Tsumeb 1 Luxury
The town of Tsumeb was the location for the second part of VSO training. It is an old copper mining town about 2 hours drive from Rundu and is a tiny version of Windhoek. This old German town has green lawns, smart shops, pavements and even traffic lights. One of the more charming characteristics of this place is that there is very little traffic. I stood in the middle of Main Street at 5.30pm on a Saturday afternoon and there was not a vehicle to be seen in either direction, not even parked. In any other town I would have been flattened in seconds. Most of the time it is a ghost town but comes alive at midday when the shop workers take their lunch break and loll against the walls or sit on the pavements. Several cars can then be seen congesting the road. I once saw a queue of three cars at the lights in the centre of town. No doubt the town authorities will bring in a congestion charge if it gets worse. At least, I think the lights are traffic lights, though they seem to serve no real purpose as the traffic is so light. The alternative explanation is that they are the Christmas lights left over from last year. They are bunched in groups facing all directions and are seen at best advantage from the exact centre of the junction. I stood there one evening (there was no danger as there was no traffic) and watched spell-bound as they twinkled at me like lights on a Christmas tree. It was all I could do to stop myself from bursting into a verse of “Hark the Herald Angels sing”.
We were reunited with the other new volunteers full of new experiences and enthusiasm (Oh, to be young again). They are scattered around north Namibia, mostly in places with names beginning with “O” that are totally forgettable. They all loved their jobs, the people and the country.
Our VSO leaders had the best rooms in the best hotel in town. The rooms led off a small courtyard shaded by luxuriant flowering shrubs and overhanging trees in which the swimming pool was situated. A stone sculpture, reminiscent of an Italian villa stood next to the pool. We, the volunteers were destined for self-catering bungalows but the first of our group to arrive were horrified, designated them a “gulag” and refused to stay there. Consequently, we were booked into the second best hotel in town. This was still pretty good luxury and every time I had a hot shower, a huge breakfast, lunch and dinner, I mentally thanked all those VSO donors who had given their precious money to make this luxury possible for us. Admittedly, this was an exceptional circumstance, but in the interests of solidarity and not wishing to squander meagre resources on such opulent living, maybe VSO staff should have been prepared to join us in cheaper accommodation. This, however, would have gone against Namibian/African culture where the few at the top get to spend foreign donations on conferences in the best venues, with expensive accommodation and meals while the great majority at the bottom eke out a meagre existence on “pap” (maize meal) in a mud hut. I have heard it argued, by people who should know better, that this sort of thing is understandable as Namibia is a young country (18 years) and still developing. We should be more understanding when they squander on luxury money that could have helped alleviate poverty. But hey, that’s teenagers all over, isn’t it?
We walked around the Cultural Village Museum exhibiting a variety of huts made by different tribes. Those of us with open sandals became suddenly aware that they were being eaten by ants. Some managed to find a rock to stand on out of their way, but most of us jumped up and down, stamping our feet to shake off the painful creatures. Having seen a few African dances, I am convinced that this was how they started. When you stamp your feet you automatically spread out your arms to keep balance. All you then need is a young man with loads of energy to expend, thrashing the living daylights out of a drum, and you have an authentic African dance. Try it, unless you have a weak heart and/or don’t want to look like an idiot.
It’s good to stamp in Africa. One of the volunteers trod on a scorpion without realising it during the lecture on land reform. The rest of us had fallen asleep. It was the only exciting thing that happened that afternoon.