Minibus nightmare

December is the best month of the year, but for us mere vehicle less peasants it presents a challenge as far as movements and mobility are concerned. What am I saying? Am I saying that not having a car in Namibia during the festive (crazy) season means you are pretty much screwed? Yep! pretty much, you can bet your bonus cheque  on it.

Trying to get to the north during December is a challenge in itself, made all the more difficult by the sometimes thuggish operating mentality of long distance bus operators. Those guys are ruthless, even sharks have more protocol than they do. If you have never seen them fighting over a passenger, literary ripping luggage from the customers hands and pulling them in three different directions, then you haven't lived. What they do is regulated but how they do it is not. They hike prices when the demand rises, sometimes they will charge you three times normal price if you're traveling with a back pack. Simply because you are taking up a seat that can be occupied by someone with 7 times as much luggage (every piece of luggage requires extra payment) who will pay 3 times that price. If you dare complain you will be greeted with a rapid "If you don't like it, then you can stay". They strut around with arrogance of the highest order, in oshiwambo we say that that individual "ota penya", meaning they are walking around with the arrogance of someone who owns the world. Who in their right mind would say that to a fellow human being? A man who knows that he has nothing to lose and does not answer to any rules or regulations. A man whose sole objective is to make as much money as he can while the odds are in his favor, bordering on evil but can you blame him? It's the economics of the urban jungle, if you don't like it then you can stay.

On the 7th of December I woke up possessed by the spirit of happy Friday, which was unusual. As my friend, let's call her "L" pointed out the previous night, that a guy who just lost his little brother does not dance gangnam style in the street, or walk around with a smile on his face. You are either crazy or a special case, coincidentally I tick both of those boxes. I spent that morning packing and playing music oblivious to the drama that awaited us. When we eventually got to the bus terminal, all of them were full, every bus operator said the same thing "I have a book full of customers already, I'm full". I started to realize how Joseph felt all those years in the past when he journeyed with a pregnant virgin mary looking for boarding at every inn and he was greeted with "We are full" everywhere he went.

Sitting in the car we borrowed from our neighbor, we devised a plan. Actually I thought it up, inspired by a scene from harry potter and the deathly Hallows where Hermione commandeers a dragon that flies herself, harry and Ron to safety from the clutches of the gringots wizard bank. I suggested that we go and find a bus in Walvis bay, my cousin suggested we call my crazy friend to confirm the availability of buses before we drove there chasing unicorns. Luckily my cousins other half was in Walvis after a desert adventure chasing jackals and hyenas. It turns out there was a bus available, the gods of fortune had smiled on us. we were going home, or so we thought.

We got to Walvis bay at mid day, we rocked up to find my cousins other half had left with a good friend of hers. The only bus we found there was adamnt that they were full. At that moment i realized the gods of fortune had fooled me like a lingerie saleswoman and had cleverly hit me with a fake smile so fast that I did not notice. I'd been hoodwinked by the inconspicuous ninja like stealth of bad fortune. I did not even have enough strength to be pissed, ever since I'd learned of my brothers passing I just felt drained and zonked out, like Lil Wayne high on cough syrup. My cousins level of annoyance was higher than a bra ridding up. My little sister sulked in the car sporting a frown longer than Rihanna's forehead.

We tried to kill the depressing conundrum we faced by cracking jokes about the girls encounter with a rogue jackal, but no one was in a laughing mood. My cousin went into "iiteka mode" and threw a mini tantrum. His girlfriend, who we shall refer to as "Snowflake" threw a "what ever" in retaliation. Tensions were high, higher than Mee Pendukeni's blood pressure at the SWAPO congress. We spent the rest of the afternoon back in Swakopmund trying to get a bus to the north, but the response was the same "we are full". I was too tired to be annoyed, I would never sleep again if I missed my little brothers funeral. I was already dragging ill feelings for not having seen him in three years and not having telephone contact with him for over three weeks. It would drive me insane, how would my mother recover from losing one son to death and another to insanity. A good friend of mine who has been trying to get me to repent and turn away from the dark side had told me to push dark thoughts from my mind, to fight darkness with blinding light. Positive thinking and faith goes a long way in life. After no success we headed home late in the evening, very tired and visibly annoyed.

