Archive for February, 2006

Witchcraft and Wizardry

Wednesday, February 15th, 2006

Notice under Monday’s Health and Beauty classifieds section of the Namibian (I would have posted it sooner, but Blogger decided to play hard to get for 72 hours):

DR ZUMBE. He’s a strong doctor who can treat/solve your problems within a week. –Unfaithful partner, liver problems, diabetes. You want a baby? Get one now! Weak penis. Cell…..

I’m curious – I know there are plenty of people of both sexes out there who badly want to have children. Also there are many reasons that they may not necessarily be able to – lack of fertility in one party or the other, lack of willingness on behalf of the other party, lack of other party, etc, etc. Perhaps he is intending to impregnate all comers himself; perhaps even though he has a weak penis, he has strong sperm, although this combination could present logistical problems. Turkey baster anyone?

Also, how does he plan to bypass the usual nine-month gestation period? It made me wonder whether there has been a spate of baby-kidnappings that would indicate stock-piling in anticipation of the inevitable stampede of impatient, infant-hungry clients, but I can’t see anything in the paper to cause alarm.

I’d also be interested to know quite how he hopes to cure someone of an unfaithful partner within a week. I’m assuming, in all seriousness, that he intends to use some form of witchcraft.

Whatever action he takes, it must be pretty drastic. Unfaithfulness is so de rigeur here that, were I single, I would probably avoid entering into a relationship with a Namibian man, black or white. I know that sounds harsh, and possibly even racist (if you’re going to be picky about it), but in a country where at least one person in five is HIV positive, and young men are generally considered limp, testosterone-deficient pussies if they don’t have at least three girlfriends dotted around the country, I just don’t know if I’d be prepared to take the risk, emotional or physical*.

There are usually three or four of these ads in every day, promising everything from ‘tightening of woman’s parts’ to ‘casting out of tokoloshes’. Thankfully, it’s been a while since I spotted one that claimed to be able to cure AIDS.

Anyway, I’m thinking about giving Dr Zumba a call. I wonder if he would be able to sort out a mysterious spirit that seems to have invaded our office. It appears to subsist solely on a diet of forks and bic biros*. Not only can I not write, I am having to eat my leftover spaghetti with a teaspoon.

*I realise that this is a controversial statement, and I am doubtless unintentionally maligning a large number of decent, honourable people. However, I am a foreigner in a country where I don’t yet, and may never fully understand the cultural implications of alot of my actions, or the actions of other people where they pertain to me. And I’ve seen enough to be very, very wary.

**I did, in fact, find the missing bic biros the other day when I was driving the Condom Estate to a meeting. I pulled down the flappy shady thing (what are they called?), and there they all were, lined up as if for military inspection. Don’t ask me why.

Driving Miss Crazy

Thursday, February 9th, 2006

There is yet another report of a fatal collision in the paper today. It seems as if there are accidents like this every day at the moment. They always read something like:

‘A young mother and her two children aged 2 months and 3 years were killed today in a collision in Ongwediva. The accident occurred when a Toyota Tazz and a bakkie collided at traffic lights/an intersection/on a blind bend”.

It constantly amazes, and terrifies me the extent to which you take your life in your hands every time you drive on Namibia’s roads. I know the suicide rate here is high, but really, there are less selfish ways to end it all than overtaking before the brow of a hill and taking a bus full of priests and schoolkids with you on an extended vacation into oblivion, via the fiery path of vehicular immolation. Perhaps these fuckwits like idea of having company on their final journey.

People here either drive recklessly fast, or as if they have had their brains removed and replaced with little tiny pieces of biltong. They hare up behind you at a gazillion miles an hour, wait until you start to wonder if they’ve somehow become entangled in your back bumper, and then they veer off towards the oncoming traffic with a look of steely determination on their faces. At least, I used to think it was steely determination. Now I just think that they paint eyes on their lids and have a quick snooze when the endless driving all gets too dreary.

When I was driving around the country with Dan, the first day we departed from Windhoek I nearly got driven off the road by a combi* full of passengers coming round a corner doing 160km per hour on the wrong side of the road.

Combis terrify me. I got in one to go to Swakopmund at Christmas and ended up actually praying for my life. And I don’t believe in God. The only other time I’ve ever done that was when I found myself in the middle of a ferocious electric storm, while sharing a small plane from Trinidad to Tobago with 21 teary Irish travel agents. Every time lightning zigged outside the window the girl next to me wailed ‘Mother of God, we’re all going to die’, while I sat with my head between my knees, dribbling with terror, and muttering ‘please god, if we get back in one piece, I’ll become a rampaging evangelist’. Another promise broken. I’m going to hell. No doubt about it.

Anyway, the combi ride was on a par. We whizzed around one corner, the sides of our faces squashed attractively against the windows by centrifugal force, and lo and behold, a combi lay belly up by the side of the road, little wheels spinning. Bodies flung from inside lay covered in blankets as groups of people stood around helplessly waiting for the ambulances to arrive. There’s no such thing as rubbernecking in Namibia. People just pull over, and wander around, poking at the corpses with their feet and snacking.

People are also allowed to drive cars that are in an advanced state of decreptitude. One of my friends was telling me that the front of his car, which is a bit crumpled, came under police inspection when he was up north a while ago. The policewoman leaned down, and squinted at the front of the car in dismay, and then called over a colleague. He had visions of having to pay a small fortune to make the thing roadworthy again. Instead, after a bit of poking, they extracted a dead bird from the grille, and waved him on his way.

I don’t have a car in Namibia, which is fine. I can’t afford one because for some reason they keep their value, and nothing sells for less than a couple of thousand pounds unless it has no wheels, or half an engine or something. However, my bloke does have one, and he has to drive around in it a lot. He’s a great driver, but plenty of people on the road do drive as if they think they’re behind the wheel of a bag of cotton wool with a built-in 007 turbo booster, and it does worry me that in this place, you’re at the mercy of other people’s reckless idiocy.

*A minibus packed to the rafters with people, and then manned by a wannabe kamikaze fighter pilot with an incurable addiction to SMSing on the move.

Vindicated

Thursday, February 2nd, 2006

I was right. The Namibian really couldn’t top the Top Ten famous people and their allergies. In fact, they seem to be in rather a slump. I’m tempted to call them and ask them what they think they’re playing at, the lazy arse bastards. Here are this weeks’ top ten trivia facts:

Tuesday: Some little known facts about words
Wednesday: More little known facts about words
Thursday: Even more little known facts about words

Now I know it’s nice to know that, apparently, Shakespeare invented the word Assassination (although I am somewhat sceptical about this), and that John Milton used 8,000 words in Paradise Lost. I feel enriched, I really do. Being informed that Bill Clinton, Bill Gates and Gerard Depardieu have photographic memories is interesting, although confusing, in the given context.

But they’re hardly out there pounding the streets for interesting and amusing snippets to help us through our day, are they? What happened to the glory days of pig counting?

Does anyone have any suggestions for other top ten facts that I could provide them with as inspiration?

Pop your entries in the box. Most interesting wins a prize. Maybe.