Katima Mulilo is a small town right on the north-eastern tip of Namibia. It’s in the Caprivi Strip which is an area of land that sits between Zambia, Zimbabwe and Botswana. It is the furthest from the capital Windhoek that you can get whilst staying in Namibia. Staying there was liking being on a different planet, and definitely an experience. As I’ve mentioned in my previous posts, I stayed in a house that Jem and Glenn rented in the Zambezi Fish Farm, which used to be a fish farm but is now more of a residential plot. The Fish Farm is just outside the centre of Katima, in an area of bush. It’s about a 5 minute drive to the border of Zambia. The houses on the fish farm are all slightly different and certainly very quirky. The water is separate from the towns water and is acquired by a pipe going into the Zambezi, which runs a short distance from the back of the back gate. This was very handy when the whole of Katima didn’t have a water supply for 3 weeks. It is quite bizarre having a shower in river water… if you run a bath you can see the distinct mud colour, definitely not advisable to drink. I loved the house, we had a dam in the back garden which meant that we constantly shared our living room with many frogs. There was an abundance of crickets and huge millipedes. I once woke up to a tickling sensation on my leg to find that I had somehow trapped a gigantic millipede in my mosquito net with me (thank god it wasn‘t a centipede). Either that or it was a bloody clever one that managed to crawl under the net tucked into my air mattress.
When you touched the taps to turn on the shower you got an electric shock; quite unnerving the first time but I got used to it quite quickly (and it definitely wakes you up in the morning). When it rained (and boy does it rain), the power went out, so we spent many evenings sat reading by candlelight, not to mention many nights sleeping on a wet mattress. A lot of the time you would hear gun shots from the Water Patrols shooting people trying to swim across the river, or the shot to kill a rabid dog that had managed to get into the farm. Occasionally some baboons would manage to climb the fence so we would hear them running across the farm, usually followed by the shouts of people trying to scare them away. There was a pack of dogs owned by Dick and Katie (the owners of the farm) that would sometimes howl at night. Along with the 6 horses there were also a number of cockerels which would crow in the morning. Amongst all of that there was the constant stream of bugs and spiders in general. It was definitely an experience.
When you touched the taps to turn on the shower you got an electric shock; quite unnerving the first time but I got used to it quite quickly (and it definitely wakes you up in the morning). When it rained (and boy does it rain), the power went out, so we spent many evenings sat reading by candlelight, not to mention many nights sleeping on a wet mattress. A lot of the time you would hear gun shots from the Water Patrols shooting people trying to swim across the river, or the shot to kill a rabid dog that had managed to get into the farm. Occasionally some baboons would manage to climb the fence so we would hear them running across the farm, usually followed by the shouts of people trying to scare them away. There was a pack of dogs owned by Dick and Katie (the owners of the farm) that would sometimes howl at night. Along with the 6 horses there were also a number of cockerels which would crow in the morning. Amongst all of that there was the constant stream of bugs and spiders in general. It was definitely an experience.
The actual center of Katima is quite small, comprising of two main streets. The pavements are made of sand so it had a constant dusty, grubby look to it. It is an odd mixture of Western buildings mixed with mud huts. The population of white people in Katima is quite small; about 200 people of the 15,000 people that live there. Generally I got a frosty reception from the locals… they mostly ignored me but when they weren’t they were either shouting Makua (white person) at me, trying to sell something to me or scowling in my direction. It was very strange coming from England to somewhere that is so openly racist. The different colours don’t mix. That’s the way it is. The black people teach their children to be scared of the white people. For some reason they tend to look at us with a mixture of fear and awe. It’s very odd.
A lot of the black people work as maids or workman for the white people for absolute pittance. It is incredible… Christina, the maid that worked for Jemma and Glenn, earned N$900 a month which is considerably more than she would be paid working for anyone else. She would come in 3 times a week and clean the house and do all the washing and ironing. With the current exchange rate that works out to be about 70 pounds. However one thing I did gradually realise is that the black people get things a lot cheaper than the whites so it is difficult to compare their wages with ours. If they wish to buy a house it is about 50 times cheaper if not more than if a white person wishes to buy the same house. Also a lot of them live in the mud huts without having to pay rent, electricity or water. They use the electricity at their boss’ house to charge their phones and they wash in the river. It seems that their wages are enough for them to get by on. Also, another thing that surprised me was the mix of technology within the primitive appearance… most of the people that live in the huts have smart phones etc. But it turns out that their choice of dwelling is definitely a choice, which I respect. The government offered to build brick houses for the people but they refused. I suppose it would be like someone coming and taking one look at my house in disgust and offering to build me a mud hut. I’d be quite offended.
