Hello again from Ann.
On Thursday morning, June 28, we left the Etosha Safari Rest
Camp, where we enjoyed a one-night stay just after our marvelous three days in
Etosha, Namibia’s national game preserve.
This rest camp was delightfully decorated in African decor, a fair
amount of assemblage-kitsch-funk, and protest posters left over from the
freedom struggle and pro-Swapo movement.
The grounds were elegant, the service was superb, and the two-man band
playing in the open-air bar the night before had been crazy fun.
As our bus pulled out of the rest camp we cheered as we were
finally driving on paved roads.
Three days of driving on gravel in the park had us a bit tired and
worn. We stopped for a quick
comfort stop and Internet (café) access in Outjo and then on to Khorixas. The landscape was lovely, though
desolate, and again we wondered were the folks who were walking alongside the
road were going? At Khorixas
we turned south, still on a “C road” and the road turned to gravel once again –
filled with tricky holes and some amazing small hills which we took at some
speed and this all felt a bit like a Disney ride.
Our lunch stop was in Uis. In the local tribal language “Uis” means “place of bad
water.” “Uis” could also be
known as a place of no water, bad or otherwise, given the looks of things. We were of course approaching the Namib
Desert.
As we pulled into Uis, a very small and depressed mining
town, we decided this stop would be brief, be a sit down lunch at a pretty nice
looking place, and then we would be on our way. I volunteered that I would pick up the check to help speed
things along as this had worked well a couple times before. We went in and I asked if they accepted
credit cards, “Yes Madam” was the response. “Great” I said “please give the check to me.”
“Surely, Madam, but today the credit card machine is not
working.”
It was explained to me that I could go across the street to
the market to get cash from the ATM.
Off I went. Our driver,
Joey, came along with me since you don’t go to cash machines alone. In the super market, I as amazed to see
the cash machine in pieces on the floor.
The manager told me the machine was empty and that more cash would not come
until Monday – four days from now.
Joey learned we could try the place on the other edge of
town about 100 yards away. No go there either.
Oddly enough, I wasn’t feeling any distress. My colleagues could pool their funds to
cover lunch, no problem. Rather, I
was reflecting on what I had first told our group the night before we
departed Decorah . . . that 55% of all Namibians live on less than the equivalent
of $2 USD a day.
Joey drove me to the next town, about 5 miles away, where a
policeman had assured us there was a woman who owned a convenience store who
could help us. We walked in, this
white woman was clearly a Brit, and she asked where I was from as she invited
me behind the counter.
She explained to me her currency granting business. Using her store’s credit/debit card
machine, she allowed folks to make withdrawals from their accounts. She knew our restaurant’s card machine
was down and explained that her system is the same as the restaurant’s, and
that I would be lucky if this worked. We negotiated how much I needed – then she explained
to me “that I could step into line as all these other people are needing money
too.”
My goodness. What
I thought had been 10 people in line waiting to pay for their purchases were
actually 10 people waiting in line to get money. She read me well.
“Ah you now see, there is no money in this town.”
I asked how this was and she explained that such towns as Uis
are not high on the commerce routes, so they get their currency late, and after
all, there is not a great need, as there is nothing to buy except the basics.
While I waited in line I wondered how this hardscrabble life
was managed. This
convenience store/petrol station was the heart beat of this town, and this
woman with her credit/debit machine was the local bank.
I would do well to think more about this type of desert.
Greetings to you all.
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