These White Shoes

My name is Sean Del Pullan. I am a 27 year-old student living for 30 days in Windhoek, Namibia. This is my story, and the story of… These White Shoes. 

On July 5^th I purchased one pair of white canvas Vans from a local Zumiez. I have wrapped These White Shoes within 3 plastic shopping bags, and will not remove them until I land in Namibia. Once in Namibia I am going to unwrap These White Shoes and wear them as often as possible. My hope is that by the end of the month These White Shoes will have the story of my African summer painted upon their canvas surface.

I am traveling to Namibia as part of a nine-man group from Utah Valley University. This is the last year of a five-year contract between U.V.U. and the Polytechnic University of Namibia. Every summer for the past five years a small group from U.V.U. has spent 30 days in Windhoek helping teach the locals in different aspects of digital media. Like I said, this is the last year of the contract, and so very important that we finalize things properly before leaving.

Audio restoration, digitalizing glass plate images, and tutorials for digital workflow are among the areas we are helping the Namibians with. Probably the most important project within this contract is helping the Namibians find a way to digitize their archives.

So for the next 30 days I will try and get something up here as often as possible. I am incredibly excited about this opportunity! Hopefully I am prepared. I have never traveled out of the States. (Technically I've been to Mexico and Canada, but they hardly count.) I have lived my entire life in Utah. I'm not the typical Utahn, but I am surely not as educated in the world as I would like to be.

July 16th: Kapana at the Single Quarter

July 16th, 2011

Today we drove out to the Single Quarter. The Single Quarter is what many in the States would refer to as a ghetto. Oddly enough it is also what the locals here in Namibia refer to as the ghetto. Another startling coincidence is that, just like in the States, people here hate having their pictures taken by dumb, white Americans. Who knew? 

The best way to imagine what driving through the Single Quarter is like is to imagine yourself as Kevin Flynn, and instead of being sucked into a world of grids and wicked crazy light bike races, you are sucked into one of those commercials where the silver-tongued fox of a man is trying to coerce you into donating "just 25 cents a day".

We made two noteworthy stops in the Single Quarter. First was Penduka. A while back all of the women of the Single Quarter gathered together to brainstorm ways to bring more money into their community. What they ultimately developed was Penduka. Penduka is a small development of houses and shops where the woman of the Single Quarter sell different crafts that they have made. Pillowcases, quilts, dolls, trinkets, are just some of the items the women of the Single Quarter have created, and sell at Penduka. What is really great about this place is that the items being sold in Penduka are beautiful! The pillowcases in particular are worth the trip alone.

The second stop was at the Kapana grill. Kapana is either a type of meat or the style in which one cooks meat. I can't seem to get a straight translation It may have something to do with me not being able to speak a lick of Afrikaans or Oshiwambo. The Kapana is cooked at a large outdoor market. At the end of this market is a long series of grills with hundreds of people gathering around chatting, eating, and laughing.

Our driver walks us to the front of one of these lines and I see a thin man chopping slivers of beef off of a 50 pound raw carcass. Another man gathers the slices of raw beef and tosses them onto the grill. Once the cook believes the beef is done, he tosses it to the side and our escort tells us to eat away. He instructs us to grab whichever slice we like, dab it in a dirty cardboard box full of salt, and then into an even dirtier cardboard box full of Cayenne pepper. 

Simply put it was easily one of the most gruesome dinners I have ever seen, and simultaneously one of the most delicious dinners I have ever had. After filling ourselves with this "unsanitary" meal, we ventured through the market of juicy fruit, fresh peppers, and dried caterpillars. After a few minutes of shopping our driver seemed to be getting rather eager and asked us if we could go now. We later learned that our driver is not a Namibian and must have been rather turned off by the idea of being in the ghetto for so long.

 It is eye opening to see the way these people are living, and how happily they are doing so. The streets are lined with smiles and friendly greetings. Every other shop is either a bar or a car wash. An odd combination I know, but they seem to make it work. Every other yard seems to be filled with jubilant kids playing with friends, chickens or both. 

I wanted to get some pictures of how happy these kids were, but unfortunately every picture I seem to have been off by just a fraction of a second. Just enough time to give a total different impression of how life in the Single Quarter is lived. I took about 30 pictures, and after about the 25th picture I was finally able to get what I was looking for. A picture which captured what I saw. Children smiling, joking, and enjoying a beautiful sunny day.

