Wedding Sunday and Goodbye Namibia

Another Hansa Draft is in front of me. Perhaps my very last one because I’m at the airport, spending my last couple of hours in Namibia and awaiting my flight to Doha then Chicago then home. It’s a 36-hour journey I have ahead of me. One last Hansa Draft to commemorate my time here and to toast what is hopefully a smooth, easy journey is certainly in order.

When I last left you, I was writing from the coastal town of Swakopmund, enjoying a little R&R and relaxing in the Namibian sunshine. I spent three nights there, alone, in a nice hotel just a block from the Atlantic and just a short stroll to bars and restaurants in the downtown area of this relatively small tourist and retirement city. It’s a bit of a strange place that seems to suddenly spring up out of nowhere, at the edge of the Namib Desert, on your drive west from Windhoek. It’s a dusty town, with a noticeable German feel. There were biergartens there that looked as though they were plucked right out of a Bavarian village. Lots of white tourists – actually, mostly white tourists. It’s a downtime for local Namibian families, with kids in school, the summer well behind us and air and water temps quickly dipping. I often had the beach to myself. Most of the tourists I saw were in groups, either piling into or emptying out of rugged safari jeeps on their way into the desert or north to the Skeleton Coast. My best times in Swakop were times spent talking with workers at a couple of restaurants I went back to several times. One was a place by the beach, in which I got to know some of the servers - mostly because the place was pretty dead, because I generally lingered a long time, and because it was probably obvious I was craving conversation. The other was a dinner joint, right on the water. An old boat converted into a seaside restaurant. There I had great chats with the young Namibian bartenders as I sat on my stool and enjoyed my fish while they darted around making touristy drinks like margaritas and “sex on the beach.” They were great guys. We talked Premiere League soccer and life in Namibia and how they had all grown up somewhere else but had come to Swakop because of jobs in the tourist industry.

After Swakop, on Friday, I took the same van service back to Windhoek I had taken to get there – this time the last to board. There was one seat open, and for whatever reason, a mother and her teenage daughter wanted me to sit in between them rather than the two of them sitting side-by-side with me on the window. Throughout the trip they continually passed things to one another across me, and when the young lady slept, she tended to engage in some massive manspreading. (Can women manspread?) Needless to say, after the 4-hour trip I was happy to get out of that van.

I waited for Nathan at a strip mall in the city, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Emily’s Omuua, dressed in his sharp school uniform, had joined him. We sat outside and enjoyed some pizza, then drove to Emily’s sister’s place in the nearby Katutura neighborhood to pick up her middle child, Uripojao. Both Omuua and Uripojao go to school in Windhoek during the week. After chatting with the family, enjoying a beer – which we purchased from a house/drink shop a couple of houses down - and the neighborhood hustle bustle all around us, we drove back to Rehoboth.

The weekend was then a mix of down time back at Emily and Nathan’s, and time in Windhoek during the day on Saturday. Friday night we enjoyed the sunset, more drinks, and conversation around the backyard fire while Emily cooked and while the sounds of preaching and singing from an outdoor funeral two houses down filled the air. We were joined by young neighbors Anvil and Faisa. The outdoor meal of stewed beef and veggies, tossed back with another cold one, really hit the spot.

On Saturday we attended a “Fun Day” at Uripojao’s school back in Windhoek. Oripojao attends a boarding school for special needs students in the Klein Windhoek neighborhood. This public-school campus is amazing, with trees and flowers everywhere, wide open spaces, multiple playgrounds, two pools and various buildings scattered about. They even raise farm animals, have a brick making area and a state-of-the-art aquaponics garden where various types and colors of lettuces are grown. The students engage in all sorts of vocational learning in these facilities, giving them skills they can use beyond school. The event included food, raffle drawings, a fun walk, soccer and tours of the campus. It was a fun morning, seeing Oripojao in his glory and meeting many of the kind teachers and others who work there.

We then spent the afternoon in Windhoek, seeing some of the sights, checking out a popular outdoor “street food” market, then going to the home and shop of one of Emily’s cousins for a couple of beers. This cousin, like so many other residents of this neighborhood of Windhoek called Katutura, is an entrepreneur who has built a nice little business for herself out of a small building attached to her home. Just like the house where we bought beers the day before, this place is a little snack, drink, convenience shop where locals come to drink and hangout, and where kids stop by for a small bag of chips, a single gum ball, or a Coke to take back home. Katurura is a neighborhood in Windhoek referred to as the "location." Picture some middle-class homes interspersed with tin "shacks" or other much more modest dwellings. Some folks own the land. Many don't necessarily, but rent or just built a small place on what is essentially public land. Some have indoor toilets, others do not. Katutura was created in 1961 following the forced removal of Windhoek's black population from the "old location." This was during apartheid days. Emily's cousin's joint is a lively place. And Emily’s cousin has become quite successful, using her earnings to add on several rooms to her home over the years. We sat in the courtyard, drank our cold beers and chatted with family and neighbors who stopped for a little chill time on this beautiful, sunny Saturday afternoon.

