Reconciliation and Over-Simplification

WARNING – this post is a little bit everywhere.  I mean that literally: Kenya, Germany, England, the USA, India, and South Africa not to mention all the time periods… But fear not, I tried to make it fun.

I should have written this blog right after leaving SA, but I still needed to write my December blog so I put it off.  To be honest I also put it off because I wanted more time to think about my experiences and how to translate all of my thoughts and feelings into a coherent blog post.  My experience in Cape Town was amazing overall;  the city truly has everything: beautiful mountains, sandy beaches, diverse cuisines, beautiful art, and my personal favorite, a fascinating history.

Sandy beaches

Table Mountain

One of my favorite courses at Grinnell College was my history class on Southern Africa.  The class was especially memorable due to our unique final project.  Rather than write a paper or give a presentation, each student was given a different person/political party/interest group to represent as our class worked together, and often against one another, to create a new constitution for post-apartheid South Africa.  I was given the Umkhonto we Sizwe, abbreviated as MK, which is Zulu for “spear of the nation”.  The MK was a military branch of the African National Congress, or the ANC, and was co-founded by Nelson Mandela.  The MK was founded in response to the Sharpeville massacre in the belief that the ANC could no longer effectively fight apartheid with nonviolent protest.  The MK was soon classified as a terrorist organization by the South African government and the United States.  Nelson Mandela justified the creation of the MK in his I am Prepared to Die speech saying, “I, and some colleagues, came to the conclusion that as violence in this country was inevitable, it would be unrealistic and wrong for African leaders to continue preaching peace and non-violence at a time when the government met our peaceful demands with force.”  Sorry, I just realized I went all history-major on you and haven’t gotten to the point at all.  The point is, through this activity, I became fascinated with the process of peace building. I also learned that the history of apartheid is not as black and white as it might seem (forgive the unintended tasteless pun).  I found that our class discussions were not one side vs the other, but that there were many disagreements within each group.  In fact, as the MK, I was given the power to utilize force against a group, and was surprised that in the end I used this power only once, against another black South African interest group.

Not only was the class assignment so unique, but the actual peace building process at work was also distinct from any method I had learned about previously.  Let’s backtrack some.  The term apartheid originates from the Afrikaans word “apart” meaning apart and “heid” meaning hood.  A literal translation of apartheid is therefore simply apart-hood, or separation.  With this definition I could make a long list of historical moments of ‘apartheid’.  To name a few obvious ones: The USA from 1877-1954, almost the entirety of Europe from 1939-1945, India and Pakistan from 1947 on, Palestine from 1947 to today, Rwanda in 1994 for approximately 100 terrifying days, the USA from 1941 to 1946, and Kenya from 1952-1960 to name a few.  Really I could go on forever.  In fact, looking back at these examples, I should expand the dates massively considering the definition of apartheid simply as separation.  For instance, I can’t really limit ‘apart-hood’ in the USA to the dates of the Jim Crow laws, and instead should start with recognition of slavery in the Declaration of Independence in 1776.  If we look at the United States alone, I would argue that we have been in a consistent state of ‘apart-hood’ from our creation until 1954.  And can we really stop there?

Again I’m straying from the point… The point is, that apartheid in SA was, in my opinion, unique from all these other moments of separation in our history.  Not because of the brutal pass-laws, or the over-crowded townships, or even because of the obvious intentional ignorance from the rest of the world; unfortunately violence, the trashing of basic human rights, and sheer idiocy can be traced from the beginning of civilization to today.  Instead, I see South Africa’s history as unique because of how apartheid ended.  You see, most students learn history by jumping from Western war to Western war: war of independence, civil war, French revolution, WWI, WWII, Cold War, etc.  But I think a more interesting timeline of history is what happens in between.  Wars are the most boring historical moments.  I mean come on, how many times do you want to read about one white guy killing another white guy on some random battlefield.  BORING.  Instead, let’s talk about what events led to the meeting of these unfortunate white dudes, and the consequences of their so-called ‘heroism’ (I won't even go into the need to focus on a broader group than 'white dudes', cause that is not what my blog is about today).  This is what makes South African Apartheid unique: the aftermath.

I realize this blog post is already getting long and I still haven’t really gotten to my experiences in Cape Town, but I’m going to allow myself to history-major all over the place one more time.  Let’s look at some important past attempts at post-war peace building:

Going back to WWI, the allies did a pretty bad job dealing with the consequences of a World War.  The response was to punish the perpetrators and teach Germany a lesson.  One of the many provisions, called the War Guilt clause, of the Treaty of Versailles required “Germany [to] accept the responsibility of Germany and her allies for causing all the loss and damage.”  Germany was forced to disarm, make huge territorial concessions, and pay what amounted to $31.4 billion in reparations.  Germany was pretty much grounded, put in time-out, and spanked all at once.  No one will ever misbehave again, well-done allies… Right?  If you don't know where this is going, you've been living in a box.  Anyway, this left Germany in a pretty bad spot to say the least.  By November 1923, the American dollar was worth 4,210,500,000,000 German marks.  No I didn’t accidentally add an extra zero or six.  Germans had to spend their money immediately, before inflation caused their pay to be worthless once again.  People were literally running from their workplace to the bakery with their pay in wheelbarrows.  Supposedly a compulsion called zero stroke broke out where people had the desire to write endless rows of zeros… okay that might not be true, but come on, the point is post-WWI Germany was the pits.  And guess what happens when people become desperate?  They elect Hitler.  Maybe that was a dramatic generalization, not all desperate people turn to Hitler, I for example turned to ice cream and Netflix the last time I was desperate.  All joking aside, the Treaty of Versailles left Germany in a place where the only viable answer seemed to be the charismatic and charming Adolf Hitler.  Soon enough the Czech Republic, and every other European country, found that Germany was no longer disarmed, was taking back conceded territories with their eyes on new land, and had essentially left time-out without permission.  England, the USA, and France all did a nice big face-palm and fought their way out of that blunder (not to mention the additional slipup called appeasement) with a little (a lot) of help from good ol’ Stalin (to their great embarrassment).  The allies thought they had learned from their mistakes and, during the Yalta Conference, made sure to stick around for longer to supervise post-WWII Germany.  They brilliantly separated Germany into three parts, leading, of course, to the Berlin Wall… okay arguably better than Hitler, but still not great.  However, in the rush to make everyone happy, the USA and England pissed off some other people.  When faced with a very displeased (to say the least) Jewish population who didn’t have homes or jobs to return to (assuming they wanted to return at all), the two post-war super-powers thought it would be a good idea to give them somewhere new to live.  Who cares if there are people living there already, they're brownish and call God Allah.  And 6,000,000 of the Jews were brutally murdered by the Nazis, not to mention the countless pogroms.  It’s the least they could do right?  Bam… Israel.  Good one guys, really you nailed it.  I did say that idiocy is a trait that can be found in almost every historical moment, and this was no exception.

