Ek het nog baie oefening vir die weë van Afrika nodig.
Ek moes nou twee nagte so 20km van die Windhoek lughawe oornag, 25km van Windhoek self.
Verblyf in Windhoek is vir my oordrewe duur. Ek kom toe Donderdag laatmiddag by die Airport Lodge aan. Op 'n heuweltjie met 'n mooi uitsig staan 'n klompie grasdak chalets. Ek het besluit dat ek daar gaan bly. Ek het nie sleg gebly of geëet nie, maar die plek het nie met my siel gepraat nie. Toe ek vanoggend ontbyt eet voor ek die pad gevat het, was ek sommer net suur. As ek op 'n plek bly en meer betaal as wat ek in 'n baie lang tyd vir verblyf betaal het, dan maak Ricoffy my mond galbitter. In 'n lodge gee mens jou gaste filterkoffie, nie Ricoffy nie. Kant en klaar. Tuis en by vriende drink ek graag Ricoffy, maar nie in 'n sg. lodge nie.
In die toekoms slaap ek eerder in 'n sandsloot naby die lughawe.
Ek het besluit om Saterdag en Sondag in Okahandja deur te bring. Die dorp staan as die Tuindorp bekend en die omgewing is vir my baie mooi. Die grootste aantrekkingskrag was egter die Militêre Museum op die dorp. Omdat ek ook in die bosoorlog baie jare terug was, fassineer die plek my. Dit is ook hoekom ek in Windhoek die Heroes' Acre gaan besoek het. Die politiese oorwinnaar kan altyd die geskiedenis uit sy perspektief skryf.
Dit was bitter warm toe ek met groot verwagting in Okahandja aankom. Heel eerste het ek na die Museum toe gery. By die hek het 'n soldaat van die Namibiese weermag in die skaduwee gesit-lê. Nee, ek kan die museum nie besoek nie.
Hoekom nie?
Die museum is nog nie oop nie. (Sedert 2005 het ek al seker drie keer verby die museum gery en met verlangende oë na die uitstallings gekyk.)
Dis byna 2008. Die soldaat sê die museum behoort volgende jaar oop te wees.
Ek vra of ek dan nie net om die gebou mag stap om na die Russiese pantervoertuie en MVL's te kan kyk nie want ek sou darem graag 'n foto daarvan wou neem.
Ja, ek mag.
Ek stop my motorfiets in die skadu van 'n kameeldoring. Teen dié tyd stroom die sweet my al af.
Die soldaat sluip nader. Nee, ek mag nie daar stop nie. Glad nie voor die museum nie. Hy wys my na 'n parkeerplek verder af in die straat, in die bloedige son. 'n Mens mag nie voor die museum parkeer nie.
Om al my ryklere uit te trek, valhelm, rybril, handskoene en gps af te haal, is in die hitte nie eenvoudig nie. Toe ek alles uit en af het, sê ons soldatevriend ek mag geen foto's neem nie.
Blik*^%!
Ek weet 'n mens moet jou mond in Afrika hou en altyd vriendelik bly, maar die soldaat het my irritasie laat oorloop. Wat was geheim aan die voertuie? Niks.
Ek kon nie help om hom te së dat hulle seker nie wil hê die wëreld moet sien hoe flenters het die SAW hulle geskiet het nie.
Toe ek dit klaar gesê het, het ek dadelik geweet: Fout, groot fout.
Gelukkig was die ou net so slap soos sy lê-houding van vroeër toe ek daar gestop het.
My dag was bederf en ek was suur.
Toe kom ek buite die dorp op die gesinnetjie af (dis nou die foto's aan die begin van die beriggie) wat hulle klere in 'n stroom helder was. Ek het by hulle gestop. Die man sê sy naam is Jan Jakobus en hy het 'n selfoon. Hy gee glad nie om dat ek 'n paar foto's van hom en sy gesin neem nie. Gaan die foto's miskien op NBC kom? Ek moes hom teleurstel dat ek nie van die Namibian Broadcasting Corporation is nie.
