Journey to the middle of nowhere

Last weekend was Easter, thus we had a four day weekend. Awesome. Carmen, Aleks and I embarked on a journey to the highest point in Namibia. While nothing went as planned (as usual here), it was good fun.

Our destination was Brandberg, a mountain rising alone out of the plains south of Khorixas, in Damaraland. At 2573m, it is by far the tallest point in the country, though Spitzkoppe, further south, is perhaps more photographed. We departed Carmen’s place early on Friday morning, arriving at the hike point before 8. We soon realized we should have left Thursday, as the hike point was deserted. We ended up getting a ride finally, though not exactly to our destination, more like a ride to a place where we can get another ride to another place that we want. Yeah. This ride consisted of an old Toyota truck (ubiquitous here), with eight of us crammed into the bed with our bags. Let me repeat that, there were eight of us in the back. Fun times.

We finally arrived in Khorixas in the afternoon, and determined that it was too late to get to Branberg, another 100km. We were fortunate that our friend Tamara lives there, and we bummed some sleeping areas. She had space, cable tv, and ice cream. It was like Eden. I got my BBC fix, and the next morning we were on our way.

We made a deal with a local guy to drive us to the campsite and pick us up the next morning. We proceeded to drive his tiny 2WD car through sand that would probably stymie a Panzer. It was hilarious/terrifying. Damaraland is pretty bare, and it was impressive to see Brandberg in the distance as we approached. It was a bit hazy, but still cool. We stayed at a wilderness camp, which had running water and great views.

Saturday afternoon we were driven over to Brandberg itself. Now, our reliable guide book, which I normally love, has this to say about hiking the mountain: “No special equipment required, bring lots of water,” or something to that effect. We soon found out that climbing the mountain itself was a three day venture, something we did not have time for. We settled for a guided tour to see some San rock paintings, the most famous of which is the White Lady. The paintings are between two and five thousand years old. It was interesting to try picturing people thousands of years ago holding ceremonies and sheltering from the sun in these very rock overhangs.

On Easter Sunday, before our ride arrived, some local kids walked with us about a kilometer to see some more rock paintings nearer to the campsite. Our ride arrived, we bid farewell to the manager of the camp, and we were on our way again. We eventually made it back to Khorixas, where again it was too late to get a hike back home to Opuwo. We again crashed at Tamara’s place, and were treated to two English Premier League games.

The next day we successfully hiked to Kamandjab, where we sat for a few hours wating for a ride further north. During this time we had a random conversation with this teacher from Germany (Bavaria area), who had happened to live in Vermont at one point. Weird. Finally Aleks approached a nice SUV, and after brief confusion, we found ourselves getting a ride from two French tourists who have recently moved to Zimbabwe.
That night, we reached Opuwo, and were pleasantly surprised when our chauffeurs declined our offers of cash (thanks again!). Aleks ended up missing an extra day of school, we never made it to the top of Namibia, but there were so many good things that happened that it was still a success. Obviously we need to do more research next time…
It is exam time for the learners, so we are busy marking tests. This week is the last of the term, which means a big holiday; very exciting. Current plan is Swakopmund then Cape Town, so I will try to update when I can. I may be unreachable for a time, but I promise to return emails whenever possible.

Visual Evidence

1. Some of my learners taking part in a debate
2. Me slicing some delicious banana bread on my floor
3. The fort Carmen made at the Peace Corps house
4. My clever clothes-line that allows me to hang things any time inside, so they won't be stolen.

Remnants of Intro to Philosophy

“How do I say this word sir?”

I am sitting in the community center of Opuwo, located at the Ministry of Gender Equality and Child Welfare. I am surrounded by people, cameras and bright lights. One of students is pointing to the word “escapism”, which she has scrawled onto a piece of paper. We are here to take part in a discussion about youth and voting. This is particularly relevant as the “born-frees” (people born after independence) are just turning eighteen. There are other students, community members, and political party representatives here.

Some of the learners are supposed to read posters that line the walls of the hall, which are filled with language that would be a challenge for American high-schoolers. I struggle to explain “escapism,” as well as “political tolerance,” “exercise restraint,” and “political climate.” It gets me thinking of my own escapes…

Sometimes I worry about my desire to escape for a while by reading, watching movies, adjusting my fantasy baseball team, etc. Am I delaying growth by avoiding confrontation with difficult issues? Would I be better off in the bush, separated from the means to escape? Then I think about how I fled from things back in the US as well. It is nothing new. I also don’t escape all the time. I work hard and face problems, but I can’t constantly. It seems natural and ok, and has led me to some of my favorite books, movies, etc. I am a nerd at heart, and love pondering other places and times.

Maybe what is difficult here is my experience when not escaping. It is very new, exciting, and exhausting. It seems logical that this would cause me to flee from reality more frequently, even if I run only as far as to things that connect me with home (e.g., an encyclopedia entry on NYC was oddly comforting). Perhaps what really worries me is the end of the year; if I decide to leave, am I just escaping the challenges here? If I stay, is it because I embrace the experience here or because I am not ready for the difficulties awaiting me at home? Career anyone?
“What about this word sir?” The word is “indulge.” Yeah, not easy to explain. I sit in the community center and listen to my learners explain how their parents threaten them if they choose a different political party from their elders. I listen to the broken English, a sign of a break from Afrikaans and the memories of apartheid. I listen to this for 4.5 hours, in typical Namibian fashion. At some point I run over to the Power Save to buy food, as my kids have now missed dinner and most of evening study. I buy 10 bananas, crackers and peanut butter. After returning, the discussion comes to an end. My students, despite being tired and hungry, are excited about the event and eager to discuss future debates and discussions. They receive the food with gratitude; at least it is a break from routine. “When is the next debate club meeting sir?”

It’s a good thing I don’t escape too much; I might miss the good stuff.