Meme Martha

The most memorable part of the trip, for all of us, was definitely our homestay with families in rural northern Namibia. This is Owambo country, where tribal councils (see photo on left) and kings still mediate many disputes and make decisions. The modern and traditional co-exist here, with many of our host families living in a mixture of new cement buildings and stick-and-thatch huts within their family homestead.

This is also a place where the African "culture of care" we had heard so much about came to life. Our guide, Paulos, had told us that long before we arrived our host families had been praying for us and preparing for our visit, and we found this to be obvious in the way they welcomed us, in the signs that my host mom had posted that said, "welcome my student daughters, feel at home," in the hand-woven basket one family made for my classmate Jason with his initials in it, in the devotion and prayers that my host mom had written out in English to read through with us on our first night with her. We were welcomed with a genuine and generous warmth, even though we were strangers.

We stayed in pairs with different families around the small town of Oniipa. Raven and I were adopted into Meme Martha's family, along with her 5 year old son and 9 year old niece (her husband works in a mine in a distant part of the country). We cooked with her, and she took pride in introducing us to Owambo culture, especially the foods - Mehangu porridge, black-eyed-pea-like beans, a fermented flour-based drink. We visited her mother's homestead, where we watched the strong Namibian women pound Mehangu flour with ease (Raven and I were not quite so graceful wielding the heavy pounding stick), and where Kuku (grandmother) presented us with the light pink strands of beads worn by women of their tribe.

Throughout our time there, we could feel the powerful bonds of family and community which permeate the African lifestyle. When Meme Martha's brother and sister-in-law died, she took in her young niece. Neighbors came by to ask for or offer favors (like one who came to recharge her cell phone, since her own house doesn't have electricity). One of our speakers in Namibia told our group that even with such high unemployment and poverty, few people in the country starve because as long as one relative has an income, he or she will support any extended family members who are in need.

Meme Martha also gave me a great insight into our Western notions of hunger and abundance. She began asking me about traditional American foods, and whether we have many farms in the U.S. When I explained that the vast majority of people get their food from supermarkets, not from their own farm or garden, she was surprised. She was even more shocked to find out that we can't even go to a neighboring farm to buy a goat or cow. She then asked, "But what about people who don't have any money - how can they eat?" For a culture where even the poorest family grows Mehangu flour for porridge and bread, and where those without money can depend on relatives and neighbors for food, our Western system must seem pretty backwards.

I'm grateful that I was able to experience the abundant African hospitality and community for a few days in Oniipa.

Namibia

After spending the first part of my summer in India and Sri Lanka, I was not prepared for what I found when I arrived in Africa for the first time: well-maintained, paved roads; water you could drink right out of the tap; modern buildings downtown that made you feel you were in a European town…

Arriving in Windhoek, Namibia with 16 fellow theology students/professors was a bit of a shock. This was not the Africa we had heard about on the news or from Bono. Where was the poverty? We found it the next day when our tour guide, Urbanus, led us to the top of a hill overlooking the city and began to explain the history of Windhoek. He pointed out the upscale neighborhood where all of the wealthy (and white) residents live. He then began to describe how, under apartheid (Namibia was under the control of South Africa for decades), people were forcibly uprooted from their homes and segregated into settlements based on race and tribe. Black residents were resettled in Katatura, which means “the place where we do not want to live.”
We later drove down the hill, past the wealthy subdivisions, into Katatura. There, we saw endless rows of makeshift tin shacks, clinging at precarious angles onto sloping hillsides, as far as we could see. Bumpy dirt roads twisted through the sea of tin and cardboard, with no grocery stores or public transportation nearby. This is the Africa we had been expecting. This is the Namibia with an unemployment rate of somewhere between 35% (the official figures) and 75% (our guide’s estimate). This is the Namibia where over 20% of the population is HIV positive. This is the Namibia that is classified by the World Bank as a “middle income” country, but which has one of the highest rates of income disparity (gap between rich and poor) in the world. This is the legacy of colonialism and apartheid, which determined people’s opportunities, education, neighborhood, and even gravesite based solely on the color of their skin.

The tour also included visits to the clean, shady cemetery where whites had been buried under apartheid (now, those who can afford it can be buried there – but few blacks can afford the fees, even today), as well as the dusty cemetery for blacks, littered with broken headstones – most of which only have a number, not a name. Even in death, the grip of racism continues to separate people. The cemeteries really had an impact on our group, making us feel a deep sense of hopelessness.

Luckily, our next stop was a meeting with Bishop Kameeda, head of one of the branches of the Lutheran Church in Namibia. During the struggle for independence, the church had been a prophetic voice speaking out against the oppressive policies of South African rule. Now, the church is turning its attention to the oppressive forces of poverty and unemployment that continue to keep many black Namibians from flourishing. We were all inspired by the Bishop’s passion to help those in need, and although his proposal for providing monthly income grants to all Namibians is somewhat controversial, our hope was renewed for Namibia’s future.

Africa is more than its unemployment and HIV rates. It’s more than its infrastructure and water supply. Over and over again during our two weeks there, it was the spirit, strength and warmth of the people that gave us a real sense of why we came to Africa, and ensured that we will never forget our time there. I hope to share more stories of the people we encountered with you soon…