Life in Nam: Week 16

Are we fine?

I’ve returned from Namibia and am blogging from home. Nothing quite “wild West” about the ‘burbs of Northern Virginia, except for the cowboy boots I’m wearing. Traveling from full-on summer and sunshine to short days of winter was something of a shock to the system. Crisp days are certainly more festive and not as jarring as snowflake streetlights on a sweltering, 34 degree C day.

Four months was long enough to have time and space to think, to become acquainted with a place, to observe interactions and take part in a process, and to meet amazing people and travel to stunning landscapes. Four months is not long enough to walk away with a sense that I’ve contributed. I was leaving just as I was beginning to form friendships in a meaningful way, settling into a routine, and connecting friends and colleagues to each other. From a workplace perspective, it was difficult to walk away when the process was incomplete, the same problems plagued the group, an enormous public health issue still looms and when donor funding is in “transition.” No, you can’t solve it all in 4 months. It is about the journey, and one hopes to give a bit and take something in return. Hopefully, this will not be my only chance to visit and contribute to a country I’ve come to love.

There are plenty of things I will miss: the sunsets, stars and sense of community with a small town feel. The phrases: “is it?!” “babbelas” “are we fine?” and “floozies” (for your dearest friends, of course). I will miss the people. Eric, the taxidermist now taxi driver of Tswana descent who I befriended. Lovely Lerine, who has a heart of gold. Some of the dedicated and passionate people I met through work, particularly the CDC folk. 2 Canadians a Brit, the lawyers/interns who never ceased to amaze with their talents and borderline inappropriateness. And the accomplished and uber-competitive women in my running group (may they cross the finish line strong at Comrades)!

Namibia strips away the pretenses, forces you to contemplate, lays bare your deepest longing, and reminds you to enjoy it all along the way...

Life in Nam: Week 15

The Power and the Glory

December 1st is World AIDS Day, and so on Wednesday night, the US Embassy and a group called Spoken Word co-hosted a poetry slam. An impressive turnout of talent and recent stardom (which included the newly crowned "Mr. Gay Namibia." Unfortunately, there is still a long way to go for tolerance of the gay community in Namibia: http://www.informante.web.na/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=9180&Itemid=1&PHPSESSID=bbfca61f1633f0cd4dd9e288223c3509).

The evening was quite different than previous song nights at the Playhouse Theater. A poetry reading seemed the perfect way to express the complexity and impact of the epidemic on individual lives. It was an evening of bravery, honesty, and raw emotion.

5x7 Folded Card

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Life in Nam: Week 15

Figuring it out.



The perfect road trip weekend. Two gals hit the road heading west to Swakopmund. We threw our bags and bikes in the back of Andrea’s VW “kombie” (with a Grateful Dead sticker on the back), Paul Simon and John Lee Hooker on the cassette player, and the car, nicknamed “Shanti” (or White Lightning III, as I referred to her), drove a steady 100km/hr. All of this in order to swim, bike, run...

It was a typically overcast coastal morning. We stood on the beach near the Jetty, waiting for our turn to swim through epic swells in 16 degrees C. The 2011 Desert Triathlon was not exactly on my “to do” list when I arrived in Namibia a few months ago. But when I met up with a group of hard core runners here, they quickly convinced me to step outside of my comfort zone for the open water (ocean!) swim. So I joined the group of other insane wetsuit-clad athletes and proudly finished, albeit slowly. (I blame flat tires and the ridiculously challenging swim conditions: http://www.namibian.com.na/news/full-story/archive/2011/december/article/murphy-wins-desert-triathlon/)


If this is not figuring it all out, then this is pretty damn good.

Weeks 13 and 14

Le temps passe vite!

It's true what they say about Cape Town being Africa's "mother city." One instantly feels at home. The Cape offers everything - amazing food, wine, people, art, culture, beaches, shopping... and all with the stunning backdrop of Table Mountain.

