226: Socialism and Sun-worship in Namibia

After we sent out our last “Namibia diary,” several readers expressed surprise that news of the devastating floods in Namibia’s northern regions had not appeared on TV or in any of the journals or papers they read. Being so isolated, Namibia often falls off the news-map, if only because there are no international reporters stationed here. Fortunately, the UN system conducted an investigation and has now officially declared an emergency, opening up the country to international donations. On Tuesday this week, the US government took the lead with a US$650,000 contribution. And Namibia’s bright autumnal sun has started to dry up the flooded oshanas (shallow pans fed by underground river flows), which is gradually easing access to hospitals and schools.

$10 for all:

Meanwhile, another Namibian news story has emerged, and we’re pretty certain you didn’t know about this one, either. Namibia is currently undertaking a socialist experiment in income redistribution, making sure that in at least one village, the poorest of the poor get at least a few dollars every month to ease their daily lives.

A year ago, the Otjivero settlement, 75 miles outside the capital of Windhoek, was little more than an agglomeration of corrugated iron shacks*. Hardly anyone lived there before 1992. The community grew as more and more people, evicted from the nearby white-owned farms, settled in the village.

Located near the two-lane Trans-Kalahari highway, Otjivero was a dead-end street. There was no industry, no work, high crime and disastrous levels of alcoholism. The term “dirt poor” could have been invented here. In a sense, Otjivero represented everything that was wrong with Namibia.

That was until a collation of non-governmental organizations started a project to distribute small cash grants to villagers in January 2008. Everyone under 60 years of age receives US$10 a month, regardless of his or her position or income. (Those over 60 are eligible for government social security, worth about US$40 a month. But given the national life-expectancy of 42, very few poor people live that long.)

This universal $10 grant is the only one of its kind in the world – at this point, a privately funded experiment to determine its impact on village life. Reverend Claudia Haarman, project director from the Namibian Lutheran churches, explains:

“Although cash grants have become an accepted way to alleviate poverty, (in other countries) they are always either means-tested or conditional. Often, this excludes the really poor. It also means very high administrative costs to test everyone and administer the grants. We are convinced that you don’t need pre-requisites to change behavior.”

Residents had to register with the Basic Income Grant (BIG) coalition to qualify for the grant. That was all. Disbursements are made automatically through a savings account with the post office. The coalition uses fingerprint verification to eliminate fraud, and to include illiterate residents the same as everyone else.

“Of course people are happy; they think manna is falling from heaven, “ Otjivero community leader Steven Aigowab told a local reporter. “But that does not mean they will squander their money.”

An interim evaluation by the BIG coalition confirmed this: Child malnutrition is down from 42% to 17%. Employment rose from 36% to 48%, and payments of school fees have doubled. The income at the local health clinic increased five-fold as villagers could afford the transport expenses and requisite co-pay, and consequently increased their use of clinic services. Village crime reduced by 60%. There is no evidence that alcoholism reduced, but contrary to many fears (my own included) it has also not gotten any worse.

Amazing!

Data from a second evaluation will be released officially this month, but according to the coalition, the positive trends are continuing.

Skepticism remains, however -- mostly among government leaders who say that without an additional tax, a national grant is unaffordable. (And this is an election year, after all – so who wants to raise taxes?) And even if a tax were imposed, you would have the peculiar notion of that the rich would also be eligible – and why should they get benefit?, people argue. (Of course, when it comes to Social Security and other old-age pensions, the system is similar…) Finally, some fear it will create a “give-me, give-me” dependency on the state and reward people who (according to popular interpretation) just don’t want to work. Yet at US$10 a month, the opposite has been proven: people are starting small businesses or traveling into town to look for work – and thus, employment has actually increased! By contrast, adding pre-requisites also adds administrative expenses – potentially costing more than the grants themselves.

“There is a school of thinking that you shouldn’t dish out money to people. That is is better spent on a project or something,” Reverend Haarmann said. “But show me one project that improves the living standards across the board for 930 people at a cost of about US$11,000 a month.”

The genius of BIG is that there are almost no staffing costs, no complex infrastructure, no bureaucratic delays. Significantly, too, the actual amount of money is minimal – just enough to keep people a little healthier, better-fed, in school, and able to find jobs or create their own. Thus, BIG provides an incentive to build from this money to earn more -- and to some degree that is what is happening.

Here and there, however, government support is building. “Empirical evidence indicates that as long as the poor cannot meet their basic needs, we cannot empower them, “the head of the National Planning Commission, Dr. Peter Katjavivi, told an international conference in Germany. “In this respect, BIG programs could be in the front of economic development.”

It’s not the stuff of G-20 economic summits, at least not yet – but let’s hope the time will come.

Now for the sun-worshippers.

This next story comes from the fact that I love hokey holidays – Jewish or otherwise. So you can imagine how intrigued I was to learn that the sunrise on April 8th would give Jews the opportunity to bless the sun’s creation via a special ceremony that occurs only once every 28 years. This is because, according to the Talmud (Berachot 59b), once every 28 years the sun returns to the exact same place in relation to the earth that it allegedly had on the very first Wednesday morning when God created the world. And, while most modern Jews no longer practice this ancient ritual, Orthodox Jews (and a few other hokey-types) take on the aura of sun-worshippers by rising before dawn and holding special outdoor sun-ceremonies along the beachfront or in beautiful natural settings. This year, some people also turned the event into an opportunity to advocate for solar energy.

