A Day In The Life

How about a story about my day? Because it’s been a long one! It started like any other. I went to work early and taught my class. At noontime however Katarina and Claire (the two German girls I live and work with) show up at the site in the back of this safari combi-truck. That day was Katarina’s birthday and the locals that we work with found out. So there was quite a day ahead of us. We climbed in the back of this flatbed and drive for about 30 minutes over dirt roads with dust flying in our faces. About 10 women had begun to prepare this big traditional Namibian lunch for us. Because it was Kata’s birthday, she had the honor of killing the two chickens we would have to eat. Claire and I then had to help prepare the chickens for her, which includes draining the blood and plucking them. On an unrelated note, I am now a vegetarian. How does one kill a chicken you ask? Well it’s a very simple process. *WARNING* First you grab the chicken by the neck. Then you swing it in a circle three times over your head to get momentum (feel free to skip ahead at this point) and finally, on the fourth swing you abruptly change directions and effectively snap the chickens neck. After the first chicken, poor Kata could not do the rest and went to find a quiet spot to throw up. That spot, which we dubbed the Erbrechen Corner (Erbrechen is German for Vomit) would be visited by all three of us throughout the day, no less that 3 times each. We then had to participate in three different tribal dances while the rest of the meal was prepared and then personally thank all the cooks by accepting each part of the meal from one of them by giving the ‘Namibian Handshake’ with two hand while simultaneously bowing and then putting our fist over our heart and saying “Damkie”. (It is pronounced damm-gee and it means ‘thank you’). Everything is piled into a bowl and you eat it with your middle finger, index finger, and thumb on your right hand. In Namibia, almost all foods are starch based because they need their meals to be filling. Our meal included the following: Omutete (a heavy and thick spinach), Carrots and Cabbage Salad, Oshingali (a yellow, soupy porridge), Oshifima (a thick pap-like gray paste), Oxuxwa (the chicken we had ‘prepared’ earlier), rice, and to drink we had a local brew called Oshilcundu. That can best be described as chunky, sour, fermented milk with sand in it. Some of the food was actually quite good, but other parts not so much. However, the piece de resistance was dessert (a.k.a. the last taste you will have in your mouth in a while). The local delicacy: Omaungu. Omaungu is a local bug that is about the size and thickness of your thumb, green and black, and is a cross between a worm and a caterpillar. We were each given a bowl of 10.
After our unique meal we were then invited to play the drums with a couple of Rastafarian men named Bogo and Jerry. That lasted about an hour and, in case you were wondering, I am terrible at the drums. Then we headed back in the combi only to get a flat tire on the way home. Who are the only two people who know how to change a tire? Myself and a man named Marus; who has a broken leg. That took another 45 minutes. When we get back to our house, Elka (the crazy German woman we live with) is in a ‘lovers quarrel’ with her boyfriend who is 30 years younger than her and she is throwing brown sherry bottles at him. We quickly decide to leave and move onto our next plan which was to take Kata out for a birthday dinner at a local restaurant. The dinner party included Kata, Claire, myself, and 4 of our German friends that we either live with or know, Annd, Eva, Kirsten, and Sebastian. It was a good meal and a very nice night out because we met this very old Australian man who talked to us for a while and then left, but not before he had gotten hold of our waitress and paid for all of our dinners and left before we knew. He said he “admired what we did and we deserved a night off” and paid for our dinner!
But the night is not over because luckily Thursday nights are open mic night at Namibia’s only Karaoke Bar. And the only people who take Karaoke more seriously than Namibians, are Germans! I absolutely could not believe the crowd. To add to my surprise, apparently all first-timers have to sing a song before they leave. And they MEAN IT. I was watched the whole time and was prevented from leaving at the end of the night. Therefore, Annd and I had to sing ‘Heartbreaker’ by Pat Benatar. When I was finally done, the DJ took me aside and said it was okay if I came back but he asked me if "I could please not sing there again.” And no I was not offended because Yes I am that bad! When we finally got up the courage to go home, we snuck in thru the garage because the lovers were still at it and went to sleep but that was only after the guard geese attacked our legs…again.
Ironically, I am surprised this is the first time I have had a day like this…