231: Parental Pride

We have a Lance Corporal in the family! Contrary to what you might think, the reference to ancient weaponry does not refer to a fencing title, but rather to a promotion last week for Sergio in the US Marines. He remains stationed in Japan for another year or so, working in the transport detail and hanging out at the beach with his new buddies whenever time allows.

Elsita also got a promotion but with a less fanciful title. She is now on the permanent research staff at the Desert Research Foundation of Namibia, assigned to a contract with NASA (yes, the National Air and Space Administration) to document and analyze the presence of extreme bacteria in the Namib Desert. The folks at NASA think these bacteria might, just might, be similar to life in outer space -- that is, IF there is life in outer space, they hasten to add, not wanting to forsake their jobs for the loony bin until all the data comes in. Elsita plans to continue doing this desert research – presumably also on some other projects – until starting graduate school next year in environmental biology, hopefully back in the States.


We hope you won’t think us too boastful in the way we are “shebbing naches” (absorbing joy) from our children’s accomplishments. Being so far from friends and relatives, however, these e-mail letters are the best way we have to share our good news. (We also welcome your updates about family, and promise to respond accordingly!) Meanwhile, we remain grateful for the support that many of you gave last year to Elsita for her Central American adventures, courtesy of the American Jewish World Service. Happily, a summary of Elsita’s experiences now appears on the AJWS website at
http://ajws.org/what_we_do/service_and_travel_opportunities/world_partners_fellowship/profiles/.

Most recently, however, both Elsita and I were asked to testify to the Namibian government on the new draft Child Protection Bill, in our case to offer guidelines on how Namibia might consider International Adoptions. (By way of background, most Namibians distrust adoptions, in part because they believe that adoption cuts off the child’s biological link to his or her innate spiritual and ancestral heritage. Nevertheless, we take it as a good sign that folks still wanted to hear our perspective.) Elsita couldn’t give her testimony personally because she was at work in the desert, but her open-letter generated a huge round of applause. I share it below, at the end of this e-mail.





As for Bernd and me, there’s not much to add at the moment. This past weekend we hiked some of the world’s highest sand dunes at Sossusvlei (truly, the height of mountains). This part of the country is really gorgeous, especially now. Although in 2008 the dunes received only a total of 5 millimeters of rain, this year already brought 218 millimeters and the “short rains” in October or November may still add more. As a result, the grass is now higher than anyone can remember, and the animals have gotten fat and happy. On the other hand, the heavy rains also caused the once-golden sand-dunes to turn reddish-brown, probably because the iron granules inside the sand-dune became rusty. So almost all the dunes send of a deeper, darker reddish hue than we ever remember them before!






Tomorrow Bernd starts a new semester at the Polytechnic, amidst the usual headache of too many students, too few classrooms, and a shortage of lecturers and equipment. At least our own students are well situated (now numbering 14, whom we help sponsor as part of the Saving Remnant program): one recent graduate won a scholarship to continue studying in France; another got a good job at the national power company; and a third graduate started night-school (in addition to full-time work) where she is “acing” her way through an added year of studies. Three other students have internships and the rest remain in school full-time -- all doing well.

Yes, we’re proud parents. No two ways about it. Meanwhile, I’m heading back to Tanzania tomorrow for three weeks’ work, but I should be available on-line. Catch you later, I hope!






Elsita’s adoption testimony (which was read aloud):

Hello Everybody,

This is Elsita Kiekebusch writing. As my mother probably explained to you already, I was adopted at the age of 6 months from Guatemala, a country in Latin America. I lived in the United States until age 11 at which point I moved to Namibia with my family.

I do not know the details of my birth, but I do know that I ended up living in an over-crowded orphanage in Guatemala’s capital city before being adopted and moving to the USA. As you can imagine, my life is certainly quite different than what it might have been, had I not been adopted. I think one of the most widely cited positive aspects of adoption is the change in the level of opportunity that a child experiences when adopted from a disadvantaged background into a more privileged environment. Within this context, material wealth comes to mind -- but even basic opportunities such as education and health care are clearly invaluable. My life in the USA (and also Namibia) has certainly been less danger-filled in comparison to the then war-torn Guatemala. However, to me, one cannot overlook the emotional benefits of being adopted into a caring and stable family environment.