Our celebration in Namibia was probably smaller and simpler than most, but with the arrival of two Lubavitch students for the Passover holidays, we awoke well before dawn, gathered outside to face east, and first learned all the rules: For example, “If it is cloudy but the outline of the sun can still be seen through the clouds, we can go ahead with a full blessing. But if the cloud cover is so thick that the sun cannot be seen through the clouds, then we should wait up to mid-day for the clouds to disperse before proceeding. And if at that time, the thick clouds still persist, then the rabbis would grant us the permission to nevertheless say the blessing, but without mentioning God’s name.” (Was that meant to punish God for bad weather, I wonder?)

Fortunately, with the passage of the rainy season, Namibia probably won’t see another serious cloud until October at the earliest. So we could go ahead with the full blessing and get on with the day’s work (and the evening’s Passover meal). We did add a final prayer at the end, however – one that I really appreciated: that we would all be around the next time that Birchat HaChamah (The Blessing for the Sun) occurs --- in 28 more years!

As for Passover itself, it went smoothly: we imported Matzoh from the USA and South Africa, and had 14 guests for the Seder-meal from 6 language groups and a wide variety of political perspectives -- including, but not limited to that of Andimba Toivo ya Toivo, Namibia’s most famous liberation-leader who was once imprisoned with Nelson Mandela in Robbin Island. As has become our custom, Andimba fittingly acted the role of Moses when we played a drama of our historic escape from slavery to freedom. The photos you see are of Andimba with Sofiana (one of the students who lives with us) and myself; also of me ransoming the afikomen (traditional dessert) with Andimba’s daughters for a decorative key-chain and chocolate.



One last holiday note that would surely make Barack Obama jealous: Today (Easter morning), Bernd and took our three dogs for an early morning walk in Swakopmund along the coast, only to be met by a small entourage heading the other way. There, in full view, was Namibia’s President Hifikepunya Pohamba, enjoying the beachfront alongside his granddaughter. Such public exposure couldn’t happen in many countries, I thought. It’s good to live in peace.

(We didn’t have the camera with us to photograph the President, but here are our three dogs.)


__
*Drawn in part from IPS news, Servass van der Bosch reporting.

225: Too much of a good thing

Remember how we always used to say that Namibia is a desert country, or at least highly arid?

We lied.

Northern Namibia is currently having the worst floods since weather records began in this part of the country (1961), and that comes after people thought that last year was the worst. By contrast in the center of the country – in Windhoek where we live -- everything is green and quite lush, with beautiful flowers and very tall grasses. We have had a few problems during February’s heavy rains (like half our appliances shorting and a huge mess in the yard), but we are definitely among the lucky ones.

International climatologists said that global warming would make this country even more of a desert than now, but so far we’ve seen the opposite.
The worst of the flooding has been in the north, along the Angolan and Zambian borders. As of yesterday, the Zambezi River rose by three centimeters to reach an alarming height of 7,82 meters (about 24 feet) at the far northeastern town of Katima Mulilo – the second highest level in 40 years. The town is virtually under water. And the river is still rising.



In the north-central part of the country, which is the most densely populated, last weekend found over 5,000 people in temporary reception centers. To date, 218 schools have been closed, 85 percent of all gravel roads have been damaged and are no longer passable, 45 clinics became inaccessible, and sanitation remains in a deplorable state due to overflowing sewerage systems and ponds. Over 85 percent of businesses, especially small and medium enterprises are affected. The Namibian army has been mobilized and is assisting with relocation from cut-off areas. Health professionals are being flown to affected areas to provide medical services. But resources are scant – for example, the last I heard was that this country’s entire air force consisted of two planes.



In addition to disruption of day-to-day life, the urgent need for relocation and relief, and destruction of and damage to infrastructure, more than 2,000 new malaria infections have been reported and 92 people have been reported drowned. Most people think the figure is much higher, though. (Almost no one can swim in this country, as the usual arid environment doesn’t give children the opportunity to learn.) One of the worst consequences is that people who need their anti-retroviral medications (against the HIV virus) can’t get to the hospitals to pick up their monthly refills -- and stopping the medications, even temporarily, is potentially life-threatening.

Predictions are that the situation in the north-central and north-eastern regions of Namibia may grow even worse. Although the heavy rains have subsided, water is flowing in from neighboring countries, and water levels are rising. This is an interesting ecological point: Most of the water in the area comes from alluvial rivers (that was a new word for me, too), which means that the rains fall in Angola and sink into the ground, but then form underground rivers that flow southward into Namibia and pop up through small depressions called oshanas. In a normal year, these oshanas fill up in the rainy season and supply a lot of fish and drinking water for the animals, and then they dry up later in the year. But now these oshanas have spilled over to the surrounding land, where people live, farm, go to school, and so on. And because of the soil composition and lack of “normal” rivers, there is no place for the water to flow any more.



To complicate matters, this is an election year, and those of us who remember New Orleans know what that means. Last week, President Hifikepunye Pohamba declared a state of emergency, and a Flood Emergency Management Office was established early this week in the country’s northern city of Oshakati to coordinate emergency relief efforts. It all sounds good, but nobody seems to have any clear idea of what that really means. The country’s Red Cross Society is pulling out all stops to provide emergency food, but supplies are scarce and transport is almost non-existent. I guess we’ll all get more information when the next wave of flooding arrives, as expected, in the coming weeks.

That said, the impact of the flooding will be felt well beyond the point where the waters subside. In addition to disastrous crop losses that have a direct impact particularly on orphans and vulnerable children, as well as the elderly, the entire area’s infrastructure has been damaged and will need to be repaired, and waterborne diseases, such as malaria that is already being felt, can be expected to make a resurgence.

