I'm into protein rich meals lately and thinking about it, whilst on the plane, I thought 'that's nice'. Fish is a lovely alternative protein source, particularly in terms of taste and variety.
Aeroplane food, I think is prepared pretty well and tastes pretty good and is rather nice - I look forward to it quite frankly. So with all that optimism in mind, I ordered the fish option.
The journey was fairly pleasant, it was a much smaller aeroplane and it was almost dinky but it was full and there didn't seem like their were any Namibians on the aeroplane because they all sounded like South Africans - South African accents, colours, voices, language etc... Indeed, Namibia is a fairly close relative of South Africa when it comes to its inhabitants, having been under South African rule/control at one stage in its past. Some things change while others don't I suppose. It seemed this way as everyone was excitedly shuffling into the cabins ahead of me. I noticed this particularly when I was already seated an looking on - I was already a tourist, looking at tourists.
Anyway that was what was memorable about the initial flight. Fish - but that was during the flight, there is more.
Getting off and onwards towards Windhoek saw us lift off from a grey and windy winter South African morning and disappear into the murky clouds above, bound for a surprising and intriguing trip into the dry depths of South West Africa. Watching Windhoek appear below through the clouds, I was clear that Windhoek was dry. Especially in winter - and this is when I arrived. I didn't plan it that way, timing seems to have just unfolded this way and it tied up neatly with various events leading up to this journey. My gran had just died about a month or two ago, I had just finished the project at work that overran substantially throughout the year which prevented me from taking leave sooner, I had finally received my travel papers which is in a large part due to the efforts my Gran made. And here I was on the trip initially meant to see her. I was going to bring some documents that she'd sent me back to her personally, so I thought I might dovetail this into a nice gesture and holiday opportunity.
Sadly, life doesn't much care about ones own personal goals and ambitions. I wouldn't see her. That said, staring out the aeroplane window now, just past Dr. Hoffman, onto the dry Namibian bush, I now knew this this trip was finally happening and a sort newness was upon me... I was to meet my uncles for the first time in my life. It's amazing how little it has changed in terms of my outward perception of Namibia from the last time I was here, almost 15 years ago of so. It's a harsh, dry place but in a way, so is life - so it seems like a fitting, down-to-earth place to hang out and make a life for yourself for some, I suppose. It is the middle of winter and as I turned to my brother, who's driving on the highway between Windhoek and 'the plot' (where he grew up) and he says something along the lines of, "I mean, look, its winter and I'm wearing shorts". He was reflecting on my most recent comment about the beautiful Namibian surroundings - He'll never leave Namibia. He's always been there, I've always known him there and in this way in my mind that's where he belongs in my thoughts. I'm jumping ahead of myself now. Backtracking a little bit back now to when I initially arrived in Namibia...
Namibia's airport was pretty sparse, 3 or 4 planes on the runway and a couple of interconnected buildings situated in between hot sun, dry sand and weathered stones and shrubs - quite novel I think coming from Johannesburg and having spent the last 2 days in comparably green, glitzy and affluent part Sandton and surrounding areas(as an interesting side note, I was momentarily born in Sandton but never lived that life). I had contemplated before taking the trip, how my daily routine would have to change. I was considering how a daily run here would go down and compared it to the carefully designed side walks and pavements of London. The air is dry and I think wouldn't be easy. On the plane, I sat next to a Dr. Hoffman. On a small plane such as this one, you get to know who's travelling with you and as there was no one sitting in the chair between us(she was at the window and I was in the aisle seat).
She had lived in Windhoek for 35 years and had just visited her dying mother in South Africa. Her mother died while she was with their and she said that it was peaceful and she had come to terms with that eventuality many months before making this ultimate journey. She always knew it was just a matter of time.
