Tsintsabis Night Life

We have had a computer problem here in Tsintsabis, so I haven't been able to access email for a couple of weeks. That means that I haven't posted in a while. My last post may have also been eaten byour server, so this post really is long overdue.

 

In the last two weeks, I have not left the vicinity of Treesleeper and Tsintsabis. I thought it would bee nice to get into the flow of life here and to enjoy local diversions. It only took a few days to get into the flow of village life, and enjoying the local diversions only took an afternoon. That's why last Saturday I decided to do what the locals do when they're bored: drink.

 

Stasja and I had an early dinner on Saturday and the idea of doing Soduku puzzles or reading a book didn't appeal to either of us. While brainstorming ways to keep ourselves entertained, we had a glass of cheap South African wine, and as we relaxed slowly we began to notice mellifluous Afro-beats drifting through the still night from the direction of Tsintsabis' combination club and bottle store. It had been a while since either of us had gone out on the town, so we grabbed our wallets, prepared our livers for a jump-start, and started walking.

 

The bottle store is the first building one sees on arriving in Tsintsabis from Tsumeb, the larger city to the south. It's a low brick building with bars across the window and a large mural over the door showing a smiling, healthy bull cow, which I suppose refers to the myriad farms in the area. There are actrually two entrances to the bottle store, one strictly for buying stronger drinks and the other for buying beer and groceries. A listless Owambo woman who speaks little of the local language and even less English staffs the store along with her tall, cute, gap-toothed daughter, Julianna, who is probably about my age. The side of the store with stronger beverages is divided in two by a waist-high counter topped by a section of fence that stretches to the ceiling. In order to pay for and receive your drink, you have to reach through little holes that have been cut in the fence. There is quite a selection of drinks behind the counter. You can get Greek liqueurs, rum, sherry, mint punch, and other exotic drinks for less than two dollars a bottle. cheap wine and a few types of beer (in 1L bottles!) are also available. There is enough alcohol in stock to fuel a week of drunkenness for the entire population of Tsintsabis.

 

The Club is connected to the bottle store and has an identical facade with similar bars and a mural depicting a couple of smiling fish next to a small tray of French fries. If the Club actually sold fish and chips, it would be legit, but alas the only attractions are pool and music. Fortunately for the Club, there is no other competition in town and the peoples' standards for entertainment arent too high. the Club consists of a single room, maybe 10 feet by 30 with a pool table and jukebox on one side and an open space to dance on the other. Another fence-topped counter runs along the back wall and flourescent bulbs light the space meaning that a keen observer is able to see clearly the drunken exploits occurring within.

 

Friday had been payday for most of the people in town, so Saturday they did the logical thing: take advangage of being flush with cash and get drunk. Drinking excessively is a problem for people all over Namibia, but according to Stasja, it has been an especially big problem for the Bushmen. It's sad to see so many thin, hungry people falling on the ground drunk and to know that at the end of the month they will likely be coming to the Treesleeper office to try and borrow money to buy food to last them until their next payday. Drinking does serve a social purpose, but I doubt its benefits outweigh its costs.

 

Stasja and I arrived to see people dancing outside the Club, playing pool, and drinking. I recognized a man who had come to the office during the day to sell a mobile he had made from plants and nuts collected from the bush. It looked like he had sold the mobiler and bought a drink. He was dancing like ther was no tomorrow and was mostly oblivious to what was going on around him - I'd say he was "in the zone." Another man, about 5 feet tall and weighing probably no more than 80 pounds, came up to me babbling, smiling, and giving me the thumbs up. I returned the thumbs up and quickly taught him how to high-five. He seemed pretty excited about the high-five and left smiling and bouncing to the music. Women hung out mainly in groups outside while guys congregated around the pool table and on the dance floor. The women who ventured onto the dance floor took the risk of being grabbed, swung around, groped, or propositionedby one or a few of the drunken dancing men. I saw one woman escape from an overzealous guy who then chased her outside and tried to kick her. Unfortunately, that's representative of how many women are treated here. When he missed, he cocked his cap to the side and stalked back into the Club, maybe to find his next target.

 

The highlight of the night was a fight that broke out between local guys and a few visitors from a nearby farm. Stasja exlained that fights aren't uncommon, but we experienced an exceptional fight that escalated until a few guys were weilding machetes, big sticks, tire irons, and broken bottles. Fortunately they were too drunk to know what to do with their weapons, and things died down as quickly as they had flared up.

 

With the fight over, the club-goers lost their desire to party and everyone headed home, Stasja and I included. I went to bed soon after tha, exhausted from over-stimulation. Next time I'm in the mood for more excitement and social observation, I know where to go.