One of the fears accompanying international adoption that I have come across here in Namibia, is that an adopted person will lose their connection to their biological family, their ancestors and their heritage. These are definitely real losses, and have given me cause to more strongly consider my own identity. My younger brother (not biologically related) is also adopted, and he is the one and only person I know who can share the same unique story as my own. I know that we both sometimes speculate about our biological relatives. We wonder what they are like, what they believe in and all the other “might-have-beens.” It seems obvious to me that the cutting off of these familial ties has more to do with the extreme circumstances of my birth and subsequent abandonment than the adoption itself. Adoption has allowed me to find a new and wonderful family and home.

It follows that in my “new” life I was also given the opportunity to reconnect with my heritage. I have been given the great gift of parents that have always encouraged me to explore my roots. I have traveled to and lived in several parts of Latin America (including Guatemala) in my adult life. I have learned about the history and culture of Guatemala and also to speak Spanish (the official language there.) Perhaps for some people who are adopted, learning about their country of origin isn’t a priority, but this has always been very important to me.

Adoption has probably been the single most defining event of my life. And I’m pretty happy to report that it has worked out very well for me. For children who do not have a family of their own, it can provide a great opportunity – a second chance at life.

Sincerely,
Elsita

230: Breathless moments

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take,
but by the number of moments that take our breath away.
(Anonymous)

That quote stares you in the face in my friend Kathryn’s kitchen in Zanzibar. Bernd and I slept in her guest-room during our first two nights on this Tanzanian island, in her Arab-style penthouse apartment atop Stone Town’s tallest residential building. Welcome to Breath-away Moment Number One, with its golden-glow sunsets and vast rooftop views! (I’m cheating a bit: the roof was six flights up without an elevator. So even if it weren’t gorgeous – which it was -- we would have been out of breath.) Far below, we surged through winding streets, propelled through the exotic local market like a rivulet seeking deeper water. And we had that, too: the beautiful blue Indian Ocean was just a few minutes away, with its quaint fishing dhows, haunting Muslim prayer-music, and the beckoning smells of a hundred different native spices.









Twenty-four hours later, we experienced Breath-away Moment Number Two. This happened five times, in fact, as that’s how often we went snorkeling during our week’s “re-honeymoon” -- sometimes surrounded by throbbing puffball jellyfish (slippery to the touch and barely stinging), sometimes by schools of iridescent blue and gold swarms (so many fish, they looked like floating snowflakes), and sometimes by large groupers, slim trumpet fish, beautiful angel fish, spongy sea cucumbers, long-fingered starfish, giant clams, and the occasional octopus or lobster -- but always with the gorgeous coral below us, like the flowerbeds of a botanical garden.







If you can imagine heaven as the Baltimore Aquarium, all warm-water and a hundred-thousand times bigger, then we were in the middle of it, without any glass windows or heaving crowds to separate us from the incredible, other-worldly surroundings. We wanted to ooh and ah every few moments except then we would have swallowed gobs of water, proving (among other things) that we weren’t in heaven just yet. So we gesticulated wildly instead, pointing this way and that. The fish names conjure up the incredible variety of what we saw: crocodile fish, parrot fish, sweet-lips, sea-squirts, basket-stars, lionfish, zebra fish, squirrel fish, damsel fish, lizard fish, emperor fish -- a veritable underwater safari.

Breath-away Moment Number Three took place when found ourselves face to face with a huge underwater hawksbill turtle that we followed until it surfaced for a gulp of air and then slithered away into the ocean depths.

Breath-away Moment Number Four happened on Zanzibar’s Prison Island, full of history and crumbling buildings, and now a sanctuary for giant Aldabra Tortoises (the Indian Ocean cousins to the famed Galapagos Tortoises), to whom we fed fistfuls of their favorite green-leaves. The tortoises gravitated to the food like waddling puppies to their mother, but even better than feeding them is this: As we learned from the much smaller land-tortoises we used to raise and release in Namibia, all tortoises love to be gently stroked under their necks and around their heads as they can’t reach this part of their anatomy in the event of an itch or entrapped dirt. Amazingly, these Aldabra tortoises loved the scratching so much that their necks protruded by almost a foot and got stiff like a hard-on, heads emerging from their winkled neck-skin and bobbing to the touch. Don’t think I’m joking or over-sexed until you try this yourself; then I promise you’ll find it as bizarrely sensual as we did.








