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Here is a picture of Oranjemund’s swimming pool. Date unknown but this is where my father taught me to swim at the tender age of 1yrs old. He took me into the water with him and then let go of me and waited to see what happened.
This was a pioneering technique back then. He did not know if I’d sink like a stone and die or do what we now know babies do in water - swim as if it’s their natural environment. I did swim. Immediately. Apparently I stayed underwater showing zero signs of panic and kicked my little legs to gain momentum. For many years to come I preferred being underwater. Even today while underwater I feel as if I am in my element, my universe. But back then, dad took a risk. He shocked his buddies!
My earliest memory of the pool and buildings was when it was surrounded outside by dense lines of of conifers. As a kid we would swim and climb these trees then go and swim again. Our favourite pool games were the dangerous corner touch and the less dangerous multi-bombing.
Bombing entailed getting about ten or so of your mates to line up behind you on the highest diving board and then jumping off in the bomb position immediately one after the other to create and maintain a large plume of water. On impacting the water, each bomber would disperse the area by diving to the bottom either left or right of the impact zone. This ‘game’ was taken from black and white war movies of a Lancaster bombers releasing their payloads over some target. Well to us it was run-of-the-mill sport except when your mate behind jumped too soon and landed on your head. When this type of mishap occurred, and it did many times, it was a bugger to remain focussed to clear the impact zone underwater! But we did and no lasting ill-effects manifested.
The pool was managed by Mrs Van der Hoeven. She loved chlorine. Oh boy was that water chlorinated. This led to many confrontations with my mother. From my perspective, being an underwater swimmer, meant you had to see where you were in order to navigate between the hundreds of thrashing legs of all the other swimmers. Protracted periods underwater with eyes open led to my pond scum coloured eyes going red. And I mean ‘R.E.D’ !
My mother thought this was unhealthy. I on the other hand did not care. I was having fun. Loads of fun. It’s a Namibian thing.
I have been away too long. I will be back. I need to get earthed again.
