Maybe Soon, Maybe Not
I
Perhaps there is light at the end of the tunnel.
f there is a month in Windhoek that can be called mild, it is April. Sunrise comes quickly and the days are bright without being hot. Even the hottest part of the day, the notorious Namibian afternoons, are pleasantly mild. And in the fast-falling evening the cooling air drives away the mosquitoes (thank god!). It can be a bit chilly, especially late at night – but nothing a warm duvet cannot solve. Besides those passing inconveniences, April days are some of the most comfortable in Namibia – not too cold, not too warm. When asked about the best month in which to visit this country of extremes, I suggest April: it is the one that is least likely to shock people who are not used to the tempestuous temperatures. September is a close second. It is a great time to be outdoors. Morning and evening walks are refreshing and do not need to be rushed. The interplay of light early at dawn and dusk adds interesting hues to the trees and certain pieces of architecture. Any hill becomes a romantic viewpoint. April is significant for another reason: by May, the cold begins to seep into the days. The brutal winter chill commences. There is, generally, less to do in the city: the summer boom for restaurants recedes, businesses reliant on foot traffic experience slow-downs, and even clubs begin to empty – dancing is a summer preoccupation. Indoors – with a blanket or heater, an ample supply of hot chocolate, and a film to watch or a book to read – is where one wants to be in June, July and August unless one has a very good reason to venture outside. This year, an unlikely justification presents itself as a raison d’être for enjoying the outdoors despite the certainty of the chill: maybe, just maybe, after being vaccinated – a recent possibility in Namibia – being outdoors without fear of people or crowds might become a thing of the past. And with it, the chance to rekindle all of the community activities – church, cinemas, clubs, weddings, birthdays, and many others – that were cancelled by the devastating spread of the COVID-19 pandemic. Unlike previous Aprils, the 2021 iteration could herald a sudden and enthusiastic desire for the great outdoors despite the forthcoming cold months. The general mood seems to be this: winter be damned. Avis Dam, for example, is filled with water and birdlife for the first time in a long while thanks to the heavy rains the country has received since last year. For what seems like an unbearable eternity the dam’s dry and cracked floor had been a sad reminder of Namibia’s tenuous water supply. Now, though, with the water rippling in the sun at all hours it has slowly come alive with interesting and exciting activity: couples lounging on the dam’s walls, families walking their dogs, hikers circling the expanse of water, and the odd kayaker. The blueness of the water
complements the stark brown mountains in the distance. The landscape looks lush. Nonetheless, the fresh injection of life into one of Windhoek’s social and public landmarks remains cautious: everyone does their best to give each other a wide berth on the hiking trails – social distancing still keeps people apart. Although the air is fresh, and despite its invigorating disposition, it still carries the threat of contagion. Then, some of Windhoek’s most popular social hangouts are looking forward to buzzing with life. Cramer’s Ice Cream Parlour in Independence Avenue has its bright yellow and red chairs out on the First National Bank’s verandah. Once a thriving hub for young and artistic energy, it closed with the first lockdown, one of the coronavirus’s first economic victims. It was doubtful if it would reopen as the months wore on, with restaurants and cafés struggling to lure diners back to the spaces they once frequented. Now, though, with new management, it is determined to rekindle the spark of days gone by. The experimental ice cream and gelato flavours are once again on offer. Once it becomes warmer, the monthly salsa parties it used to host could return. Buoyed by the recent arrival of COVID-19 vaccines in Namibia, the hesitancy of life is slowly disappearing from one of the most popular eateries in the city centre. But everything largely depends on the Namibian populace being vaccinated and reaching herd immunity as quickly as possible. Without that important milestone being reached, the dull status quo of curfews, crowd control and lockdowns could return. This April, with the days cooling and winter camped on the city’s edge, is quite different to those that have come before, especially the tough one endured in 2020: there appears to be light at the end of the tunnel; or, more precisely, at the end of a syringe. Maybe May, June, and July – the coldest months in Namibia – could bring an unexpected rebirth: a return to a longawaited normalcy, modified in some ways, but devoid of the thing that has defined Namibian and global life for the longest while – fear. How soon, one asks? Soon. Hopefully. Rémy is a Rwandan-born Namibian writer and photographer. He is the founder, chairperson, and artministrator of Doek, an independent arts organisation in Namibia supporting the literary arts. He is also the co-founder and editor-in-chief of Doek! Literary Magazine, Namibia’s first and only literary magazine. His debut novel “The Eternal Audience Of One” is forthcoming from Scout Press (S&S).
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