Sunday, June 17, 2012

The People and Tribes of Namibia

San People

The San People are direct descendants of Stone Age Foragers, indigenous inhabitants of southern Africa and East Africa, who continued to use stone arrowheads and implements into the 19th Century. Much of the prehistoric art in Namibia is attributed to the San People, although they no longer paint or engrave images on rock.

San nomads once roamed the land in small groups. They kept ancestral territories where they found shelter in caves or under rock overhangs near a of source of water, or alternatively they made make shift shelters from bits and pieces of vegetation. Over time the San were driven from their hunting grounds, until the current day where the only land left for the San people to practice their culture and beliefs is in the Northern Kalahari.

 
The Nama

The Nama are pastoralists. They look a lot like San, just lighter in color and generally somewhat taller. The two tribes also speak similar tongues, widely considered to be part of the same phylum or group of language families, full of clicked consonants and slurred vowels.

The Nama are fighters and in precolonial times, the Nama intermittently fought the Herero for control of grazing grounds in central Namibia. The feud dragged on for a good part of the 19th Century. Subsequently the Nama twice rose in armed rebellion against German Rule. It was during the second uprising in 1904 – 07 that a mass genocide occurred and over half the Nama people perished. The greatest chief was among the dead. As punishment for the revolt the colonial government confiscated their land.

The Damara

The Damara People share the same language with the Nama People but little else. They are taller, sturdier and darker skinned. Their culture and beliefs are also markedly different. It is believed their ancestors were ‘pure’ or true blacks who accompanied the Khoisan people into Namibia. The majority of Damara people no longer live in Damaraland and the Skeleton Cost. They are found in most walks of life in modern Namibia. The first prime minister of Namibia and his immediate successor were both Damara.

The Ovambo


The Ovambo people established a number of kingdoms on the floodplains north of Etosha where the majority still live. The population is the densest in the country, about five times the national average, mainly engaged in subsistence agriculture.

The Ovambo are strong supporters of the ruling party and they were at the forefront of the struggle for independence from South Africa. The founding President of Namibia, Sam Nujoma, was born and raised in an Ovambo villages. He retired in 2005 after a period of three terms in office, his successor as President, Hifikepunye Pohamba, comes from a similar cultural background.

The Herero


The Herero are arguably the most culturally recognizable in Namibia. The Herero women are often seen in ankle length dresses with high neck lines, tight bodices and long puffed sleeves. Adapted from European fashion in the Victorian period, the style of the dress is now regarded as a cultural tradition to them. It is worn with a cloth headdress that is pointed on either side in a shape meant to symbolist cattle horns. Like the Masai in East Africa they were nomadic herders, with cattle at the center of their culture. They regarded their cattle as ancestral legacy which had been husbanded for future generations. Cattle were only slaughtered on ceremonial occasions. Historically the Herero were persistently cheated out of cattle and land, and they rose in rebellion against the colonialists in 1904. In the war that followed the Herero people were massacred. They fell to enemy fire both on and off the battlefield or died from thirst as they fled to the Kalahari, to compound the carnage their waterholes were poisoned. In modern times Herero activists like Chief Hosea Kutako (after whom the international airport in Windhoek is named) figured prominently in the quest for support from the international community for Namibian independence.





Namibian Culture - Himba PeopleNamibian Culture - BushmenNamibian Culture - San



Saturday, June 16, 2012

Drink your water




We leave in just 13 more days!!

It is important to be drinking lots of water now.
Water helps with jet lag, keeping you healthy,
and staying alert.
Try to get 6 to 8 glasses every day.

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

We have our Flights....

 




June 29th    Leave Seattle 9:30pm            Arrive in New York 5:33am     5hr 3min     
June 30th    Leave New York 11:15am     Arrive in S. Africa 7:45am       14hr 30min  
July 1st       Leave S. Africa 9:45am          Arrive in Namibia 10:45am       2hr

July 13th     Leave Namibia 3:10pm          Arrive in S. Africa 5:55pm         1hr 45min
July 13th     Leave S. Africa 9:25pm         Arrive in New York 6:40am       15hr 15min
July 14th     Leave New York 8:55am       Arrive in Seattle 11:59am            6hr 4min



Monday, June 11, 2012

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Okapuka

A king and his kingdom in a world of excitement, adventure and spirit ..
.
  Situated 30km North of Windhoek, the rolling plains and bush savannah afoot the Otjihavera mountains are stage for Okapuka’s scene
 of ancient Africa.

Gently rolling plains and bush land savannah extend towards the horizon. The land afoot the Otjihavera mountains is home to a large variety of birds and mammals. Herds of antelope roam the bush, the hooves of Zebra and Giraffe pound the soil, rhinoceroses hide ... 



