If the dunes of Sossusvlei bring to mind the gates of hell, then the Saturday farmer's market in Cape Town is a little piece of heaven. If Namibia is famous for its desolate beauty, then Cape Town is it alter ego. Stunning in saturated color and eclectic in everythingness, for me, Cape Town was love at first sight. The highlights: hiking Table Mountain, driving to Cape Point, hanging on for dear life as Dad drove us down Chapman's Peak, watching the sunset from Signal Hill, touring Robben Island, finding an art studio hidden in a castle, checking out a hipster bar in Kloof.

The city - and its history - are works in progress. Huge areas such as District Six where blacks were forced from their homes are still virtually uninhabited. While it is progressive, dynamic, colorful and thriving, there are always two sides to every story.

Life in Nam: Week 12

The Game of Life.

Something about visiting the world's oldest desert brings people together like family. The dunes at Sossusvlei are visually stunning, and I was fortunate to share the experience with my Dad and brother, Max, who are visiting for a few weeks.

Sossusvlei ("source of water") is nestled in the Namib desert, in a pristine national park approximately 4 to 6 hours (depending upon how many flat tires) southwest of Windhoek. We camped just outside the park with a group of twelve fascinating and surprisingly outgoing travelers from Canada, Finland, Ireland, Israel, America, and Japan. Together the group ventured into Dead Vlei (see photo), a place captivating and beautiful in its simplicity. Yet it's what one imagines the gates of hell might look like, with desolate, cracked earth, and where the most dynamic things are the shadows. I felt far, far away from DC or NYC. There are no pretenses in the desert. (Well, except for some of the 5 star lodges catering to wealthy tourists along the way)

Between hiking the dunes, sightings of springbok, ostrich, and desert zebra, and my Dad giving "free advice" to the youngsters on the trip, we had a great time with our very memorable group. One fellow traveler introduced us to the game of life. If you ever say the word mine you're subject to 10 push ups. And the game never ends. ever. for life.

A simple lesson, in the simplest of surroundings, about sharing. This experience was ours.

Life in Nam: Week 9

There are plenty of characters in this town, and many were out in full cultural splendor during the Oktoberfest/Halloween weekend. Oktoberfest in Windhoek is similar to, but much smaller than, the one in Germany: day drinking, live music, supersize beer steins, lederhosen, dirndls, a mechanical bull, and drunk old men.
Following a few hours at Oktoberfest, I accompanied Lerine and Charene to Kiepie’s, the late night Afrikaner bar. Imagine a roadhouse in Oklahoma (á la Scooters) with a band playing 80s hits and entertaining a crowd of couples two-stepping and those on the brink of a bar brawl. Lucky for me, a Rod Stewart look-alike wanted to teach the unteachable American how to two-step.

Wednesday was song night at the Playhouse Theater, featuring some incredible local talent. I went in support of my new friend, Gloria Song. Quite possibly the most authentic stage name ever. Preferring, however, to go by “Gloria Guns,” she’s a Korean-Canadian who sings country and plays the guitar. Not so typical here in Windhoek. After her performance, Gloria was approached by a recording studio! One only hopes she’ll become the biggest thing to hit Namibia since Westlife.

On Sunday, I found a great excuse to dress up and celebrate Halloween with a group of “hashers” who hike the trails (of which there are many) in and around the city. Given his ties to Namibian history, I felt it appropriate to dress as Fidel Castro, with a tin foil beard. Creativity comes with limited resources...

Life in Nam: Week 8

Survival of the fittest

In a country with the highest income inequality in the world, where unemployment is at 50%, one would think an “Occupy Windhoek” might take shape. Not so…at least not yet. Globally, faith in institutions is deteriorating, largely due to poor resource allocation by governments. So where does Namibia stand? Its recent designation as an Upper Middle Income country may have taken away a perceived urgency in solving many problems. But there now exists urgency among external donors (in the area of HIV/AIDS) to transition a greater role to the government in funding and resource allocation.

