It’s a Namibian Thing VI

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Here is a picture of the Oranjemund cricket ground highlighted at top right. This is where I learned to play cricket. Here and in the hardpacked sand alongside our house. After school and at PE lessons I seem to recall that Mr Dickenson would lead us out to the pitch for practice. It is also at this ground that my father hit a century off an international bowler. I have a photo of dad taking a cuppa tea during a break in his innings. Dad ran up 126. I never ever made a ton. I was always out before I reached 60 runs. Always.

Back at school, we did not have to worry about ruining the strip. That was taken care of by the green coir mat that was laid the length of the wicket for us kids. I had some fine innings here despite the cricket bat being almost as tall as I was and the balls getting help from the mat!

I also found my niche fielding position at slip. I spent most of my future cricket playing days at slip and forays at silly mid-on with some time at gully too. But it was at slip that I was most successful. Between balls being bowled and during the run-up and getting focussed and into the slip position for the delivery, you can get a lot of thinking done while fielding. So I turned my thoughts to learning the game and the intricacies and nuances of the bowler/batsman battle.

So I learned to focus on the oncoming ball and the batsman’s reaction. I took some fine catches as a result of always anticipating that the ball would nick off the bat and come my way. The constant anticipation played havoc with the nerves but paid dividends by way of the number of stops and catches I took throughout my cricket playing days which were cut short because my left knee gave in. I blame the red polished stoep at the front door entrance to our house. It was so slippery and as I was always in a rush, I slipped and tripped onto my knees a lot. So I think the beginning of the end of my cricket began on the highly polished stoep at 21 1st Ave..

After school when not at the hospital or walking off in the desert to the Pink Pan, I played cricket in the street with a few of my school buddies. There was a very quick bowler in our group. Well anyway I at least thought he was. The pain he inflicted on unguarded shins was enought to prove he bowled quickies. I faced a lot of balls from him and came to learn from his bowling action to depict where the ball would land. He had a good bodyline action, fine balance as evidenced by the run through after releasing the ball. And speed.

Just below the cricket field perimeter is what I think is part of the school and what I recall to be the netball courts behind the new external classrooms which were built to accomodate the increasing number of students. I used to walk to the gate at the end (left in the picture) to the white buildings of what I think were the Ovambo hospital. I stand corrected if I am wrong.

It was here that I called on the recuperating men, shared the bags of peanuts and ‘ooohed’ and ‘aaahed’ at the small kittens and pups they were allowed to care for and bring to good health. Lucky animals. Very kind and caring men. 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 VI