Saturday, June 2, 2012

Acts 20:24



"My life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned to me by the Lord Jesus - the work of telling others the Good  News about the wonderful grace of God."

 Acts 20:24

Friday, June 1, 2012

The Deep Ache of Poverty

It hurts. Not a sharp pain, more of a dull ache. A haunting that you slowly notice as the numbness fades away. A haunting of those desperate souls one tries so very hard to ignore when they are there before you.
Dirty, gnarled, even missing hands that press against the window of the van. Dark and insistent, sometimes pleading, sometimes indignant eyes staring right into you, deep into you, as you wait for the traffic to move on so they will give up on you.

I sit in a heavy traffic jam in a roundabout in Dhaka, Bangladesh. And once more the van is surrounded by beggars.
A mother with a naked baby, a woman who looks very old but probably isn’t. A boy holding up another who has a huge growth on his abdomen. And others, all looking so desperate, so far from the image of God that they were created to be. And I want so hard to ignore them.
I just want them to go away.
But I’ve just read a friend’s book about Matthew 25, the sheep and the goats, the day before arriving in Bangladesh. As it turns out, it’s a rather convicting combination – the words of Jesus and a face-to-face encounter with the desperate poor. And so I have to do something.
I know it will bring even more desperate souls to our very stuck van, but I look to Thomas, the driver. He lowers the window a bit and I start to hand out Takas – 100 here, 10 there.
It doesn’t really add up to much and I wonder why I haven’t done this before. Perhaps because, before, I didn’t have the image in my heart of Jesus saying,
“This is me. I am the hungry, I am the sick, I am the least of these. What will you do?”
I was also just so weary, returning to the hotel each night with images of the poor, of people robbed of health and hope and dignity. I was tired of feeling numb to it during the day, and haunted by it at night as I lay in bed wondering if I should have done something. It was eating away at me.
People weren’t meant to live like this. And that, I think, is what Jesus was trying to get us to not only understand, but to feel and to feel deeply.
So the next day, here I am again. And like the day before, there are more heartbreaking scenes.

A young boy pushes a man who is not much more than a skeleton in a wheel chair. A woman with hollow, sunken eyes taps on my window, hoping for a moment of charity.
A man too sick to beg is sprawled face down in the dirt by the side of the road as streams of commuters walk around him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t move at all.
And I find myself trying to be numb again. Somehow the fear has returned: If I help this one then the line will never stop.
Five thousand will line up and the loaves and fish will run out and I’ll be left with nothing and still they will come. I don’t know what to do with this. I don’t know how to respond.
One day they are the image of Jesus. The next day His image slips away. And I realize the horror of those who will one day ask Jesus, “When did we see you hungry?”
There is great beauty, too, in Bangladesh. Beauty that contrasts so starkly with the sorrow. It highlights the injustice of poverty, the inequality of it all that conspires to destroy the lives of people created and loved by God.
That such sorrow continues to destroy so many lives is an affront to the One who created us all.
So how do we respond to such entrenched need? Such injustice? Because regardless of our politics or our theology, it is injustice that a child is born into extreme poverty.

It is injustice that he becomes sick and cannot afford to be treated. That his sickness leads to a disfigurement and his disfigurement leads to rejection. That he is doomed to a life of begging in the dust. And that nothing he can do can change that.
No matter what we might believe, this is not right. This is not fair.
And man, it all just aches inside – especially in the alone and quiet moments.
But if the choice is between the heartache or the numbness, we must choose the heartache. We must trust that it will lead us to a godly response and to the God who chose solidarity with “the least of these.”
Because to protect ourselves with numbness is to surrender a vital part of our souls that a Christian cannot afford to forfeit. And to feel the ache compels us to ask some very hard questions.
Questions about how much we believe. Because, in the end, we should want our faith to be alive – and so the words of James haunt us through time: “Faith without works is dead” (see James 2:14-26).
It is so easy to argue away the theology when we are safe and comfortable in the pews of suburbia, but so much different on the streets of Dhaka – a place that cries out for the pure religion that God accepts.
I still wrestle with how I did not change the lives of so many of the people I came across in Bangladesh. How easy it is to judge the priest and the Levite until you are the one who comes across the man lying in the street (or tapping on the window).
And then, then it is so much easier to look away or to cross the street to the other side.
So while we may wish, in the moment, that these poor souls would just move on, that they would see us in our hurry and give up on us for someone more charitable, in the end it would be so very tragic if they — these souls who are so close to God’s own heart – were to give up on us.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Christopher Delvaille works as a senior strategy and planning advisor at Compassion’s Global Ministry Center in Colorado Springs, Colo.

Courtesy of Compassion International