I then wondered if I was in fact visiting my dying Grandfather or not? And while I didn't think he'd quite be at that stage yet, he does have mild lymphoma (form of blood Leukaemia), is 87 and has various deteriorating faculties among other things. He has also suffered the recent death of my Grandmother a couple of months earlier. So perhaps it is. I suspect Dr. Hoffman and I might have been in some ways on parallel journeys, in similar directions but at different times. Dr. Hoffman told me about her daughter who also lived in London before settling with a Canadian Pilot or something like that. They "to and fro" from Canada and Sweden(where they actually live). Dr Hoffman was a short and plumpy lady. I think like most ageing woman of her age, she'll never quite loose her large form and appearance and it'll be an attribute that people will use to describe her until she eventually passes on I suppose. I offered her a Twinkie. Twinkies are a sort of soft spongy cake with a flavoured creamy centre. I've apparently always liked them(or more probable, showed a cursory interest somewhere along-the-line and its now stuck), so my cousin bought me 2 when stopping off at a petrol station on the way to Johannesburg Airport before my flight to Namibia. I stayed with her for the weekend before and saw her new addition to the family: a lovely little baby girl.
Just before visiting her(my cousin) and right after my long journey from London I also stayed for a day in at a hotel in Sandton which I had previously looked up on the internet due to its large gym facility. Having started my holiday this way, right after the long flight was a good thing - I rested up real good. I've avoided large volumes of sugar in most of my recent endeavours and have lost the need or satisfaction for sweetness and while my cousin came to know this while I stayed with here, she closed the door behind her and as she re-entered the car after a brief period in the shop, leaned over to me in the passenger seat while passing two Twinkies to me. "Its the thought that counts" she said. I suppose it is.
As thoughtful as it was however, I needed to reallocate them to more worthy successor. Dr Hoffman was at least one of these. She asked me if I was diabetic. I said I wasn't (though as it happens my father recently was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes) and said rather that I wanted to control my sugar intake i.e insulin spikes in general which is, I guess, what a diabetic might also say. I probably don't need to be so diligent in this way but heck. She took the Caramel one. She said it would be for her Daughter, but it couldn't be (it was probably for herself). I suppose she was being polite and was wanting to help me out with my particular dilemma as I had told her that I had two to "find new homes for". We both sat at the end the plane for the duration of the flight and were the last ones off. After the flight, Dr. Hoffman and I parted ways, I got up and because I packed light, I had just my small backpack as hand luggage and needn't have to bother with the overhead storage lockers.
Generally people seem to get overly giddy as soon as (or even before) the seatbelt sign lights go off. I can never understand that. They start getting up and fiddling with the overhead lockers and sometimes it annoys me, especially when they aren't supposed to(seat belt signs are illuminated). Sometimes the cabin crew get annoyed to and announce that people should be sitting.
I took to the Dry Namibian runway which had two other planes on it. Dr Hoffman eventually caught up to me and told me that one was probably the one to Frankfurt, which leaves once a week. I stood in passport control for what seemed like ages. Dr Hoffman and I parted ways again as she went into Namibian passport holder queue. Dr Hoffman assists surgeons in kidney, liver and stomach operations. I had landed and was about to enter the airport and it struck me quite strange how I was meeting someone new who I should know well and dont and who I'll be staying with.
He is my father's brother i.e my uncle, and to me a sort of distant enigma. It is he who is now waiting for me at the airport beyond passport control. All recent memories of any conversations with Dr Hoffman evaporated as I left passport control. I didn't know who I was looking for. It always puzzled me, the distance between him and my father which, lead to me never really having "known" the man. I've, of course, known of him, and found him a curious story not really told(Then again, my dad is not a story telling kind I guess). Apparently I met him once briefly but I can't remember for sure but it was not of my fathers doing (which made it seem even more curious and made the relation perhaps further intriguing and possibly a touch sinister now). The brief encounter was only because I had gone to visit my gran in Cape Town(she was house sitting that time and she had flown in from Namibia).