Breath-away Moment Number Five also involved communing with animals. We visited Zanzibar’s only national forest where extended families of endangered Red Colobus Monkeys have become habituated to tourists. You need only to stand amongst them and they come seek you out, rather than the other way around. We could have stayed for hours longer, but nevertheless we took almost fifty photographs.







If you do follow us to Zanzibar, however, the one place you must absolutely visit is Chumbe Island. It’s a jaw-dropping, breath-taking, magical sanctuary like none we’ve ever visited before. Chumbe Island is the only private marine reserve in the world, six miles off the main Zanzibar coast, with seven overnight cabins, delicious food, fabulous views, and a gazillion environmental awards for their low-impact habitat, go-green pit-toilets, environmental research, and commitment to local education.







On land you can relax on the sandy beaches, walk amidst a dense mangrove forest, explore the inter-tidal marsh, or seek out the island’s four species of local crabs (including the endangered coconut crab, the world’s largest). The guided snorkeling is the best, though. You’re so close to the reef that scuba diving isn’t even permitted. The island’s underwater coral park boasts 430 different species of fish and Bernd says he wouldn’t be surprised if we saw almost all: the diversity overwhelmed and delighted us at every turn.

The difference between a damaged and a healthy coral reef is like night and day. To further the conservation messages we absorbed, let us briefly share what we learned about why coral is so important:

Waves: Coral reefs cause waves to break far from shore. This means less erosion and calmer water for people to work in and live by.
Fish: Coral reefs are full of little holes and spaces, the perfect place for young fish to hide from predators. The reef is also an important fish-breeding ground and nursery. In Zanzibar, over 70% of the local dietary protein comes from fish, so it is vital for fish stocks to be maintained. By contrast, less reef yields fewer fish and less food.
Biodiversity: Coral reef is the home of a huge variety of animals and plants. Just think of it as the rainforest of the ocean.
Medicine: Scientists are discovering that many marine organisms contain powerful drugs. For example, the Caribbean Sea Whip Coral contains anti-cancer drugs, and can even be used to replace bone!
Tourism: Coral reefs are beautiful and stimulate the imagination. But because coral polyps (that is, the little animals that make up coral) like warm water, most reefs are found in tropical or sub-tropical areas. Therefore, a lot of reef is located in poorer countries, where it attracts visitors, generates jobs, and brings in much-needed cash.
Our camera doesn’t take underwater photos, so hopefully you can see this for yourself some day. We promise it will take your breath away!

229: Connecticut encounter

While Bernd and Elsita scaled Namibia’s highest mountain (see Namibia Diary #228) I was in the United States. Family Health International conveniently paid for my fare and I spent two weeks at their headquarters in Arlington, Virginia, and at a nearby conference. (This was the closest I got to President Obama, but it was fun anyway.)

Afterwards I added a few days’ vacation and a visit to southwestern Ohio where my undergraduate alma mater awarded me an alumni citation for professional achievement. Returning to Wilmington College after 37 years felt both strange and wonderful: This small Quaker school now aims for similar goals as ours in Namibia – namely to provide an opportunity for first-generation college students to get a degree and build a better future(40% of their student body). Although hard-hit like everyone else in the recession, the faculty voluntarily agreed to a pay-cut and several retired professors are offering their services for free (including several of mine from way-back) -- thus ensuring that the college will pull through without sacrificing the quality of their education.

In the New York and Washington areas, I was royally treated by friends and relatives, and I marvel that our family has not yet been forgotten – if anything, the friendships have deepened over the years. Thanks to everyone for their interest and hospitality. I feel spoiled and loved and eternally grateful.

That said, I hardly thought my stories of travels in the US could compare to the nail-biting adventures of the family’s mountain-climbers, especially Elsita’s Saga of the Shredded Shoes -- until I reached Connecticut.