Ek neem foto's en almal glimlag vir my. Hulle skoon klere lê uitgesprei op die gras.
Toe ek daar wegry, kla my gewete my aan.
Ek kla oor Ricoffy in 'n lodge.
Ek kla omdat ek nie by 'n museum kan ingaan nie.
'n Pa en ma is bly omdat hulle hul klere in 'n stroom helder water kan was, al moet hulle twee kilometer deur die warm bos loop.
Ek wens ek kon my Westerse arrogansie afwas soos Jan Jakobus sy klere gewas het.
Dus, jammer Road Lodge oor my innerlike ongelukkigheid met die Ricoffy. En Namibiese soldaat, jammer vir my ongeduld toe ek nie jul museum mag besoek het nie.
"Wherever you go, never take an idiot with you, you can always pick one up on the way." – Billy Connolly
1 comment:
Good Morning Lodie!
I haven't been on line this weekend, and am just catching up now. I am sending along my response to the last picture in my blog, telling you a little more about it, as I am not sure when I post it that it updates you. But first....
I truly enjoyed reading this experience of yours and the great
epiphany you had - it was beautiful! If only more people could feel this way and see how our frustrations allow us to be consumed by what is difficult and angers us so easily. We make life so much more complicated for ourselves than need be because we forget to look at the simplicty of what surrounds us. I know, I have been guilty of it as well. But the fact that you saw, you realized, and it changed you inside is what makes all the difference!
I also liked the quote about finding an idiot while traveling! How true! But I really loved the one by Mark Twain.
My father-in-law is ok - thank you for asking. He goes in for surgery tomorrow, and will be on a respirator or oxygen for the rest of his life. Just think of how sad it will be - all the things he will never get to do all because he smoked! I'm glad to hear you don't smoke - after all, smoke breath is YUCKO!
Getting on to that picture in my last blog....
The Farm........that is where this picture was taken. It is a magical, mystical place, full of wonders and mysteries, memories and life - and even a ghost or two haunting it on random occasion, or so rumor has it.
My great-grandparents settled here when they moved to America from Helsinki, Finland, and the building in the photograph is of the cedar sauna that was hand built by my great-grandfather nearly 100 years ago.
The Farm later got passed on to my grandparents, where they too, raised their children and worked the land until sometime in the 1950’s. However, they had dreams of living a bigger and better life, and moved into the city - about 500 miles south - leaving The Farm as a summertime place for family vacations. Ha! What a foolish dream to leave such a beautiful place!
It boasts of apple orchards, lakes and streams, bears, deer and mountain lions, but most of all, tons of FUN! Whether it’s taking a 150 degree sauna with a fresh cut cedar switch, and then jumping into the snow, or going on long walks that reveal hidden treasures long buried by time. Or perhaps, just sitting and having a cup of good coffee with Finish Nisu around the fire burning stove that my great-grandmother used to cook on - there isn’t a boring moment to be had.
When there, it’s like slipping back in time, and everything is simple and as it should be. I hand wash all the clothes in the old ringer washer downstairs and hang them outside to dry on a makeshift line. There is no heat, and we must chop all the wood and gather kindling to be burned in the two stoves inside. While there is electricity, we have never brought a television there, and the first one who does will be banned - forever! Instead, we play games - like Scrabble or our home-made Dictionary game - an absolute riot! We try and stump each other with words and several fictitious definitions, with only one being correct - if you guess the right one, you get the point. We stop….and talk and share life - things most people don’t do anymore.
The Farm holds many answers and secrets, that once found, continually stir deep inside. My secret there brews stronger than the North wind, and rattles my restless heart from slumber, awakening it to life and love.
The Farm really is, in some way, magical - unexplainable. For it knows your innermost secrets, and once it shows you them, they remain with you forever.
~Sophie
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