F. Scott Fitzgerald was right… ?

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A Zoom confab yesterday with Jessica Powers of Catalyst Press – soon to be handling the distribution and marketing of my books internationally – saw a group of writers discussing the thorny issue of the author as ‘product’. I think we were impressed by her sound arguments regarding the advantages of building connections with our readers as, perhaps, a cohort of somewhat older creatives not generally invested in a daily commitment to posting personal reflections and information about ourselves on social media.

But if we accept the need to connect with a readership (and I DO understand this, although as an ambivert, I am not a natural sharer), then who is it that we are reaching out to? And are they actually going to seek out, advocate for, and purchase, our work?

While it’s certainly true that I have met and built friendships with a lively group of young Namibians – some of them budding authors themselves – through personal appearances and engagement in local media, I would struggle to identify a typical purchaser of my books. Indeed, it would be easier to say who hasn’t bought my work, or read it online…

I have now inventoried almost 10,000 donated books through my work with the Promising Pages Pilot Initiative, mostly handed over by middle-class, middle-aged professionals and (trying hard not to be snarky here!) I am genuinely shocked at the choices highly educated people have obviously made with regard to spending significant amounts of money at the bookstore (which is what it amounts to here, since it’s almost impossible to purchase books cheaply or successfully online).

It seems as if nonliterary fiction (‘beach reads’, ‘airport novels’, ‘chick-lit’, ‘bonkbusters’ – pick your judgy descriptor) are overwhelmingly favoured against more heavyweight material, or the classics/prize-winners. Indeed, more than a few friends have ruefully confessed that they were unlikely ever to read my work as they prefer stuff that’s unchallenging and lightweight. (Yes, they are still my friends. And no, ‘A Bed on Bricks‘ hardly competes with ‘Ulysses’ for formal inventiveness!)

So on the one hand, while we are told that the market for serious/highbrow literature is alive and well, albeit that books are being accessed through a multitude of digital platforms nowadays (some of them free), the very people whom I used to picture as the obvious target readership for my books (and those of authors like me) are openly admitting that they really do prefer an ‘easy read’: something shallow and instantly forgettable, in their own words.

It’s hard, as an author who agonizes over every turn of phrase, not be discouraged – in the interests of research I have attempted to read a few of these preferred books and just came away from the experience perplexed. (I even puzzled over the love given to Sally Rooney’s best-seller ‘Normal People’. I just didn’t understand the fuss and thought it committed the cardinal sin or being a dull book about dull people. There, I said it!). They are the literary equivalent of easily-digested junk food – not even that, as there’s barely even a modicum of sustenance to be had from their consumption.

Is it possible to say that there’s still a healthy appetite for high-quality literature when the evidence, to my eyes at least, manifestly contradicts this?

Exhibit A: I was trying to choose a children’s book recently on Amazon, to send to a relative in Europe. Their algorithm directed me, over and over, to self-published, generic, didactic, message-driven slop comprising a handful of repetitious pages (yes, I am sure many were AI products) with tasteless clip-art illustrations and stereotypical characterisations, boosted by ‘reviews’ that must have generated by bots or written by supportive family-and-friends of the authors (I use the term loosely). Yet people are evidently buying this stuff (because it’s cheap?) over the time-honoured, memorable classics.

Where did the general readership’s powers of discernment go? Because people who do still buy and read or listen to books are, surely, individuals wielding some degree of discrimination? I am genuinely, objectively curious. Also, why are my social-media feeds polluted with memes and videos of AI-generated, meretricious fakery, selected by people who are willfully blind to the costs – to real-life human creatives whose work has been stolen without payment or attribution, as well as to the environment? Is this the future? Should we give up striving (for months, years…) to craft original, thought-provoking, attention-grabbing books, music, images, plays etc. and concede defeat to machine-regurgitated, plagiarised pap or the blandest of undemanding products because consumers quite literally seem to prefer them?

Exhibit B: I recently attended an event at our national library for a ‘meet the author’ session. Everybody else in that room with me had self-published their work, or were looking to. They had either suffered too many rejections from traditional publishing houses, or were not even willing to submit themselves to the indignities of that time-consuming, mortifying process. Yet this choice to pay to print their own books, or the decision to use a profit-driven vanity publisher, will inevitably result in an inferior product that’s a poor reflection of the artist’s creativity. It takes a sizeable crowd of professionals and therefore significant financial investment for a company to publish a book (I think 7 people were involved in my forthcoming release, ‘The Limbo Circus‘) and this must be why many legacy publishing houses now support a lucrative self-publishing imprint, or are reduced to churning out celebrity-authored fiction and non-fiction that guarantees sales through its popular appeal.