Holocaust Memorial in Berlin

Berlin Wall

Now that I’ve given you some background, let’s return to South Africa in 1990.  At this point Nelson Mandela had sat in his cell on Robben Island for 18 years, and been moved to serve another nine elsewhere.  During his long time behind bars, he successfully cultivated a garden… oh and he hid his completed manuscript Long Walk to Freedom in the garden.  Almost forgot about that small detail.  With all the time alone with his thoughts, I would like to believe he pondered the mistakes of past peace-builders.  He was finally released in February, a man ready to make peace like no one ever had before.  Gandhi particularly inspired Mandela, which may be obvious due to their many similarities: imprisoned for many years by British colonial rule using extreme separation to subdue the uncivilized brown (I hope you know I'm using this politically incorrect term to make a point) people.  Anyway, I think Nelson took one of Mahatma’s famous quotes to heart:  “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”  Nelson knew that taking revenge on the suppressors would only leave SA in a worse position than they began.  With this important lesson in mind, Mandela led SA to a completely new peace building process: reconciliation.  Nelson walked out of prison, proceeded to tour the world to pull one country after another out of their deliberate ignorance (despite being considered a communist terrorist by Reagan and Thatcher), and finally proceeded to sit down with the Nationalist President F.W. de Klerk to abolish apartheid and establish multi-racial elections only to become SA’s first black president.  As if that wasn’t enough, he invited other political parties to join the cabinet, and promulgated a brand new constitution.  The cherry on top was the Truth and Reconciliation Commission created to investigate past human rights abuses.

Nelson Mandela's cell on Robben Island

The ship that took prisoners to Robben Island, often through very rough waters

On the boat to Robben Island

I was never all that interested in Catholicism, but that guy is a saint.  In fact, I’m going to sing his praises for another few sentences.  While in prison, as a firm believer that education is the best weapon in anyone’s arsenal, he formed the University of Robben Island where prisoners lectured on their areas of expertise.  Mandela was technically Christian, but, being the open-minded man he was, also studied Islam.  He studied Afrikaans, despite it being the language of the oppressors, hoping build a mutual respect with the warders and convert them to his cause.  He built relationships with every possible group, from the white warders, to his ANC visitors, to the young radical Black Consciousness Movement prisoners despite conflicting beliefs.  As president he combatted poverty, encouraged land reform, and expanded healthcare,  only to decline to run for a second term.  Instead, he focused on charitable work to combat poverty and HIV/AIDS through his Nelson Mandela Foundation.  I don’t think there has ever been a better man.  In Southern Africa, many people still refer to Mandela as Madiba, meaning father, and I absolutely love it.

The Madiba is everywhere

Okay back to the TRC.  The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was a court-like restorative justice body.  The goal of the TRC was to bear witness to, record, and in some cases grant amnesty to the perpetrators of human rights violations.  The TRC had three committees: one to investigate human rights abuses, one to restore victims’ dignity and assist with rehabilitation, and one to consider applications for amnesty.  The hearings were public, allowing the entire population to take part in the trials simply by watching.  The TRC granted amnesty to those whose crimes were politically motivated, proportionate, and only when there was full disclosure by the person seeking amnesty.  In addition, no side was exempt from appearing before the commission, and the commission heard reports from everyone from the apartheid state to the liberation forces, including the ANC.

Though many maybe correctly believe that justice is a prerequisite to reconciliation rather than an alternative to it, I believe the TRC was, at least, a promising method for peace building.  The TRC was far from flawless, and it is impossible for everyone to be happy after something as horrendous as apartheid.  Perhaps truth and reconciliation are only the first step in a longer process of justice, and we have yet to figure out the next steps.  However, in comparison to past attempts to overcome extreme violence, I think the TRC was much more successful than the Treaty of Versailles or the Potsdam conference.  I know I’m give extreme examples, but WWI, WWII, and apartheid were all extreme instances of violence.  Regardless of varying perceptions of the TRC, it was, and still is, a fascinating experiment.  And now, without further ado, I’ll finally get to my experiences in Cape Town:

Whoops that's not Cape Town...

JK I’m going to talk about Germany some more.  I distinctly remember my time in Germany as being quiet and muffled.  There is a strong sense of shame in Berlin, and no one mentions Hitler or the Nazis.  I encourage you to check out a full explanation of my experiences in Berlin in one of my old, and I think best, blog posts, called The Fatherland. ­­­­ ­My experience in Cape Town stands in stark contrast to my time in Berlin.  The city was bright and cheerful, boasting culture around every street corner.  During my visit to Robben Island, I caught up to my guide to privately ask him why he was imprisoned on the island during apartheid.  He told me that he led riots at his school during the Soweto uprisings.  Unlike in Germany, anyone above the age of 25 can remember their own experience of apartheid.  In Germany, the wounds of WWI and II, not to mention the gash of the Cold War, have been wrapped and padded in yellowing gauze while everyone walks around careful not to upset old injuries.  In Cape Town, the big bright band-aid known as the TRC is new, covered in cartoon characters, and probably waterproof.  However, historians, including myself, don’t have the same perspective on apartheid that we have on WWI and II.  We can easily review the mistakes of the Treaty of Versailles now that the consequences are laid out in a full timeline leading to WWII.  I can only guess what the consequences of reconciliation in SA will be, but I am hopeful to say the least.  Based on my experiences in Cape Town, it seems this injury won’t be covered with the goal of forgetting, but instead has the chance to heal into scar standing as a proud symbol for the power of reconciliation and forgiveness.