It’s a mess – and a tragedy. We count our blessings.

(photos by One-Africa, 2009)

224: Travel Season

Travel season has begun again – every month a different country or two for Lucy, all for Family Health International. Meanwhile, Elsita is rapidly catching up in the travel sphere, and has recorded many adventures of her own (see below) and Sergio – from what we hear – is fine but bored in Japan. Bernd began teaching again and stays in Windhoek, accompanied by Lucas and Sofiana, both of whom are immersed in their studies. We’ve had unprecedented rain that permeated almost every modern convenience we rely on: last month our old cars didn’t start, our electric stove went on permanent strike, the alarm-system outside started bleating, the city’s drinking water had to be turned off for fear it would get infected with sewage, and our clothes (which we usually hang outside) haven’t dried in weeks. There isn’t much we can do except respond as other Namibians might: simply wait patiently until the sun re-emerges in this normally arid land.

From Lucy – In the land of Injera and Sheroh (Ethiopian bread with beans)

In Ethiopia last week I trained 21 local staff and led a planning effort on how to better serve child-headed households. A decade ago, the term child-headed household was virtually unknown, but today it has actually become an official census category in some countries, including Namibia. Due to Ethiopia’s tragic history of war, famine and AIDS, that country has more child-headed households than anywhere else in Africa (after Zimbabwe) – about 77,000 of them in 2005 and growing rapidly.

On the surface, this seems like a hopeless situation; yet with the addition of community-based supports – for example, regular home visits by trained volunteers plus some material assistance and access to education and health care -- many children from child-headed households can become productive, self-sufficient adults. (By way of success, we need only mention three of the students we are sponsoring in Namibia, all of whom come from a child-headed household. Now one is studying social work, another is in medical school and just delivered his first baby, and the third just graduated University and is working as an accountant.)

The next challenge in Ethiopia will be to get funding for a support-program focusing on Child Headed Households, based on the structures that already exist through local organizations. Fortunately, we have already identified some expressions-of-interest. No doubt this is important and exciting work, but after ten intensive days I decided to take a break. Then a local friend and I headed to Wonchi for a fantastic day of hiking and horseback riding at a magnificent crater lake, all at an altitude of 12,000 feet.









Hundreds of monkeys lived in the woods at the lodge where stayed overnight – both vervets (the little gray ones) and colobus, with their silky sleek fur. Some got very close and made for easy photography.









We ended our day at Wonchi with a traditional coffee ceremony and a vegetarian meal of Injera and Sheroh (my favorite) – all in sharp contrast to Elsita’s diet last week, about which you can read.


From Elsita: The Rough Guide to Research

For those of you who have been wondering how my work has been going since I started about a month ago at Integrated Environmental Consultants Namibia (IECN), I have many stories to share…

I have mainly focused on the evaluation of a coastal awareness campaign, by undertaking a survey in all of the coastal regions of Namibia. Basically, my coworkers and I have gone around and interviewed approximately 250 local citizens and members of affiliated institutions -- such as the provincial Councils and environmental Conservancies -- to assess the impact of the campaign since its commencement a year and a half ago. As the entire western border of Namibia is the ocean, you can imagine the incredible distances that we had to cover in order to carry out the survey. In one week we went south to the small German-style port of Lüderitz, stopping at various sites along the way for the interviews. Then last week we headed out into the unbelievably remote Kunene Region with the IECN land cruiser packed full with jerry cans, food, camping equipment, 2 spare tires, a toolbox and more.

We experienced bad roads like never before. At times sandy; at times stony; at times wet, steep and muddy (or some unbelievably messy combination thereof). It seemed like our car had seen it all when we drove straight down a dry riverbed composed solely of boulders, racing to catch up with our translator-guide who enjoyed driving his Government-owned truck as fast as he possibly could. (I’m talking 75mph on gravel roads.) And this was just the first day. That night found us camped next to the beautiful Hoanib riverbed. We were up late because we had decided to blend in with local culture and slaughter a goat for dinner. By dinner I mean that we ate the meat for the next 3 days straight. We were unable to buy purified water anywhere, but beer was available everywhere so we drank that for 3 days straight too.

The food and drink put us in high spirits even after we discovered that our car battery had died when we left the lights on in the dark and we had no jumper cables. The next morning we found ourselves stranded in practically every way you can think of. Our translator-guide had woken up early in the morning, drove across the riverbed and gone to the nearest small settlement called Purros to find jumper cables. When he did not return we suspected the worst – if not dead or maimed then drunk and gone forever. But soon we realized that the dry river to Purros had flooded overnight so he couldn’t have returned even if he wanted. It is the flash-flood season in Namibia -- a country with no permanent rivers within its borders -- so in the rainy season dry riverbeds in the desert can suddenly fill with water from rainfall miles away.

Certainly, the Hoanib was no calm stream that morning! It had become a raging torrent about 100 feet across with rapids, rocks, unreliable sandbars – altogether impassable by any sort of vehicle. So that was how we found ourselves trapped on the wrong side of the river from where we had to go next: Our car battery was dead, the car petrol (gas) was low; there was no cell-phone service and we had no food as our goat-meat and pots were in the back of the truck that our guide drove, and he had gone awol.

