Radio Nowhere

It is a well known fact around these parts that my village doesn't have radio. I’ve heard the neighbors occasionally get a Nama station to come through, when the weather, wind, and dust are at the appropriate levels of not debilitating, but I felt it would be a pointless purchase. I have a deep love for radio – something to do with too much NPR growing up, no doubt – so when a friend recently offered me one that they didn’t need, I couldn’t say no even though I knew it was mostly useless at site. It’s new and nice but has that old school feel of a portable radio that is only a radio. Five bands, all of which play nothing but static.

The other day I was spinning round the dead dial, hoping to hear a little rhythm and I stumble upon the strangest sound. It was not a thousand guitars or pounding drums, but a voice speaking in a tongue I hadn’t head in a very, very long time. There is a Japanese radio station here in Namibia. Etse! I tuned in again a few days later to listen to a hearty, American voice tell me Hillary Clinton has pneumonia. Apparently only one station can come in at a time, only one language can be heard on a given day. You have to fight with the static to hear. Something about nuclear tests, South Sudan, civil war, a cyber attacker, and a bunch of other news bites are lost because those were the only words that won out against the drone of fragmented waves.

There might not be any saxophone solos coming my way, but sitting out here in the wild blue I do feel like I have a purpose here. Some days it’s harder than most. I spin that dial round and round and think is there anybody alive out there? But then, in the smallest ways, at the oddest times, I finally find that MAKE THE CONNECTION.

I love radio. I love my radio nowhere as I sit, looking for a world with some soul. IT’S A WORLD RECIEVER! it tells me right on top. Good. 

                                                                                                          

UPDATE: We have radio now!!! I wrote this about two weeks ago and suddenly, out of nowhere, BAM! Radio! But it shuts off a lot... I did manage to hear a few waves about the debate! 

Some Laundry

Imagine: It is nearly 11PM, the clouds are starting to break up and the moon and stars are shining so bright you don’t need a flashlight. The door to Ms. Sheldon’s flat opens, first the wooden one, then the metal bars, quiet like. Somewhere across the bush, a child giggles. Goats stamp. A dog barks. The hostel is dark. Ms. Sheldon darts for the clothes line where a single blue and green comforter hangs, blowing gently in the breeze of a spring night. Ms. Sheldon checks for wet spots. A bit damp, but fine if another blanket goes underneath. She quickly pulls the pins from the line and hauls the blanket off, careful not to let it touch the dusty ground least the process of the past evening be repeated. With one last glance across the open bush, she dashes back towards her door and slips in. The night settles in around her.

Lately, Lalli the Cat has taken to peeing on everything (because I changed his cat litter). The above scene took place the evening after I caught him in the act and managed to spare the rest of my just washed bed set (after having washed it two days before when he did manage to soak the thing). I was having trouble sleeping so I decided to be productive and check the line again. Amazingly, once I had my comforter again I went right to sleep.