Colorful Cape Town culture 

Despite my optimism and deep love for all things Mandela, including the TRC, I realize my view is extremely flawed.  While I saw Cape Town as bright and bustling, I cannot ignore the fact that my view was extremely limited.  For example, every tour company boasts guided walks through townships during the day.  Each of these advertisements is paired with a bold warning in red not to walk through these areas alone or at night.  The thought of parading through a low-income black neighborhood as a privileged white tourist, doubtlessly with other privileged white tourists with their expensive cameras hanging over their brand new t-shirts sporting various random Mandela quotes, sounds like the a tasteless SNL sketch, or maybe an edgy new comic by Charlie Hebdo.  For this reason, I never visited a township during my stay in Cape Town.  I got the chance to explore other parts of the city on foot, though this was limited to specificly white-tourist-approved zones.  I'm not sure how a privileged white female tourist could possibly see the darker side of Cape Town without putting themselves in danger of at least an almost assured mugging.  I did see the dark side once when driving out to Cape Point on my first day only to pass two men beating another man to a pulp, though this could have happened in any city I suppose and therefore did not necessarily have any connection to the TRC or apartheid leftovers.  Despite the proud culture and history on display in Cape Town, violence and remaining segregation is equally visible if you only sneak past the shiny band-aid called TRC.  All in all, as a future international lawyer and peace-builder, I am sitting on the edge of my seat watching the aftermath of apartheid and the TRC play out.  Regardless of the results, the world is in desperate need of new and effective methods to move forward from violence.  One only need look towards the Middle East to understand my hope that truth and reconciliation can overcome hate and violence.

In our rental car shortly before we saw a guy getting beat up

View of Cape of Good Hope from Cape Point

After this novel of a blog post, I will save you from a summary of my activities in Cape Town, and simply refer you to my Facebook photo album to get an idea of where I was and to see the stunning city of Cape Town.  I also encourage everyone ever to read Mandela’s Long Walk to Freedom, as it is one of the most inspiring books I’ve ever read.  Actually, if you want any recommendations of books about any of the time periods I talked about, just ask.  Start with Kaffir Boy, it’s one of the best books about apartheid in SA.  I'm also interested to hear other opinions of the TRC, and hopeful that I will get to study it in more depth in the coming years.  To wrap up, I’ll go back to the great Mandela to end this seemingly endless post, despite the fact that this quote is probably hiding beneath an expensive camera hanging around some privileged white tourist’s neck on a township tour right now:

“No one is born hating another person because of the color of his skin, or his background, or his religion.  People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”

 - Madiba

Overlook beautiful Cape Town from the top of Table Mountain

Social Responsibility and Institutional Memory

This past month we've begun to plan our new Finnish funded project focused on Topnaar capacity building.  It's got me thinking a lot about whether or not Gobabeb has a responsibility to give back to the community, and if so, what that responsibility might entail.  It occurs to me that in the past, Gobabeb's work with the Topnaar community has been sporadic to say the least, preventing community involvement from making any significant impact.  As we move into a new project, I'm wondering how we can ensure a lasting impact that promotes a stable relationship between Gobabeb and the Topnaar.

The last FLC funded project: The Youth Environmental Summit

The first question to ask is whether Gobabeb has a social responsibility at all.  Our core goal is research with capacity building coming in a clear second.  Hypothetically, Gobabeb could drop our training section entirely and still achieve our main function of research.  However, I believe our training section is essential to Gobabeb's success as a research station, though maybe I just want my job to matter.  First, and most obviously, almost every Namibian staff member at Gobabeb went through one of our training programs like SDP or GTRIP.  Our training programs prepare students to work in research and build awareness of our station.  Several faculty members at both universities in Windhoek have described the experience students receive at Gobabeb as both unique and extremely beneficial.  Students come out of our programs with improved writing, critical thinking, and presenting skills.  These students often find their way back to Gobabeb for their honors, masters, or for jobs in the future.

However, in the end, this kind of training benefits Gobabeb because we gain skilled employees.  Do we have a responsibility to give back to the community beyond our own interests?  After some consideration, I believe we do for a few reasons.  First, if we do not give back to our community in some way, Gobabeb will become a research island.  Most of our significant work is done by international researchers who send individuals to Gobabeb from abroad.  Though some of our Namibian staff members work on individual projects, almost every researcher is also responsible for the oversight of a number of international projects.  Without community outreach, our station would simply be an island for international researchers rather than a truly Namibian research station.

Further, the results of our research are most applicable and significant to those who live within the environment that we are studying.  Knowledge that the fog may decrease in the coming years is much more useful in the hands of the Topnaar who utilize fog dependent flora and fauna to survive than in an article in our library.  In fact, with climate change as perhaps the most significant topic in environmental research today, much of our research hints at a need for changes in behavior such as more responsible water use, better disposal of waste,  more sustainable methods to gather !nara, and more.  In order to make an impact with our work, Gobabeb must look beyond our current goals (to publish as many papers as possible) to bring our findings directly to the impacted communities.  This needs to go beyond simply posting on our website, or even distributing our papers; community outreach is a much more complicated and difficult process.  Unfortunately, our local community, the Topnaar, are a particularly difficult group to reach.  Many of them do not have internet access, do not have an education beyond grade 7, do not have a means of transportation, and cannot speak English.  In light of these obstacles, disseminating information to the Topnaar has been a difficult goal to achieve.  The answer in recent years has been to utilize methods known not to work, or worse, to not try at all.  So how can we tackle this issue better in the future?  Scientific papers are not understood, brochures cannot be read, posters are seen by few, and presentations are not widely attended.  The only successful means of communication seems to be to visit each and every village.  However, to further complicate the issue, in order to reach out to the community directly, we must first approve our actions with the Topnaar Traditional Authority.

Dartmouth University learns how to prepare !nara, the centerpiece of Topnaar culture.

