For once I didn't knock anyone out

Many of you will have had the (mis)fortune to have been on a night out with me at some point or another. For that I heartily apologise for anything I said or did (or didn’t/couldn’t say or do). One feature of my drunken antics has come up as a focus for discussion on a number of “post night out analyse the evening discussions”. The feature in question is my dancing style which seems to vary between mild-twitch and full-seizure at any moment and for no apparent reason (though if I were a mathematician, which I’m clearly not, I’m sure some formula could be developed between amount of alcohol consumed and style of dancing, where I imagine style would peak at about 4 beers – a point we will call the optimum hip loosity - and then be inversely proportional to each beer drunk afterwards).

Anyway, there is a point to this rambling. I may well be mocked around the world for my unique dancefloor moves and grooves, but I have recently discovered that I can dance. In Cuba. There are a group of Cuban Doctors working at the hospital who invited us to theirs for an evening of Cuban festivities. It quickly became apparent that dancing was going to be involved way before optimum hip loosity could be reached. Before a drink had even touched my lips in fact (Gareth, you would have been in hell). Add to this a cute Cuban Doctor who seemed eager to dance and I was thinking of booking my flight home already. Until I saw them move. I won’t say it was like looking in a mirror (I did mention the cute one didn’t I?), in fact they did have style and grace and rhythm in abundance, but it seems that its dancing without control (they say they’re dancing from the soul or some crap like that). More importantly, standing on people’s feet is not only accepted as an inevitable consequence of the “free-dancing” but actually shows to your partner you’re really getting into the rhythm. The eagle has landed.

This is, of course, only my interpretation of events. Chances are that floating somewhere in cyber space there is one cute Cuban Girl’s blog mentioning stupid English pigs with no rhythm. But I felt better about my dancing, and I think that that’s not bad work for one evening.

I really should tell you about things happening out here, but figure I have two years to filter all that out to you in small, bitesize chunks. And, hey, when you’ve just found out that you may well be a dancing god somewhere in the world, development work in Africa has to take a small step aside I feel.

Its qll in French

Qpologies if there are mistakes, but toady I'm using a french keyboard. Obviously.

So here we go. One week down, one hundred and three to go (not that I’m counting already). Arrived in Okahao, my hometown for the next two years, last week. Was told that I would be living with another guy who works in the hospital. As you can imagine, when your going to meet your housemate (and the only person you know who lives in that village), a whole host of potential scenarios unfold in your mind. Housemates over the years have been cool with the odd moments of tears of pain, post spinach toilet avoidances, hairplugs, chilli con carnes and relationship dilemmas (an aside game for all former housemates is to match your name to the moment).

So I opened the door to my new house and was greeted by a crate of beer. I think I’ll be OK. Ray was the owner of the beer, a Zimbabwean Doctor, who as an added bonus had been bored prior to my arrival (and probably since), so decided to invest in a hifi and surround sound TV. Yes, you heard correctly, I have more stuff here than I did at home.

Nice. You’d think. Until I tell you about the one TV channel in Namibia. The first half of the day is the same news for half an hour in a different language each time. This is then followed by a variety of imported soap operas (mainly from Mexico) which I’ve been told I will become addicted to over the next two years. Hmmm, can’t wait.

The hospital I’m working in is interesting, but thats a whole other subject for another blog day. Keep tuning in and thanks for the advice on snakes and language. New topic for this week is interesting to do with eggs, which seem to be one of the more common foodstuffs I can find in the village.

Ant

Is Namibia or Windhoek more difficult to say?

Hello from the Southern Hemisphere. Except for those of you who are also in the Southern Hemisphere. Although I guess I'm still saying hello to you from the Southern Hemisphere too. So hello it is then!

Arrived in Namibia safely after a comfy fight where no-one pulled a blanket over their head in an attempt to ignore me. Which is nice. All going well so far - we're all still in the capital doing our induction training and its not feeling too scary mary at all at the moment. Which is nice. Windhoek doesn't feel like an African city as you would imagine (no I can't see any Giraffes from where I am sat) as it is quiet and clean and very modern. Which is nice. Unfortunately we've had some crime incidents already reminding us all not to let our guards down despite comfortable surroundings. Which isn't so nice.

The news here is dubbed with "clicks" also for those tribal languages still containing them!! I thought it was just static on the tele at first until someone told me otherwise. The main news story was the retirement of the chairman of SWAPO, the main political party in Namibia. His resignation speech went something like this:

"I'm too old to do this any more. I keep forgetting to bring the right folder to meetings."

Perfect.

Hope all is well back there. Homework for this week is to tell me what to do if I get bitten by a snake. My plans to go running and Steve Irwin's recent found, previously thought missing, mortaility has made me a little on edge.

Ant

Shouldn't someone be telling me it was all just a joke by now?

No seriously. Its the morning that I actually leave. I was only joking. Guys...

Guys.

So this is it. Adios, bon voyage and auf wiedersehn. The next time you hear from me I have no doubt that I will be in a seriously uncomfortably hot state and complaining about how seriously uncomfortably hot I am. But thats all good and I'm now Harbourne Halled out (the venue for all my VSO training) and psyched for the real McCoy.

Its been an interesting time since last I wrote and you'll all be pleased to here that the alcohol free and fitness regime went soundly out of the window as quick as it came (I know some of you had genuine concerns for my health) and I rediscovered Sky TV and six packs of beer as if we had never been apart. It was an emotional reunion mind you.

On a moderately serious note, it would be really cool to keep in touch with all of you and I apologise for the necessity to write a group email - they would be in my Room 101 if I had a choice, just behind bouncers and posh lettuce. It going to be an awesome experience, but have no doubt that will be tough at times too, so the more stories I have about Wednesday football, pregnancy ("cant wait till the baby is born"), children ("wish I was pregnant again") and the usual banter, the better I say.

Right, well. As per usual if you've got this far and are still awake, the theme to respond to this message is based around language. It would seem that I have up to three languages to try and master over the next few years - Oshavambo (the local dialect in the area I'll be in Namibia), Africaans and Portuguese (spoken in Angola which will be very close). So if anyone has (or would like to make up) any useful phrases in one or all of these languages they would be most welcome. Apparently English is the national language, but I reckon three is enough for me to master for one day thank you very much!!

Take care and hope to see some of you in Namibia.