Entries from April 2007 ↓

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Here is a picture of Oranjemund long before I was born. It’s stark. Not a lot of green. In fact there is zero greenery. Look at it. This is what my ‘pioneering’ parents came to from the UK after WW2.

No rationing or a cottage in sleepy village in Oxfordshire for them. No. They’d rather chuck it all in, follow a dream and go live in a box in the sand in the world’s oldest desert!

I cannot relate to their determination to seek a new life in Africa if meant going to live in a pondok. But they’d just come through the war and I suppose this was the lesser of two evils maybe?

Truth is, my dad had skills that De Beers needed. They, (De Beers and the township elders) did not know it but my mum had skills and talent too. Her talents would reveal themselves in later years once the township matured into a fullblown town and childcare became an issue. She founded the nursery school. Its’ a Namibian thing.

I have been away too long. I will be back. I need to get earthed again.

It’s A Namibian Thing

Radio Shack
From: RadioShack
To: RadioShack employees
Subject: Your former job

In August, RadioShack fires 400 staffers via e-mail. Affected employees receive a message that reads, “The work force reduction notification is currently in progress. Unfortunately your position is one that has been eliminated.”

COURTESY OF:

Radio Shack

Here is a picture of where I was born. It’s beautiful. An oasis of green. Look at it. Take your time and see how many key community features you can pick out.

Answers at the bottom of the page.

Don’t scroll down because there are no answers there. How many of you immediatley scrolled all the way down to the bottom of the page? Be honest. You did didn’t you. Tsk tsk!

The brown sandy bits surrounding the town were my playground. My mates and I would spend hours in the desert and we learnt that being barefoot could be hazardous to ones health. Especially if you stopped walking and were stood beside an ankle high dried out shrub with a puffadder curled up beneath it. Its skin ended up being prepped as a band for my scout hat. But it was too short so languished at the back of my sock drawer until eventually almost a year later mom’s shrieks alerted dad and me to the fact that at long last she had found it! I smiled at dad. He grinned back. Its’ a Namibian man thing.

If you read Max’s interview of me, you will learn that the hospital patients, both human and animal, (situated immediately left of the point where the dirt road leading up from the bottom of the picture meets the outskirts of the town proper) featured a lot in my life from birth until I went to boarding school in South Africa. It’s a Namibian thing.

I have been away too long. I will be back. I need to get earthed again.

It’s A Namibian Thing