In light of all these challenges, one can understand how Gobabeb's research section might often ignore community outreach.  When an international researcher finds something that may be significant to the Topnaar, they must first translate their findings into grade 7 terms, track down the highly unreliable traditional authority, find a community member to act as a liaison and translator, and visit each and every village to ensure the information is heard.  When nearly every researcher's ultimate goal is a published paper, it is easy to ignore the complicated and time consuming task of information dissemination to a small local community.

A Topnaar woman sits in her village.

Ultimately, the lack of consistent communication between Gobabeb and the Topnaar leads to misunderstandings.  Many Topnaar community members believe that Gobabeb's main function should be serving the Topnaar and do not understand why we are not providing handouts of food and other resources.  This leads to even more anger providing a poor foundation upon which new trainers work to build new relationships

Topnaar kiddos show off their !Nara.

On the other hand, outside funders look for buzzwords like 'empowerment' and 'indigenous' in grant proposals.  For example, the Finnish Fund for Local Cooperation has funded several projects at Gobabeb over many years.  This year, the Fins requested a project aimed at empowering the local community.  Obviously we want to maintain our relationship with this donor, and continue to utilize the money brought in by their grants.  Therefore, we created a community building project that meets the requirements of the funders.  This has happened multiple times in the history of the training section at Gobabeb.  Unfortunately, these projects still fail to create a lasting impact.  Instead, as soon as the end date of a project passes, the project is thrown in the trash as we quickly plan a new project to meet new funder wants and needs.

Humble Topnaar homes stand in stark contrast to the expensive cameras being used to photograph them.

High staff turnover rates exacerbate this issue.  Here is a common example: one trainer works on a community building project for six months.  The trainer works with a village, builds relationships, and makes promises to continue the project, return with resources, or provide some sort of product.  The project ends, and the staff member leaves two months later.  The next trainer that comes in likely never knows the community building project ever happened.  This trainer goes to the same village with a new project, but the community is already frustrated and angry that they are not receiving anything from the last project.  This negative image of the research station makes relationship building even more difficult on new staff members.  The lack of institutional memory prevents Gobabeb from maintaining projects with promise and from building a stable relationship with the local community, let alone giving something back to them.

Some Topnaar people meet with many visiting groups, but rarely get anything back.

I am very excited about our new project with the Topnaar, but also extremely wary of the challenges.  We received funding from the Finish Fund for Local Cooperation before we had ever talked to the Topnaar about our proposal.  The community had no say in what we are going to offer them, making it impossible to know if our project will give them something they actually want or need.  In addition, some parts of our project require extensive work beyond our proposal to actually work.  For example, we are planning to train Topnaar people to give informative tours about the Namib Sand Sea which was recently declared a World Heritage Site.  I am concerned that we will come up with a curriculum and teach Topnaar people the information, and they will return to their villages to never give a tour.  In order to make this training program worth while, we must connect the Topnaar tour guides to tourists through the Ministry of Environment and Tourism and tourism agencies.  This will require our station to look beyond simply appeasing our funder, and perhaps even more difficult, to continue work when the money runs out.  I am excited about the possibility of creating a project that can continue to make an impact beyond the project report due date, but nervous that there are just too many hurdles to overcome.  I hope to at least put in a strong effort to create a handover that allows future trainers to pick up where I leave off.

In the coming months, I have a lot to do including the new FLC Topnaar capacity building, writing up our report for the Summer Desertification Program, beginning the five month GTRIP course, and helping organize our next Youth Environmental Summit.  I hope I can dedicate enough time to our FLC program to truly make a difference and build a stronger and more stable relationship with our community.

A Topnaar woman working on patchwork, one of the four foci of our new FLC project.

Whiteness and Woman...ness

This past month I spent almost all of my time out of the office.  The first week a group of six of us went into the dunes to three different sites setting up pit traps to do tenebrionid beetle monitoring and vegetation transects.  We spent a day back at the office before returning to three new sites.  I always really enjoy the dune transects as a nice break from the normal routine.  Though there is a lot of work involved (burying 70 buckets in scalding sand in the middle of the day is not easy), there is also a good amount of down-time in between checks.  During these hours off I get to read, listen to music, take walks, and just generally appreciate how lucky I am to be sitting in the middle of the Namib dunes contemplating life.

Morning view from my second beetle monitoring site

The next week Tayler, Titus, and I drove to Windhoek to conduct interviews and ultimately select our five GTRIP students.  I was extremely impressed with the students we picked, and it was really exciting to meet the five people I will be spending several months with come February.

The rest of the month was holiday!  After spending weeks planning this trip, I was just as nervous as excited to begin out trip through Botswana and up to Victoria Falls.  On the very first day of our long journey, my worries came to fruition when our bus didn't show up.  After several phone calls, and getting quite angry with the bus company (Monnakgotla, never ever ever ever use them, find any alternative possible) we finally found an private shuttle with decent price and began our journey again.  After being driven from Windhoek to Maun, we arrived at Old Bridge Backpacker and the trip began to feel real.

We spent the first day of holiday sitting in hammocks by the river and walking around a craft market.  The real adventure began the next day with a two day kayak trip into the Okavango Delta.  We saw so many elephants, many of them less than 20 meters away from us along the river.  I'm so glad we decided to splurge a bit on this part of our trip, because it really was a unique experience that I will never forget.

Elephants in the Okavango Delta

Kayaking along

Campsite on in the Delta

We followed this amazing adventure with a game drive into Moremi Game Reserve.  We say many more elephants (including one that fake charged the car), hippos, giraffes, impala, kudu, warthogs, lechwe, crocodiles, zebra, and a multitude of beautiful birds.  We felt quite spoiled on this trip as our guide served us breakfast and dinner on a tablecloth in the middle of the park.

Zebras on our game drive

Fancy lunch in Moremi Game Reserve

We spent a last night at the backpacker playing pool with some tour guides before heading North to Kasane.  There, we enjoyed a day in Chobe National Park with a game drive and a river cruise.  We were lucky to see rare wild dogs eating an impala by the side of the road and a leopard, as well as buffalo, even more elephants, impala, and more.  The river cruise was relaxing, and gave us the chance to see hippos and crocodiles up close.

