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.