The thing was though, those little tinkers at VSO has called our bluff. Whilst we were there debating the merits of closing your eyes, holding your nose and anything aka “I’m a Celebrity…” food trials, it turns out all of the exotic scenarios were from no further afield than Blackpool or Peterborough. They were all perceptions by other people towards British cultural practices, you see. The delightful sounding recipe above is none other than soft boiled eggs with soldiers.
I bring this up now for two reasons, 1) It was interesting; 2) I want to talk about culture and it seemed a nice way of introducing it.
A while ago I helped out with the national immunisation campaign for children. Teams of people went to outreach posts with cool boxes containing vaccinations, a clipboard, paper and pen and packed lunches. It was actually a very impressive undertaking and something I should write about one of these days. However, it is the latter of these items which is the purpose for our cultural difference demonstration for today – my lunch. Most of it went without a hitch, but then came the orange. Now, for me, I’ve been brought up on football and rugby pitches eating my oranges in quarters, rinds still on and sucking the life out of that piece. So there I was, quartering away, lost in my own world, sucking away, when I became all too aware of an ominous silence. I looked up to see six African faces staring at me in a conjoined bewilderment. All I could do was muster an orange gum shield smile back.
I guess the point I’m getting at is that whilst I came out here expecting to be amazed, surprised, possibly a bit shocked by cultures, beliefs and practices here (and on many an occasion it has lived up to its bill), I’ve probably shocked and surprised more people by doing things which I consider perfectly normal. Of course, when you think about it logically it is to be expected – I’ve come away prepared for surprise, yet I’m undertaking bizarre behaviours on people’s own doorsteps here.
Jogging, for example. Namibians are on the whole very naturally fit – they cultivate their fields by hand, schoolchildren walk miles to school and back each day, girls pound the grain with giant metal or wood poles, boys herd cattle. When you do all this, why on earth would you undertake extra training? Whenever I go out for a run, people watch in astonishment, join in for the sheer uniqueness of it or just laugh and wave. I’m not offended or put off, its just that I realise they NEVER see anyone else doing anything like this. The concept of training only comes into the fore when it is associated with team sports. Silence and a look of bewilderment would proceed when I would tell somebody that I was running for the sheer sake of running rather than heading to play football or the like.
At the beginning of my second year, I was given a tortoise from a departiung volunteer to look after. The tortoise had been rescued from the cooking pot by said volunteer in exchange for 20 Namibian dollars (which I can only assume was subsequently spent on a KFC). Having a tortoise for a pet (granted, a somewhat exotic thing in the UK) was a source of shock and fear for my neighbours in Outapi. “Aren’t you worried it will eat you in the night?” said a good Namibian nursing colleague as we watched it slowly munch through a patch of grass. “No, no” I reassured, and proceeded to show her my photos of the chameleons I used to keep in England. She needed a ten minute sit down and a glass of water and if I’m honest hasn’t looked at me the same since.
The thing I have learned is that even though Namibians live amongst a truly incredible wide array of wildlife, they have almost no knowledge of any of them. It is quite astounding. Reptiles all fall into a ‘dangerous’ category where even the smallest gecko is highly venomous and capable of eating a whole human. Simple reason and logic goes out of the window. I remember in the hospital one time chatting with a couple of guys and noticed something small wriggling near my feet. On pointing it out, absolute panic ensued followed by a machete attack on said beast as I stood in slight incomprehension. “Its one of those dangerous ones – maybe black mamba.” Came the explanation. I’m pretty sure to this day it was a worm.
These are just two examples, but there are more. Many more. Little pecularities that I do that seem to surprise others. Perhaps it is just me?
Footnote: Have just read a book called “The Other Hand” by Chris Cleave which has some great examples of the weirdnesses in our culture as experienced by others. Recommended.