Speaking to my dad now, he still hasn't seen his brother for about 32 years which I can now, having solved the riddle, only describe the scenario as perhaps two distant ships, at odds, somewhere in the vastness of the ocean - A theme that I will encounter again. Anyway, as I entered the social part of the airport, I noticed straight away someone was looking at me, and I thought, well that must be him. I did send him a message to tell him what I was wearing - a blue and white chequered short pant and that rather I'm short(actually I found that I'm fairly normally sized in London but small everywhere else it seems) - I thought that anything would be at least something where nothing was our reference point. And as far as unknowns were concerned, this was starting somewhere. It was a strange sensation meeting my uncle. As we walked together, side-by-side out of the airport, I watched his face. I suspect that was a strange thing to do but I was intrigued. Here stood the man that I'd never met, hardly knew, never spoke to, and who was my own father's brother and my uncle. He took me home, and I was to stay with him and my other uncle too. I'd stay with them in their home for a week.
The drive from the airport was enlightening, the Namibian dry scenery rolling on in the background while I sat in the passenger seat now learning a new face and voice, as his face's silhouette lined his side car window before the shining Namibian sun. An interesting new voice accompanied calming eyes.
I asked questions, trying to come to terms with this unknown part of my family. I asked him about my gran(his mother), he explained how she died, he explained how my grandfather(his father) was doing. I asked him, quite frankl,y what's the story with this 32 year gap between him and my father was, hoping to uncover some dramatic or sinister plot but found out rather anticlimactically that there was no ill-blood or skeleton in the closet and in fact it was as I had described - just two ships at odds, in the vastness of the ocean.
The truth of the matter really was that they just lived in different countries most of their lives and the large age difference was such that it wasn't really too close a social tie/bond between the two growing up. This was particularly due to incompatible timings during boarding school and the army etc (My dad spend a long time in the army).
Their was never a need to come to South Africa (where my father, my mother and I lived) seeing as my father's and his parents were also in Namibia. All this was all fairly reassuring, I suppose - however, I'd just uncovered an intriguing and thrilling unknown aspect of my families history(perhaps I don't get out enough). With this riddle solved, I moved on. I met his partner, which I'll continue to refer to him affectionately as my "other uncle", when I arrived at their home which, was rather quite exquisite. The house was well adorned by many different cultural and decorative ornaments and was fairly large. I learned that it was often a place where they entertained friends in earlier years and one could see why: it was beautiful. I saw a few pictures of the 'then' pool area which featured happy, smiling, young faces chilling in pool. The pool is no more - covered up due to being a maintenance burden. The house is on a hill and built into the side of that hill. Outside was neat, with a large open garden continuing up the hill. There was green plants, flowers and pavements sections and then a bit of neatly contained and very homely "bush" encompassing a
series of natural stones or more appropriately, large natural "rocks" which warmed up in the Namibian sun and brown grass.
I took out a rowing machine and placed it on the green grass a couple of days in my stay. I found myself at one point sitting on these warm rocks gazing down over and onto the surrounding areas of Windhoek with the sun on my face while talking to my other uncle. I found a very pleasing and enjoyable relationship with my other uncle whilst staying with them. I stayed in a guest room next to my uncle's room, which looks upon this garden I'm talking about. My other uncle stayed in another room, further afield within the house, up a series of stairs and connected onto an open balcony overlooking the garden and those "warm stones". I remember a particularly warm sunny day sitting there and talking to him for hours so much so nearly missing a planned engagement in town!
I thoroughly enjoyed these conversations. I consider them now as my 'two uncles' and I'm so proud to have made it and finally met them. They've been together for as long as I've 'known'. The main reason I was in Namibia was to visit my Granddad and my uncles and I arranged daily visits. Typically there was a visit in the morning and also in the evening. Sometimes it was once in the day I think. Granddad was a solitary figure in his room, not that that's a bad thing but taking into account the recent departure of my Gran, it was noteworthy - preoccupied however by reading when I first saw him.