Somehow, we made it out of there. With the help of some tourists also stranded at the campsite, we jump-started our car. A nice British lady fed us breakfast and directed us to a nearby lodge where we could buy petrol. And then there was nothing to do but wait for the water level to drop. Around 3pm we heard honking across the river and looked up to see our guide on the other side. He gestured wildly and somehow managed to communicate to us that we should go to another spot further downriver. We felt we had no choice but to attempt the crossing before any new afternoon rains could catch up with us. We put the Land Cruiser into 4-wheel drive and ventured forward. Churning that car through thigh-deep water was certainly a sight to behold: The roar of the engine clashed with the sound of rushing water, as she swayed perilously from side to side. Somehow she finally made it across and we were able to continue on our way towards the coast.

I’m pleased to report that we ultimately survived the trip. We had a nice few days at Swakopmund on the coast and we’re now back inWindhoek where I’m writing up a final report. Next week I head to the United States for 14 days to participate in a follow-up retreat with the American Jewish World Service, based on my past year in El Salvador, and I’ll add a few days to visit friends.

My last big BIG news is that I have been offered a new 6-month job at Gobabeb Training and Research Centre in the Namib Desert, where I interned for a summer a few years ago. This exciting opportunity is funded by none other than NASA, and concerns research on a unique form of life called hypolithic cyanobacteria. They sound like a mouthful, but these little guys can survive the desert’s harshest hot-and-cold conditions by living underneath rocks. Moreover, NASA “astrobiologists” believe that studying these hardy organisms can inform their search for life beyond earth. You got it – this background research is a possible precursor to future studies of life on Mars and even beyond! I will begin working at Gobabeb by the end of this month, so look out for more good adventure stories in the future.

Yours truly,
Lucy and Elsita (and Bernd etc)

223: Sofiana’s rollercoaster

Since our last e-mail, the son of my oldest friend died tragically and as my heart grieves, I am again reminded that the hardest thing about living in Africa is being so far away from friends and family. On a brighter note, Bernd starts teaching this week (senior students in Information Technology at the Polytechnic) and I finally sent off a 250 page manuscript for review, hopefully to be published by Family Health International in July. (It’s a global guide for program managers who work with orphans and other vulnerable children.) Also, Sergio is doing well and Elsita got three job offers in Namibia within a week of sending out her resume. She currently works for a local environmental consulting firm called IECN (Integrated Environmental Consultants Namibia - www.iecn-namibia.com), initially on a project to test different methods of measuring desertification. Starting next week, she’ll be traveling up and down Namibia’s coast to evaluate the impact of a large environmental awareness program.

Namibia and its neighbor

Overall, we still feel very fortunate to live in this beautiful and politically stable country – especially in contrast to our Zimbabwean neighbors. As Zimbabwe’s politicians talk of a coalition government starting soon, the National Bank of the Zimbabwean government recently authorized foreign currency for local trading. But as our friends explain, this poses its own problems: Had you translated a doctor’s pay at a government hospital in January from Zim dollars back to U.S. money, he (or she) would have earned only 32 cents for the month. (For evidence on how worthless the Zimbabwe dollar really is, see the attached photo sent by an Israeli visitor to that country.) So it’s anybody’s guess how much Zimbabweans will get paid at the end of February – that is, if they get paid at all.

Back home, our main news concerns the students we’re sponsoring. One recent graduate (an accountant) got a wonderful job while another (a geologist) recently lost his, a consequence of Namibia’s plummeting mining industry. At the same time, a new pre-med student joined the group, explaining that she wants to help find a cure for the AIDS virus that killed her parents. Also, two weeks ago our other new student arrived from Namibia’s refugee camp. You may recall Sofiana from our last e-mail – she was born in Angola but has lived in the refugee camp (a truly dreadful place) since she was three. In our short time together, we have grown very fond of Sofiana – but she has taken us on quite a rollercoaster ride.

Sofiana arrives in Windhoek

Although Windhoek has only 350,000 people, it is Namibia’s largest city – and to a poor girl from a refugee camp, everything feels new and scary. It’s not just the multi-story buildings, the traffic, and the fast pace of activity. Initially, Sofiana was frightened of our dogs, scared of heights from our back-veranda, jumpy at the unfamiliar noises, and bewildered by a shower that runs hot water straight from the tap. As the sun set in the evening she didn’t turn on a reading light because, as she admitted later, it didn’t occur to her that electric light was available.

Happily, we could introduce Sofiana to two other Saving Remnant students who shared their own stories about first coming to Windhoek from a rural setting, and soon the house rocked with laughter. The three young people quickly became friends and within two days they were exploring the city together, visiting museums (I insisted: “No museum visits, no dinner”), and securing the administrative paper work needed to start their studies later this month.

As we got to know each other, we also discovered that Sofiana suffered from a history of serious stomachaches that included numerous hospitalizations, but Namibia’s State-employed doctors had never diagnosed the cause. She said that she didn’t get sick when she stayed in a government hostel (i.e. the school dormitory, while attending high school) but the pain always came back when she returned to the refugee camp. “So what was different in her diet between the two settings?” I asked. Unbelievably, none of the hospital staff had ever asked about her food-intake. By contrast, I learned that at the refugee camp they often drink un-pasteurized cows’ milk, while the government hostels rarely provided any dairy products at all. A few minutes on the Internet confirmed what I immediately suspected, that Sofiana has a serious milk allergy. So now she is on a milk-free diet and so far, she’s feeling terrific. (Of course, I’m fuming that this had never been uncovered before.)

