I think it’s the man who I pass on my way to school each morning. The one who sits on the side of the road and prays for the strangers driving by. Or while driving, it’s sometimes those taxis, the ones who give way when no one else does. Who drive by with a grin and grace and a secret joke while being berated by some irritated driver. It’s the gardener who offers me his phone to call my parents as he watches me wait anxiously for an hour outside of school. It’s my friends at school who couldn’t be more different in colour, culture and convention but all belong together. It’s my teachers at that school who constantly worry about my marks and offer me extra classes at their own cost. They inspire me.
It’s that little boy on the farm who teaches me something new- donkeys turn into horses one day, he’s convinced and now I think I am too. His conviction makes my outrageous dreams and impossible goals seem a tiny bit more plausible. It’s the guy I spy who glances around to make sure no one is watching before picking up litter and throwing it away. It’s the little children next door visiting one Christmas who decide they were now my friends and are determined to bother me daily.
The land inspires me, how it changes and yet remains the same. It’s the seasons and the changes they bring. Turning our landscape dry, hard and silent with drought or our vegetation- viridescent, lush and alive with rain. It reminds me that nothing bad lasts. It’s the long roads filled with nothing spaces, and these nothing spaces filled with grass and endless veld. I think it’s that grass that makes me miss home, that dances in the wind to a song. I think it’s that song that makes people come back, the one that fills our land and skies. But maybe my inspiration comes from the skies, those skies that are painted with a different brush and hue each dusk and dawn.
Namibia inspires me because it is my home and part of my heart.
It inspires me because its’ people restore my faith in humanity and its’ land restores my faith.
by Nicole Brendell