At first I thought he'd be very bored but he didn't seem it - he reads alot. Two sofa-type chairs stood in front of his bed and he sat in one reading. I would end up either sitting in the other next to him but more often that not, I'd sit on a third chair
next to the TV facing him with either my uncles sitting beside him. It was obvious that they were all very fond of each other. I was the new kid on the block. My days with grandad were spent walking around in the garden, sitting down and casually talking however it was only with the others that I truly felt comfortable and I think grandad might have too. Either way he did express his many thanks for my visits and while he noticeably was slower, generally he still had his wit an humour which was reassuring. He once joked about something, and because I wasn't expecting him to joke, took me a while to realise it: he's still got it.
Back in grandad's room, he had paintings he had painted a long time before hung on the wall and various ornaments from his previous home with gran on the dresser and table. The old age home that he was in was absolutely superb and grandad kept telling us how "good these people are". It's a German establishment and it seems everything German is proper and they care about stuff(Germans do scare me a little though).
He particularly enjoyed the food and would quite happily give us our marching orders and his good wishes before heading straight for the dining hall and saying good bye. Thankfully my other uncle and I could keep ourselves thoroughly entertained in between these visits. This one time he took me to the mall and I bought some whey protein powder. I always have whey but when you're away from home and traveling, having your regularities can go by the way side a little. That said, my uncles thoroughly accommodated me and my peculiarities.
I don't eat saturated fat, Hi-Gi foods and sweets. Each night they'd prepare a meal in-line with this. One night we had fish dish, the other store fry veg and other yummy healthy foods. This pleased me. My uncle is a great cook. I eat my usual oats.(I felt bad that we had to buy another box!).
Obviously gran passed away a few months before and while I looked for signs of stress or sadness in my grandad, there was none. Later I found out that he did occasionally express his loss very, very briefly and privately before promptly changing the subject an moving on.(Thats how some people are I suppose) It's just the way he is. In many ways it was quite moving to see how well he was being looked after but I was also sad at times despite his humour an wit, having lost his life partner, my gran and slight signs of confusion when he spoke.
That being said, he was always occupied with reading and my uncles' constant visits and care make it a lovely thought in my mind. He is actually in the very best state he could be all things considering. They have looked after him and my late gran impeccably. So perhaps my sadness was inevitable coupled with the recent death of my gran but I think overall it is eclipsed with his apparent peace of mind and preoccupation as well he's peace of mind and my uncles' great love, appreciation and care for him. It makes me proud to have met them, to have breached banks on uncertainty and established worthwhile connections.
My uncle's day job is at a printing company and it seems that he deals a great deal with the layout and design issues, among other things(my dad says that he's a graphic designer), and I was taken on a tour of the office and printing facilities and printing machines. There was the two-colour printers, the ones that ran throughout the day, ones that printed high finish prints and this 'factory' type section was filled with workers. It looked well run and orderly. It here at this printing company where the next unexpected event would unfold...
I met my uncle's good friend and co-owner of the company and he informed her that I was the son of her old aquintence, my mother(who left a life in Namibia 30 years ago). It was her who realised she knew my brother here. As a side note, my brother doesn't communicate much but then again you might say that this is a trend in the family(My dad and uncle). She asked me if I had planned to see him and I said I didn't. Might seem bizarre but it was all about Grandad. That was my priority. My brother and I are also like two ships, at odds in a vast ocean. She adored my brother and said that we should meet. "Ah, ok?"... She was certainly tickled by this chance re-union and said it would mean so much to my brother to see me. "Really? Huh ok"... So I went with it. I had drifted from my brother, as I young child growing up, I idolised both my brothers and loved the idea that I had 'brothers'. They visited me in South Africa but I think it was probably to see my mom but it never felt that way - I was normally quite ecstatic and they made a big deal about seeing me and always referee to me as their brother. I was technically a half-brother but my mom told me recently that doesn't she never like that - halfness. She says you're either a brother or your not - there are no halves. Suppose so.
