Who are Luderitz's Learners?

A typical scene at Luderitz Secondary School:

The bell rings and learners file into the classroom as a teacher stands by the black board, chalk poised, ready to begin.

But who are the learners? Do they consist only of those behind desks?

Coming from the UK where we would use the term “students”, I find this term “learners” unusual. It seems to draw a line between teacher and pupil implying that each in the class room has a sole function. Either to learn or to teach.

Having spent 14 years behind a desk and the last 7 months standing by the black board, chalk poised ready to begin, I can conclude that this couldn’t be further from the truth. I have learnt more in the last 7 months as a “teacher” than all my 14 years as a “learner” put together.

I have learnt to love the early morning walks to school, on the road out of Luderitz to Valombola kindergarten, the way the sun rises behind the mist warming the ground the desert unfurls, we are waking up.

I have learnt that whilst here I will always have sand in my shoes.

I have learnt to pick up the “Luderitz Lilt” a gentle tilt of tongue towards the end of a sentence, or the addition of a “hey?” to make a simple statement a question.

I have learnt that walking down the street people smile and wave (not always the case in the UK.)

I have learnt that here in Luderitz, wearing sunglasses is necessary almost all the time to shield you from the onslaught of sandy wind.

I have learnt many things which have shocked me over the last 7 months, and many things which have made me smile.

Whether whilst in the classroom we are the ones holding chalk or the ones sitting behind a desk and whilst on the street we are wearing sunglasses or feeling the perpetual crunch of sand in our shoes, we are all learners and always will be.

To all those students in your last year of High School preparing for Metric exams, feeling relieved that your years as a learner are finally drawing to a end, then I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. As Winston Churchill would say:

“This is not the end.

Nor is it the beginning of the end.

It is however the end of the beginning.”

What brings you here?

People come to Africa for all sorts of reasons. Usually though it seems to be that they are searching for something. Maybe Diamond Fever has taken hold and they seek the tantalising touch of instant fortune. Or perhaps simply they look for a breathtaking landscape or incredible game. Some search deeper, hoping to find something in one of the world’s only remaining continents which still holds space to think. They come looking for themselves.

         Luderitz is certainly one such place, without a doubt people travel here in full pursuit of Something. Once upon a time, hordes of men flocked to Luderitz and turned to madness searching for diamonds in our surrounding desert. Tourists fly here to find the landscape and animals they came looking for, satisfied, they take snapshots of their “Africa experience” and head home.

         This town is wrapped with spacious seas to the west and sparkling    Sperrgebiet to the east. Stretching sands uninterrupted for miles. You can breathe here. Space and stunning views certainly big enough to both lose and find yourself at the same time.

People often ask me, “What brings you here?” “Why come to Luderitz?” Or, “what are you hoping to find here?”

I am still looking for an answer to that myself. If it was for fortune, I came to the wrong place.

Diamonds dried up long ago.

I’ve certainly uncovered incredible landscapes and seen animals I never thought I would. But does that necessitate a year here?

I think not.

If I came to find myself, I have not succeeded. 6 months, 26 weeks and 182 days down, and I am already totally and utterly lost to this place. I fear I will never be found.

This doesn’t worry me.

I came to Luderitz, to this windy corner of the Namib, looking not for a quick fix of fortune or a glimse of game, but simply in search of stories. I have already found some, I will make some more and hopefully leave a few behind. The people I have met, places I have visited and incidents that followed have begun to weave a rich tapestry of tales. I know I’ll have plenty of stories to tell when I return to England in August, but I want more.

         With half a year down and half a year still to go, the clock is ticking unforgiving as ever. Over the next 6 months, 26 weeks and 182 days, as I lose myself more and more in this windy town I want to do things and see things that are worth writing down, passing on and remembering. I suppose what brings me here, the thing I am looking for at present is an interesting past which I will enjoy remembering in the future. 

The Real Thing

Life in Luderitz at times can feel almost European: the smart waterfront, rows of shops and unpredictable weather, but I must ask, can this relatively modern town be “The Real Africa?”