Heading northeast by train from New York, I looked out the window for signs of wildlife. Just to the side of the tracks, I saw a gray heron, some egrets, a few chipmunks, two deer, and a loon. Once in Connecticut, my cousin announced the daily program: We would spend the first day near a local pond to go hiking and swimming and enjoy a picnic on a grassy knoll. On the second day we should look for wild orchids, hike in a nearby state part, and have another picnic. Everything worked out perfectly: The swimming was cold but clear, the food was yummy and fresh, and the hikes provided an incentive for more of the same. Sure enough, we also got to see some blooming wild orchids (here is Bob pointing at one), walk along the Appalachian Trail (you see cousin Carol and Bob by the sign-post), and enjoy some lovely views.







If it weren’t for my cousins’ cat, however, we would have missed the highlight of my stay. While the rest of us slept, he (the cat) started pacing at 5:20 in the morning, eventually waking Carol. As she got up to let the cat out, she looked outside the back door to the tin garbage bin that stores the household supply of wild bird food. Suddenly, Carol let out a hoarse whisper that she repeated three times, each time elevated in volume and alarm: “Bear! Bear! BEAR!”

The instant these magic words reached my ears, I jumped up and grabbed my camera. I needn’t have rushed, however. The object of Carol’s call was sitting placidly, nose inside his treasure trove, seemingly oblivious to the gawking humans just inches away on the other side of the glass door.

The scene took my breath away. I had seen bears only fleetingly before, and always at a distance. This bear was huge. And powerful. And very, VERY close.

With the rising dawn, I snapped some pictures. We didn’t want to frighten him, thinking that a scared bear might be more than we could handle. On the other hand, Carol lamented that they had just bought a large sack full of bird-seed. Would the bear eat it all? Trying to save his investment, Bob opened the bathroom window, just inches from the bear’s head. The bear slowly rose, sauntered across the lawn and turned back around, only to return across the little garden bridge two minutes later in order to finish off his object-of-desire. This dance took place twice more in the next half hour, as the lure of fresh sunflower seeds always brought the bear back. Here he is, in full glory.






When he finally had his fill, the bear stood up and left. Graceful and unperturbed, he was an object of great beauty. The rest of us talked about the bear’s visit all day. This was the first time Bob and Carol had seen a bear in over a year, and they had never encountered one this close. And only two hours from downtown Manhattan! It takes my breath away, just thinking of it. I’m still smiling.

228: Brandberg, Namibia's highest mountain

When you scramble up a mountain on all fours over boulders and through bushes behind the rest of your group, there is something really nice to it: You can smell all the exquisite fragrances from the broken leaves of wild herbs and grasses. I wish someone invented “photography of smells” to convey those pleasures of the nose.








For the recent super-long weekend our daughter Elsita and I attempted to scale Namibia’s highest mountain, the Brandberg with its peak the Königstein, variously reported between 2573 and 2606 meters high (8442 - 8550 ft.) – starting at the village of Uis in Damaraland a height difference of about 1800m (5900 ft). The Brandberg is an old volcanic massive outcrop rising from the surrounding flat Namib Desert and one of the less explored areas in Namibia, so much so that only recently a new order of insect was discovered there, the Mantophasmatodea ("Gladiator") (see: http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2002/03/0328_0328_TVstickinsect.html). Moreover, there are no marked hiking paths and no tourist maps – we hired a local guide, and even he got lost on the return.







On Thursday we stayed overnight at the comfortable Brandberg Rest Camp in Uis, from where they took us and our backpacks next morning to the starting point at the Southern side of the mountain. After the most important water check (2.5 liter per person) we hiked up on the side of a gorge, carefully staying in the shade as much as possible. It’s winter in Namibia with cool air but bright sunny days.

Aside from a few human-made rock piles and occasional footprints, we trusted our guide Angula to find the way – communicating in a mixture of Afrikaans, German, Oshivambo and very little English. He led us over boulders, through bushes and across steep rock faces. We did not have to climb seriously, but in many places hands were needed just as much as feet. But we also enjoyed watching the birds, the lizards, the dassies (rock hyrax), and even a few klipspringers (small mountain antelopes). At every one of the hourly rest breaks, we took deep breaths, shared snacks, and marveled at the view from higher and higher up. About lunchtime, it was time for another “Pause” (break) in the shade of a big rock – this time we found a surprise: beautifully preserved rock paintings, thought to be several thousand years old.