Wild dogs enjoying breakfast in Chobe National Park

Enjoying our sunset cruise

Hippos from the river cruise

We crossed the border into Zambia for the final leg of our journey in Livingstone and Victoria Falls National Park.  We spent a day walking around the Zambian side of the falls only to be somewhat disappointed with the customs officer who made it ridiculously difficult to visit the Zimbabwe side of the falls (which has much better view points).  After deciding it wasn't worth it to spend an additional US$80 to cross the border, we instead spent some money buying souvenirs outside the park.  We met a handful of people at the backpacker and decided to put our lives in their hands to experience Zambian independence outside of the safety of our backpacker.  After watching a faulty firework explode WAY too close and being thrown around a club for about half an hour, we returned to the backpacker happy and exhausted.

Victoria Falls from the Zam side

Cooling down in the boiling pot at the bottom of Vic Falls

Our last day of holiday was perhaps the most exciting.  We rafted down the Zambezi River, starting right under the falls and going through 25 of the largest rapids in the commercial rafting business for the rest of the day.  Our boat only flipped once, which is apparently impressive compared to the 5 times our friends on another boat capsized.  Let me tell you, I have been rafting four times before and thought I knew what I was getting into.  One of those times our guide called out "lean in," and I remember almost flying out of the raft.  I thought those rapids were big, but no.  These rapids were GINORMOUS.  I knew I was in trouble when our guide was going over the regular commands like "forward" and "back," and he went on to describe a new command: "get down," which meant get to the bottom of the boat and hold on to the ropes for dear life.  On our second rapid our guide screamed "GET DOWN" and I jumped to the bottom of the boat and grabbed at the ropes.  A half second later I was slammed with water and lost the rope completely as my body was thrown backwards.  I miraculously stayed in the boat on that occasion, but I took the command very seriously and used a death grasp on the rope from then on.  Needless to say, the trip was a huge adrenaline rush and a total blast.  When we came up on rapid 8 or so, our guide informed us it was called Midnight Dinner because you get three choices on the menu: easy to the right, down the middle with a 50/50 chance of flipping, and to the left... no explanation needed.  Our Australian friend instantly chose the left with an evil smirk on his face, at which time Tayler and I looked at each other and nervously nodded our assent.  I'm pretty sure our three Russian friends on the boat had no idea what we were getting ourselves into when one of them asked "big?"  Obviously, we flipped on that rapid.

Capsized on Midnight Dinner

We almost flipped again on rapid 18 called Oblivion, but I hung on for dear life and provided the weight to flip us back at the last minute.

Almost tipping on Oblivion

After our exciting last day, we traveled back to Windhoek in luxury, in the air-conditioned, roomy, and clean Intercape bus to end our journey.

Overall, we had a blast on our trip.  Every part of the journey was exceptional and there is very little I would have changed in hindsight;  even the missed bus on the first day was a blessing in disguise).  I could go on and on about the experiences we had and all the amazing things we saw, but I think you can get a gist of that through the photos on my Facebook album (really go check them out).  Instead, I think I'll get to the title of this blog.

While travelling through Botswana, I found myself perpetually conscious of the fact that I am a white woman.  Up until this year, I have lived my life in a largely white society.  I have always been proud of the diversity in my high school, and the fact that many of my friends were not white.  In college I unabashedly showed off my dance moves, happy to have been on a basketball team that taught the white girl how to dance.  All joking aside, I always thought that I had a more diverse upbringing than most, and therefore felt pretty comfortable around very different people.  Despite my experiences in high school, I have only really felt conscious of my whiteness when watching the news, while discussing race issues, or during the occasional break-dancing battle in the locker room.

On the other hand, I have always been aware of the fact that I am a woman (in addition to living in a white dominated society, I have also always lived in a male dominated society).  Whenever I walk outside (God forbid alone and/or at night), choose an outfit for a party, spend time alone with a man, decide to have a drink, or even put my hand up in class to share an opinion, my femaleness has always sat at the front of my mind.  Even within the relative safety of Grinnell, I have felt uncomfortable, and even in danger, a number of times due to the fact that I am a woman.  Statistics on sexual assault are fairly well known, but I will mention a few here just to reiterate the facts.  Approximately 1 in 5 women report experiencing rape during their lives.  Further, 1 in 4 women will experience sexual assault before the age of 18.  However, I feel comfortable in saying that unless a woman lives within a bubble, sexual assault and/or harassment is completely unavoidable, even for the lucky three in that statistic.  This statistic weighs heavily over my head, and women everywhere, every day.

During my holiday in Botswana, I have never felt more aware of my whiteness and my womanness (I know I made up that word).  For the first time in my life, being white makes me part of the minority in most situations in Namibia.  Let me clarify, being white alone does not put me at-risk in Southern Africa like being black, or just not being white, does in the United States.  The Ferguson case and subsequent violence and unrest in the States has made me more aware than ever of how much privilege my whiteness provides me.  Here in Southern Africa (or anywhere for that matter) I DO NOT feel stigmatized because of my whiteness.  In fact, while touring Botswana, I felt more like a privileged white tourist than I have ever wanted to feel.  Nearly every person on each of our tours was white, loud, rich, and generally seemed unaware of their privilege.  Everywhere we went we found white men who were "travelling around the world for a year."  I mean come on, do you really think this makes you open-minded or culturally aware?!  Your ability to drop everything, skip out on work for a long period of time, not to mention spend an enormous amount of money on airplane tickets, safaris, accommodation, and food only separates you from the people to whom you claim to be so connected.  After writing my final history seminar paper on the colonial history behind conservation in Africa, I already find myself cringing when entering national parks and game reserves.  The fancy catered meals, expensive camera equipment, and over the top souvenirs only exacerbate my awareness of being a privileged white tourist in Africa.