The doors shut tight

The days passed quickly, as we looked forward to registration at the University of Namibia this week. Meanwhile, Sofiana even got to like our dogs. She also started reading some of our books, shared with the cooking, volunteered her hairdressing skills on the other students (literally sewing on the hair extensions with needle and thread), and generally adjusted well.

Then Thursday came (ten days ago) and the final results of the grade 12 exams were published in the newspaper. This is part of a crazy system in Namibia where students are tentatively accepted at the University based on their preliminary exam results (sort of like the PSATs in America), but the final exam results are released only 48 hours before the University actually starts. Even before I got the newspaper at a local shop, Sofiana came wailing to me — her sister called at 6:30 am and told her that she missed qualifying by three points (about 12%). What a shock! But there was nothing to be done — no University. Moreover, the system does not allow for second chances, except to possibly try again next year.

Sofiana’s family was furious, as they had pinned hopes for their own future on hers. And she – Sofiana – was terrified. Suddenly, everything went black before her eyes, and she saw herself living a beggar’s life – at risk of pregnancy and AIDS, like so many of the other young girls at the camp. Bernd and I quickly conferred and decided that we could not let her go back to her family empty-handed, so we needed think creatively. Then we put Lucas (the other student who lives with us) on “watch” that Sofiana wouldn’t cause herself physical harm, which turned out to be the right premonition.

Shortly after Bernd and I left for work that same morning, Sofiana asked Lucas for pills and said she would rather die than face this failure. Immediately Lucas took out his Bible and started reading to her about Job and Moses, and told her that what happened to her was a test to prepare her for life’s inevitable disappointments in the future. He tried every way he could to encourage her, insisting that she would eventually find a way to succeed. And for the next two days, for every moment that she was awake, Lucas wouldn’t let Sofiana out of his sight. (The remarkable thing about Lucas’ response is that he spoke at all, given his terrible speech impediment. Two years ago, when we first met Lucas, he would barely open his mouth. So as you can imagine, we’re very proud of him now.)

Another door opens

Meanwhile, Bernd and I investigated a range of options. Since Sofiana said she wanted to study computers (not that she knew anything about them), we looked for a vocational course that could give her a head start in this field. We found one and enrolled her, and that will last for two months. We also identified a correspondence course which will allow her to repeat some of her subject-exams next October and – as the best news – we found the only school in the country that will enroll her for a Portuguese language-exam that, as a native speaker, we’re convince she’ll “Ace.” All of this should greatly strengthen her chance for higher grades for 2010, when she’ll try for the University once again.

So that’s where we are. I guess Lucas was right – eventually Sofiana will make it and she’ll be stronger for the experience. Now Bernd and I look forward to calmer times ahead, but we’re happy with how things have progressed. And, as my friend Diane cheerfully signs off on all of her own newsy letters, we add joyfully: “Obama is STILL president!”

222: Two Weddings and a Funeral

Dear Friends,
Below is a summary of the last five incredible days: It’s a long e-mail (spanning 3400 km/2500 miles of traveling) but we hope you will agree it’s worth reading.

TUESDAY, 23 December

It all began last Tuesday night, when Elsita arrived in Namibia with three loads of laundry that hadn’t seen the inside of a functional washing machine since she left for El Salvador, almost a year ago. Our second-generation spinner in Namibia didn’t offer much relief, but we tried our best. Her visit back home made for a wonderful Hannukah.

WEDNESDAY, 24 December

The next morning we packed our Four-Wheel-Drive and headed north, stopping to overnight in the small mining town of Tsumeb, a couple hours from the Angolan boarder. Here, unbelievably enough, dinner on the hotel veranda brought back many childhood memories for Bernd -- complete with a German-language menu, imported German foods, German-language TV, and a track of German Christmas carols wafting in the background. Only Namibia can still pull this off, we figure (especially at US$6 a meal) -- where the casual visitor can be forgiven for thinking that this is still is a German colony even though the history books tell us that Germany officially lost its colonial grip over 90 years ago.

THURSDAY, 25 December

For Christmas day, we planned a 24-hour detour within Etosha National Park, before moving even father north to a traditional Owambo wedding (our main reason for the trip). Etosha looked different than during all our previous visits: The early summer rains turned the fields bright green with millions of yellow flowers and many standing pools of shallow water. Although the scenery looked beautiful, we expected it to be much more difficult to see the animals who could now forage at the far corners of the park, away from the usual watering holes that the tourists visit.

Wow, were we ever wrong!

The first thing that struck us was the intensity of the bird-life, with a new species almost every time we turned our heads. Most exciting to us was the endangered Blue Crane (we saw three) that are endemic to only this part of the country.

Zebra, wildebeest, impala, springbok, and giraffe abounded to the point that we didn’t even stop the car for them any more, and then felt guilty about how quickly we had become blasé. Elsita also got to see her favorite jackals, and we counted seven different antelope species, from the miniature dik-dik that twitches its nose from left-to-right, to the near-giant kuku with its majestic corkscrew horns. To crown the day, we saw two lions, their bellies swollen from an earlier kill.

FRIDAY, 26 December

Only elephants were missing. Although I wore my elephant earrings for good-luck, I really didn’t think we would see any. The next day, we drove on a road in the park that we had never taken before that ends in the newly opened Northern gate. After scores of more zebra, wildebeest and giraffe, I suddenly spotted a huge moving rock far ahead to the right of the road: Could it be? Sure enough!

