A cold rush would run down our spines as we remembered the pain we endured as Aunty Nelao’s cane stroked our little bums. The oshanas were a precious gem to her; staring at them left a smile on her face. A feeling of relaxation and gratitude like old friends she could go anywhere with. I’m convinced she could lay down her life for the oshana. What a beauty she was, with profound influence on our lives.
My cousin and I glanced at each other, our minds in sync. The feeling of freedom and the waters would win over the pain from Aunty’s strokes. On a count of three, we would rush towards the Oshana, like little children running to an ice cream truck. We removed our clothes and dashed into the water.
Feeling the little waves wash over our bodies and the cold shiver from the water left gummy smiles on our faces. The experience of wading in, accompanied by the rhythmic sound of the waves, was a whole adventure filled with discovering interesting creatures and creating lasting memories.
© A. ShikongoHowever, our little fun adventure was always short-lived as Aunt Nelao’s roar “out of the water!” set us off with a sprint. My cousin and I spent the rest of the day rubbing our poor bums as we sobbed on our pillows. We swore to never go back into the oshana, even though we knew it was impossible. Aunt Nelao believed that the oshanas were extremely valuable, and swimming in them represented a lack of respect and gratitude for this vital resource.
Whenever we felt bad about disobeying our aunt, we would wake up early and decide to surprise her. With our fishing rods, we would set off to catch her favorite, Tilapia. The rivers were always crowded, as men and women from all sides of the village came with their rods and nets. We enjoyed fishing as it taught us patience and precision, plus it was fun.
We had different periods for fishing and moved from one fishing site to another over time. This was done to conserve and preserve the fish stock, allowing them to breed. The oshana made swimming gold medallists, fishermen, and boat captains. Back in the day, the oshana would be filled to the brim for months at a time, ensuring a supply of fish to supplement our diet. Some people became well-off from selling their surplus fish in villages and towns.
© A. ShikongoSadly, people who used to be prominent fish sellers now spend the day at the local cuca-shops, grasping a glass of the famous traditional alcoholic drink called ‘tombo’, reminiscing about better days. Days when they would fill the table with beers, celebrating until the sun went down.
During the drought, one can no longer go to another village to fish since the rains are too limited. Tensions and conflicts emerged between villages due to the low fish stocks at the beginning of the year. A nutritious, protein-rich diet of fish now costs N$ 30.00 compared to N$ 0.00 after the good rainy seasons in the past.
The land was beautiful, lush and verdant, creating a serene and picturesque landscape. It was so vibrant, healthy and thriving. Dotted with wildflowers and trees. Gazing at them evoked feelings of tranquillity, creating a delightful retreat into nature. By contrast, today’s landscape is stark and desolate. A vast expanse of cracked, parched ground. The stagnant air accompanies an oppressive silence, amplifying our desolation. The rain’s absence served as a reminder of nature’s fragility and the impact of neglect.
During good seasons, our cows and goats had fine bodies, covered by shiny coats. They could graze as much as they wanted from January to December. Sometimes they would even return home after just an hour of grazing and refuse to go back, like fussy children at the dinner table.
Every Saturday morning, my uncle and I would load up our bakkie with chubby goats and cows to sell in Oshakati. They sold out so fast, like morning fat cakes, at hefty prices. We made so much that on Saturday evenings we would have a braai at home. Many other uncles and aunties from the village survived this way.
Unfortunately, I call my uncle three times a day now to remind him to take his stroke pills. The poor man lost one hundred and eighty cows and two hundred goats over the past two years, causing a stroke. His eyes always turn watery as he stares sadly at his kraal of only fifteen cows and twenty goats, with crusty skin and clearly visible ribs.
Like many of his fellow farming entrepreneurs, days are dark, as their herds now cost more than they are worth on the market. He had to sell some of his belongings during this drought to buy fodder for his remaining stock to survive. I am saddened by this new reality, which I believe might go on for a long time still. To make matters worse, the herders sometimes arrive at the community tap only to leave in disappointment.
The herders endure a long, tiring journey, filled with difficulties. The burning heat from the sun combined with the image of a long queue that awaits them at the tap shows in the concerned looks on their faces. Some herds stumbled on their journey, requiring a struggle with the herders’ help to get back up. Some animals never complete the journey, while others get there only to find a dry tap. My uncle may suffer another stroke as he gapes at the household water bill each month as he is forced to use water from the house tap for his remaining livestock.
Meanwhile, my aunt, once a well-known Mahangu seller, now produces only a quarter of her field. With nothing to cover and bind the soil, a significant amount of nutritious topsoil was blown away on windy days, which reduced crop production. She says, “this rain is not to be trusted, and if I lose, please let my loss be small.” The sight of her desperately doing the rain dance left me in tears of sorrow.
The problems faced by my aunt and uncle urge me to find ways to adjust to these changing times. We must ensure that flood water is captured and kept for longer using various mechanisms, such as floodwater diversion into ponds, using rain barrels to gather rainwater, and large cisterns designed to store water for later use. Next, we should establish catfish ponds that will prolong our supply of fish. We should also plant more trees, which trigger rain by releasing water vapour into the air. Finally, and most importantly, let us as a community respect and appreciate nature, as in nature nothing is perfect and everything is perfect.
Winning essay written by Josua Shiimi