Even working in the same store the white people get paid a hell of a lot more than the blacks. I was quite disgusted by this at first but after a couple of months staying in Katima I gradually changed my views. There is a saying called the ‘Caprivi Shuffle’ which describes the pace at which the locals walk. It really is a slow shuffle. The culture is so different, there is no urgency to anything. If you order food you are lucky to get it within the next hour, and even then it’s because you’ve asked 4 times already. They definitely have a different attitude to life. They seem to take care in completely different things; if you complain about the food you have ordered they don’t give a damn. You tend to get a look of disgust aimed in your direction along with silence. If you ask for something in a shop the answer will be no. Jemma once picked up a Cadbury’s Flake bar in the petrol station and when the lady at the till scanned it in she just said ‘it’s not on the system’. Jemma pleaded with her as it was out on the shelf etc but the woman just gave her a blank look and refused! At first I thought it was people being racist but it turns out it most definitely is not. After asking many times, trying to phone for information, being polite and getting nowhere I quickly gave up. It’s just a completely different culture and they don’t care about the things we do. I really enjoyed being thrown into such a different atmosphere, I definitely learnt a lot. A friend of ours runs a pharmacy and has both white people and black people working there. He was asked by one of the black people if he could be paid the same as the white people, to which the owner replied “Of course you can if you do the same amount of work”. The black person immediately said that he didn’t want to after all as that would be far too much work so he’ll just stick on the same wage. It is a lot more about survival and a lot less materialistic than I’m used to. They work to earn money for food, not for possessions. If they see something they need, they steal it. It’s like in Africa if you need it, then it’s rightfully yours. We have a benefit system, they have insurance. The blacks steal from the whites and the whites get their money back from insurance. I struggled with this concept as it is ingrained so deeply into me not to be racist, but after a few months of experiencing it, it really is like being on a different planet. I am still against the whole skin colour thing but the cultures are 2 polar opposites trying to fit together.
When Richard (Jemma’s friend) came over from England to see us for a few days we ventured into Choto which is one of the ‘slum’ villages on the outskirts of Katima. I was too scared to walk through it on my own so was glad that Richard was up for it too. We drove down the main street, parked up and walked back down the street. There are no roads or pavements, it’s all sand. The houses are made of wood or tin and tiny. The butchers is a wooden shack with the meat hanging out in the open, covered in flies. The houses are crammed together and the floor is covered in rubbish.. It is a sight to see, so different to anything I’ve ever seen. I took a photo of one of the butcheries and a woman came running up to me demanding money. We took a few more photos then handed some over. It seems that if you ask them to do anything they expect to be paid for it. I asked one woman with a huge group of children around her if I could take a photo. She said no until I waved a note at her and she was suddenly the most friendly person I’d seen all day. One thing we noticed was the sense of community. All the people were sat outside together chatting, while the kids played together in the street. We got some very curious looks as we were literally the only white people there. The kids ran up and waved at us, the adults looked at us with interest but generally we got a friendly reception. We took photos and said hi to the people. It was a really nice experience. It showed me that they are just people that have different values to us. Their aim in life is to relax, socialise and work enough to feed yourself. It makes a nice change from the pressures of Western life to run the rat race. It is hard not to get sucked into the general ‘racist’ attitude that exists in Katima - from both sides - as the cultures are so different. But the experience in Choto said it all for me, it really is just a matter of different cultures. They don’t like our culture any more than we like theirs. I think it is a lack of understanding. We don’t understand why they would want to live like that and they don’t understand why we would want to live like we do. They fit together as best as they can with a big divide but general acceptance from both sides.