But we didn’t see just one or two elephants. By the time the morning was through Elsita counted more than fifty pachyderms in six groupings, including several very tiny babies and three rather agitated matriarchs who started to charge our car when they thought we had come too close for comfort. (Fortunately, they didn’t do it all at once.) All of a sudden our Four-Wheel-Drive seemed very small indeed, in comparison to these huge beasts. We took over a hundred photos, but almost lost our presence of mind in focusing the cameras on the largest of the protective moms who came so close to our windshield (see below) that all I could do was whisper hoarsely was “Roll up the windows!!!” while Bernd jerked the car into Reverse.

All’s well that ends well, especially when it comes to wild animal encounters. Thirty minutes later we crossed into the communal farmlands of the north. Via another pre-arrangement, we stopped at a local after-school center for a Christmas party with 350 orphans that we had sponsored, thanks to some unexpected earnings earlier in the year. The children entertained each other with drama and song, received multiple small gifts, and had a huge meal with goodies to take home – an occasion that neither they nor we would easily forget.

SATURDAY, 27 December

Traditional Owambo weddings usually take place on Saturdays, preferably in December when most relatives return home for the festive season. The wedding of Lydia Hasheela and Pandu Amutenya aimed to be letter-perfect: They had known each other since High School and had been planning this occasion for almost a year. As the oldest of our “Saving Remnant students,” Lydia has now graduated and works in the field of communications, while Pandu -- the son of a headman -- teaches high school. Given our special relationship with Lydia, Bernd and I got to take on the role of Auntie and Uncle – complete with specially designed African outfits -- while Elsita joined as the unofficial photographer.

Several days of celebration were planned. The day before we arrived, friends and relatives gathered for a night of singing. On the actual wedding day, the invitations announced a church service, followed by a reception at the home of Lydia’s father. The next day a second reception would take place at Pandu’s family–home about 100 kilometers (67 miles) away. A week ago, we were told, the traditional spear-throwing ritual already occurred, where men from the extended family gathered around the bride-to-be and threw spears at her feet – each one representing a cow that she would be given for her marriage. Lydia ended up with thirteen new cows but agreed to sacrifice four for the wedding, as the entire village would be showing up at the receptions and everyone expected to bring home a basket of fresh meat to enjoy.

Early on this day, we first drove to pick up Helvi Shilongo, one of our more recent Saving Remnant members, to join the celebrations. Helvi has been raised by her grandmother (now 86 years old) in a very rural homestead, 30 minutes’ drive across sandy tracks to the nearest road. She showed us how each of the traditional round-huts in the homestead has a different purpose, with old wooden stockades serving as walls and fencing. The grandmother greeted us warmly with some ground millet and spinach-sauce, showed us their recently plowed field (the work of Helvi, a cousin, and the family donkeys), and proudly tossed away her cane to pose for a photograph. Helvi provided the translation as the grandmother – who has never traveled more than 90 kilometers (60 miles) from her home -- promised to visit Windhoek ("God-willing") in order to witness Helvi’s anticipated graduation from the Polytechnic of Namibia in two years’ time.

With Helvi and Elsita now in the back-seat, we drove to the wedding itself. The church service was meant to start at 10 in the morning, and we arrived just minutes before – only to realize that the church was already crowded with people singing hymns. Helvi and Elsita rushed inside to find seats and then Helvi – who suddenly grasped what was going on – turned to Elsita and whispered, “Are we supposed to be at a funeral?” Elsita looked askance and whispered back, “No, I don’t think so!!” Realizing that it would be rude to leave, they decided to stay through to the end. Meanwhile Bernd and I learned that the wedding had been postponed some hours to accommodate this unanticipated event, but since there hadn’t been time to inform the out-of-towners we were told to wait outside under a shade-tree.

Hurry up and wait, my mother always said.

Soon a new crowd appeared, and a very pregnant bride emerged from a car. A second wedding – obviously one that could not wait! The organizers eventually decided that each party would occupy one side of the church – to the left and right of the central aisle – and the two couples would get married in the same ceremony. Two hours later, Lydia and Pandu extended the service with a visiting choir and a series of small speeches just for them (Bernd and me included) and then we proceeded -- largely on foot -- to the home of Lydia’s father. To protect them from the unrelenting summer sun, the newly wedded couple had parasol-bearers – but progress was slow as they stopped every few minutes to make sure that everyone in the neighborhood knew they were invited to join the wedding feast.

Just outside the father’s house, the couple had to stand patiently for almost a full hour as family members and village elders sang and danced, alerting Lydia that this would be the last time she would enter the house as her father’s daughter, rather than as her husband’s wife.

More ceremonies continued as a long row of female gift-bearers offered traditional straw- baskets and small denominations of money. Then the couple – who had not eaten since morning – had to sample the father’s traditional (home-made) beer. Unfortunately, by this time it was approaching six o’clock in the evening and we still intended to drive Helvi back home before it got dark. Three other Saving Remnant students recognized our dilemma and gave us each a plate of salads and grilled beef that they had prepared for the evening feast. After the food, we quietly voiced our good-byes. Everyone else’s serious eating and drinking would only begin after sunset, we were told, and the next day pretty much the same was planned with Pandu’s family, except there wouldn’t be a second church-service. After witnessing the day’s events, Helvi quipped that she would rather elope or not marry at all.

SUNDAY, 28 September

Again we rose early, with one last side-trip planned before returning to Windhoek. As some of you know, in 2009 we plan to sponsor an additional student at the University of Namibia – a young woman living at the Osire Refugee Camp amidst 6500 other refugees from Angola and the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Today we got to meet the student along with her mother, grandmother, pastor, and volunteer-coordinator of the Osire Boys’ and Girls’ clubs, who had nominated her as the recent high-school graduate “most likely to succeed.”