Becoming a bit tired now, walking became more and more challenging. And then another problem developed. Elsita’s hiking shoes, which had served her well in Europe’s Alps, on Africa’s Kilimanjaro, across the South American Andes, and on many hikes in Namibia, began to come apart, despite recent repairs. Some safety pins kept the soles in place for the day – to be repaired again with shoe glue and gauze from the medical emergency kit in the evening.







Late afternoon, we reached the first ridge and crossed over into several small grassy plateaus, passing by some giant aloes in bloom, and some traditional tombs of the San people who used to live here. Finally, after eight hours, we arrived at the campsite for the night, recognizable only by two important features (a) a small stream with sparkling clean water from the previous rainy season and (b) a ring of stones for a fireplace and a small wind-protected sandy area to unroll our sleeping bags. Soon our guide had lit a fire, and a hearty soup was cooking on the camping stove, all the while I was gluing Elsita’s boots and she was hobbling around in my far bigger boots. Delightfully, dinner ended with a rich cup of hot chocolate for everybody. Meanwhile the sun had set and the stars filled the beautiful Southern sky. As we crawled in for the night, I could discern the Southern Cross, the Jewel Box and Scorpio, a lonely satellite passing by, and even a few shooting stars promising good adventures.







The next day, I woke up at 4 am to a howling wind that even blew our pot off the rock on which we had left it. But by sunrise, it was calm again. Breakfast of oatmeal and tea, and off we went for the final ascent to the peak. This time we needed to carry only water, snacks, and the emergency kit as we would return to the same campsite afterwards. We still had to climb up, but in between we crossed several high plateaus, some of them even swamps from the previous rains. With much laughter, we sunk in ankle-deep several times, but the dry air and the long grasses cleaned the shoes quickly each time. Elsita discovered even a frog so high up. Mid morning, we climbed up a small incline to overhanging rocks – we thought for a break – but there we found the most exquisite rock paintings, protected only by a small sign as an archeological research site of the National Museum of Namibia. High on the mountain there are pictures of elephants, giraffes, and many more, even a giant snake. Either these animals could climb or the artists (San - bushmen) had come far to observe.







The final ascent looked daunting – it turned out to be much easier than thought.
By 1 pm we stood at the peak surveying the landscape far below in bright sunshine. It is amazing, how big the Brandberg really is and how many smaller peaks and valleys are parts of the mountain. For example, the famous “white lady”, another rock painting, is found in the North-Western valleys, however the path up from there is said to be extremely difficult. Well - our names in the book prove we were on the top – not many sign each year.








On the way back to camp we were elated: we made it – but also a bit sad: it signaled the end of this great adventure. But it was not the end yet: After another step too deep into the swamp, Elsita’s boot almost lost its sole again. More safety pins, more bandages in the evening – let’s hope we make it down the mountain all right. That afternoon some klipspringers came near, and we enjoyed observing their agility on the rocks. Later on we passed one other group of hikers, who even brought a dog, but they stayed in another place for the night. Again we enjoyed a simple meal and hot chocolate and the stars overhead at night – and talked of memories of past adventures.

Sunday – the final day, and we need to get down from the mountain. The guide estimated 5 hours from the camp, and we left at 7 am. Initially, we recognized the same path where we came up, but as we passed over the ridge, the guide took a turn – directly down and supposedly faster. No problem, we were game for another adventure. As we were nearing a ravine, the boulders become bigger, and more and more often we had to really climb over them. And then final disaster – the sole came off one of Elsita’s boots and the other one split partly. There we sat ¾ up the mountain, seeing the end of the path below, and were still bandaging shoes – luckily we had a good supply in the emergency kit. As we went on, Elsita had to walk especially careful not to slip, and my legs were just getting wobbly from the stress. Steps became shorter and shorter and increasingly we needed to hold on with our hands … and we noticed that the guide wasn’t sure anymore where he went. Straight down of course, but in a ravine the boulders are the biggest. Eventually he found the path again, but by now the 5 hours have become 7 hours.







But the driver was waiting and welcomed us with ice cold beer.

And as we sat in the old truck, we pondered what was so great? It was not the longest, but one of the roughest hikes. And we made it all the way up with great weather, great views, a big challenge, in an area little known and explored, and most of all it was a special adventure for the two of us, Elsita and me. And lastly, at the end we felt good knowing that every muscle was still in place (and aching) – better than any doctor’s diagnosis.

Bernd