The lone ponderer of Kaokoland



Seated on the jagged surface of a carbonate ridge that rises up above the rocky and dry never ending red semi hills of Kaokoland, I am deep in thought. The sharp surface of the rocks digs into my trousers, it bruises my palms almost cutting into them as I use my hands to push myself up and stand to take in the splendour of this amazing landscape. I’ve spent the better part of my twenties ogling over these landscapes while life passes me by; the ridge overlooks the neck of a sprawling ephemeral river fed by meandering streams. The trail of green trees in a semi desert gives away the fact that this river although dry must have water underneath, from which the deep roots of these trees quench their thirst.

  
The carbonate ridge over looking the dry river with green trees
I start pondering; I ask myself how I got here and how I got here so quickly. I hate my job, despised it the day I started, I am too young for this shit. This happens to bald 40 year old men, not me. The thrill of being in the middle of nowhere surrounded by rocks wore off long ago, life is missing me and I know it. But life is what it is, I have bills to pay. The men I supervise have made peace with the fact that for the next month or two, the comfort of their beds and the warmth of their women will be but a memory. A memory to spur them to endure the harshness of the wild, so they can earn money to feed their children and buy their women something nice. A part of me can’t believe that I spent seven years in university and learnt a foreign language for this, if the imperialists found out that I haven’t put the free education they gave me to any use, there would be a scandal. Maybe I am being over dramatic, but I know one thing for sure: this part of my life is as enjoyable at the throbbing pain of a headache induced by those last three shots that you down with misplaced courage during the previous nights drunken binge. This job takes from me but does not give back, it takes my time and effort and rewards me with just enough to get by, can’t even afford a freaking pack of jelly babies. Don’t even have five minutes to write down a thought that made my brain excited like a virgin penis.

I fell into the one coma that kills careers faster than a speeding car kills a drunk driver, I’ve stopped learning. My motivation has fallen into the infinite depths of an abyss that threatens to swallow whatever shred of lust for life that I saved from the depressing reality of my brother’s death. Tah! I am in trouble, at this rate; I will drive myself insane before my 28th birthday. I go through the motions like a soul less robot that is programmed to get the job done, what I do is not passion: nah, its routine. A routine that pressure at the highest level has perfected, I am trained to deliver results. The only thing that reminds me of being a creative human is the high of finishing yet another great article, which is replaced by the drowning effect of realising the novel I started over a year ago still only, has half a spine. The time to finish my masterpiece is consumed by another pile of rocks whose gleaming shine in daylight is opposite to their dullness in the dark.

But I guess you need some lows in your life to help your appreciate the highs when they finally arrive. I have faith that better days will arrive, unlike most people whose faith wanes during the good times and is only active when times get rough. I appreciate the fact that even now, when I am stuck in a bad rut, I have received more blessings than I deserve. I am appreciative of what I have received from the dude above, so much so that I am thankful for what I haven’t received yet. As I slip deeper into thought, I am pulled back by the reality that the driller just started the rig and I need to climb down this ridge to go and design the freaking borehole. You see, I can’t even ponder for 10 minutes without this job pulling me away, I climb down making sure that I use my hands to cushion myself but don’t rush so fast that the sharp edges of the jagged rock  cuts into my palms. In my haste, I forgot to bring my torch. The sun disappeared while I drifted off into the vastness of Kaokoland, so I have to navigate my way down in the dark. I swore to myself that I would stay away from these jobs with undefined working hours. But like I said, a young man has ends and they need to meet.

Drought, the thirst is real

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