise personal judgment but more often than not, you will be okay. Luckily for my first experience with this there was going to be me and another trainee shadowing the same person so worse came to worse I had a travel buddy.

The day started off with our initial van arriving almost an hour later than needed (African time) which was no big deal because we were not actually in a rush. We did after all have all day to travel 3 hours away.  After charging all 7 of us a ridiculously high price we all got off in Karibib. We were told that we should probably purchase food in Karibib because food in the village was limited and a little bit more expensive. After an extremely lengthy process of trying to figure out what we wanted to eat this weekend, what we didn’t think we could get in the village if we wanted it, and how much we wanted, we were off to find a ride.

With our bags, groceries, and wide eyed expressions we were approached by a man who figured we needed a ride. Turns out he was going exactly where we were however, all he had was an open back pick up (what Namibians refer to as bakkies). In attempt to transport as many people as possible many drivers fill the backs of their pickups with bodies. I hope the thought going through every one’s head right now it omg that is so illegal. I am not sure if it is explicitly illegal here in Namibia but it is no doubt extremely dangerous. Therefore we are forbidden to ride in them, no excuses. Our Safety and Security Coordinator would rather pay for a personal taxi for us before letting us get in one. So while it looked like our first option in getting to the village was going to be a dud he offered to put us in the two front seats with him. He was leaving within the next hour (ended up being over an hour), for the normal rate, this was perfect.

After witnessing enough people climb into the back of this truck where there was essentially standing room only Aaron and I settle into the front seat only to then wonder whether this car was going to start. We realized there as no handle on the interior of either of the doors aside from a metal rod that probably served some mechanism and barely a steering column. The driver climbed in and as he was explaining how happy he was to meet us be pulled out a screwdriver, grabbed a wire from underneath the steering column that apparently had the ignition attached to it and turned the car on. The car then rolled forward a few feet and he hit the gas and it roared to life.  After driving around a two street town completing various errands the driver had to complete (don’t worry, he parked the car in the shade for us), we were finally on our way an hour after getting in the car. Actually, that’s what we though. Low and behold, the car broke down. Don’t worry, we weren’t in any danger, there were literally no cars on the road to hit us and the scary African wildlife consisted of cattle, goats, and a few donkeys.

The driver takes the handy screwdriver to the ignition to turn the car off laughing like he just told us an inside joke (I think it was he saw my horrified expression when he used it the first few times). He then reassured us that he has driven this truck between the two towns every day for the past 18 years so he knows it inside and out and can make it work. After taking that trusty screwdriver and a sledge hammer to something under the hood, we were back on the road and thank god. If the thing had not started I don’t even think the cute blonde American in Africa could have found another ride, there were literally no cars. Throughout this whole event and thought process I think I twisted my face between looks of worry, irritation, humor, and exhaustion (kinda like typical PMS) and so Aaron leaned over and just said TIA Shannon, TIA. This is Africa. And boy was he right. We finally made it to the village and after a struggle to get out of the car (apparently me slamming it to make sure I wouldn’t fall out was not the way to shut the piece of metal that they called a door) we were settled into a cute little ministry flat similar to the one I will be living in.

The next few days consisted of us observing classes, taking cold showers in the middle of the day, and me listening to the other two guys play guitar (so much for having 4 of my best friends start a rock band in high school and still never learning how to play). Otjimbingwe was actually a really cool little town. During German colonization it was actually the capital of German South West Africa so there are many ruins of buildings and technology left over from previous occupations. All in all it was small, personal, and extremely hot. There was evidence of poverty but also evidence of someone making the best with what they had in contrast to those who you can assume have made and continue making poor life decisions especially when it comes to alcohol. I wish I would have taken pictures but while there were many people at the local bar well into a number of drinks on a Thursday, there were also people tending to their gardens out side of their tin shack with recycled tires and glass bottles as decorations. So it was interesting and I know I will be able to expand on this more as time goes on here.

For as much fun as the initial trip was, there was no disappointment in the second one going home. To start, getting a ride out of our little village is not always the easiest so we decided to pack up early and try to make our way back to Karibib by Saturday night to stay with some volunteers there. We found out that a teacher’s wife was coming back from a teaching conference and that a ministry vehicle would be coming through and going back to town. We jumped at the free ride which was a large van with two teachers in it. They were well into their post conference party mode when we joined their ride but they did not let us stop them from continuing their fun. The big black man sitting backwards between the drivers and passengers seat continued to play DJ turning on some of those hot American tunes like Taylor Swift, Selena Gomez, and Rihanna. I think he was trying to make a move on the female teacher which may have been why that was his choice of music but its whatever, I enjoyed it.

After staying in Karibib for the night we woke up and attempted to put our hiking skills to the test. Literally every car driving out of Karibib that morning was going through Okahanja so we thought it would be quite easy to find a ride. Actually, it was, for $100 each. (Let me make an side note here: N$100 is only US$10 so in a global perspective getting an hour ride for that price would be a deal. However, we are volunteers, we make no money, and people are usually generous enough to give you a free ride. Sometimes though you gotta wait, or suck it up and negotiate). It was actually quite surprising first, not one white person stopped for us. We literally looked like tourists, I was even carrying my Vera Bradley duffle bag. But they all looked at us with doe eyed expressions as their empty SUVs drove by. Whatever. Also, the first three people that stopped, asked for way more money than we were willing to give, and even when we each pulled out our strategically placed $20 and coins the people shook their heads and drove away, in their empty cars, without 80 or 90 extra dollars. I just shook my head not seeing the rationale in that.

Eventually, a nice man in a large van stopped, accepted our price, and let us get it. Not gonna lie, this van (actually any van in Namibia) could probably be in the running for the next poster child of Kids-Do-Not-Walk-Up-To-This-Van-Even-If-It-Offers-Free-Candy. Once again, I can rest assure you all though that this is a safe mode of travel, it just doesn’t look like it. So anyway the driver picks up three more people and drops them off at their various locations. Once getting to Okahandja though we drive all over town, into one of our local neighborhoods, and conveniently stop at a shabeen/bar (I think he was using his $80 in a way he thought was mot worth while). He told us 5 minutes, we knew where we were, I was actually about 10 minutes from my house, but we really didn’t want to get out of the van because it was the middle of the heat of the day, we were smelly, unshowered, and just didn’t want to perpetuate our stank or exhaustion. After 20 I was fed up with transportation and lack of the idea of customer service, about to storm in there when he walks out with a lady friend and a beer. Stay classy man. She says hi to us, continues talking to him, and gives him a kiss goodbye. Apparently that just couldn’t wait until we were dropped off about a kilometer away. He just had to see her right then and there. If I had paid more than $20 I probably would have had a shit fit but oh well. All I can say is: This Is Africa.

Here is a lovely picture one of my mom's coworkers made in honor of this post: