Honoring the King... and Being a Celebrity

On Saturday, Ted and I attended a commemorative festival, honoring the life and legacy of the last Ovambo King, Mandume. We traveled for about forty minutes towards Angola in the back of a pickup to another village called Ohmedi, which was hosting the celebration. It was supposed to be an all day event with lots of speakers, cultural performances, and a lesson in the history of this man and his impact on the Ovambo people.

A bit about the last King:

Mandume Ya Ndemufayo (1894 - 6 February 1917) was the last king of the Kwanyama, a subset of the Ovambo people of southern Angola and northern Namibia. Ndemufayo took over the Kwanyama kingdom in 1911 and his reign lasted until 1917 when he died. Ndemufayo is honoured as a national hero in both Angola and Namibia.

No European colonizer challenged the well-organized and well-armed Ovambo kingdoms until 1915 and the beginning of World War I which coincided with a massive local drought. During the battle of Omongwa, Ndemufayo and the Kwanyama's resisted a Portuguese attack for three days. Simultaneously, the South African forces peacefully conquered the portion of the Kwanyama kingdom formerly located in German South West Africa. Due to heavy losses, Ndemufayo was forced to relocate the Kwanyama capital to the area of South West Africa. In February 1917, after Ndemufayo refused to submit to South African control, he died in battle against the South Africans. The cause of his death is disputed; South African records show his death from machine-gun fire, while oral and popular history described his death as suicide. Tales here tell that the king took his own life before he could officially be killed by his opponents- a true hero to most Ovambo.

We were dropped off at a bar in Ohmedi, and then realized that the grounds that were hosting the event were about 2.5k from where we were dropped... so we started walking down a dusty road in the mid day sun. As you can imagine, I am filthy, already. Anyway, we were really happy to have been scooped up by a nice couple who was also driving to the event, so we didn't have to walk the whole way.

We arrived to find at least a couple thousand people at the celebration, which in this country, is A LOT of people. There was even security at the event- metal detectors and all! They had tents set up, a PA system, and a stage with some important looking people sitting on it. Well, this was all lovely. Everyone was dressed in their traditional attire- the women in their pink and black dresses, the men in their red and white button-up shirts with leopard print on the shoulders. It was a bit hard to listen to the speaker, as everything was in Oshikwanyama, and of course, I can't understand a word. Things got weird though, really, really weird.

It turns out that this was definitely not a "whites friendly" event, as Ted and I were the only white people in the crowd. People were literally turning around in their seats to stare at us. Kids were walking up to us and just stopping and staring, not saying a word. This was really awkward, to say the least. We were there to learn, but ended up being followed by paparazzi... literally people taking out their cameras and trying to sneak photos of us standing in the crowd. It was insane. At one point, a random man came over and put his arm around me while his buddy snapped a shot. I can only imagine the look on my face in that photograph.

A bunch of schools sent their kids there to participate in the cultural performances. We got to see a couple of these, which were energetic, vibrant, and beautiful. Some of the kids from Ted's school were there to dance and sing in their traditional attire/songs/language.

One really cool and interesting thing that happened was that the PRESIDENT! was there and he gave a speech! The president was just sitting up on the stage the whole time with some of the other Parliament members- can you imagine what security would be like at an event of this nature in the states? It was so bizarre to us, and so awesome to have the opportunity to see him like that. Well, it was, until he started going on about "freedom from the white men" and things of this sort... we got really uncomfortable, and didn't want anyone to think we were Afrikaners, so we headed out.

We began our trek down the same dusty road that we came in on, and so many cars and pickup trucks drove right by us. We couldn't hitch a ride until we were almost back to the main road. It appeared that everyone was still on their white man hating binge, so no ride for us Oshilumbus waking down the road. It sucked.

We got back to our village, dazed, confused, shocked, exhausted... the heat was really intense all day on Saturday and we were just beat. So, we got dropped off by our taxi driver in town and started walking home. As we were walking down the sandy road to our school gate (and home), someone threw rocks at us. We turned around to see who did it, and there were three men sitting out back at one of the houses, but they all pretended they didn't see us staring at them.

It was a long day, to say the least. But, we learned a lot, we were reminded of how powerful ignorance can be, and we were given a reminder that we are a minority.

Sometimes, we need to be reminded of what it feels like to be a minority, to be mistreated for the color of your skin, whatever- so that when we return home, we can fight for the people who are in shoes similar to the ones we are in right now. You really can't understand what it is like to be hated for no reason than the color of your skin until it happens to you. Then, you can fully empathize with the people who suffer in this way, every day. We are definitely breaking down racial walls in being here. It is tiring, but it is powerful.

Like I have mentioned before, most days, I wish I had a guide to walk around with me and tell me what the hell is going on. I usually have no idea.