However, despite my wish that safaris in Africa feel less like a throwback to colonialism, my whiteness alone never made me feel unsafe.  When I sat at a local bus-stop at five in the morning in Maun, I did not feel nervous due to the fact that I was the only white person, but rather the only white woman.  I have learned to wear a ring on my left ring finger when travelling not because I am white, and not even because I am a woman, but because I am a white woman.  This is not to say that black women are not a subjugated group in Southern Africa.  Reading newspaper stories on be-headings has left me only too aware of the strong patriarchy alive in Namibia.  However, as a white woman in Southern Africa, men seem to see me as a ticket to the West.  During my trip in Botswana, men bought me drinks, asked me to "party", and even proposed marriage.  One man on my bus to Kasane leaned close to whisper in my ear, "Tell you father if he wants a son I will come to America," before describing his prestigious job and his sizable herd of livestock.  I strongly wanted to respond that I would rather a daughter, that he should probably ask my mother, and that I am going to law school.  However, I smiled politely and said "Okay."  I know that most of these men are simply looking for a way to raise their social standing in their communities, but I always have to wonder if one of them might decide I don't have the right to deny them.  Occasionally I told men like this I was married to a man back home.  This worked a couple times until one man simply slung his arm around my shoulder and declared himself my "Zambian husband."  Regardless of any good intentions this man might have had, his gesture made me feel vulnerable and unsafe.

My discomfort is often exacerbated by the aggressive method many men adopt to earn money.  For example, as soon I exited a taxi at the border to Zambia a man grabbed my arm offering to help me across the ferry.  After pulling my arm back and asking a few questions, the man clarified that he had a cab on the other side of the border and simply wanted business.  I accepted his offer to accompany us across the border out of relief that we would not have to stand around trying to find a cab in Zamiba.  However, I soon questioned my decision as more men began joining our so-called cab driver as we walked across the border.  Soon enough, we found ourselves surrounded by seven Zambian men as we exited the customs office.  With dread, I realized that this man might not actually be a cab driver and quickly found an alternative cab in case we found ourselves in a bad situation with our initial friend.  My worries were unfounded, as we crossed the border and found a legitimate cab with a fair price on the other side.

A few nights later, we sat in our backpacker in Livingstone listening to the festivities around the city as Zambians celebrated their 50th independence day.  I found myself at a table with an Australian name Ollie, two Kiwis named Ash and Joe, one Brit whose name I can't remember, and one Israeli whose name I also can't remember (none of whom asked about my marital status, all of whom are rich enough to travel to Zambia).  When Ollie insisted we all go out to celebrate, I hesitated.  However, as our group stood up to go, I looked around at the group of five men, including one extremely tall New Zealander (a doctor with a very nice beard), I realized this was our best opportunity to really experience Zambian independence.  We went to a club down the street with a live band playing on the first floor.  As our group walked in, everyone turned to stare.  Needless to say, such a large group of white people walking into room of only black people would draw some attention.  However, with our two tall Kiwis wearing bright handmade shirts proudly displaying Zamiban colors and Ollie (who was legitimately insane) jumping in to start the dancing, the stares quickly turned into smiles.  We were soon adopted by a group of Zambian men who pulled us up to the third floor with the real dancing.  The guys in our group enjoyed the company and accepted invitations to dance and drink.  Instead, I stuck as close as possible to our tall Kiwi and moved my hips back and forth enough to be considered dancing but not enough to draw any attention.  After about half an hour of sticking to my male friends, I had only been grabbed at a few times on the rare occasion I got more than a few inches away from our tall Kiwi.  Our group (mostly me) felt our experience of Zamiban independence was complete and headed back to the backpacker.

Celebrating Zambian 50th independence at a club in Livingstone

Overall, I found it extremely difficult to experience Botswanan and Zambian culture beyond our safaris.  I loved my trip, but it was limited to animal viewings and wildlife experiences.  Whenever a local man sat down at the bar stool next to me I did my best to display my disinterest as soon as possible.  As a white female I found myself walking around with a hard expression on my face to deter people from approaching me, and when men did approach I spoke in short direct sentences to deter any unwanted attention.  Needless to say, it is impossible to interact with a culture with this attitude.  Tayler was much more open than me on these occasions;  her Midwestern niceness is ever-present.  On one instance a man asked us to party with him.  I did my usual routine by putting on a serious but polite face and saying we were not interested in partying, and he would be better off finding someone else.  He turned to Tayler hoping for a more positive response as he put his hand on my thigh.  She proceeded to happily chat with him about her research and love for Southern Africa.  Though I understand the want to meet local people, I felt extremely uncomfortable.  I tried to explain to Tayler that men like this are not interested in talking about environmental research, and that being direct with him deters him from getting too aggressive and allows him to spend his time finding someone who actually does want to 'party'.  Maybe I am right to play it safe and send men like this on their way as soon as possible, but I can't help but wonder if I am not trusting enough as I see Tayler interact with people happily, though perhaps naively.  I wonder how I could get around my distrust for men who are so forward, but unfortunately the most obvious solution is to be accompanied by a man.

During our last days on holiday, I met a Swiss girl who, like many of the men I met on the trip, was travelling the world for the year.  I asked her if she had ever felt unsafe as a woman travelling alone.  She looked at me as if I was crazy and said no.  I was shocked an asked her more about where she traveled and what she did.  It quickly became apparent that she was sticking to guided tours with larger groups, at least for her time in Africa.  I was disappointed, though perhaps not surprised, that she didn't have the answers to comfortably and safely traveling alone as a woman.  I hope I am not stuck to my little bubble here at Gobabeb where everyone is kind simply because we have to live together.  Instead, I would like to get a taste of true South African culture without feeling vulnerable because of my white womaness.

To wrap up this post, I would like to direct you the one I go to in a time of such crisis: NPR of course.  It seemed to good to be true that as I was about to press publish, this article popped up on my news-feed:

http://www.npr.org/blogs/

It nicely describes another race issue brought up in discussions about sexual assault/harassment.  Race and sexual harassment is such a complicated topic, and my experiences in Botswana and Zambia are encouraging me to delve deeper into the subject.  Despite the occasions of discomfort, my experiences while on holiday were fantastic, and I will never forget many of the spectacular things I saw.

