Remember Etanga in my work

I was at the ministry of heatlh's directorate of special programs. I was there every weekday this week and the week before that and the one before that. But over a year ago, I was not in this room filled with computers and bundled up questionnaires. I was in a place named Etanga of rolling hills. Far from the nearest town.
I danced there, spoke to the Ovahimba and recorded over 5 hours of their singing and dancing on an audio format. I am listening to it now.

Now. The reason I remember to write about this is because I have been reminded about Etanga by small things. A friend at my Christian youth group was going to the Ovahimba villages for her class on communal law and Etanga was one of them. When I found out it was the night before he departure. Would I have sent something by her if I had more time. Resents-je un desir de me remettre en contacte avec la famille Tjambiru, laquelle m' acceullie dans leur village-maison pour mon stage-etude de leur pratiques de danse? (Do I feel the need to reconnect with the Tjambiru family that hosted me in the village/house during my internship study on their dance practises?)

Even though I did not send anything to them, I received a package from Etanga. It was a set of questionnaires that evaluate the Etanga clinic. It was done by colleages of mine, people I was trained with for the health facilities census. I had been outside this clinic. It was where Vuanderua's daughter gave birth to her child while I was doing my study. Me and Hoveka walked to the clinic from the vilage, a trek of about 2 km, which for them is normal, but for me was shocking, especially when at first Hoveka planned I go with him, early, even I don't have breakfast. He is a warrior, that's what I felt and still feel. I am weak. Weakened, afaibli par la vie urbain et sa manque d'exigences physicalles (weakend by urban and its lack of physical demands). I am drifting off into the zone of remembering my visit to the clinic and how small and vulnerable that baby looked like, a neonate with wrinkly skin on its fingers.

I received the package of questionnaires for this facility, the clinic, from Etanga. I made it ready for data entry and assigned to a colleage, a data entry clerk to key it away. The information gathered by the interviewers in thise blue, green and yellow booklets, with one red cover, stacked together, will hopefully improve services at the clinic. I remember when I was at shop in Etanga, doing my glissades, showing Hoveka some of the ballet I learnt. When all of a sudden, there came a man, Iwe, with a large swollen leg. His leg was swollen, evidently from faulty draining of fluid from tissues. He asked me "Please man, when you go, tell them about this, I went to Opuwo hospital and they did nothing. Find out for me what I can do." I said I would, but I never did. I was suprised that this man's condition had not been treated at the hospital in Opuwo. I guess I did not realize I was in Namibia, Africa, where the provision of health services covers the fundamental ailments, at best. This condition, just was not part of it. Here, in Windhoek, one of the data entry clerks, Katrina, has a similar problem with her leg. She was involved in an accident. Slowly but surely her leg is reducing in swelling. What are the chances that both Iwe and Katrina suffer from a similar condition? What are the chances I would not take up dance as profession, but instead look to epidemiology and public health as my vocation.

At times, I think it was a simple as him ruining my plan to create an amaizing work of dance based on the Ovahimba tradition. There I was doing my glissades, being a dancer and he comes, Iwe to tell me about his leg. "What do I know about your leg!" I could have shouted or even said "Sorry I am here to do dance, not be a public health expert or doctor". Those words did not leave my mouth or enter my thoughts, however. I am an interesting specimen, I think for anthropological study. I am betwixed and betwined on a variety of levels, Namibia and Bulgarian, African yet somewhat foreign (people occaisionally think I am not from here, but from US) torn between the urgencies to help people using science and humanities (medical anthropology and epidemiology are my choices here) while drawn to the dance art. Having had so much exposure internationally, first in Italy then in the US, I have forged interpersonal networks that will forever guide my life trajectory and that have impacted my thinking.
I am apparently "a contradiction", because I am a gay, and I open to whoever asks, while being a Roman Catholic.

Nw what is tha path I will take, given that I am already involved in public health work while pursuing dance after hours? I strongly feel that I must not be " a dancer by night and epidemiologist by day". I remember my academic advisor and her colleage telling me about an epidemiologist they knew that played in a band by night and they said "I think he would much rather be a rock star, if he could. I want to be a harmonious person, not one that is fragmented. I want to go deep into my vocation and never ever have what is considered a "job", something that one does just to earn money. I do something because it is a calling, a vocation.
This brings me to my break dance teacher Hennie. I write about the tension in his life in the next post.
Breakdance is much like the Ondjongo of the Ovahimba. People in a circle clapping and when someone goes in the circle to dance, the cheering intensifies. That's maybe another reason for me taking up breakdance. I still miss ballet, but don't regret taking this new form.