Before driving back to Windhoek, we had one more stop to make. This was at the home of one of Emily’s sisters, and the stop was for a meeting in which Emily and members of a little cooperative they’ve formed came together to count money and discuss their business. As a small group of women, they make “microloans” to members of the community and charge interest upon payment, as a way to earn a little money on the side. During the meeting the rest of us hung out in the courtyard and I had a chance to visit with a few of the kids I’d seen at the wedding and also Aunty Pia, another of Emily’s cousins and someone who joined our group for the family “honeymoon” immediately after the wedding. (More on that to come.)

Saturday night and Sunday were then spent back in Rehoboth. On Sunday, after breakfast, laundry and lots of lounging, the five of us drove out to a reservoir – a dammed-up river – on the outskirts of town for lunch. The place is very nice, with lodging for overnight guests, a beautiful restaurant overlooking the man-made lake, and two swimming pools. We ate a big lunch – me, an oxtail stew – then spent a little time by the pool, sipping a few drinks and testing the waters. Actually, it was just Omuua and I who swam. Like most days in Namibia this time of year, it was another warm, sunny one. A perfect day for an outdoor lunch, some drinks and a dip in the pool.

Alright… before I wrap up the remaining days of my time in Namibia, it’s necessary to wrap up the remaining day of Nathan and Emily’s weekend-long wedding. Sunday. The final day, and the day of the culminating marriage ceremony.

As days go, Sunday was actually quite light in terms of fanfare and ceremony, especially in comparison to Saturday. The day started like the one before, with bucket baths, breakfast cooked over the fire, coffee and getting all dressed up in our formal attire one last time. Then, a final ritual took place, again involving meat from the cattle that was slaughtered the day before. In our western culture, a wedding culminates with a kiss. You know, as in, “I now pronounce you man and wife. (Or man and man or wife and wife.) You may kiss the bride.” This is when the marriage is christened. When it becomes official and when the two are finally united as one. In the Herero culture, the ritual of metaphorically “kissing the bride” comes before the wedding and it comes in the form of the bride and groom sharing in the eating of the palate of the cow. Yep. That’s right. No smooch in front of one’s honored guests. No romantic kiss. Instead, it’s, “here, eat the roof of the cow’s mouth we just cooked up for you.” Sorry to mock, but it did strike me as rather funny that Nathan had to forgo a public kiss for a breakfast of cattle palate. Nathan was presented the meat first, then the rest was delivered to Emily at her camp. Another unique, traditional, symbolic moment in the Herero wedding weekend.

Then, finally, it was time for the ceremony. This took place late-morning, at Emily’s camp, just outside of the family home. Guests had already been seated as our group walked slowly in, taking seats in the front row. Nathan and Emily sat together on the stage, both hidden. Nathan behind a white scarf, Emily behind a large white veil. Both remained seated for the entire ceremony, both with heads bowed and eyes to the ground. The proceedings were brief, with some words spoken and some songs sung. Most of the speaking was done in Otjiherero, but because of Nathan and because of our attendance, English was kindly peppered in throughout the program, for our benefit. What words were spoken had great meaning, with the family acknowledging and honoring the historic coming together of a Herero woman and an American man. They all seemed very proud, and those of us there for Nathan were very touched. Then, the ceremony was complete, and basically, the wedding weekend was over. Nathan and Emily piled into a car, able to sit together, and see each other, in the light of day for the first time in over a week. That’s it. They were married. Turn out the lights, the party’s over.

It's an understatement to say that being there for Nathan and Emily’s wedding was one of the great gifts of my lifetime. I felt, and feel, so lucky to have been there, and so fortunate to have been welcomed in the way that I was by Emily’s family and by Nathan’s Namibian friends. Love and kindness were showered upon me, Brett, Chad and Claire. We felt it. It was a tangible thing, and such a precious thing, to be invited into this most special and most traditional celebration of the Herero culture. These folks had a huge party and we felt like the honored guests. Man, what a treasure. Thanks Emily. Thanks Nathan. And thanks to Emily and Nathan’s great big, crazy, wonderful Herero family.

So, that’s it. That’s a wrap. I’m leaving out some things, including two very fun-filled days following the wedding in which Nathan, Emily, her kids, uncle Kaveokua, Aunty Pia, and the gang from America went north for what I suppose you could call a family honeymoon. This was my first chance to spend time with Emily, and my first chance to hang out with her three amazing boys. We had such a great time, three vehicles convoying into Etosha National Park, trying to be the first to spot giraffes and lions and rhinos and all other forms of African savannah animals. This was the final coming together of the two families, and it was great fun. Probably the two best "vacation" days of the entire trip. We could all relax, have fun, drink a little, eat a lot and celebrate the happy couple. Finally.

I’ll end it there. Again, what a trip. What a trip. Back in the winter Nathan and I debated whether it would be worth it for me to make the long journey. Whether there might just be too much chaos, too many unknowns, too many eventualities to predict and plan for. Or whether Nathan would have the energy and freedom to really host me, amidst all his many duties as groom. Would it be better to forgo the wedding and come later, when Nathan and Emily had proper time to really show me around their country? Well, of course in the end, we decided I should come. And now, I can’t imagine it any other way. I’ll say it again, what a gift it was for me to be here. Not just for the wedding, but for time spent with my American mates, for time to relax at the house, for the trip to Caprivi, and most of all, for time bonding with my new nephews. My brother has a new wife, and we both have a new family. What a blessing.