Funding and Values

            Almost four months into my time at Gobabeb, I’ve realized that I’m learning a lot about the inner mechanisms of an NGO.  I first learned about the workings of non-governmental organizations in my Global Development class at Grinnell with Professor Roper.  I specifically remember the term “briefcase NGO”, referring to an organization that creates a platform based on funding rather than the other way around.  Often times these NGOs hire employees who can write attractive funding proposals and progress reports rather than those who can complete the work on the ground.  Rich Western funders look for causes that appeal to Western ideas of what changes need to be made in the world with no regard for what people actual need and would rather see big plans than realistic strategies.

            When I first learned of these NGOs, I imagined a few well-educated people with no cultural understanding sitting in an office writing flowery grant proposals while raking in the dough.  On the other side of the spectrum I imagined individuals connecting with people in remote areas with nothing more than coins in their pockets.  In reality, I have realized that most NGOs fall somewhere in the middle.  While there may be the occasional immoral organization bringing in money without providing real results, I am certain there are no surviving NGOs on the other side of the spectrum.  Gobabeb falls right in the middle of this range.  I see Gobabeb struggle on a day-to-day basis to maintain the delicate balancing act of catering to funders while staying true to our values.  If we fall to either side, Gobabeb will cease to function successfully.  Without funding, nothing will progress regardless of how virtuous our platform may be.  On the other hand, if we do not hold true to our values, no amount of money can produce a worthwhile product.  This leaves me, and Gobabeb, in a rough position.  I know that we must cater to funding to an extent, but I constantly worry about how this is affecting our core values.  I worry that our values are changing based on available funding rather than community needs.

            For example, I am currently writing up the final report for the Finnish Embassy evaluating the Youth Environmental Summits funded by the Finnish Fund for Local Cooperation.  I was impressed as I read through previous progress reports discussing how important contemporary issues in Namibia determined the topics of each YES.  For example, the May 2014 YES was on the topic of the Namib Sand Sea due to its recent inscription as a World Heritage Site.  The YES before that focused on biodiversity in honor of world biodiversity week, which was going on at the same time.  As I wrote up the report, I found myself stuck when trying to justify the choice of topic for the August 2014 YES.  We focused on climate change and plant genetic resources for food and agriculture.  I initially wondered why we chose this topic seeing as we are in the middle of an extremely arid desert, and therefore are not the ideal location to study crops.  I quickly realized that we chose this topic to gain funding from the Benefit Sharing Fund, which was holding a simultaneous course interviewing farmers in the Northern regions about farming practices to come up with a Strategic Action Plan.  How do I justify our choice to study crops in the middle of the Namib Desert?

YES learners studying agriculture in our tiny garden

            I also see buzzwords thrown into grant proposals to draw the eyes of donors without contemplation of the implications this may have on our on the groundwork.  Recently one of our staff created a presentation for an international conference on a topic she is passionate about.  In order to encourage the conference to accept her presentation, she also threw in a side presentation she thought would be attractive, but that she was not interested in.  Low and behold, the presentation she really wanted was not accepted, but the other was.  Now she is stuck attending an international conference to give a presentation she does not have prepared about a topic she really does not care about.

            Maybe it is the opposite effect that has me the most frustrated.  We throw in buzz-words like “climate change”, “women empowerment”, and “indigenous” solely to encourage funders to open their pocketbooks.  Our newest project focuses on an especially at-risk indigenous group called the Topnaar who live along the Kuiseb River.  After reading the proposal for the project I was especially excited about plans to create a sewing circle meant to empower women.  I met with some of the staff to finalize the proposal.  After voicing my excitement about the sewing circle, I found that this section was added simply to cater to our funder who is especially ‘into’ empowering women.  In fact, I was told (with a large eye roll) that our funders particularly liked the sewing circle idea and wanted us to build more on the idea.  After forcing a smile onto my face, I described my ideas to incorporate talks and activities that would foster confidence and independence.  I also proposed the addition of a financial management course to help women gain financial independence with the money from their crafts.  To my dismay, my ideas were seen as great ways to placate the donor rather than methods to improve the status of women within the Topnaar community, which is apparently not one of our values.

Topnaar home

            I find it equally frustrating to see worthwhile projects fall by the wayside due to a lack of funding.  One of the first research projects Gobabeb undertook was the monitoring of Tenebrionid beetles.  There are over 200 species of these beetles.  The little guys have fascinating adaptations to desert life, from crazy methods to collect fog like head-standing and trench building, to a diet of detritus (dead plant material) to take advantage of strong winds and little new growth in the dry environment.  The Tenebrionid beetles are an indicator species, meaning the population density of different species can be connected to greater environmental changes.  For example, fog dependent species are more populous nearer to the coast, while rain dependent species only pop up in great numbers after heavy rain events.  This is one of the longest running research projects in the Namib Desert, let alone in a dry environment anywhere.  This has a great advantage, as we can compare more data and see clearer patterns over the course of a longer period of time.  Long term research is especially essential when looking at topics like climate change, which depend on long-term data to see changes.  However, recently the funding for this project dried up.  Rather than seek out new funding, Gobabeb was ready to drop the beetle monitoring entirely.  Mary Seely, who, more than anyone, understands the importance of this project, came to our rescue by providing the funding herself.

Waxy Darkling Tenebrionid Beetle

Setting pitfall traps to monitor Tenebrionid populations

            In the end, I cannot fault Gobabeb for catering to donors.  Without funding, our projects would come to a standstill, and I really do believe that Gobabeb does a lot of good for Namibia.  Rather, I have come to appreciate the difficult balancing act Gobabeb, and I’m sure every successful NGO, must perform every day.  Given this huge challenge, I’m not sure I could work in, let alone run, a non-governmental organization as a career.  But I think it is absolutely essential for anyone who is interested in development to understand the tough job done by every good NGO to fully appreciate what must be done to foster positive change on the ground.

