Day 14: The People

Picture: Getrud with the eland

With the owner on vacation and the manager more relaxed, I’ve had a chance to get to know the people here better.

Except for one family, the staff are all from the Damara tribe, one of the original tribes of Namibia. They have four “click” sounds they use in their speech, ranging from the standard click to something sounding like a kiss. The Damara were foragers until their land was divided up by farming peoples. Today most work on farms like this or have low-level jobs in town.

The family that works on this farm has been here for several generations. The highest paid makes US $150/mo and has one day off a week. None have cars, so leaving the farm is always complicated. As long as they work here, they rent stone houses from the farm owner. These have concrete floors, electricity, and basic plumbing. When workers reach the government-pension age of 60, they retire to an area called the “outpost,” which is further away but still on the property. There they continue to pay rent to the owner.

None of the younger ones want to end up a pensioner at the outpost. But changing direction in life is difficult—especially with a national unemployment rate around 45%.

Justine grew up here and works as one of the chefs. Her mother is the wash woman, and her sister runs the office. Justine is savvy and goes to school on her off-days to study cooking. She wants to open a restaurant in Windhoek, but the owner of the farm told her that, if she quits, he won’t allow her back on the property. That means she wouldn’t be able to see her family or visit the graves of her ancestors, which is very important to the Damara.

Her sister, Sola, wants to leave as well, but first she has to save $10,000 to buy a big enough house for her family.

My friend Getrud has two children under the age of four. Both of them live at the outpost because she and their father work too much to be with them. Her toddler has started calling her grandma “mother.” Getrud would like to move her family to Windhoek and get a better paying job, but the children’s father doesn’t want to leave his mother and sisters behind.

The owner of the farm seems unaware of any worker unhappiness. He’s charismatic and comfortable with his authority, like someone who has always been “the owner”—or, at worst, “the owner’s son.” Claudia calls him a colonial master, which makes me laugh.

Three months ago, he took a new girlfriend and brought her onto the farm to be the manager. It’s difficult for her to assume authority over people who’ve worked here all their lives; so she overcompensates by being bossy. When she wants something done, she orders the first person she sees to do it. Many of her sentences begin with “You must…” And she gives little positive feedback. I witnessed her using the F-word with a gardener who couldn’t understand her English: “Just f-ing do it!” She gets things done at the expense of alienating the staff and, frankly, stressing them out. Unfortunately, there’s no recourse when they’re unhappy with their work situation.

Still, these are quite interesting and fun people to be around. I wish there was more time to just talk with them and listen to their stories because that is my favorite part of being here.