Seven

I did not realize that seven was a special number until my official dread release ceremony in April.  As I debriefed the timing of the farewell to my beloved hairstyle seven years after its creation, my wise girlfriends shed light on the significance of this number in science, spirituality, and other symbolism.

Since the de-dreading, the number seven has continued to show its importance on the Greatest Hit Tour.  In Rishikesh, I studied the seven chakras.  I spent seven months outside of the Western world.  I had seven brushes with romance (if you count me grabbing a beer with my ex-boyfriend and his current love).  I even met a nice man named Seven who gave me a ride to Katatura.  

Probably the most significant seven of all has been returning to Namibia almost precisely seven years after I packed up and moved out of my flat on Theo Ben Guirab Street in Walvis Bay.  I found this seven year timeframe to be magical -- the perfect window of time to allow me to see and feel some real, significant changes while maintaining a feeling of familiarity and connection.  For my three weeks in Namibia, I constantly felt like everything was simultaneously completely different and exactly the same.  

In seven years, my former workplace, the Walvis Bay Multi-Purpose Centre, had pretty much disintegrated into a skeleton of what it once was.  The offices were populated mostly by new faces and new organizations, with barely a trace of the vibrant HIV-related programs I knew so well.  Even though there was a new cast of characters involved in different plot lines, the general vibe remained -- dudes sitting in the reception area, reading The Namibian, humorously chewing the fat (literally and figuratively). Adelheid -- the former receptionist now giving directorship a go -- was still holding it down, using the same euphemism for sex ('has it been raining for you, my dear?').  Loving children ran around outside, waiting for the soup kitchen to serve lunch as the woman with Walvis Bay's brightest smile, Meme Teresia, quietly watched their game playing and prepared to clean up after their mess.

Seven years later in Owamboland, my mind was blown by the number of malls and blinging cars.  Oshakati had a number of fancy new buildings, and Ongwediva had an entire UNAM engineering campus that had not existed 'back in my day'.  The taxis, however, were still jamming too many hot bodies into a small space, and they still played the same song on loop (though they use MP3 players these days).  It probably goes without saying that the village is still the village is still the (beautifully awkward for an oshilumbu) village.

And, nearly seven years since I last saw The Tall One -- with seven years worth of wisdom about life and love behind me, with the deep understanding that nothing could ever make less sense than me and this guy -- when my ex-boyfriend stepped out of the taxi to meet me for dinner, I frighteningly felt something similar to the first time we met.

Namibia.  Same same, but different.

It's no surprise, then, that I felt so comfortable back in Namibia.  It sometimes felt like I was fluidly picking up where my 24-year-old self had left off.  I was refreshingly connected to the version of me who was regularly drinking beers at Fagan's and making daily stops at the Shop 4 Value.  But, there have been many metaphorical building developments and organizational overhauls in my life, just as I saw in Namibia.  After days of marveling over the personal life developments of my friends and former colleagues, I realized that a lot has happened in my own seven year window:  I have lived and worked in five different countries, I have fallen in and out of love twice, I have had 10 different jobs, I have made friends of such significance that it is hard to believe that I haven't known them my entire life, I sat next to my grandmother and my father as they passed on, I found yoga, and I developed a taste for olives.  

Anna Skinner.  Same same, but different.  

It is difficult to imagine what the next seven years holds for Namibia and for me.   I have a sense, though, that the we will both always more or less be 'same same but different'. I just hope that we meet again before the next cycle of seven begins.