Part 4 - Babs & Andy are busy (and a little paranoid) - 14.08.2018
Published: 15.09.2018
Yesterday was THE BIG DAY: the meeting with our school children was scheduled. But let's start from the beginning, because the morning was spent in the hostel, which doesn't mean we had nothing to do. We googled dermatologists, ophthalmologists, medical clinics that could help with various illnesses in the soup kitchen. Hennie, one of the employees who worked here at Chameleon 8 years ago (and who I used to go to church with... just marvel at the photo she brought me... I'm holding a Bible in my hands...), helped with financial questions like how much to budget for a consultation with a private doctor. 3 children urgently need treatment, so it's time to take action!
While we were almost breaking our teeth on the biltong (dried meat) during lunch, we also did a lot of things on the side: for the soup kitchen, for the future nights in tents (where can you sleep cheaply but not get trampled by an elephant), for securing our photos (you'll find out why we're becoming paranoid here in Windhoek).
Since the incident with the phone being taken away, we could only be reached by Peacemaker through Facebook. Then, around 3:00 PM, the message came that we should meet in Katutura an hour later to have dinner with the school kids. Writing letters from a distance is nice, but it's not the real thing in the long run. We already knew some of the kids, but not all of them - so a meeting like this has to be on the agenda.
Even though it was a bit awkward at first until the first kiddies thawed, it was really nice towards the end. Most of them ordered 'Game Wiener Schnitzel' - unfortunately, we still don't know if it was zebra or gnu or something like that. They ate Wiener Schnitzel for the first and probably the last time, because the meat was almost as tough as the biltong we had for lunch. Even a 'In Austria, it tastes far better' didn't convince them anymore.
With Greg's friend, a local taxi driver, we went back to the hostel at a brisk pace, accompanied by blasting Michael Jackson songs (best rolling jukebox ever) and daring overtaking maneuvers with high beam that wasn't very visible anymore.
Today's day first took us by taxi to Katutura. Andy held onto her backpack so tightly during the entire ride that it looked like she was cutting off her own blood vessels. The backpack had to come along this time because we had camera equipment with us for the photo shoot in the soup kitchen. We had two options: either show the camera bag obviously on our bodies or throw it into the backpack. Guad is gangn, nix is gschehn (everything went well, nothing happened) and soon we were at Monica's, sorting out books, picking up leftover food from the floor, teaching the boys how to tie knots in ropes, listening to adventurous crocodile stories from Michael, who was in charge of halving and distributing the eggs today.
Tempo, tempo, because at noon we had a meeting with Monica in the city, then we went to buy a new phone (Andy, you already know), and then to the police station to get the report. From room A on the ground floor to room B on the 1st floor, then to room C, back down to the ground floor, once around half the block to the so-called 'Tourist Protection Unit'. Yes, we finally made it there. Couldn't they have just told us that right away? So there we were with this little piece of paper to pick up the report. The stern face of the policewoman revealed that she was delighted to see us, because we would keep her busy for at least 30 minutes. Only the best for the 'Tourist Protection Unit': plush furniture, plastic plant, and unfriendly officers 
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While we enjoyed the soft furniture (it will be harder in the tent), a Spanish couple - obviously exhausted with the world - walked in. Our officer immediately handed them over to her colleague, as she seemed overwhelmed. When the Spaniards told their story, we once again realized how quickly things can happen. They had parked their car in a parking lot, went to run errands, and when they returned, they found that everything they still owned was on their bodies. Everything except the car itself was gone.
We left the police station (with the report), took care of our things, said goodbye to Monica until September. To return to the initial question of paranoia: we arrived at the hostel, and not even an hour later, we heard panicked screams 'Open up, open up, open up' - a robbery right outside the entrance gate of the accommodation. The European illusion of Windhoek is deceiving, evil is always and everywhere. Under these circumstances, saying goodbye to this deceptive town is easier for us, and we will leave for Botswana tomorrow.
Now we'll just wait out the power outage, the post probably won't go out as planned...
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