July 13th: The Hot Tin Can From Dullus

4:00 am, July 13th, 2011.

I awake this morning with a tiredness that has seeped to my bones. I first suspect that it may have something to do with the lack of sleep I got last night. Or maybe the face of the true culprit belongs to one of, or all of, the many pints of mead of which I partook last night. Quite possibly it is the combination of both.

Thanks to a great friend of mine, one of the best I have ever had, and I have had many, I am enjoying this early morning journey to the Port of the Airs from the passengers seat of this land chariot, rather than the driver's seat.

I am waiting in line at the Port of the Airs. Behind me there is a wonderful older woman struggling to balance her many bags on a massive cart. The cart is easily twice her height, and three times her weight. I ask the old woman if I may help her with her luggage. She claims she is fine, but thanks me for offering. For the remainder of our wait in line she repeatedly runs her cart into the back of my heels. I chuckle to myself as I imagine this petite old woman struggling behind the mass of her leaning tower of luggage on wheels. After approximately the fifth battle between this cart and my heels, I politely turn to ask the old woman if I could please help her with her cart. 

Before I have a chance to speak the old woman makes eye contact with me, throws her arms in the air, and shoots me a glance which washed away the sleep from my eyes, and allowed me to see things clearly for the first time this morning. I now see, nipping at my Achilles heel, the three hungry heads of Cerberus. Behind the three-heads of the beast, and beyond it's leash waits, impatiently, the God of the Underworld, Hades.

Stunned I turn around and suffer through another half dozen bites before finally being allowed to step past the blue ropes of the River Styx, and into the glorious bright lights of the Heavenly baggage check counter. 

The next thirty minutes is spent checking in two bags of luggage for every one person in our nine-man group. My math may be a bit off, but I belief that comes to roughly five thousand bags of luggage. I am the last of my nine-man group asked to lift my luggage onto the mystical Judging Eye of Zeus. This device is amazing! Once an item is placed upon this device the eye of Zeus will delve into the items deepest thoughts, and darkest secrets, while simultaneously weighing it’s light and dark, good and evil. If the eye displays a good-to-evil score of 49 lbs or less then it is safe to fly. If it displays 50 lbs+ then you are condemned to the fiery depths of hell behind the blue baggage swap curtain. 

Zeus smiles upon me this day and grants me a 36 lbs, and a 39 lbs. With a smile on my face I lift my bags from the Eye of Zeus and place them beside me on the angelic, white floor beneath me. My dream is shattered as the bony, wrinkled, translucent fingers of Hades twist their way around my luggage handle. I can almost hear the screams echoing from within my luggage as Hades drags it across the white tile floor and out of my life. 

Just when I thought the end was near Hades drops my luggage to the floor with a thud. She then turns, stomps her way past me, and begins offering her luggage to the Eye of Zeus. Quickly I snap up my luggage and hustle to the tall Grey Gates of the Sirens of Judgment, where I myself will be judged. 

 Much like the Eye of Zeus, the Sirens too judge good and evil. However, they judge the light and dark within ones very soul. The Sirens of Judgment are, by nature, very slothful. They enjoy their sleep and if they are awakened... may the Gods have mercy on you. 

There are many tools of man, which will awaken the Sirens. Swords, Greaves, and Fingernail Clippers, are among the many tools of man that will awaken, and alarm, the Sirens of the gate. These tools of man have become known as the Darknesses of Man.

These Sirens of the skies are protected by the mournful souls of the damned. Whatever the sins of these souls may have been in life, they seem trivial to the weight of their punishment. As payment for their sins Zeus removed all emotion from these souls, and damned them to protect the Sirens of Judgment for all of eternity. 

Before one is to be judged by the Sirens the Silent Guardians command all to look within themselves, and dispose of any weapons, or Darknesses of Man, that are not allowed within the skies. The guardians then command all to walk forth, and receive their judgment.