A lot of the black people work as maids or workman for the white people for absolute pittance. It is incredible… Christina, the maid that worked for Jemma and Glenn, earned N$900 a month which is considerably more than she would be paid working for anyone else. She would come in 3 times a week and clean the house and do all the washing and ironing. With the current exchange rate that works out to be about 70 pounds. However one thing I did gradually realise is that the black people get things a lot cheaper than the whites so it is difficult to compare their wages with ours. If they wish to buy a house it is about 50 times cheaper if not more than if a white person wishes to buy the same house. Also a lot of them live in the mud huts without having to pay rent, electricity or water. They use the electricity at their boss’ house to charge their phones and they wash in the river. It seems that their wages are enough for them to get by on. Also, another thing that surprised me was the mix of technology within the primitive appearance… most of the people that live in the huts have smart phones etc. But it turns out that their choice of dwelling is definitely a choice, which I respect. The government offered to build brick houses for the people but they refused. I suppose it would be like someone coming and taking one look at my house in disgust and offering to build me a mud hut. I’d be quite offended.
Even working in the same store the white people get paid a hell of a lot more than the blacks. I was quite disgusted by this at first but after a couple of months staying in Katima I gradually changed my views. There is a saying called the ‘Caprivi Shuffle’ which describes the pace at which the locals walk. It really is a slow shuffle. The culture is so different, there is no urgency to anything. If you order food you are lucky to get it within the next hour, and even then it’s because you’ve asked 4 times already. They definitely have a different attitude to life. They seem to take care in completely different things; if you complain about the food you have ordered they don’t give a damn. You tend to get a look of disgust aimed in your direction along with silence. If you ask for something in a shop the answer will be no. Jemma once picked up a Cadbury’s Flake bar in the petrol station and when the lady at the till scanned it in she just said ‘it’s not on the system’. Jemma pleaded with her as it was out on the shelf etc but the woman just gave her a blank look and refused! At first I thought it was people being racist but it turns out it most definitely is not. After asking many times, trying to phone for information, being polite and getting nowhere I quickly gave up. It’s just a completely different culture and they don’t care about the things we do. I really enjoyed being thrown into such a different atmosphere, I definitely learnt a lot. A friend of ours runs a pharmacy and has both white people and black people working there. He was asked by one of the black people if he could be paid the same as the white people, to which the owner replied “Of course you can if you do the same amount of work”. The black person immediately said that he didn’t want to after all as that would be far too much work so he’ll just stick on the same wage. It is a lot more about survival and a lot less materialistic than I’m used to. They work to earn money for food, not for possessions. If they see something they need, they steal it. It’s like in Africa if you need it, then it’s rightfully yours. We have a benefit system, they have insurance. The blacks steal from the whites and the whites get their money back from insurance. I struggled with this concept as it is ingrained so deeply into me not to be racist, but after a few months of experiencing it, it really is like being on a different planet. I am still against the whole skin colour thing but the cultures are 2 polar opposites trying to fit together.
When Richard (Jemma’s friend) came over from England to see us for a few days we ventured into Choto which is one of the ‘slum’ villages on the outskirts of Katima. I was too scared to walk through it on my own so was glad that Richard was up for it too. We drove down the main street, parked up and walked back down the street. There are no roads or pavements, it’s all sand. The houses are made of wood or tin and tiny. The butchers is a wooden shack with the meat hanging out in the open, covered in flies. The houses are crammed together and the floor is covered in rubbish.. It is a sight to see, so different to anything I’ve ever seen. I took a photo of one of the butcheries and a woman came running up to me demanding money. We took a few more photos then handed some over. It seems that if you ask them to do anything they expect to be paid for it. I asked one woman with a huge group of children around her if I could take a photo. She said no until I waved a note at her and she was suddenly the most friendly person I’d seen all day. One thing we noticed was the sense of community. All the people were sat outside together chatting, while the kids played together in the street. We got some very curious looks as we were literally the only white people there. The kids ran up and waved at us, the adults looked at us with interest but generally we got a friendly reception. We took photos and said hi to the people. It was a really nice experience. It showed me that they are just people that have different values to us. Their aim in life is to relax, socialise and work enough to feed yourself. It makes a nice change from the pressures of Western life to run the rat race. It is hard not to get sucked into the general ‘racist’ attitude that exists in Katima - from both sides - as the cultures are so different. But the experience in Choto said it all for me, it really is just a matter of different cultures. They don’t like our culture any more than we like theirs. I think it is a lack of understanding. We don’t understand why they would want to live like that and they don’t understand why we would want to live like we do. They fit together as best as they can with a big divide but general acceptance from both sides.
No comments:
Post a Comment