When my other brother died in a car accident, we lost contact even more. In German she said to him, after clamouring through a telephone directory(to find his number), that she was not lying and that I sat opposite her and she is looking at me - He told her, "I'm coming."
I must admit, I was was a bit anxious about seeing him. I don't know why. We're not that indifferent or estranged or anything...it's just been a long time and there is not much to be familiar with. He arrived within minutes because everyone seems to work about a walk away from everyone else here, quite amazing really - I mean, I walked to the printing place from the old age home and my brother worked a couple of roads up and I ran around the whole town in a morning once.
It's a small town centre at least... I met him again and while time changes your skin, shape and form - some things don't change, especially the eyes and I guess neither does the people behind the eyes. Weird thought I guess. I could immediately recognise him, his mannerisms, perhaps it really was his eyes or the likeness of his face. It was a kind of joyous-shock to see him. I couldn't quite understand it.
Here again was more of my unknowns revealing themselves to me. You know, I kinda feel like I'm like a detective in my own life - figuring it all about one moment at a time. Ok, perhaps thats a bit dramatic.
Initially, I felt a bit trapped. Don't really know how to describe it. I don't really express myself particularly well - no particular dance or jumping for joy or perhaps expression of happiness. Its sort of dumb and I could only sort of smile a bit, say like you'd do to a guest. I was pretty happy though. We shook hands, hugged and rather shakily joined the rest of the participants in the room. While he thanked her, now an apparently harder, tougher, older and larger German man stood there where before in my mind he seemed gentler man(and a smaller one). As he turned to speak to her and thank her, his eyes welled up. I think he was shocked to have me there. It obviously meant much to him also. So that was a happy reunion, I thought.
My brother arranged straight away that I'd spend some time with him - go to his work, sit with him a while, see his father at the plot(I remember going to the plot perhaps 15 years earlier), and just do anything.
He said he really hadn't expected that call. I hadn't expected that call either. In a way, he was a little part of me, just like I was a little part of him, just like my uncle was a little part of me, just like my grandfather was a little part of me. My uncle smiled and laughed so graciously and was happy that we could spend time together. I left that office and found myself again in a passenger seat with a strangers silhouette outlined and eclipsing the Namibian sun shining through his side-window. This time it was my brother. I had another intriguing stranger to learn. After a few uninteresting questions, I found myself again intrigued at why the distance between, this time, my mother and him. I had found another similar riddle, only this time I didn't notice the similarity with of that of my uncle and my father. Again, was it perhaps a sinister event that kept him from my mother and I all this time? Why hasn't he spoken to my mother for 15 years? Why and what was it? I found myself overwhelmed with newness, my uncles, my brother, my grandparents, Everything seemed foreign, not just Namibia.
The recollection of the dry rolling Namibian scenery, the burning sun through the window and flight with Dr Hoffman flashed in my mind while I felt my Brother's Land Rover squeeze my safety belt as it sped down a long highway with my brother at the wheel in control.
One night I sat listening to my uncles tell me more about how my grandparents met. There is this hot spot in the lounge(or maybe it's an adjacent room to the lounge) where the cats like to lie because of the underfloor heading.
I listened to how my grandparents met on boat on a river in Malawi and how my great grandfather was supposedly a spy from Scotland and they travelled in these sort of army trucks and how she thought he was this cheeky guy and well that's pretty much the gist of it. I don't know but I think this was on the Congo river. Never heard these stories before like this. Never lived in Namibia I suppose to hear them...
My uncles had these two cats, one was chubbier than the other, but where the one lacked in size it made up for in character. The latter, while more affectionate had an unfortunate funnel collar on to prevent her from chewing at a recent wound picked up in a neighbourhood scuffle. I didn't see much of the other one really.
I figured that perhaps I should start thinking about running.
I figured I'd run in the morning to the town, Windhoek, and pretty much make it up as I went. I pretty much did that. First I'd run to the town and I think I must have run right around it. As it happened I even ran passed my uncles work without knowing.
