An interesting thing happened the other day which got me a pondering. Interesting things do not happen as often as you might think, so I made a mental note to myself to write about it in my blog. And so we find ourselves here (and I promised a story on food. Dammit. I should reread my own blog from time to time)
Anyway, the incident to which I refer was whilst I was travelling from A to B in a taxi. As per usual attempts to break the land speed record in a Toyota Corolla were well underway, when a police roadblock appeared in front. After deploying the parachutes and clunking to a halt, a check of the car and its occupants was made. Police roadblocks are not uncommon and seem to serve a number of purposes:
To check drivers actually have licences to drive
To deter overloading of taxis (1 person per seat – children don't count)
To check people are wearing seat belts
To prevent the landspeed record from actually being broken
Whilst we were being checked, a pick up truck (or bakkie as they are known here) pulled up with 15-20 people crammed in the open back and were ushered along their way by the policeman. This is perfectly legal – you cannot have more than one person per seat in a car in Namibia, rightly so, but there is no number limit for people in the open back of a truck. Putting aside the fact that this method of transportation is absolutely vital for many people to get to their homes in rural areas, this seems to me to be a slightly odd law.
This got me thinking about laws, and the odd ones I have encountered around the world. (Being an Englishman, I’m only too familiar that I hail from a country which still has some bizarre laws theoretically in effect, some from medieval times. In fact, I’ve been astounded when meeting other travellers about just how many other people are aware of the odds laws in my country. I forget how many conversations have erred around “bails of hay” and “London taxis”. I once met an American who thought Paris was a part of London, but if I had the chance to meet him again, I’m almost certain he could rattle of the fact that it is legal to shoot a Scotsman with a crossbow in York on a Sunday).
Another Namibian peculiarity is to do with the movement of meat. There is an imaginary line running across the country and about four fifths of the way up it. As I understand it, this line is for veterinary purposes - all meat reared below it can be used for industry and exported, all meat above the line is for public consumption or private sale only. Furthermore, meat in any form cannot be transported from North to South even for private use. Whilst in principle I understand this, in practice it lacks the thing which many stupid laws around the world no doubt lack - a bit of common sense. Even meat bought in a supermarket in the north – thereby being industrial and forced to comply with veterinary laws – cannot be moved South.
Namibia is not the place with the stupidest laws in the world which I have come across though. Not by a far stretch. For that, I’d have to turn to New Zealand.
Most of you who live or have been to New Zealand will, I’m sure, think I am referring to the “turning right” rule of driving: If you are driving along the road, perfectly minding your own business, perhaps whistling along to the eighties hit which is doubtless on the radio, you may well have somebody cut across immediately in front of you coming from the other direction, forcing you to spill your steak and cheese pie all down your lap. And they would be in the right. You see, cutting across oncoming traffic is your right of way in New Zealand. And that’s just odd.
But no. This is not the craziest. The craziest law in New Zealand relates to drinking and socializing on or around public holidays. I happened to be there on Good Friday in 2006 and, after a long day of travelling, decided to pop into a friendly looking bar for a drink. And was refused. I could only have a drink if I was getting food, and even the was restricted to two drinks and a two hour time out. I kid you not. If this wasn’t enough a big rugby match was due to play that evening. We were told that the match could be shown but without sound. “Why? Does Jesus get offended by the commentary?” was the rather amusing retort of an embittered local. What does make this story a bit more tolerable was not only the fact that the staff seemed genuinely as annoyed as we were about having to turn away custom but also their resourcefulness at rescuing something out of a crazy situation. At the stroke of midnight, thus ending the day of Good Friday, the bar opened again to one and all. I’d long got fed up and left by this point, but I do hope they had a great evening and made up for lost time.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Oh My Law'd
Sunday, December 02, 2007
What I do. Sorry It’s a Little Late
You see I’ve been learning to touch type and its taken me this long to finish one story. Arrrgh, who am I kidding? “My dog ate my laptop” would have been a better excuse. And feasible too – Kate, a good friend of mine who is a teacher in Okahao, actually observed a goat eating someone’s homework.
I genuinely am learning to touch type though. And I genuinely am sorry that once again it has taken so long to update this blog. The persistence of Simon must be lauded in the emergence of this story coming and I hope that it does him justice.
I went back to the UK in September for a short visit, and lost count of the number of times I was asked “So what are you actually doing out there?” I figure that perhaps now, after being here over a year, is a good time to answer that. The trouble is there are so many levels to this question it is difficult to know where to begin. I suppose that is why I’ve avoided it up until now. In honesty, it is best answered in three ways: the official answer, the practical answer and the real answer.
The official answer, which became a seamless response after a while, is that I’m helping to set up Rehabilitation services in a region of Namibia called Omusati. There are four hospitals here, but only one has any staff to provide any service like physical rehabilitation, hearing screening or mental health assistance. That one is Okahao and I’ve been working with the magical Padelia (for those who remember previous blogs) to enhance the way she was working. Padelia is ace, and has been legendary in the way she responded to my suggestions, changes in ways of working and attitude to learn. I couldn’t have asked for more from her.
I’ve now been able to move away from Okahao and leave Padelia continue her duties so that I can focus on the bigger picture. Since returning from the UK this has started in earnest. I’ve moved house (60km further north) and have a much bigger challenge on my hands for the next year. Which feels great.