Runs and Gardens

So after spending two months here in the Namib, I haven't had any big revelations in the last couple weeks.  The fifth Youth Environmental Summit wrapped up a week ago after a lot of hard work and way too many phone calls.  I suppose I should tell you a bit about what the YES is before I talk about how it went.  Basically the YES is a week long environmental science course for 30 grade 11 learners selected from over 150 applications (many more than we have ever received before) from around Namibia.  Each year we choose a topic based on the interests of our funders.  This year the YES was funded by the Embassy of Finland's Fund for Local Cooperation and the Benefit Sharing Fund for the International Treaty on Plant Genetic Resources for Food and Agriculture (a mouthful).  The theme this year was therefore climate change and plant genetic resources for food and agriculture.  The learners spent the week learning about the scientific process, hearing lectures on the topic, being split into three subtopic groups to do fieldwork, and finishing with presentations involving songs, skits, and posters.  The week went really well overall; the 30 learners were all excellent, everyone had a great time, and the presentations were fun.  Though the week was a success, there were a lot of hurdles that I had to jump over get to the end of the week.  For example, there were only enough buses to transport half the kids at a time, leaving me with 15 kids to entertain before everyone else arrived on the first day, and 15 kids to entertain before the bus got back to take them home on the last day.  Also, all three of my group leaders dropped out, one right before the programme, and one the second day in.  Fortunately I am used to running programs like this, and therefore used to things not going according to plan.  I stayed flexible and positive throughout the week, and even heard from multiple people that this was the best YES ever.  Now that the program is over, I am wrapping up some things like press releases and budget summaries before moving on to the next big project: GTRIP.

YES group at the top of Station Dune

Beyond summarizing the YES, I figured I would use this blog post to talk a bit about what I do outside of work here at Gobabeb.  I work from 8-5 on weekdays, and about every other week or so I have a school group over the weekend as well.  I've started three real hobbies here at Gobabeb to keep myself busy and motivated outside of work.  Right now the sun sets at 5:30ish, leaving me with very little daylight after work, so three hobbies keeps me plenty busy.

The first is running which is taking up most of my free time.  I realized that I need some sort of goal to keep myself motivated beyond work, and since I am no longer playing a team sport (for the first time since I was four), I also realized I need a new way to stay fit.  Therefore, I have decided to run a marathon during my time here in Namibia.  If you had asked me last year if I would ever run a marathon, I would have laughed in your face (just ask any of my teammates).  The two mile running test for soccer was the bane of my existence, warm-up runs around the football fields were my least favorite part of practice, and I remember that one time Heather suggested we run four miles instead of the usual three and I almost turned around and went home.  It may therefore surprise you, I know it surprised me, that here at Gobabeb I soon found myself running six miles every few days.  I found that it is too easy to finish work at 5, sit on the computer checking social media and emails until 6, cook dinner and go to bed by 8, only to repeat the same thing the next day.  I felt so brain dead after doing this routine for a few days that I knew I needed to add something significant to my routine to give myself some purpose.  So, I decided to add a major running goal.  So far I've been doing well in my training plan: I haven't missed a single workout, and am feeling great on most runs.  I learned my lesson today when I headed out for a five mile run at 10:30 and, dying of heat, had to walk the last half mile back to the station.  I will only be running in the mornings or evenings from now on.  My first test will be in November when I will hopefully run a half marathon in Swakup, building up to my marathon in February.  If all goes according to plan and I don't pass out at some point, I might even head to Cape Town to run in the Two Oceans race with Sachi (a Grinnell alum in the Peace Corps here in Namibia) at the end of my time here.  Wish me luck!

In the middle of a long run.

The Gobabeb gym

The next hobby I've picked up is not really a hobby, since I have been doing it as a part of work, but I still count it.  There is an enclosed garden here at Gobabeb, but when I arrived it was totally trashed.  I spent a few days cleaning it up and getting dirty, before I bought some seeds and began planting.  I now have a few pots of maize, mahangu, watermelon, beets, rocket, various herbs, and even strawberries.  I'm not sure how anything will turn out in the end; I think our salty water might affect the taste of things.  All the same, I'm working hard to keep things alive out here in the desert.  It's nice to get up from the desk once a day to walk down to the garden and water.  It's also nice to feel responsible for something, even as small as a plant.

Sprouts popping up in the garden

The last hobby I'm cultivating here at Gobabeb is baking.  It's nice to sit in old house on a Sunday waiting for something to be done in the oven, and it's even nicer to have something fresh out here in the desert.  So far I've made muffins, cupcakes, cake, and a couple loaves of bread.  The bread felt like a big accomplishment, since I've never baked, or even seen anyone bake, anything other than muffins and desserts.  Even better than the fresh bread however, was the chocolate marble cheesecake with an Oreo crust for Robert's birthday.  I LOVE cheesecake, but have only ever eaten it store-bought or in a restaurant (and apparently during Thanksgiving at home, but I seriously do not remember that).  I've never even thought that much about how to make it, thinking of it as some sort of complicated desert only real chefs could make.  Therefore, I felt pretty cool serving up marble cheesecake to my Gobabeb family.  I'm going to try to bake something new every month, just to keep making fresh things, and learning more recipes while here.

Chocolate birthday cheesecake!

So that's about it.  I do other things too, like watching movies and reading trashy romance novels (just kidding...but actually... I mean come on I'm in the desert!), but those things didn't seem that interesting to write about.  The next couple months are going to fly by now that things have quieted down around here again.  Tayler and I are busy planning GTRIP (a 5 month research course for four university students) and I actually won't be around Gobabeb very much.  In a couple weeks Tayler and I will be heading to Windhoek (my first time!) for a week to recruit for GTRIP and get some other work done.  In October we will leave for a dune trip to set up pit traps and identify beetles for a week or so.  Then I will head to Windhoek again with Tayler to do interviews for GTRIP.  Finally, for the last two weeks for October, Tayler and I will be going to Botswana on holiday!  By the time we get back we will have just enough time to finish up GTRIP preparations before SDP (a two month research course for 10 university students and recent graduates) begins.  After that, GTRIP will begin in February, taking us all the way to when the new Grinnells arrive.  So strange to be thinking that far ahead, but it really doesn't seem like that much time when so much is on your plate.

I'll get another post in before we head to Botswana, but I'm sure I'll be extremely busy with work and trying to fill out more grad school applications in the next few weeks!