A selection, chosen at random, from the great many fiction books donated to the Promising Pages Pilot Initiative over the past few months. Nearly all the novels I receive fall into the category of non-literary fiction.

Why am I asking if F. Scott Fitzgerald was correct? Because he held that it’s possible to retain two conflicting views in mind (indeed it is the sign of a ‘first-rate intelligence’, according to him). While my IQ may be up for debate, I do believe that a.) culture is under threat from glib mediocrity as never before, yet b.) I simultaneously remain hopeful that artworks reflecting originality, beauty, challenging material, alternative voices, and creations of subtlety and complexity could and should prevail. But if people don’t step up and choose them/consume them/buy them over the cheaply manufactured, uninspiring alternatives, then why should the film industry, publishers, music companies, TV producers etc. opt to continue to put money into supporting risky human creativity when its products sink without trace, unable to compete in the marketplace?

A conversation this week with someone who reads a lot of historical fiction (a genre I very rarely explore) said that on the Facebook group of which she is a member, people were articulating that with the world on a seeming knife-edge (is it really? Or do progressives’ algorithms just make it feel that way?) they simply could not face cerebral, disturbing, or complex narratives. They were pivoting to material that required no psychic heavy lifting of them; when they picked up a book these days, it was with the intention of ‘switching off’ from the world and its problems. I note a similar phenomenon, actually, when I watch TV (although, again, my algorithm chooses suggestions for me to stream). There’s a definite uptick in the type of light entertainment that has often been sneered at in the past as ‘low culture’: slapstick, farce and very broad comedy seem to be making a comeback, and receiving critical acclaim also. Maybe we really do want to return to simpler times: how we choose to spend our downtime right now is a reflection of our limited willingness to peer into the abyss.

This is my first real effort at trying to make that all-important connection with people who may wish to explore my work as an author. I post with a great deal of trepidation, knowing that I may well be opening myself up to accusations of intellectual snobbery (although I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, part of the intelligentsia). That my prejudices may be exposed as being self-righteous, narrow-minded and censorious. Fair enough, actually. Inviting harsh criticism is a risk that anybody out there in social-media land takes; the reason I have not been keen to re-enter the fray is the very nasty ad hominem attacks I was subjected to when I wrote a regular column for our national newspaper some time ago. Even back them, almost 10 years ago, the trolls were out in force and although I have a thick skin, it’s hard not to rise to the bait when the offensive onslaught becomes too toxic to ignore.

And so, even if you are not tempted to dip into my books, or have done so and found them less than earth-shatteringly great, I hope you will give some thought to the questions I raise here occasionally. And let me know what you think… (Oh, and what am I reading right now? ‘Madame Bovary’ (in translation). And I am loving it.)

The pros and cons of the culture of volunteerism in Namibia

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I was stunned to see that it’s been more than a year since I wrote a post on this site. Well, family issues did play a role in this lack of activity, as did a nagging awareness that social media is responsible for a catastrophic contribution towards global carbon emissions through its profligate use of electricity generated by fossil fuels. I am not a doom-and-gloomer when it comes to the many productive applications of social media – I am certainly an avid consumer myself, albeit (I hope) a discerning one – but I do try to rein in my use of it, and limit how many posts, stories and updates I contribute on various platforms.

(It’s also not escaped my notice, of course, that WordPress promotes the use of AI technology for the creation of images etc…Down with this sort of thing! as they say on Craggy Island!)

However, the chief reason for a lack of webpage activity has been the fact that, perhaps more than at any other time in my life, I have been BUSY in ways I could not have foreseen this time last year. I continue to joyfully manage the Sew Good Namibia project on a voluntary basis, responsible for marketing and logistics while our four craftswomen create their wonderful designs (currently sold at 12 outlets around the country) to support their families. I’m also still writing the short stories that are regularly published in online journals and magazines – a second collection of which will soon appear in print (as The Limbo Circus) through the marvelous Modjaji Books.

However the principal reason why my days are filled with bustle and hustle is the incredible growth of the Promising Pages Pilot Initiative (PPPI) that was launched early last year. I have been overwhelmed by the success of the pilot phase since we kicked off with a few requests for book donations and suggestions for sites where we could put up suitable receptacles where ordinary Namibians could ‘Take a book. Read a book. Return a book’. As always, identifying dynamic individuals who understand a hypothetical idea and want to see it flourish as a practical enterprise entails expending a GREAT deal of time and effort with others who turn out to be time-wasters in the end (regrettable, but true). And, as I discovered with ‘Sew Good Namibia‘, it’s critical to let a project develop organically in its own time, and in its own way, rather than imposing inflexible and unrealistic expectations on an untried concept.