Namibians (I generalize based on conversations/reading the local papers) are angry that their government is spending $15 million on luxury Mercedes for the highest public officials. One wonders, how many lives could be saved with that $15 million? How many nurses or doctors could be trained with that money? Okay, yes, $15 million is small potatoes in comparison to the US DoD budget. But I ask again, how many lives could be saved with that $15 million?

As I’m learning at site visits to TB/ART clinics, just one of the many challenges in this transition is training local clinical staff to meet the country’s health care needs. In some of these clinics, only 2 doctors and a handful of nurses tend to thousands. It’s a constant numbers game – funding, resource allocation, capacity building. And yet, this is the second least densely populated country on the planet (Mongolia takes first place). It is a place of stunning contrasts, and lifestyle is no exception. By sheer numbers, as an Upper Middle Income country, Namibia should be able to provide for anyone and everyone.

So why the disparity? Is Namibia where Charles Darwin meets Nouriel Roubini?

Life in Nam: Week 7ish

In search of the desert elephants...

Damaraland, Vingerklip, and Twyfelfontein: places that sound, and look, like fairy tale locations. Damaraland is in northwest Namibia, about 6 to 7 hours from Windhoek. Named after the Damara people (and geographically designated as their "official" home, during apartheid), the region is sparsely populated and in parts, seems completely uninhabitable. At every turn, the landscape is distinct - canyons, sedimentary rock mountains, hills covered in boulders where the earth was flipped inside out. At points we were only 60km (as the crow flies) from the Skeleton Coast. Yet a drive to the coast on gravel and salt roads would have taken hours. (note: of the 35,000km of roads in Namibia, only 5,000km are “tar roads.”)

So the real adventure of the weekend (fortunately, not more car trouble) was finding a rare herd of desert elephants near a natural spring on the Ugab River. Sigi, our guide, is a South African who has devoted his life to being in the wild. He had been following these particular dozen elephants for over eight years and came to know them so well, that he witnessed the birth of lucky number 13: a tiny baby elephant born on July 23, 2011. Driving through the bush and subsequent stargazing, it was clear that Sigi knew the terrain and the southern night sky like the back of his hand.

In Namibia, what you lack in GPS you make up for with a cooler full of beer to toast a successful elephant sighting.

Life in Nam: Week 5

Namibia: 3. Stupid Americans: zero.

(This score is beginning to look a lot like a South Africa vs. Namibia rugby game. Someone is losing pretty significantly because they are quite the amateur and in over their head.)

So let’s just say two stupid Americans - names have been changed to protect the innocent - decided to drive a Mazda 6 (affectionately known as “White Lightning II”) from Windhoek to the Soussesvlei dunes – about 400km of gravel roads. While there may not be the traffic as in Washington, DC, forces of nature – rain, rocks - become real obstacles here. Due to the inordinate amount of rain this year (by Namibian standards) parts of the road were flooded and thus impassable in a Mazda 6. So, we took the prudent approach and turned around, only to immediately hit a rock that cracked our engine, leaked oil, and led to the engine seizing.

Did I mention we were in the middle of the desert with no cell phone coverage?

…Fortunately, we were only 1km from the home of a lovely self-described “farmer woman” named Caroline. We sheepishly (no pun intended) explained to her our predicament and asked to use her phone to call a tow truck. The sun was setting, and the tow driver explained he would arrive the next morning. Caroline graciously offered a place for us to stay, and the three of us chatted and shared dinner over a bottle of South African wine.

It was an unintended, but fascinating encounter. The farm has been in her family for years. Her husband owns the neighboring farm, second marriage for both, grown children living around the globe, and a family that has hiked Kilimanjaro and sailed hobie cats together. She explained to us how nice it is to live such an isolated existence (the stargazing from her back porch was incredible). She travels to Windhoek once a month for supplies for the farm. Her stories illuminated a life of growing up under apartheid and farming in a rugged, challenging environment.