As one passes through the tall, Grey Gates they enter the Veil of Inspection. The Sirens themselves sleep within these Grey Gates themselves, with one eye always watching, always waiting, always wishing. If they judge you to be worthy, if they see nothing but light within you, they will grant you access to the skies by speaking not a word. Their silence is your pass. However, if they find you unworthy to fly, if they scan your soul and see it to possess much Darknesses, they will say nothing more than a single word. Nothing more than a beep. And with the wave of a hand the Silent Guardians will either command you to, once again, look within yourself. Or worse yet, they themselves will peer into your soul... through your anus.

I turn my eyes inward on myself and begin my search for the Darknesses of Man that may lie within me. I remove my Belt of Gluttony, Ring of Narcissism, and my Shoes of Vanity, which have long separated me from the Earth. With much nervousness I slowly advance upon the Grey Gates. My eyes shift eagerly from gate to gate, as wicked angels play songs within my head, attempting to distract me. My eyes land on the Silent Guardian before me. I am tempted to turn and run. Instead I close my eyes tightly and enter the Grey Gates... Silence. I open my eyes, the Silent Guardian has turned his attention to the poor soul behind me. I quicken my step, gather my belonging and rush to the next gate, The Gate of Patience.

After hours of waiting my chariot arrives, I enter the Air Chariot and find my designated sitting area. Relieved to finally be on my chariot, I close my eyes and prepare myself to sleep for the remainder of the journey. A coldness enters the air accompanied by a foul stench. The stench of mothballs and cheap perfume. I open my eyes and turn my head. I ask myself how this is possible? How can the Silent Guardians have missed this? How can the Sirens have missed this?

Not more than five feet from me sits an abomination to the skies... Hades. Beads of sweat begin to collect above my brow. Frantically I look around me for the exits. Where are they?! I know that soon the Stewardess of the Skies will point out my nearest exit, and also how to properly evacuate the chariot in case of a water landing, but it may very well be too late by then.

The chariot finally begins to creep toward the Ramp to the Clouds. Just as the horses of the chariot begin to build speed for the jump into the heavens, half of the horses drop dead and the lamps in the chariot go dark. The eyes of all those around me dart from one to another begging for an answer to what has happened. But not I. No, I know what has caused this. I know what dark evil has blocked our path like a great fallen tree. 

As the air in the chariot grows hot, as do the souls of those within it. Over the next three hours there are many attempts to ignite the lamps within the chariot. Never do the lamps light for more than a few moments. A voice of the Gods echoes through the chariot. The omnipotent voice informs us that they are working to fix the problems as fast as they can. I look to my right, to the true root of the problem. Hades' head is turned, glaring out the looking hole at the many dead horses. Can I sneak from my seat and warn the Gods of this travesty without Hades noticing? 

I slowly begin to raise from my seat. Creeeeaaaak! Hades lifts her head. I drop to my seat, drop me head, and close my eyes tightly. I do not move for what feels like years, but is most likely only a matter of seconds. 

By the time I open my eyes I can see a collection of people gathering around a series of the looking holes. Rumor begins to spread through the chariot. Outside the chariot there are many Silent Guardians attempting to transfer life from an old van into the dead horses of the Air Chariot.

I steal a glance at the old Hades. Her head is lowered as if sleeping. Hurry guardians, this may be your only chance. 

Light flickers through the chariot as it begins to rumble with the strong heartbeats of the now revived horses. I feel the pressure on my body as the horses gain speed and lift our chariot into the skies. I once again glance to my left. Hades head is still lowered. I rest my head against the wall and feel myself drift off. 

The remainder of the air journey is rather noteless. Until the landing. 

The chariot descends as expected. It rolls slowly to our unloading dock. "We made it", I say to myself. Without thinking I scan the cabin of the chariot and see many jubilant smiles on the faces of those around me. Then I see one smile that stands out. Not because of its beauty, but rather because of its pure ugliness. Hades has awakened, and she seems rather angry. She looks out the looking hole, and just like before, the lamps in chariot flicker and die, followed shortly by the horses. Hades begins to shriek, much like a Siren herself. By the light of the looking holes I can see that the face of Hades has changed.

The doors of the chariot swing open, and everyone scrambles to grab their bags as they flee the chariot. I do not hesitate to do the same. As I exit the Air Chariot I do not stop to look back. I know she is there, here. Here with us all in Paradise. 

It then dawns on me. I was distracted by the shrieking before, but I now realize the change in the face of Hades. I can now see that it was not the face of Hades... just the face of a frigid old bizatch!