In addition, each and every one of the thousands of books, pamphlets, journals, study guides, and magazines that have been given to the PPPI to date have to be assessed for suitability (older, pre-Independence materials, especially, will not pass muster in these more enlightened times and have been donated to the Katutura Community Art Centre for use in installations and other artworks). Then these have to be categorised according to language, age of the readership, and genre before being packed up ready for distribution.

At the time of writing we now have little library installations in disadvantaged communities in Okahandja and Hakahana, with others scheduled soon for the Physically Active Youth and Mammadu Trust premises in Katutura, Windhoek. The University of Namibia Main Campus also has two large bookshelves in place and regularly replenished with a wide range of fiction, textbooks, non-fiction and Africana. It was amazing to see how many faculty and students turned up for the official launch in March, racing to select some reading matter to borrow the minute the ribbon was cut on the shelving. More little libraries will be established at Groot Aub and Rehoboth, to the south of Windhoek, in the near future and plans for further expansion are in the works.

All this requires a great deal of time, effort, admin, petrol and schlepping, 7 days a week, which I am thrilled to have the hours and energy to still contribute right now. I’ve also expanded my circle of friends as generous donors and enthusiastic community members embrace the PPPI idea and help it to expand. An additional gift.

Promising Pages Pilot Initiative (PPPI) poster created in four languages widely used by Namibians

BUT. Namibia has a huge cohort of keen, articulate, educated and media-savvy young people currently looking for work. Our youth unemployment rate is almost 3 times the global average. It is unsustainable for PPPI to continue to be administered and run by one, unpaid volunteer yet this is how so many grassroots projects continue to exist in Namibia while expensive, pie-in-the-sky propositions to uplift citizens receive extensive taxpayer funding only to sink without a trace.

If the government and international funding bodies are serious about producing future generations conversant in a language that’s not the mother tongue for the vast majority of them, then movements – such as the PPPI – that increase access to English-language materials need to be formalised and then supported by appropriate institutions and development partners. Furthermore, local authors and creatives need financial support to produce books that reflect the lives of our young citizens, published in our indigenous languages for free distribution around the country.

The search is on for someone, or a group of someones, who can take the PPPI and turn it into a sustainable model for a nationwide network of fixed installations and mobile libraries while being paid a decent salary to do so. Let’s hope that by the time I check in again, this will have become a reality.

Bridging the literacy gap in Namibia

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Back in the mists of time, I wrote a section of this blog concerning how Namibian learners are leaving secondary school with only a sketchy competence when it comes to the country’s only official language, English. At that time I was hoping to see a few manuscripts I had written get taken up and developed into materials that would help to bridge this gap. (See under: ‘Good and READy’.)

Nothing really came of this, finances ultimately being a familiar constraint, and I filed the whole idea under ‘seemed like a good idea at the time’. But a couple of things have happened fairly recently that re-awoke my interest in seeing if there wasn’t a way to give disadvantaged Namibians (children, especially) access to reading materials that would otherwise not be available to them.

Firstly, I visited my family in a very rural part of Germany last year and noticed that, in the absence of the type of services that people in towns take for granted, the farming community had done some wonderful improvising. Not only were farm-fresh products available in tiny, weatherproof kiosks by the side of the road (with the fruit, vegetables, eggs, jams etc. paid for through an honesty system) but a little cabinet filled with books had been installed by a bus stop so that people (chiefly adults) could take, read, and return any volumes that caught their eye.Why, I asked myself, couldn’t we have a similar little library movement in Namibia?

Secondly, at the start of this year, I read an article in our daily English-language newspaper by a perceptive man (apologies – I cannot find it in their online archives) extolling the virtues of school libraries for the role they play in introducing children to a reading culture. As I believe he mentioned, many of our most promising young school-leavers fail to progress to tertiary education simply because they lack proficiency in English, which remains the mother-tongue language for a vanishingly small percentage of our population. Yet establishing and stocking school libraries has historically been outside the capabilities of the relevant ministries.

It seemed to me that it would be a good moment to revisit the idea of a little library-type of initiative – especially as the movement seems to be gaining traction globally. (The US-based ‘Little Free Library‘ organisation, for example, has in excess of 175,000 sites across 121 countries, although for various reasons it would not be a good fit here in Namibia.) Fortuitously, at the same moment, I was put into contact with Alicia Dipierri (of the NGO ‘Umbrella Initiatives‘) and then I floated the idea with Anita Witt (of ‘Recycle Namibia Forum‘), both of whom are dynamic and enterprising women with energy to spare. They willingly got on board and so a small, informal team was established to push the idea forward.

