THE COUNTDOWN BEGINS

Two months. It is no time at all. And that is how long it will be until I will be leaving this wonderful, unique, little town. It is just around the corner.

The small things, that to most Buchters are part of everyday life, I will miss. England, my home country, has been so far away for the last 10 months and I pine for things that I didn’t think I would.

Warbutons bread. Virgin trains. The pound. Green fields. Equality. Terraced houses. Strongbow cider. Starbucks. Red letter boxes. A real English fry-up. The huge range of accents. Double decker buses. The River Lune. And of course my English friends who understand me to any extent.

Here in Luderitz, I have realised there really isn’t much that I won’t miss. But there are plenty that I will:

Vibrant coloured buildings. Palm trees against old, German architecture. A rocky horizon. Sand, and lots of it. Raggy, yet friendly dogs that pine for food. Foreign greetings from every direction. Bakkies. The hundreds of people wearing that same blue workers uniform. Random flamingos. Lonesome beachfront bungalows. Homes made from corrugated iron. Churches on every street. Army look-a-like police officers. Insane wind speeds, creating crazy sandstorms. The most beautiful sunsets. The abandoned factories neighbouring a top class hotel. White gum boots. A non-stop selection of barbers. Sand dunes. A-then-death-camp-now-camp-site, overlooking the sea. Boerewors. A diamond fuelled economy. Stop signs, everywhere! Such a laid back lifestyle. Traditional African dresses. Once a Buchter – always a Buchter.

But I ask myself, was I ever a Buchter? Well, the locals all knew me as a ‘Buchter Girl’. But do you need to live here longer than 12 months to totally understand the Luderitz way? After 10 months, I am starting to understand, how really amazing this corner of the world is. And that’s the beauty of it. It’s a tiny corner, tucked away, where not many people think to look. The tourists that we see coming in and out… well, they’re lucky to see this place, but they never REALLY get to see it. They don’t get to look, through the eyes of a Buchter. And so I guess now, I can truly call myself a Buchter. And I never thought I would say it, but, I am proud.

Luderitz, you are one in a million.
.By Jess Christiansen