Ta Ti Tye? Onda landa ohostela.

Every time I come from school one of the first things I do is greet Kuku. Oshiwambo greetings are quite long and one of the inevitable questions is, "Ta ti tye?" Which means, "What are they saying?" Usually one responds, "Aa-ee ya mwena (They are quiet)."

But today I had something different to tell my kuku, "Onda landa ohostela." That's right, you guessed it, "I bought a hostel." The money from my PCPP grant came through yesterday and my well formed plan sprang into action. So I went to town this morning with my welder and we purchased all the materials to build a floor, ceiling, and bunk beds. But that statement misses all the fun that is Namibia. So here's what really happened.

The local welder disappeared a few months ago but turned up in Walvis Bay, over 1000km away, last week telling me that he won't be able to make the beds for our hostel. However, he gave me the phone number for another welder in the nearby town. This morning, I got in contact with the new guy and we set up a meeting at 10AM in the most professional of all places, a bar. I had a tough time getting a lift out of the village this morning and showed up half an hour late. But no worries, Africa-time allots at least one bonus hour to any specified meeting time. The welder showed up at 11ish and we got down to business. We discussed designs, quotations, and a work contract. When we finished, we went to Oshakati, the megalopolis of Owamboland.

It was really nice that he had his own car, Oshakati is a sprawl of unplanned buildings along a 4km stretch of highway, i.e. not very pedestrian friendly. We went to several building supply stores before settling on the best. Even though they didn't have enough cement on hand, we went with them anyway. Also, our order ended up being just over 1.5 tons so we have to pay an extra delivery fee for a bigger truck. When our shopping spree ended, I pulled out my plastic and swiped away. Big problem, First National Bank thinks spending 14 grand is an exorbitant amount. So my new friend dropped me off at the bank and wished me luck.

Banks in Namibia are black holes, you never realize you've crossed the event horizon until you've been in line for over an hour. When I finally got to the teller and asked to withdraw N$22,000, he said it was too much and I had to go to another queue. After spending another hour in a different queue, I had to explain to the teller that I don't have my passport because my visa expired, the Ministry of Home Affairs in Windhoek has it, and I won't be going to the capital until next month when I leave the country! While I waited some more, I enjoyed the AC and read some Shakespeare. AC is a rare treat here especially when it's 100°+ everyday. I guess that's why we use the metric system here, 38°C doesn't sound too bad. Around 4PM the bank locked it's doors and the cleaners came out, soon I was the only customer left in the lobby. Forty minutes later I had the biggest stack of Namibian dollars I've ever seen. The most common big bill in Namibia is N$100, so they had to give me a cloth bag to put my gobs of money in. I ran to get a taxi back to the building supply store on the opposite side of town

I got to Oshana Build It just as they were closing their doors. Thankfully, they let me in and allowed me to pay with the biggest stack of Namibian dollars the cashier had ever seen. We had to count it numerous times, it's tough to count 144 things quickly, try it sometime. I left the store and got in another taxi to return to the other side of town. I stopped by spar and bought a chocolate eclair to indulge myself a bit before heading home to my tin roof box of a room.

Looking back on this day, I can see that I've changed quite a bit over the past two years. I would like to see my old self dropped into this situation just to see how I would've reacted. It's difficult to imagine what life in America will be like, which is why I'm procrastinating in the best way possible, traveling for many months across Africa! My goal is to do a Cape Town to Cairo, but we'll see if I have the endurance to go for four months of constant adventure and excitement, or will the crushing boredom and seating arrangements of mini-buses destroy me?