The next couple of days I'd vary my route a little and eventually I changed my direction entirely and ran away from the town. I found running away a far more pleasing experiance(perhaps so do others in many ways) run as there was less traffic and more choices. I could run up and around and down winding roads and watch the road lead me on to anywhere.
One particular run, it lead me right to the end of the road and I was left with a gate overlooking a rising sun and an empty bush something like what I had seen out Dr. Hoffman plane side window a few days earlier. I slept too long the first night to get up at 05:00(my regular wake up time) but the next day I got out for my first run and boy does Windhoek have hills! I found that my running shoes aren't suited for the gravel roads that I'd intersect every once in a while - I always run on pavements usually.
My other uncle knows quite a lot about stuff, I think he's an organiser of sorts, events mainly and other memory related stuff - and the royal family. He showed me an entire collection of family trees and books outlining the hereditary lineage of the royal family. I also saw a portion of his own family too. Good thing about having a good memory is that descriptions of events instantly turn into stories that are riveting, full of detail and description. I enjoyed listening.
There was a thing on TV a couple of weeks back on TV about the recent discovery of some king in a parking lot excavation, so I brought that up - it felt like a good time to and well, he knew more about it than me. I got thoroughly filled in. When I did speak to my grandad, we talked about my new fancy GPS watch, my British passport(I'm a British citizen now) and the great big tree outside his room which is quite splendid.
The German establishment that runs my granddad old-age home is into cleaning up - everything is always clean'. My grandad would wear his beanie-hat-type-thing accompanying his stroller and he would comment that no sooner had a leaf fallen from the tree, out pops someone to clear it away. He and my gran were/are into Christian Science reading lessons - that's what keeps him preoccupied mostly.
My brother took me with him to collect his son(my only claim to uncledom I guess), Rene and he'd grown quite a bit from the last time I saw him. I was still growing up on the farm in South Africa...who though I'd end up here? On one day I went home with Rene and basically just hung out with him. Kinda cool for me. I met his best friend who lives down the road, we walked to a community 'park' down the road from his(my brother's) place. This was all after we compared what music was on my iPhone and what kind of music he liked. We hooked my phone to the speakers and I played my stuff and he played out his. Next he played the guitar. He recited some songs he wrote and played me some tunes. I liked doing that. On one of our walks we just talked about stuff. He's 18 and I'm 28 so still think I'm plenty cool enough(even if he doesn't know it).
When we did reach his best friends place, it turned out that she wasn't up for going to the park, so we just hung out with her in her house and watch some teenage vampire flick - girls are heavy into this stuff since that Robert Pattison dude did that movie, moonlight or eclipse or something - I can't remember.
Anyway, after having a quick coffee, Rene and I continued off to the park. Rene is pretty cool, reminds me of nothing really - everyone always says that someone reminds them of themselves or is like this is that and ah, that's stupid.
He likes acting, drama and wants to be an actor. Totally not my scene but neither is anything that anyone else in my life does so I guess that means nothing. It was cool having been able to reconnect.
It made me feel pretty good, like I was doing good by me(that sounds strange but it was cool feeling). Rene was seemingly himself. Maybe it was the phase he was in but he seemed uninterested in the usual things, which is fine and would make you aware of it explicitly and preferred to dwell on more unusual, unexpected satire topics - which was cool, I guess.
There was times when I had flashbacks to the last time I was in his home, he wasn't born yet I don't think - Leon's still in that same home. Anyway, last time my brother's father taught me how to scuba dive in the backyard pool. He rents out a spare room to a bachelor, Rene lives out in the outdoor room which was some kind of garage the last time I was there. He didn't want me to see it - he said it was messy. I've been there before.
