We next arrived to Swakopmund, a holiday resort/adrenaline junkie playground with the sea on one side and sand on the other three. This town was originally built by the Germans and has a lot of original German colonial architecture. With the tourism boom, money flowed in and new boutiques and pedestrian malls were built. Someone thought it would be a good idea to build it in mock German colonial style. This, unfortunately, has thrown the whole place into some kind of bizarre kitsch vortex where reality and bad taste meld into one.
While back in the real world, a kitschy retro-German colonial shopping gallery would be seen as such, especially in contrast to other buildings in the environs. Here, the outside world only reflects the absurdity of the modern constructions. The juxtaposition deconstructs itself and thus reality as we know it to dissolves into the ether, forcing us to stare into the nothingness and meaninglessness of the Void which has replaced it.
As the above paragraph would attest, it is never a good idea to write long emails after going to a modern art gallery.
Around Swakopmund I managed to do some quad-biking on sand dunes hundreds of meters high as well as some sandboarding, which as the name implies, is like snowboarding except on sand. Unfortunately, the name also implies there would be ski-lifts as with snowboarding. Well there weren't! And you would be amazed at how quickly having to hike up a sand dune with boarding boots and a board on your back can dampen the natural enthusiasm of trying out something new. Of all the similarities between the 2 sports, the one that seems to stick out the most is that I'm equally shit at both.
Eventually, I made my way back to Windhoek, the national capital. It reminded me of Amman, Jordan; hot, dry and surrounded by gentle, rolling sand-coloured hills with the occasional speck of green. The difference is the quiet and calm nature of the city whereas Amman seemed quite bustling and hectic.
Not much happens in Windhoek. And one would think least of all when walking back to the hostel from the supermarket with a plastic bag in each hand. While about 100 meters from the hostel I noticed a soldier walking in my general direction. It was difficult not to notice him for two reasons: The first was that for a reason still unknown to me, he was issued the standard camouflage uniform which only really serves its purpose in a forest, or at least in front of a wall randomly splattered with varying shades of green paint. The second was the AK-47 he was casually carrying over his shoulder.
He changed his direction and came towards me. Being the good-natured person that I am I said "hello". He stopped and said something to me, but I didn't understand because it wasn't English. But I did notice that the ammunition clip was in the rifle, so it was loaded.
He pointed to the direction where I was going. I told him I was going to the hostel and pointed to it. He wasn't really paying attention to what I was saying. I think the safety on the rifle was off. He looked at the sun in a manner to illustrate it was hot and then looked at the plastic bags in my hand.
At this point I was thinking I should just say something and walk away, but I was pretty sure that the rifle was still loaded and the safety was still off. Then he said something, which again I could not understand. So I leaned forward with my ear in a way that he would understand to mean that I didn't understand. He said something that I eventually managed to gather was 'cold drink'
He wanted a cold drink. I had a can of coke in one of my bags, which I was saving to when I got to the hostel. Did he now I had the drink? Was it just coincidence that he stopped me or did he see the shape of the can and the slight red tinge where it pressed against the white plastic? What if I told him I didn't have one? Would he search the bags? I couldn't tell him not to. The barracks were just up the street, and I'm pretty sure he could convince me without too much difficulty to follow him at which point I end up in some dingy room containing only a chair with manacles, a car battery and ominous-looking electrodes attached to it.
He wanted MY cold drink. This is coercion and terrorism at its basest level. There I was facing him while behind me - on the other side of the street in his full view - was the Namibian Independence Mural. An independence which my country - wait, which passport was I traveling with, Italian or Canadian? It doesn't matter; they were both involved. There I am in front of the Independence Mural, an independence BOTH my countries helped you negotiate from an oppressive, terrorist, coercive South African regime, and you want to take my coke away from me?
YOU BASTARD!!
Did I say that out loud? I didn't notice any new holes in my chest, so I guess not. So, I reached into the bag, pulled out the can and said, "How about this?". He took it from my hand and opened it as he started turning away. He practically was facing the other way, the AK-47 still over his shoulder, when he said a thick-accented "Thank-you" in an oblivious kind of way that said:
I've got a gun
Now I've got your coke
Na Na Na Na Naa Naa
Arriving at the hostel I felt a need to establish my place in the hierarchy of things after I was forced willfully gave up my liquid nourishment. I felt dirty. I entered the gate and was about to kick the dog when I realized it was a pit-bull so it didn't need a gun. Shit!
I know! I'll by another coke at the hostel, but - and this is the big but - I would buy one of those big 500mL cans! I'll be almost twice as thirst quenched as that soldier!
Ha! That'll teach him!
Then it was back to South Africa, which may have its problems and which I have enjoyed mocking over the course of the trip, but at least the guys armed with shotguns guarding the toilets give you a choice; granted it may not seem like much of a choice if you REALLY have to go, but there will always a bush or a corner which will do in a pinch.
And maybe that's the real lesson to be learned here...but then again I always think that when discussing bodily functions.
