We’ve just spent the past two days wondering around a nature preserve with a missionary couple named John and Suzanne Hunter. John likes to hunt in his free time (what a non-misleading name, right?) and so has a vast knowledge and story base about every creature we see. It makes the experience much more interesting when you hear about not only how to tell which animal is the male or female (aside from the obvious “balls” which Suzanne took great pleasure in pointing out) but also which animals taste the best. We are told that Etosha is about the same size as England, and as we drove from waterhole to waterhole we had time to spot beasts, discuss their theology, their school’s educational philosophy, and come to see these people that it would be so easy to lock into a box as “missionaries” become people that are just a vulnerable, mischievous, and human as the rest of us.
One of most interesting things to talk about were the extremely different but many cultures that make us Windhoek. It’s at least as diverse as the waterhole I’m sitting at as I write; Three main indigenous tribes with their own various sub-groups within them (ranging from cultures that still refuse to convert to wearing cloths all the way to cultures that have yielded wealthy politicians) and three white tribes (the oldest being the German settlers, then Dutch colonists, then English colonists, and so on). Socially, this place reminds me a lot of a dryer, more abusive version of Atlanta, Georgia. The rich (almost exclusively white German or Afrikaans folks have legally ostracized the native cultures while the local people seem to be put into the inescapable, lower cast. 50% of the blacks are unemployed in Windhoek. It will remain this way because the schools in black neighborhoods are incapable of teaching what is necessary to pass the nationalized graduation exams, never mind the usually failed 10th grade exam. This is where John (our host), would stop and say “Funny…” but not really mean it.
So, we’re getting all of this information as we cruise around the largest national park in the country, passing wealthy German tourists or Afrikaners. I just want to scream. I want to yell! It is so backwards to me that Jenna and I came to Africa (all the way to freakin’ Namibia) at the cost of my job, major risks to Jenna’s business, and most of the stability that we once had in our lives to learn more about and help reverse this travesty. But I cannot help but feel like we’re feeding into it. The least I could do is cause a big hullabaloo in the middle of this schmaltzy resort, right? But screaming won’t fix anything (Jenna assures me). It will only piss off the Euro-tourists who want to enjoy this odd, reverse-zoo—in silence.
So what the hell can we do? We’ve been here three days and I’m only less sure that there is a good answer to that question. Here’s a few facts I am sure of at this point, staring out at the waterhole:
Fact: Oryx are cool… but real jerks at the waterhole.
Fact: Elephants are well endowed.
Fact: Elephants play with their trunks like a supersoaker, and I’m pretty sure they realize how goofy they are. This makes them even more awesome than originally believed.
Fact: Zebras are the middle-schoolers of the animal kingdom.
The two funniest animal notes so far are:
1) Rhinosaurus’ have drinking problems and have an exaggerated cough like something from a Tom and Jerry cartoon.
2) The first time an elephant farted I could not tell what end the noise was coming out of. I asked Jenna and she was also mystified. I started to ask John but then numerous things fell out of its butt (the elephant’s, not John’s). Very funny.
Jenna has encouraged me to relax and enjoy this once-in-a-lifetime experience. I’m still trying to do that. Elephant fart jokes help. The wild beauty of this place is so expansive, it’s hard to realize it all right now. I hope these pictures do it justice.
Well, the last major thing that is the cause of a great deal of confusion is this: the mission’s world-view and my personal Christian understanding. I’ll only speak for myself, and not necessarily Jenna here. I came expecting an extremely non-judgmental, love-centric, geographically (ethnicity) neutral version of evangelism. It would seem that the school has a more American-centric Christ than what I am comfortable with—but really it’s the first time I’ve encountered that philosophy of evangelism. I’m not sure I like it, but that’s not to say that I’m opposed to it… the jury is still out, and it would seem that “innocent until proven guilty” would be an apt euphemism.
At this point, I’m just not sure what to think, because many parts of tribal culture that still majorly influence day-to-day life AND the concept of justice are really genuinely abusive. Case in point: The first night we were camping, the Hunters got an emergency phone-call to let them know a woman that the Hunters know was beaten by her boy-friend. That wasn’t the news, because they already know she was beaten and that had caused her to lose the child she was carrying. The news was that the woman, who had been in critical care until about 6 days ago, had just passed away. The most troubling part was that they didn’t think this was going to make the news or that the boy-friend would even be taken into custody. This culture needs to be changed, for sure, and the corruption of a society that would let this go is disturbing. So for the time being, I’m reserving my judgment on how I feel about the “Americanization” of the gospel.
Here’s one more thing I am sure of. Without a doubt Community Hope and all the people involved LOVE these kids who go to the school. They came here to serve them and make their lives better, and they are doing that. They are providing hope to these kids’ lives and they are certainly some of the most caring, interesting Christians I’ve ever met (Jenna and I are already better for having spent time with them). More than anything, I want to get to Katatura and get to know those kids. Jenna and I are both ready to be present and hear what God would have us learn from all this.
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