Needless to say, we were not the first silly travelers with car trouble to knock on her door. Nor the first Americans. She was very eager to share her opinions of American politics, policies, and presidents. I wish I could say that my inept driving skills and annoying American habits are making amends for the Bush presidency.

Namibia is teaching me: don’t try to fight it. Just let it go. As the inscription on the inside of the Windhoek Lager bottle cap says: “Keep it real.” Or, just get a huge 4WD “bakkie” and your problems should be solved.

Life in Nam: Week 4

On the road again…

Transportation in Namibia requires one to employ a creative combination of mission planning and fatalism. I learned this the hard way, when enroute to the Erongo Wilderness we had not one, but two flat tires. On my first day of driving in Namibia (in a manual Chevy Aveo on the left side of the road), we had a tire blowout at oh, about 120km/hr on the highway somewhere between Okahanja and Karibib. Ordinarily, this would not have been a problem, but when our spare tire started leaking, my Irish laborer and travel companion immediately went into MacGuyver/fighter pilot mode and said, “quick, chew gum and we’ll patch up the tire!”

Namibia = 2. Well-trained former Air Force pilots = zero.

Fortunately, sunsets here still look amazing from the side of the road. We eventually made it to our destination (8 hours later) and had a great hike and hearty breakfast.

Because of the distance between places, there’s just no rushing things here. Public transportation in Windhoek is basically nonexistent, so I’ve relied upon work colleagues, friends, a reliable taxi driver named Wendy (kinda like a boy named Sue), and as of a few days ago, a piece of sh$# Mazda I like to call “White Lightning.” Whatever, I have wheels.

Life in Nam: Week 3.0 "Work"

Numbers. Excel spreadsheets will make one think (and dream) a lot about numbers. I’m learning that regardless of the size of the budget, declining resources inevitably force tough decisions...and hopefully prioritization. Whether it's a $5 billion nuclear nonproliferation budget or a health budget in the millions, in the face of austerity, the questions and issues are similar no matter where you sit: how to do more with less, how to plan with uncertainty, and how to manage risk as resources are shifted.

I’m finding that more important than the actual budget numbers, however, is our behavior. How we interact with each other, how we use the processes in place, how we communicate, decide, kick cans down roads, discard processes, lay blame, give up... Our behavior directly affects our investment decisions. Sound processes and rational behavior should lead to smart allocation of resources. So why do declining resources force such dysfunction? And what’s the remedy?

Leadership. Guidance to steer the process and give direction.

(It occurs to me that I could just as easily have been writing about Congress as anywhere else on the globe right now)

Life in Nam: Week 3.2 “Play”

Ahh...Windhoek Weekends. Namibia is not for the faint of heart (nor for vegetarians). Just when you think you have the place pinned down, it surprises you. The past ten days have taken me to photography exhibits by local artists, salsa dancing lessons on a rooftop, a guest farm out in the Kalahari, home-cooked Ethiopian, Indian, and a “braai” with colleagues, and an outdoor concert headlined by an Irish boy band.

To try to compare this town to anything would be like trying to describe a combination of Burning Man, “The English Patient,” and “Friday Night Lights.” Although quieter than most capital cities, Windhoek is an intriguing mix of things one doesn’t expect. Varied languages on the street – from Afrikaans to German to Oshiwambo or San dialects (!Kung San). An evolving identity post-independence: ie. directions to Windhoek’s most noticeable landmark, Christukirche, requires driving to the intersection of Fidel Castro Street and Robert Mugabe Avenue. And you can never tell if a local favors soccer, cricket or rugby. Most locals are cheering for South Africa, rather than Namibia, in the rugby World Cup (sidenote: the South African "springboks" or "boks" just beat Fiji!).