Angolan-born Sofiana Silva, age 18, has lived in the Osire Refugee Camp since she was two years old. Her family of 12 occupies three small windowless rooms made of mud-bricks with dirt floors and a bare-tin roof, surrounded by a vegetable garden that Sofiana tries to maintain as much as possible. Cooking is done outside and there is one pit toilet two houses down, which several families share. As part of our tour, I asked to see where Sofiana sleeps: She is designated a corner of one bare room (without a light or candle) where there is a narrow cot that she shares with her sister (they sleep one head at each end of the bed, with a shared blanket).

It's hard to believe that such a completely devastating place could produce such an outgoing and accomplished young woman! Two years ago, Sofiana won a U.N. High Commission for Refugees’ scholarship to finish her high school education through grades 11 and 12. (In the refugee camp, schooling stops at Grade 10.) Unfortunately, many fellow-students shunned her as a refugee and accused her of taking up a space in the school that could otherwise go to a Namibian. Eventually, however, she found two friends. What kept her going? Sofiana clearly clings to her faith as a source of strength, but she also explained that every opportunity she receives comes with the responsibility to do her best and then help others -- her family and beyond – as much as she can.

Sofiana's academic interests lie with computer technology, which she hopes to combine with Media Studies. She told us how, in September, her best friend had persuaded her to use her last dollars for an application to the University of Namibia, even though she thought she had no hope of being able to attend. By contrast, now everyone in the family was singing praises - they see this as truly heaven-sent.

So do we. It will be a great privilege to help a young woman like Sofiana. With thanks for your support – emotional and otherwise -- we wish you the best for 2009.

221: Sand, Sun & Serious Work

After almost 12 years in Namibia, I still can’t get used to the fact that it’s cold in June and July and boiling hot when the festive season rolls around in December. Fortunately, this year we have been blessed by some early summer rains, so the dry spell that began last April has finally broken with new grass and scattered flowers growing in the fields.


At least the farmers are happy. By contrast, the Namibian news is filled with horror stories about the failed neighboring-state of Zimbabwe (some of our Zimbabwean friends have relatives who were beaten up by the Mugabe forces), and about the teetering Namibian economy that -- even under the best of circumstances – wobbles dangerously on the triple legs of tourism, mining, and a diminishing fishing industry. But over the last six months, to no-one’s surprise, tourist bookings are down; uranium prices have fallen; and the diamond companies are saying, quite bluntly, that no one is buying. Already one third of Namibians are living on less than US$1 a day.


GOOD NEWS WE’RE GLAD TO SHARE:

Among the good news we can share is that all twelve of our local tertiary students that we help sponsor did well this year. By way of example, Lucas (who lives with us) scored amongst the best in his class for Mechanical Engineering, and we have two seniors who are about to graduate with good jobs awaiting them in geology and accounting.


Ten days ago Bernd finished teaching and I returned from 2 weeks in Ethiopia, so last weekend we took all the students to the coast for a massive camp-out and Braii (traditional Namibian barbecue). On Saturday morning, we booked a sand-boarding adventure that is a lot like tobogganing except that it takes place on huge sand dunes.





















True to its eco-tourism identity, there is only a cheap piece of bendable pressboard between yourself and the hot sand, onto which you literally have to hold on for dear life. Bernd and I joined the adventure and clocked 68 and 60 kilometers per hour respectively going down the step slopes (45 and 40 mph). The students overcame a lot of their own fears in doing this, which felt very empowering -- and all of us had a blast. (Sorry that our photos could only be “before” and “afterwards.” In between there was too much blowing sand that could have ruined the camera.)











Speaking of students, this past year Bernd and I also took on a double-orphan who is studying economics, and we’re hoping to add at least one more for the coming year. To make that possible, we’re willing to match all donations that come in from friends, dollar-for-dollar, up to US$2000 (meaning that we would provide an additional US$2000, for a total of US$4000). We know this is a tough time for everyone, but if you are stumped for a holiday gift for someone, why not consider a contribution in that person’s name, instead? Any amount will be gratefully accepted.*

Our own holiday plans this year are simple. Bernd and I will return to the Coast for some writing, reading, craft-making and long walks on the beach: Bernd indulged me with a third dog so that will definitely keep us running! Elsita arrives on December 23rd after her year in El Salvador; thereafter we head north for a traditional wedding (I promise to write about that in my next Namibia Diary) and finally we return to the coast for New Year’s. Come January Elsita will have to decide whether she wants to try to find work in the USA (where most of her friends live) or stay here a little longer (where, despite the economic woes, her job prospects are probably better). Meanwhile, Sergio will spend his holidays with the U.S. Marines in Okinawa, Japan – he says he is bored there but we are thrilled that he is safe.


AN ETHIOPIAN REVOLUTION, ONE NEIGHBORHOOD AT A TIME:

My own international travels are over for 2008, although the Family Health International (FHI) office in Ethiopia will definitely require me to return soon after the New Year. The work is fascinating: FHI has helped transform traditional Ethiopian burial societies (called “Iddrs”) into mutual-aid organizations that focus on living people rather than only on the dead. It’s one of those silver-linings to the AIDS pandemic that always makes me stop and think about what else we might be missing, underneath the mounds of tragedy that generally accompanies this disease.

