Conclusion

Sorry it took me so long to actually type this up. I wrote this on the flight home from Namibia when we were stopped in Dakar, Senegal.

I’ve been reflecting on my whole trip to Namibia, and there’s a lot that I can’t put into words. I feel like a part of me will always be in Namibia. A part of me will always be in Windhoek, the beautiful capital. A part of me will always be on Lennord’s farm, where I experienced the real Namibia; baking bread in a bucket and dancing all night. A part of me will always be with the Nama people, with their enchanting language. And with the informal settlements of Mariental where I saw how the other half lives. A part of me will always be amazed with the desert. What has a lasting impression on me isn’t really Etosha or Swakopmund, but the things that I could never see or do anywhere else. It’s more the people and the culture that I will remember. It’s the stories Angelika, our Otjiherero language teacher, told us about the Herero people and their traditional dress. It’s !Gai //Goas and the little girl that, after I tried to speak Nama/Damara with her, told her mom that she wasn’t afraid of white people anymore. It’s speaking English with the girl in Oshiwana Penduka. Taking pictures of the kids in Gobabis and seeing them so excited to see themselves in a picture. Haggling with the Himba woman to get the bracelet. I will also never forget Lucky and Clarence. Lucky, being so energetic and happy about everything and knowing so much about everything and everyone in Namibia. Clarence, she was so nice and helpful in the field. Another thing about Namibia: the smell. The informal settlements, anyway, had a particular smell. The concrete cities stifled it. But whenever you were in or drove by an informal settlement, it was clear, but so hard to describe. It was like campfire smoke, something cooking, plus dirt and dust and earth. It was unique. And it wasn’t something you could smell in the states, that’s for sure.

I can’t imagine only seeing Namibia as a tourist; only going to the places where other white people go, exclusively. Living in this white, western bubble, and never experiencing the real country. The country is the people. Really, I don’t feel like I experienced the real Namibia unless I was with the people. Swakop and Etosha were nice, but I was still a tourist there. You just can’t get a sense of culture from guided tours or museums. It comes from talking to the people and being with them. Doing this has made me very much aware of my race and how it affects my experience in another culture. It is impossible to integrate oneself into black culture without a little assistance. Which is why I’m happy I had this opportunity. If I took friends or family back with me to Namibia, it wouldn’t be the same. Because you need that link. That “in.” I don’t want to just be a white tourist wherever I go. Even if I go somewhere where I’m not obviously a foreigner at first glance, you will still be an outsider. I feel like I’ve had such a richer experience here just from making a few connections with Namibians. I only hope that I can get the chance to go back to Namibia and experience the country again.