         Six weeks ago we left Luderitz and travelled north along the Caprivi strip. Stepping into the Caprivi felt like we had stepped back in time. With each mile the relatively developed world of southern Namibia slipped further away, transforming into the developing world of the northern Caprivi. Bricks and Mortar were gradually replaced with mud and sticks to make circular huts with immaculate thatch roofing. Women wrapped in brightly coloured scarves and layers of beads, carrying impossibly heavy loads on their heads with perfect balance and a kind of graceful lyricism. Collecting water, cooking, cleaning and farming, the sun beats down whilst the men sit and watch, smoking outside Shebeens drinking the dodgy but lethal local brew of Shake-Shake. This is their way of life. It feels like nothing has changed for the last 100 years. The villages of the Caprivi are all utterly different to Luderitz. Here amongst the huts and heat it feels like the real Africa, but what is the real Africa? This idyllically archaic way of life, filled with predominately patriarchal societies and tropical warmth? Surely it is patronising to believe that the entire continent consists of mud huts, sun and colourfully adorned women?

We must return to Luderitz.

As we drive along the poker-cue-straight road between Aus and Luderitz, with the glittering Sperrgebiet stretching as far as the eye can see, I realise that the Caprivi’s lush tropical greenery cannot single-handedly be The Real Africa, but nor can Luderitz’s dry desert moonscape alone be “The Real Thing”. Africa is a tumultuous mix of developed and developing societies side by side, and in Namibia’s case, these societies exist within the same country. Namibia’s beauty lies in its changing faces, the diversity of dunes and tropics side by side. Round each corner you will be faced with a completely different landscape filled with unique people and cultures. Simply cross regions and you seem to cross centuries. A melting pot of time zones, shifting landscapes and clamour of cultures, it is this assorted jumble of old and new all together which, to me, is “The Real Africa.” •

STOP

      

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Where on earth has the last month gone? Days are whizzing past like windsurfers and already I feel we have been here forever. England seems impossibly far away but in some ways this windy corner of the Namib reminds me of home. The unpredictable weather, open spaces and friendly faces. However despite certain similarities, there’s no way around it, life here is a million metaphorical and physical miles from the life I left behind.

         The green green fields, muddy Wellies and chilly rains have been replaced with Buchter bustle, sandy pavements, warmth and wind.

         Extraordinary is a word which to me encapsulates Luderitz. The wind is Extraordinary. The vastness of the desert is Extraordinary, and the colours here of sand and sea, truly are Extraordinary.

         The biggest difference however lies not in the weather or physical surroundings but in the people, their sense of time the absence of rush, the gentle rhythm of life here is entirely different to England’s crescendo of staccato.

         I noticed one windy afternoon that there is a distinct lack of roundabouts in Luderitz, the number of them can be counted on one hand, one finger in fact. In England we love a good roundabout and would not consider a town complete without a whole fleet of them.  Our constant development of more roundabouts to add to the collection I think is part of our obsession with haste. Timekeeping for time beating, always rushing to beat the clock.

         A typical English street is full of anonymous crowds with their heads down, a myriad of people constantly searching for ways to Get There Faster. Roundabouts are part of this fixation, keep driving. Don’t stop unless absolutely necessary.

         Here, where in England we would salivate at the possibility of yet another roundabout, there are Stop signs. The streets are lined with them; every 10 metres there are bakkies at a standstill. The drivers, like the pedestrians on the pavement are in no rush. Stop. Simply soak in your surroundings for a moment, blink the sand out of your eyes and let the wind blow the cobwebs away.

Whilst waiting at a Stop sign recently, I began pondering the nature of our single-roundabout-ed town.

         It seems to me that Luderitz is an incredible microcosm of Namibia; this town is so small you step out of your backdoor you step out of Luderitz! And so windy that you can rarely step out of your door straight!  But the social problems encountered in this windy corner of the Namib Desert seem very much representative of the rest of Namibia. HIV is rife, education is a continual challenge and the affluence divide creates its own issues. Our town is by no means a financially wealthy town, but its wealth of beauty and turbulence of topical issues make it utterly enchanting. Stop. Let yourself be enchanted by it. As the days slide by, each stop sign I see allows me a split second to reflect and at every Stop sign I meet l can feel Luderitz taking me further under its spell with its extraordinary magic.

I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I like it here - in a roundabout sort of way!