The practical answer, is I guess what I do on a day to day basis. Well, although in theory my job is more managerial, I do a lot of hands-on physio work too. In an average week, I probably spend between half and three quarters of my time on the wards or in the rehab room doing practical work with patients with a whole variety of problems and complaints. It is a much wider scope of work than I ever did in the UK, and incorporates mental health, speech therapy, deafness and blindness and many other things with adults and children. The rest of the time at work is a mixture of report writing, planning, policy writing and yawn yawn yawn…
Work is, of course, only part of what I do and I spend a lot of time eating, sleeping, drinking watching (many) DVDs and avoiding writing blogs.
The real answer, is that every day I am learning. An incredible amount. About so many things I’ve never contemplated. I’m taking in far more, I’m afraid, than I give out. Ironic, given that the concept of “development work” is that we are passing on our skills. It feels like every day you learn something new and that becomes common place. Just thinking off the top of my head now I can tell you that the things imparted to me over the last year have included: How to fix a puncture with a bit of string, how to open a bottle with another bottle, how to hand wash clothes and not make them smell like a wet dog, how to make Indian food, how to slaughter and prepare a goat, how to assess someone with knee pain in Oshiwambo, how to rescue a tortoise. Clearly a list of vital lifeskills I hear you remark. On a more serious note, I can also put together a reasonable account of Namibian politics, talk with moderate confidence on the successes and failures of the HIV/AIDS crisis in Sub-Saharan Africa, tell you a bit about how the dunes need conserving or debate the issue of seal culling. This is not me trying to be big-headed or gloating in any way, shape or form. Many fellow volunteer colleagues here can do these as well (and no doubt much more efficiently than I). The point I think I’m trying to make is that being out here lends itself to learning where at home you perhaps have to go out looking for it that bit more.
I fear I’m getting all philosophical on you, so will draw to an end what can be termed my comeback blog. Next week: getting the bit between your teeth: A guide to eating in Namibia, which should be not nearly as difficult to digest (‘scuse the pun).
I genuinely am learning to touch type though. And I genuinely am sorry that once again it has taken so long to update this blog. The persistence of Simon must be lauded in the emergence of this story coming and I hope that it does him justice.
I went back to the UK in September for a short visit, and lost count of the number of times I was asked “So what are you actually doing out there?” I figure that perhaps now, after being here over a year, is a good time to answer that. The trouble is there are so many levels to this question it is difficult to know where to begin. I suppose that is why I’ve avoided it up until now. In honesty, it is best answered in three ways: the official answer, the practical answer and the real answer.
The official answer, which became a seamless response after a while, is that I’m helping to set up Rehabilitation services in a region of Namibia called Omusati. There are four hospitals here, but only one has any staff to provide any service like physical rehabilitation, hearing screening or mental health assistance. That one is Okahao and I’ve been working with the magical Padelia (for those who remember previous blogs) to enhance the way she was working. Padelia is ace, and has been legendary in the way she responded to my suggestions, changes in ways of working and attitude to learn. I couldn’t have asked for more from her.
I’ve now been able to move away from Okahao and leave Padelia continue her duties so that I can focus on the bigger picture. Since returning from the UK this has started in earnest. I’ve moved house (60km further north) and have a much bigger challenge on my hands for the next year. Which feels great.
The practical answer, is I guess what I do on a day to day basis. Well, although in theory my job is more managerial, I do a lot of hands-on physio work too. In an average week, I probably spend between half and three quarters of my time on the wards or in the rehab room doing practical work with patients with a whole variety of problems and complaints. It is a much wider scope of work than I ever did in the UK, and incorporates mental health, speech therapy, deafness and blindness and many other things with adults and children. The rest of the time at work is a mixture of report writing, planning, policy writing and yawn yawn yawn…
Work is, of course, only part of what I do and I spend a lot of time eating, sleeping, drinking watching (many) DVDs and avoiding writing blogs.
The real answer, is that every day I am learning. An incredible amount. About so many things I’ve never contemplated. I’m taking in far more, I’m afraid, than I give out. Ironic, given that the concept of “development work” is that we are passing on our skills. It feels like every day you learn something new and that becomes common place. Just thinking off the top of my head now I can tell you that the things imparted to me over the last year have included: How to fix a puncture with a bit of string, how to open a bottle with another bottle, how to hand wash clothes and not make them smell like a wet dog, how to make Indian food, how to slaughter and prepare a goat, how to assess someone with knee pain in Oshiwambo, how to rescue a tortoise. Clearly a list of vital lifeskills I hear you remark. On a more serious note, I can also put together a reasonable account of Namibian politics, talk with moderate confidence on the successes and failures of the HIV/AIDS crisis in Sub-Saharan Africa, tell you a bit about how the dunes need conserving or debate the issue of seal culling. This is not me trying to be big-headed or gloating in any way, shape or form. Many fellow volunteer colleagues here can do these as well (and no doubt much more efficiently than I). The point I think I’m trying to make is that being out here lends itself to learning where at home you perhaps have to go out looking for it that bit more.
I fear I’m getting all philosophical on you, so will draw to an end what can be termed my comeback blog. Next week: getting the bit between your teeth: A guide to eating in Namibia, which should be not nearly as difficult to digest (‘scuse the pun).
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