I’ve recently had a birthday. If the calendar on my phone hadn’t reminded me of the occasion I would’ve gone through the day without ceremony. It’s not that I’m actively trying to ignore the fact that I’m getting old (the aches and pains I’m starting to feel on a regular basis are reminder enough, thank you very much), it’s just that my days and mind are occupied with so many other concerns that most holidays and events go unnoticed, or would without external reminders.
I did wind up celebrating it with my friends here in Namibia. When I do remember my birthday I celebrate it by giving, nothing big, I am a poor man after all. I buy beers or other drinks for those around me, which can be surprisingly hard to do because the folks I try to buy for insist on buying me beer. (I strictly adhere to my 3-drink maximum which is enough to give me a nice buzz.)
One of my friends even managed to produce a small cake and stuck a candle on it while everyone at the table sang ‘Happy Birthday’. It was unexpected and very nice.
As I sat there after the singing stopped and the conversation turned from guessing my age to other topics I couldn’t help but marvel at the moment. There I was in Africa, surrounded by new friends, feeling completely at ease as if I had been part of this group for ages. In the passed 2 years I have seen and done things that I wouldn’t have believed I’d do or see 10 years ago. I’ve met interesting people with stories that can break your heart or fill you with wonder. At 66 years old my life is becoming saturated with experiences. If there is any reason at all to celebrate another year of existence, that would be it.
The life I have now is so different than the one I had two years ago, so different that I’m afraid that those who knew me back then won’t know me now, I’ve changed that much. I have different priorities, see things from angles I could not have imagined just a few years ago.
If I had to describe these changes I would say that I am more like the extreme version of what I was. I feel more engaged with people yet I enjoy my solitude more. I feel far more adventurous. I’m more intolerant of the differences between us and enjoy more of the things that make us similar.
And I don’t want that to stop. I guess that’s the real difference between me then and me now. I used to be ok with the status quo, the predictability of life. Now, not so much. I want to see what’s over the next hill and around the next corner. I used to pride myself for not getting lost, now I enjoy losing myself in new environments, in conversations with new friends, and in discovering new perspectives. It’s growth that is becoming essential to my existence.
So, I’ve decided to stay in the Peace Corps and in Namibia another year. Already the time seems to have accelerated as days and weeks seem to slip by like seconds and minutes. I’ve decided to stay so that I can see at least a few of the projects I’m working on come to some kind of conclusion. That’s a hold over from the used-to-be me, I don’t like to leave things hanging and I try to leave a place as good or better than I found it. As my normal end of service date approached I found that at least two of my projects were worse off than when I arrived (through no fault of my own, I hope) and I just couldn’t leave them like that.
Once the decision to stay another year was made suddenly things started happening and several projects advanced. I’ve even created new projects, some I know I’ll have done before I leave. One in particular that’s been a focus for me since I’ve been here is a local amphitheater. This one won’t be done, but I’m hoping to establish a sustainable path forward.
The Arandis Amphitheater was built in the 70’s with the rest of the town for the expressed purpose of entertaining the miner and their families. Arandis was created to house uranium miners working for Rio Tinto. From pictures and stories I’ve learned that the town was a literal oasis, made green by desalinated water from Swakopmund, and vibrant by funds gleaned from the then high prices of raw uranium ore. During a time when apartheid ruled Namibia, black miners living in Arandis enjoyed a life few black Namibians at the time could even dream of. Rio Tinto through The Rössing Foundation provided everything, housing, stores, entertainment, power, water. Yards were full of trees and gardens, houses were well maintained, and the amphitheater was a community gathering place where shows and movies were displayed for free.
The last movie was shown in the amphitheater in 1992, I’ve been told. Last year we showed the first movie on that screen in almost three decades. But I’m not done yet. I see the amphitheater as a raw gem that needs cutting and polishing to bring it to its fullest potential. In renovating the amphitheater, I hope to reinvigorate the town by attracting outside interests. I want to see shows, festivals, and of course, movies there regularly. This, I hope, will bring in people and with them an influx of cash that could be used to renovate other areas of the town and invest in new businesses.
That idea is starting to get some movement. I have the generous help of a local architectural firm to provide visuals of what the amphitheater could look like. I can then use that to find sponsors.
I’m not deluded into believing that my vision is completely achievable. Many projects in Namibia and throughout Africa have started with good intentions and wound up being white elephants or worse, money pits. But some sustainable vestige of what I envision could happen, and it just might.
I’m 66 years old and I’m surrounded by new friends, new experiences and I’m pushing projects in a country I barely knew existed 2 years ago. If that can happen then anything is possible.