Formalisation is life.
John and friend
Yes, I don’t know what it means either. There is a new law that says everyone has to pay to register their land that they have lived on for generations. It is not just the cost of administration but constitutes a substantial tax on the poor. A Community Volunteers Day was organised to advertise the benefits of Formalisation. I would not have touched it with a barge pole (if I had one) had not John, our gardener, been involved in the drama competition. Bruce, Linda’s partner, and I were at the market by nine in the morning, the appointed time for this entertainment. We expected a few minutes of street theatre where a few actors improvised while a crowd stood around cheering. Instead, we found the market set out like a huge theatre with a large stage and many chairs. They were expecting a very large audience. We were shown to the front and had VIP rosettes pinned to our shirts. We felt like prize exhibits in a cattle show. We sat and waited…and waited…and waited. Nothing was happening. I went off to do my shopping. They were singing the Namibian National Anthem when I returned. It was refreshing to see how seriously they took this. Even those on the periphery who could have got away with chatting amongst themselves stood solemnly. The government feels it important that the many tribes should be united as one Namibia. They have chosen English as their official language as English, one Namibian politician told us, “is the language of liberation, of freedom”. “The different tribal regions will be able to talk together and Namibia will be one nation.” We hope that his instincts are right. At the moment, most Namibians speak to each other in their own language, though all business, commerce, media and education is in English. Most schools are failing partly because the learners do not have a good command of English. Also, the education system is generally mismanaged by incompetents and the corrupt. Otherwise, they are doing fine.
After the anthem came the introduction of guests. The market hall was large and the public address system inadequate. They spoke in English with a Rukwangali translation. We heard the same speeches twice, but didn’t understand them once. It didn’t matter as, with a booming sound system, it all sounded like one big blur. We could make out about one word in ten. The honoured guests stood up and waved to the audience. I thought I heard the Master of Ceremonies say the letters “VSO”. He was staring at us. Bruce had casually mentioned to the lady who seated us that we were vaguely connected with VSO. Suddenly, we were their official representatives and honoured guests. We stood up and gave the audience a wave. The Mayor gave a speech, the chief Technical Adviser gave a speech, the Chief Liaison Officer gave a speech. Each time, somewhere along the line the letters “VSO” were mentioned and we smiled sweetly and appropriately.
frangipani (should have been in the last post).
We had been there since 9am and there was still no sign of the drama.
“I’m going at 11.30 if the drama hasn’t begun,” I said to Bruce, who particularly wanted to see the plays as he does some directing back home. I was bored out of my mind.
The time for the drama came and went. The lady speaker, who didn’t need a public address system, started giving out certificates, which shouldn’t have happened until after the drama. They had changed the order of the programme. We had sat around all morning for nothing. That was enough for me, and for Bruce. We exited stage right, pursued not by a bear but by gardener John who was a bit disappointed that we were not prepared to waste the rest of our lives waiting for a non-existent play. In fact, the 9am dramas did not start until 1pm. No-one was surprised except us. Delay is the African way. We should have known better. Unfortunately, John’s drama team, though highly comic, did not win, but it was a great day for Formalisation and I didn’t waste the rest of my life.