We got back home and tried Plan C sub section 2. which was fix up Chuabi and drive up to the north. That Plan did not work, much to my cousin's annoyance. Things were looking bleak, was I really going to miss my kid brothers funeral, it was going to be like committing sacrilege. My eyes started doing this annoying reaction of extreme sensitivity to light, the after effects of no proper sleep for three days. We had dinner, "Snowflake" decided to put her culinary skills to good use, it was heaven sent as the last meal we had was breakfast that morning. But the dilemma was still there, how were we going to get to the north, none of our friends were driving up that weekend. It was crunch time.

We only had one option left, to camp out at the bus terminal and hope we could get one with three open spaces. My friend Gideon dropped us off. Two buses came and went both were full, that when the strangest thing happened. A strange chap walked up and offered to take us to Windhoek, we told him that we could not as we were headed to the north. He quickly changed his story, he offered to take us to the north if we made it worthwhile (money talks). It was too good to be true, we had our little sister with us, we could not risk our safety. But we were desperate and running out of time. Two more buses went by and both were full, it was 23h00 hours and we were not going to get a bus till the morning, we were screwed. It dawned on me that maybe god in his infinite wisdom sent an angel in the form of this Zimbabwean chap to help us out and if we ignored it we would be living up to the oshiwambo saying of "god does not help fools". So we did the smart thing, we asked his only other passenger to make sure it was not a con, a young Nama looking lady who ran off without paying when we dropped (strange but true). We took down the registration number of car and took pictures (a bit paranoid but we are crazy like that).

After pondering it for a while we went with it. my cousin drove through the night, fueled by caffeinated energy drinks, he was a man possessed, he was going to get me home. I didn't sleep much, as dawned prepared to break the landscape started changing. Gone were the undulating hills and thorn bushes of the Savannah of central Namibia, welcomed were flat plains and bars with strange names like "my three sisters bar". Tsumeb turned into Oshivelo, then more bars in Omuthiya, more shambolic town planning in ondangwa, ongwediva, Oshakati and we were home. Oshikuku had never felt so far away. On Saturday the 08th of December I was home, but I had the feeling I usually get at funerals. it is like an emptying of happiness, like all the warmth drains from you leaving blank emotion.

I hate funerals, no tweaking of sentences can explain my hate of funerals. There is always drama, but I won't go there. I will just say that an air of disbelief hung above proceedings, almost as if it really was not true. As though it was not possible that I was sitting at our last born's funeral, the youngest branch on our family tree. that disbelief still hangs around but reality snaps me back when I realized that I was there when we filled in his grave, I was there when we buried him, there is no going back. Everyone who spoke that day took a little longer than they were supposed to, first taking in and coming to terms before any words could be said. They all said the same thing, my brother was a kid who never bothered anybody and always listened to his elders. He had a curiosity driven mischief about him, but he wouldn't be an Iiyambo if he didn't. Our Uncle (dad's brother) could not find the words, he said "there is not much that I can say, this has hit me hard. I have lost a son, that's all I can say, I was the only father he had left". His friends were hard hit, and I quote "It was hard for us to take in the news, phones calls and SMS's saying our friend was no more, it has hurt us deeply". one of our neighbors said and I quote "we were excited when god gave us this child, and so should we be now that he has called him home, he was only lent to us. he was never ours to keep". As his friends broke out in a rendition of D-naff's oshagwana, the warmth in my heart started trickling back. His friends will miss an amazing two footed winger on the field, unlike me (i have two left feet) my brother could hit thunderbolts with both feet. My brother was a warrior and if we had to stop and pause then so be it, but we were going to send him off like the warrior he was. I know wherever he is, he is proud that we sent him off as we had always treated him, with love. Jafet the father of children has gone to be with his children that went before him.

What I have realized is that I have lost a brother, he is in a better place. But what I have learned to do is appreciate the brother I still have, a brother who tried and exhausted every avenue possible to get me home. A brother who has taken care of me for eight years, who borders on selfish at times (he will throw a tantrum coz I said that). A brother who took a risk by driving throughout the night to get me home for the funeral, a brother that I love more than I love jelly babies *no homo* and lord knows I love jelly babies. I know what I have lost, but I appreciate what I still have. It took days to finish writing this, I snapped at several unlucky individuals who interrupted me while writing it.