This weekend was the much-anticipated “Hart van Windhoek” (heart of Windhoek) concert, an outdoor festival that brought together Afrikaner pop stars and the band Westlife – the biggest thing to hit Namibia since UB40. Westlife is not very big in America (if they are, somehow I missed it) but they put on a great show to a diverse, all ages, crowd of about 15,000 people. My three lovely guides for our night on the town were Lerine, Charene, and Nadine, who quickly taught me about the country’s obsession with pop music, Jaegermeister, and shots of cherry vodka.

On Saturday some work colleagues and I took an impromptu road trip into the Kalahari. Sightings of baboons, springbok, and Oryx along the way are very common. The Kalahari is surprisingly lush, although the clear difficulty for farming is finding a reliable water source. Farm Kiripotib is a working sheepfarm that boasts a jewelry workshop, carpet weaving, a guest house, and two runways! No shortage of interesting characters on the farm as well. Phinneaus, a master weaver of the San tribe, taught me how to play the traditional game of Ovelo. The farm owner, Hans George van Haus, is a private pilot who has had the farm in his family for generations. Each year, he and his very stylish wife, Claudia (the jewelry designer), host a group of international glider pilots. With any luck, I’ll blog about a glider flight in the Kalahari in a few weeks…

Life in Nam: Week 2

It’s spring here, and I’m loving the sun, wind, and lack of humidity. Given the three-day weekend, it was suggested I take advantage of the dry season and head up to Etosha National Park. I went with a tour group (renting a car by oneself is very expensive here) and we had incredible luck. Just a bit of what we saw: a herd of 20 elephants, a lion pride eating a dead kudu carcass (yuck, but also very cool to witness from about 20 feet away), a black rhino (endangered and typically very shy, that approached our vehicle), countless zebra, giraffe, wildebeest, springbok, gemsbok, spotted hyenas, vultures, etc.

Our group itself was a varied species: two German couples, a group of Scandinavian women, a Dutch guy, an older Italian gentleman, a Scottish medical student, and me, the American mutt.

Aside from the sunsets, the highlight was the Okaukuejo water hole, which at dusk was like a well-orchestrated theater. "Darwin: In Action!" First, the giraffes arrived, followed moments later by the elephants. Then lions, who scared off the giraffe, then much later, the rhino. Tough to pull yourself away from the scene, so I ended up watching for well over two hours. We went on a few “game drives” throughout each day and then camped in the park.

Note: springbok also taste very good as sausage.

Life in Nam: Week 1

Windhoek sits in a mountainous plateau region, separating the sands of two deserts – the Namib and the Kalahari. Descending into Windhoek's Hosea Kutako airport, I was reminded of similar geography I’ve descended into...Kirkuk, Kandahar, Woomera, southwest Oklahoma. This time, it’s the State Department that has brought me to the desert – and I owe a tremendous thanks to my hosts. I am extremely lucky to have the opportunity to contribute to this work, and to enjoy the people, climate, and landscape of Namibia.

With approximately 400,000 people, Windhoek is Namibia’s metropolis, an urban center with a small town feel. One local described it as sleepy, but I get a sense of something underlying the sleepiness just waiting to be vocalized.

To me, Windhoek feels like a Western town with a Deep South secret. It’s a young country with a challenging past (colonialism, a legacy of apartheid), so I’m curious to see what the next few months reveal as reality. Colleagues and locals have already cautioned that Namibia is not the rosy picture painted by statistics and travel guides. And given the work I’ll be doing, I’m eager to get to know the people and the stories behind the numbers. Namibia has one of the highest GINI coefficients in the world (about .70, used to measure income inequality). The contrast is apparent on Independence Avenue, where locals walk among ritzy leather and jewelry shops that cater to wealthy tourists. Two very telling conversations last week (one with two Namibian women of Afrikaans descent, and one who grew up in a small tribal village in the north) also revealed some of these inherent contrasts in Namibia's history and culture. More on this in a future post.