Luderitz's Secret Side

The Journey Begins

You could see the heat. See it in the parched leaves of the trees we passed, see it in the thirsty brown grass burnt into sand and in the way the end of the road merged with the horizon in a myriad of fantastic colours. The drive from Windhoek to Luderitz was incredible. 8 hours on an almost completely straight road, the Namib Desert whirled past the window as we sliced through sand rock and scrub land for 900km towards Luderitz. The sheer size of open space around us was incredible. Claustrophobic in its vastness. As we neared Luderitz the wind picked up and the temperature outside plummeted. After a year of fundraising, months of preparation and week of waiting in Windhoek, Nambia's capital, our journey to Luderitz was drawing to a close but the real journey was only just beginning.

 Windhoek to Luderitz 7th September

Luderitz is a small harbour town in the South West of Namibia nestled along the Skeleton Coast. Although English is the National language, Afrikaans and Oshiwambo are still widely spoken in Luderitz, and the need for English language teachers is significant. The town is famous for its windy shores and unpredictable weather, the day we arrived (the 7th August) was a chilly misty day, making the heat of Windhoek feel like a whole other country. It is here in this small windy Namibian town where I have chosen to spend my year away from home. I remember that first day clearly, feeling nervous and a little unsure, questions running through my head: am I doing the right thing? What will the next year bring? - Will I be any good at it? And where the hell is the frigging sun?!?

The Sun Rises on Luderitz

Stepping into Luderitz is a bit like stepping back in time, colonial architecture covered with brightly peeling paint – shabby but charming – and the sandy streets next to a glittering blue sea. Everyone’s been telling us that: “you cry twice when you come to Luderitz, once when you arrive and once when you leave!!” I can certainly see why this is true.

 When the wind blows it really blows! The sand is whipped up from the pavements right into your eyes, you have to where sunglasses in all weather! And some days like the day we arrived, mist descends on the place so thick you can barely see the street lamps outside the windows, and with the disused power station (the biggest building in Namibia) looming outside our window, it can feel like a ghost town at times.

 But be patient, because just occasionally the wind dies down, the sun comes out and the whole town breathes again.  

Ufer Strasse

Luderitz's Secret Side

Luderitz’s bright colourful buildings conceal a secret. To the unsuspecting tourist, The High Street and smart Waterfront is the extent of the town. As they stroll up and down browsing the shops, stopping for a cool drink by the sea front they might wonder; if this is it? They snap a couple of photos of the pretty boats bobbing up and down before continuing on their way, ticking Luderitz off the list. Done.

            But there is so much more to Luderitz, a hidden dimension of poverty and beauty that is neglected by the tour guides and information leaflets. 

Open the door and take a look. 

Hiding behind the dunes, a settlement of cardboard and corrugated iron ramshackle dwellings, street side stalls and schools make up Benguela town ship. Although no one is Luderitz is rich, Benguela is home to the poorest inhabitants of town. In Luderitz 1 in every 4 people has Aids, this shocking demographic is largely concentrated in Benguela where drugs, prostitution and crime perpetual each other.

Benguela is also a place of incredible colour and sounds, people and life. On the 40 minute walk back from Valombola Creche (the pre-primary school we work at on the far side of Benguela) we pass brightly painted Car Washes stands, fruit stalls with juicy oranges for a dollar, people call hello when you have already walked 10 metres past them. A hairdresser advertises a haircut of the week, always identical to one publicized the week before. Women in flowing handmade dresses sway past with the weeks supply of potatoes for the family precariously balanced on their head. A lady sells delicious fried fish and fat cakes wrapped up in newspaper for two dollars at the market. Stop and say hello, unwrap the paper, smell the sizzling fat, bite into the steaming fish, feel the grease drip down your chin, clean your fingers on the sand – don’t have another for 3 weeks for fear of blocking up your arteries! Life is pulsing here, people and sounds fill the streets, women calling to each other over tin cooking pots and red plastic washing bowls, children running carefree over the broken glass in bare feet.

            But within this collage of life is a darker side. The potatoes are brought back from town only on payday, overly dressed up teenage girls teeter out of run down shacks in heels and too much make up, a woman lurches out of Simons bar after a morning on the lash, stray dogs with swollen pregnant bellies litter the sandy pavements and you realise, those children playing in bare feet should be at school.

            It is always easy to find a dark side, to dramatise the defects and problems of a place like this or reduce it to facts and gory statistics. But Benguela’s beauty lies in both its dark and light, behind the demographics you'll find the honesty of real life, real people. It may be hidden from the town centre but once found, it reveals all and there is so much more to see than statistics. The cracks and imperfections on display in all their glory. This right here, is Africa.