TCE, Katima Mulilo

I’ve taken a bit of a blog sabbatical these last three weeks, keeping the phrase “if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” in mind. And indeed it has not been a joyous few weeks, Katima is still not my favorite place in the world, nor is this job. But it is time to suck it up, acknowledge that I am not going anywhere anytime soon, and make the most of it. So welcome to my new home…

The House. The house, while a complete and utter disaster upon arrival, is a cleaner complete and utter disaster three weeks later. We have acquired a fridge and second bed so Brian doesn’t have to sleep on the floor. Although because our living room furniture (two red plastic chairs) were causing serious back pain one bed has now been moved into the living room. It’s classy. The carpets and walls have been professionally cleaned, removing the pee smells and grease and food covering every vertical surface of the house. The bathroom has been bleached to within an inch of its life. After two bug bombs and a constant three can a week habit of bug spray, we are stemming the tide of cockroaches although for the life of me I don’t see why they still insist on living, or how for that matter. Our yard is probably the worst kept in the neighborhood, since I just can’t seem to get the hang of raking our sandyard every morning like everyone else. That being said, we have a DS TV where we can watch Top Gear, Will & Grace, and Supernanny to our hearts content, we have hot water, and our house is stocked with things like Pantene Pro V shampoo and even Kerrygold butter would you believe it – we are not exactly roughing it.

The Town. Katima Mulilo is a fairly large town by Namibian standards, set two miles from the Zambian border. (We are just at the top of the little finger jutting out from Namibia on the map, on the Zambezi River). The nearest Namibian town is 500km away and we are closer to the capital of Zambia than the capital of Namibia. Having grown up in the northeast, where towns don’t end, so much as run into other towns, this place has left me feeling both isolated and claustrophobic. Katima itself is a dusty, one road town with two main grocery stores and an outdoor market. It is a little bigger than Outapi but smaller than Oshakati. Although it is built along the Zambezi River you have to go to one of the lodges to see it – so far I haven’t seen a hippo or crocodile yet, although we went last Sunday to one of the lodges in search of one. Our house is set in a suburb about a half hours walk from the main street in a grid of suburban sand roads.

The Job. So far the job is fine, if not exactly inspiring. We have spent the last three weeks setting up a working database system. Inputting 3 years of paperwork into a computer isn’t exactly your idea of cutting edge development work but I am fairly confident that in the long run it will prove useful. And in the process I am learning some new Excel tricks. As a result of this new database system and Brian and I (mostly Brian) interrupting during Troop Meetings we are seeing a gradual change from merely yelling at Field Officers for not meeting weekly statistical goals to actual analysis of what the numbers mean. This week we are giving the Field Officers a ‘test’ to see how much they know so that we can begin to make courses for them. We are also kick starting a campaign to increase the numbers of Trios and Support Groups in the Troop, since these numbers are fairly disgraceful. More importantly, until the Field Officers form more Support Groups I won’t be able to do my Support Group training, and that wouldn’t do at all, now would it. Still, the main problems to be solved, and also the main reason I am not liking my new work/life situation, seem to be the direct result of the people.

The People. I am having a hard time figuring out the Namibian people. On the one hand in general I have found them to be friendly and polite, and generous at times, if not exactly welcoming. I think this is mainly because, bottom line, they do not have a sense of humor. Everything is so serious. Anastasia, one of the bosses in the head office who is from Zimbabwe (Despite the country being demonized in the West, Zimbabweans are fantastic, educated, friendly and DO have a sense of humor) said this was because “they spent so much time up north”. I think this is referring to the fact that during colonization indigenous Namibians were forced north of the Red Line, a line dividing the country between both black and white people and industrial and subsistence living. Therefore the majority of black Namibians have not only not travelled much outside a 400km radius, they also historically have had minimal education and have lived as subsistence farmers for centuries – and living hand to mouth does not exactly a comedian make.

Anyway, this is all used as a prefix to explain away the fact that I do not like those that I work with. I am sure they are nice people, they are just not nice to me. There is Anna, our boss, who is very nice but does not possess strong leadership skills (not a great quality in a boss) and as a result often comes across as just plain awkward socially. Katura, just below her, does possess leadership skills but is extremely rude. Fortune, who is in charge of the Field Officers, is my favorite as he has been the most welcoming by far. Then there is Sadness and Rodney, who are both fine I guess, just after three weeks I barely know them because they don’t say anything. By the way, names here in Caprivi are awesome – try Beauty, Pretty, Sadness, Fortune, Charity, and Trinity. In general, no one here is especially unfriendly (except Katura, who for some reason often will just ignore my good-mornings and good-byes as if I wasn’t there), they are instead indifferent to us being here. Which, as I learned during fundraising, is often far worse than hatred – at least when someone yells at you they are acknowledging you exist. We sit here in our small cubicle in the back of a large drafty warehouse, oftentimes the only ones here, and exchange good mornings and goodnights with our colleagues. Now how are we supposed to ‘capacity build’ in such an environment?

Even more awkwardly, the white population in Katima has been very friendly. So far we have met three white guys and each one has offered to take us around the area and show us around. In contrast, even when we had no bed, no fridge, and no food none of our colleagues offered to cook us food or even show us where the grocery store was, we had to find it ourselves or ask them. I keep excusing this as being a cultural thing, but this explanation is starting to wear thin. Last weekend Brian went out into town with Bruno, who owns a local sweet shop. And on Sunday we went with Julian, who works in the warehouse across from us, to one of the lodges in the hopes of seeing a hippo (we didn’t). This makes me feel partly uncomfortable and partly a failure. Uncomfortable because I feel like I am inadvertently playing into the prevailing culture of black/white separation by only being friends with white Namibians. And a failure because I know that other DI friends in other countries are forging close relationships with local communities and people, and I seem to be unable to. On the other hand, these people that we have met have been the only ones to reach out to us, and whether I like it or not the fact remains that the white Namibian culture is closer to ours than the black one.

So welcome to Katima – a dusty, bleak town as far out in the middle of nowhere as you can get, but I guess, for now at least, its home.