Have you ever imagined what life would be like if you could choose not to be born?
For me, the thought of the afterlife is far less terrifying than the prospect of what comes after being born into this comedy of a life.
Chapter 1: The Unborn’s Perspective
Imagine floating in a warm, cozy womb, with the Namibian sun gently warming you from the outside. You’re fed the best mix of nutrients and always feel protected by this container you’ve grown to believe is a god.
Life is like a never-ending braai with all the best cuts of meat delivered directly to your tiny tummy via a tube.
There’s no need to worry about traffic, bills or finding your keys because there’s no need for them. You don’t need to walk, think, talk, poop or throw up. It’s perfect bliss.
But then you start thinking about life after birth.
It’s hard to imagine, because no unborn person has ever come back from the afterbirth to give feedback.
Of course, there’s an echo of memory from your existence before birth, but it’s always blurry and makes no sense.
The only thing clear to an unborn is that it’s nicer inside the womb than outside of it.
Chapter 2: The Born’s Perspective
I am now a born person, and I was born in Namibia. We’ve been thrust into the world, ready or not.
It’s like being given a map of Etosha National Park but finding ourselves in the chaotic streets of Katutura. We’re the prey, and the politicians and plastic botsotsos, like the hyenas and jackals, are out to get us.
Soon after birth, we often find ourselves pondering the afterlife, since we can’t go back to the good old womb days.
Our existence in this period was and is hard, and one can’t help but imagine that it’s better after this. Or at least, anything seems to be better than this.
I remember a friend asking at a braai: “Is the grass really greener on the other side? Or is it just a mirage in the Kalahari?”
We talk about ancestral spirits, reincarnation and the possibility of coming back as a sociable meerkat.
Chapter 3: Conclusion – Embracing
the Namibian Comedy of Life
In the grand Namibian scheme, there’s a peculiar yearning between the unborn and the born. The unborn cherish the comforts of their prenatal haven, while the born sometimes wonder if the afterlife offers an easier ride down the Fish River Canyon.
In this light-hearted exploration of how unborn Namibians view life and how we Namibians ponder the afterlife, we find ourselves immersed in the delightful comedy of existence.
Life in Namibia, with all its beauty and quirks, is a journey like no other.
Final Chapter
It’s hard to believe that the next chapter is better than the last one when the greatest political minds in Namibia seem to believe that “apartheid was worse than the 1904 genocide”.
I clearly won’t let go of this issue as it reduces the significance of the loss of tens of thouands of lives to nothing, just for political points.
Let me help you over-simplify this complicated matter.
You see, if apartheid was worse than the genocide, then our independence is worse than apartheid.
It would also mean that the current leaders are worse than the previous ones. On and on it goes.
And with that, dear readers, if this thing called life is really a cycle, then I can’t wait for my second chance in the womb.
Hopefully, this time with an extended womb lifespan. I was never ready for this comedy currently showing on the stage of the Namib Desert.
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