By way of background, traditional Iddrs span the entire county as local voluntary associations for every 3,000 - 5,000 people. Based on a Government mandate, Iddrs have historically collected a small payment every month from all households in their catchment area, in order to provide financial and logistical support for burial expenses when someone dies. But with the start of the AIDS pandemic, some local Iddr leaders realized that their priorities were all wrong: So many people were dying, often for lack of medicine and healthy food. So they said, “Why not take a portion of the money allocated to each person for funeral costs and allocate it for medicine and food while the person is still alive?” If the person still dies, they argued, this amount can be deducted from the death-benefit; but if the person lives, then the amount provided can be paid back once the person starts earning money again.

Brilliant, isn’t it? From this starting point, several local Iddrs underwent a complete sea change: they asked to have local volunteers trained in home based care, and then in orphan-care (which is where I come in), and finally in resource-development, service-co-ordination, and even in monitoring-and-evaluation. One challenge will be scaling this model out to cover more and more neighborhoods, but the potential is obvious. It also amazes me that all Iddrs members are volunteers; moreover they span all religious groups (Christian and Muslim) with the mandate that each family’s own religious customs must be respected.

The world needs more of this, that’s for sure. With Obamania flying high around the world, we know that the possibilities for positive change are endless. Meanwhile we wish you and yours all the best for a safe and happy holiday season. We appreciate your friendship, your support, and your correspondence.


*Money can be sent directly to the Saving Remnant Program at Catholic AIDS Action (tax deductible) at: Maryknoll Fathers and Brothers; Controller's Office; PO BOX 302; Maryknoll, NY 10545-0302… Please state that this donation is for the MISSION ACCOUNT of Fr. Richard W. Bauer, Namibia and for the SAVING REMNANT program. If you need a receipt, they can provide that for you, and if you don't want to be put on the Maryknoll mailing list, please also state that in your letter (otherwise you’ll get a lot of Catholic-related mail). The alternative is to make a bank deposit into our account in the USA or in Namibia or send a check to our power-of-attorney – let us know what you prefer and we’ll send you details.

220: Election Day in Western Kenya

This US election is the biggest story to hit Kenya in decades. I’m in Western Kenya doing Stephen Lewis Foundation work, but everyone else, it seems, has only the US election on the brain. One cameraman said this morning, “All the TV crews are here from Nairobi. What happens if there is a bomb in the capital? No one will be there to report it.” Obamania is how the newspaper headlines called this over the weekend.

For the last several days, you could not find a vacant hotel room in Kisumu (the main town in Western Kenya), for either love or money. As a frequent customer, two weeks ago I had to beg for a room. Eventually I got bumped up to a deluxe-suite as the only option left, albeit at a discounted rate. The breakfast room each morning buzzes with reporters from Canada, China, Japan, Israel, South Africa, Mauritania (!), the USA, and various European countries, as well as nearby Nairobi. I got to talk with quite a few of them. In some parts of the city, one can almost count as many Obama tee-shirts and caps here as on an American college campus.

Beginning a few weeks ago, the Obama extended family started gathering at their ancestral homestead in Kogelo, about 90 minutes from Kisumu. The police are only letting certified media reporters into the area. I heard that relatives erected a wall around the compound creating a kind of garrison village. One local resident characterized it as Barrack’s barracks – all in keeping with the country’s favorite son. As it happens, I visited Kogelo village about a year ago. Even at that time, every other shop and school had been renamed for the American senator. As one would expect, relatives have been saying that they are confident that Barrack Obama will win the US election. But no one wants to take the chance: Local soothsayers are doing a good business, sending spiritual messages to underscore more traditional religious prayers. (Hey – I support whatever will help!)

The main pre-election event, one reporter said, is that most of the family is just hanging around getting drunk. Malik Abong’o Obama, Barrack’s half-brother, has returned from the USA to take charge at the family compound and gives a daily press conference. He made it clear that the media can’t report on the alcohol consumption or else he won’t grant any more interviews. But he did say that the fact that the Kenyan government had moved to grade the dirt road leading to the village was an indication of better things to come.

On Saturday, the family held an Obama Cup – a series of soccer matches for TV and local sponsorships. Apparently, they had the family widows playing against the cousins; the grandmother’s side of the family against the grandfather’s, and so on. One reporter said, “The people love it but the soccer has been truly awful. The ball was always in the air, going in all directions.” No matter: After the games, one local newspaper reported that the family enjoyed a “bull roast.” By contrast to the rest of the family, however, the grandmother and great grandmother have gone into retreat – apparently exhausted by all the fuss and they don’t want to talk with anyone.

Also over the weekend, eleven huge billboards with Obama’s portrait and campaign slogan suddenly appeared all over the town of Kisumu. Nobody is saying who paid for them but many local people suspect Raila Odinga, Kenya’s Prime Minister from the opposition party. Odinga claims to be Obama’s cousin – though I couldn’t find out what the connection really is. “It’s like all Kenyans are Obama’s cousin,” said one reporter. This is not all innocent fun, however: Rumors are also circulating that, to further his own political goals, Prime Minister Odinga has said that with his being an ethnic Luo and Obama being ethnic Luo, he’ll now have an “in” to the White House over his political rival, President Kibaki.

What about the story that one of Barrack Obama’s aunts – his father’s half-sister – has been living illegally in the US for years? “A conspiracy dug up by Obama’s detractors,” one person said. “No comment,” said another. What’s interesting is that, seemingly, no one is saying that Barrack should interfere on his aunt’s behalf, although that would likely be the Kenyan way of doing things – one relative helping another. Instinctively, they realize that such an approach runs counter to the way a real democracy works, and that is not the American way.