What a weekend! First, Windhoek, then church, dinner and laundry. I know this doesn’t SOUND like an interesting day in the States, but it makes for an interesting weekend in Nam.
Windhoek was quite an experience for several reasons. First, the cell phone buying debacle. Without boring you with the details, I felt like I was lost in a corn maze (hasn’t actually happened but I can imagine how it would go). Thankfully I finally made it out of the maze with a cell phone and I’m now happily discovering the fabulosity of T9 - which reminds me of the fact that I had to move to Africa in order to get texting and email (maybe even internet) on my phone – somebody please explain to me how that works!
Unfortunately, the only places we were able to see in Windhoek were the mall (Western culture at its finest) and the Old Location/Katatura (yet again, Westernism in its prime). Quick history lesson for those lacking in Nam historical knowledge: in the late 50s, during apartheid (South Africa ruled Nam for about 7 decades following WWI), non-whites were forced to move from the Old Location to new racially segregated neighborhoods outside of Windhoek (one of which was Katatura). Does this ring any bells? Indian Removal Act of 1830 and Andrew Jackson? Anyone?
Sunday morning began with church. My family was planning on going to church (in another neighborhood) but the transportation arrangements broke down. So…I somehow ended up going with a neighbor hosting another PCV. Again, I won’t bore you with the details but suffice it to say: I’ve done WI churches, clapped along in Honduran churches and hallelujahed in Baptist Mississippi churches, but nothing prepared me for an experience like this. From praise to anguish, this service (of 15 people including the accordion-playing pastor) topped them all.
After church (which lasted from 9 until about 11), the neighbor PCV (Chris) and I continued our Sunday experience by starting our joint dinner (Wisconsinese: supper) meal - tacos. Easy, right? Not if you’ve never made homemade tortillas. Needless to say, after nearly 4 hours of cooking, we are seasoned tortilla makers (no pun intended, really). It was worth all the effort, however, because the tacos (and cottage cheese crescent rolls for dessert) were well received.
Finally, laundry. Handwashing an item of clothing is one thing; handwashing an entire load of laundry is another. I just hope that all my clothes will survive two years of serious scrubbing and color-leeching laundry soap. Thankfully, I had a wonderful Namibian teacher (auntie) and translator (sister). After that experience (take-home prize: two blisters), my definition of “dirty” has radically changed.
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