Once upon a time there was an explorer named Brittany the Conqeur. She travelled to far away lands in search of new adventure, experience and excitement. Although Canada had provided a comforting home for many years, and will surely be missed, it was time for something new.

She embarked on a lonnnngggg journey across the Atlantic Ocean, UK and Sahara Dessert. After many time zones and mediocre plane meals later, she arrived at her destination: Windhoek, the capital city of Namibia. This journey deducted approximately forty-five hours from her saintly, as she spend two days exploring rather peculiar things in airport terminals to fight the evil power of JET LEG. But, she did make some interesting discoveries in Cape Town International airport.

She found new foods of ‘smoked meat’ chips, and coconut flavoured Halls. Then she found her most ironic discovery, post cards reading ‘always be prepared,’ with a night scene of the city and attached with a condom. This, along with the surprise greeting of a large black beetle (named Beatty) in Brittany’s bathroom stall, was her first experience of Africa.

When Brittany finally arrived in Windhoek, after eating some type of unidentifiable meat on the plane, her Prince Charming (this may be stretching the truth a bit, but we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt) was there. He picked her up in a horse drawn carriage, also known as, a old beat-up Hyundai and they travelled off together into the sunset.

The Beginning…

Okay, enough with the third person referrals and fairy-tale associations….we all know that Africa is anything but fairy-tale like. I’ve been in Windhoek for two weeks now and it’s been quite the adjustment to my usual routine.

The biggest difference so far, aside from the expected poverty and excessive meat eating, has been with matters of security. I often feel like I’m kept in a jail, as every window and door has some kind of metal contraption. The windows are covered with metal bars, where nothing more then a hand could possibly slip through. Whereas the ordinary doors are aided with accordion-like metal gates. The whole house is also protected under an alarm system, plus the entire property is surrounded by a cement wall reaching around six feet tall. Furthermore, this cement wall is topped off with metal thorns, while others walls have barb wire. To add to this, every house on our street has at least one dog. I know this because I can hear them barking regularly. Pretty intense isn’t it? There’s no such thing as spying on your neighbours here, everybody (at least in this part of the city) lives in there own secluded world.

Although I’ve heard that Windhoek, compared to other African cities, is a safe place crime wise, I tend not to go out at night. When I do leave my residence during the day, I am extremely aware of my surroundings. Violence isn’t the issue here, it’s theft, and everyone reminds you of this risk. For instance, parking your car in a restaurant parking lot means tipping someone to watch your car. They have people, usually men, that are designated ‘vehicle watchers,’ I don’t know there exact job title so this is what I’m calling them. They watch your car/truck while you go eat dinner, do some shopping etc. When you come back, if your vehicle is still in there, you tip them.

Perhaps my most naive adventure so far, was during my first week when I decided to view the National Gallery of Namibia. I was expecting to see some traditional African crafts, maybe some well-known Namibian artists and possibly even a little contemporary work. Some of you might know that last Fall there was a traveling art exhibition titled Snap Judgments that visited Canada’s National Gallery and showed many up-and-coming African contemporary photographers, including a Windhoek artist. Since I saw the exhibit, I thought my expectations were somewhat accurate. It wasn’t until I arrived at the Gallery that I realized what a difference there is between Canada’s National Gallery and Namibia’s.

As I walked into the main gallery space I started viewing a selection of prints and charcoal drawings. The art historian in me started to study the images. My eyes drew toward the name of the artist and title of the piece, and I stumbled upon a Price! Yes, every piece of work in the room was for SALE, and at a small price too! Contrary to Canada’s Gallery that owns a permanent art collection worth millions of dollars, and also showcases visiting exhibitions, in Namibia it seems there Gallery is more of a commercial art space. I’m sure this is because the government has more important things to worry about like health care!

As I continued to venture in the gallery, I was approached by a young man. He looked like he was no more then 16, and was wearing a side-ways ball cap and low-rise jeans. Believe it or not, he was one of the artist’s showcasing work. He proceeded to show me his artwork and explain each piece to me, to try to make a sale of course. To me, this was the other big surprise. In Canada’s Gallery, all of the artists are fairly established, in there later years of life, and the majority of them are dead! Also, if you saw an artist explaining his/her work in the gallery they would be followed with a posy of eager art enthusiasts.

I also learned that this artist, who introduced himself as Actofel, goes to an art school in Katutura, which is a black township here and also where poverty is a reality. I have actually been to his school since then, to view another exhibit, and have met him once more. The exhibit at his school was similar to the one in the gallery.

Most of the work I saw in these exhibitions was quite good, and dealt with themes of transformation, vegetation, poverty, and suffering. Some of the work combined recyclable materials, which is great because Namibia does not have a recycling system, something else that was surprising for me.

Overall, the artwork is comparable to traditional forms of African craft, as designs that appear in some African basketry and materials are relevant in the prints. But, a western influence is also reminiscent through the label ‘Coca-cola,’ that appeared on a few of the assembled recycled art