My brother likes other stuff. Guns, hunting, beer and sport - accuracy, Swiss/German quality. Rene is different to him in other ways, his own preferences and it seems that the natural tendency for a father to want his son to like what he likes to like thankfully has been embraced as each's own personal characteristics. So my brother lets Rene do his own thing and they meet in the middle. Pretty good. My brother, in his spare time does motorcycle maintenance on these retro looking vespers(I kind of motorcycle scooter). He has a few at the office/work and a few at home. There is normally a sticker of a kangaroo on most of his possessions. The reason his that he's often called the Aussie because he was born in Australia. Go figure.
I always say to people, it is strange that I have a Australian brother, Scottish/Namibian Grandparents and Italian great grand parents, South African/Zimbabwean parents. What a delightful mix.
I did tell my brother and Rene about my poetry interests and it turns out that both of them also like poetry. I read some of Rene's poetry on the net. I didn't pay that much attention to it. I don't like other people's Poetry - it's way too personal.
When I was at Leon's work, I saw electric schematics and work-in-progress boxes(they create all sorts of electric switch boards) on work benches. My brother made the introductions, 'this is my little brother' - everyone was sort of amazed at who I was.
Also on my whirlwind tour while with my brother, go to his childhood home, the home of his father - the plot. So we went to meet his father. Everything was just like I remembered. Everything. Some thing don't change at all. My brother tried to fit all 10 years into 2 days with me. It was all flush up.
The first thing I remembered about the plot, was his surname on the gate. My brother knows this place well. When he would arrive back from school, he would be off, off to bushes before his dad would give him work. The last time I was there, there was a reservoir which I can remember a bunch of us(he, and his other brothers and sisters - from his fathers re-marriage) around it with drinks in our hands. That's when he's sister taught me to say goodbye in German. I'll never forget it. Aufwiedesen. The reservoir was empty this time and both of them were contemplating how to best fix the cracks that had become evident and probably lead to it needing to be emptied. On veranda. Beer was freely available from cooler on the floor. They had previously entertained the German army. They showed me around plot, hi father's projects included restoring an old wooden German fold-up kayak. These guys are practically German. My brother showed me where he and he's brothers lived - a small little cottage next to the main house. All his brothers are in Germany. Only him and his dad remain. He'll never leave he tells me. He might visit Germany but probably won't. I surfed the internet at his work which was cool because I'd not been online since coming to Namibia.
After The day with Leon, I Walked to a local shop to buy biltong - 2 sticks. 21 dollars.
We visited grandad briefly(my uncle and i). My other uncle felt unwell - Sore stomach. I sat at foot of his bed bed and told him about the day with my brother - what a day etc... We discussed briefly about coincidences - my brother, he read some passage in book which relates to coincidences.
We had dinner ( soup, couscous, veg stir fry, olive apple salad). My other uncle couldn't eat. Me and my uncle discussed nutrition and training - I think I spoke and he listened mostly and then I had a bath and went to bed.
The next day, my uncle put apples out on table so I could eat one before my early morning run. I also took one for lunch. My other uncle and I took Bananas for grandad. Apparently the Chinese are a large supporting force in Namibia economy.
They donated this large building(a museum) which dominates the city skyline - I don't think it goes down too well with the locals. I think it's beautiful. Before our visit, on my run that morning, I ran all the way to see Grandad at the old age home. So I'd seen him briefly before seeing again with my other uncle. After our visit, my other uncle took me on a tour of the Namibian skyline. We parked high up on a few mountain views and discussed Namibia and the various buildings in the city - that museum was one of them.
Like anything really, there is more to be said about everything. The more I think about my trip the more I rediscover aspects of my trip. For instance a little tour I had with my other uncle around Windhoek, standing on a ridge looking over the city, the general comments about the Chinese influence over Windhoek, the Germans, a story I was told in the kitchen about an earthquake, my brother, a rowing machine, sitting on the cliffs in the sun, talking idly about movies, adverts, psychology and snakes. And I think about it more and I realise that life is all this, and its passing us by every day.
Makes me a little sad in some ways and happy in others - how this life is both full and deep empty and round, tall and flat and everything between.