A little library receptacle design will always need to be adapted to local conditions and preferably be positioned where members of the public will have unrestricted access. (Photograph on the left, copyright: Alicia Dipierri).

So, I put out a call to friends to see if they could donate a few second-hand volumes to kick-start the endeavour – and ended up with more than 500 books (!), mostly in English. Many are for adult readers but that’s actually OK; the idea behind what we are now calling the ‘Promising Pages Pilot Initiative‘ (PPPI) is simply to get reading materials into the hands of people who would not otherwise have access to them. We are also scoping a couple of sites in Windhoek where suitable receptacles could be installed and then monitored to assess whether there is actually a demand for this in practice.

This was our initial inventory in April 2024, when I first asked a few friends to donate books they didn’t want any more. 500 books take up a LOT of room and have to be sorted by genre/language, then stored away from mice, termites and other denizens of the veldt, where I live!

The ultimate goal – should the informal pilot prove successful – would be to hand off the Promising Pages project to a young, energetic Namibian who could help it to grow. This would mean registering it as a formal entity, then approaching NGOs for funding so that the project can be led by a paid professional, rather than relying on volunteers. We are well aware, too, that there are significant gaps in the the materials we have received in terms of books in indigenous languages, and also those written by people of colour, so these would need to be sourced somehow (or probably purchased). And one day, wouldn’t it be great to have a small fleet of vans visiting outlying, rural areas once a month so that people – young and old – can swap the book they have read for a new reading experience? (Way back in the day, this was, in fact, how I learned to read – a mobile library visited the street where my family lived in southern England and my brother, sister and I eagerly dove in and replaced the books we had read with a new set. For free.)

A sustainable model would also require that books are chosen and sourced in volume, rather than through the kindness of friends who are downsizing. One idea would be for big local tourism companies to ask their clients to pack a few books in their luggage to hand over for distribution at a central office on their arrival here, or to donate in person to suitable recipients in remote areas while they are out ‘on tour’- I think that most people visiting Namibia from the Global North are well aware of the poverty many Namibians must endure, and wish to help.

Watch this space to see how Alicia, Anita and I get on. And if you have any books you would like to donate, or want to purchase books for us to fill some of our critical ‘gaps’. then get in touch (+264 81 1271741).

(2026 update: I now pretty much manage this pilot initiative single-handed and the logistics are complex and time-consuming as many of our supported sites are in rural areas, and the contacts – primarily teaching staff – do not always have credit in their phones or access to transport for delivery. Seventeen such sites have now been supplied with an initial delivery of second-hand books, magazines, games, posters, jigsaw puzzles etc. and are encouraged to request more when we have suitable supplies. The School Environment Clubs Namibia organisation also distributes donated printed resources to do with nature, the environment and conservation to schools nationwide on our behalf. Maintaining a detailed database of donated inventory and deliveries over time proved to be too labour-intensive after a year, but at least 10,000 individual items have been sorted and distributed in the 2 years of PPPI operations.)

2023 – a most remarkable year…

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In the middle of 2023, it suddenly occurred to me that ‘Sew Good Namibia‘ had evolved into an established and thriving business, almost without me being aware of the fact. I say ‘almost’ because handling the logistical, promotional, and managerial aspects – essentially my wheelhouse – is now pretty much a full-time job some weeks, so although I had gradually become aware that these tasks were taking up more and more of my time, the financial side of things had just ticked along largely unnoticed!

(2026 update: there are a number of steps that emerging small-scale enterprises can follow in order to register their operations – either as a business or a community-based income-generating project. All of these require registration (which costs a lot of money); a bank account (with all this entails in terms of fees); and timely financial reporting to the regulatory bodies. Amory, Julia and I had discussed the pros and cons of formalising Sew Good Namibia through one of these channels fairly early on but the consensus was that the financial repercussions outweighed the advantages. We therefore receive nearly all of our payments either in cash, when I visit shops to re-stock, or as EFT/eWallet transfers directly to the craftswomen. They then complete a reconciliation slip each month showing their individual sales, and sign a declaration stating that they understand that reporting their income to the tax authorities is their own responsibility.)

The penny dropped when a shop at the coast approached us to make a range of products specifically for their clientele of crafters, knitters and people who crochet. Up until this year, part of my role has entailed sending out many messages each month to potential stockists to find out if they would like showcase our products, a rather thankless task since many never even opened my DMs! Not only did the Wool Cafe in Swakopmund want to place a large order with us, they also insisted on paying the craftswomen UP FRONT for the custom-made items we sent. This was a first for us in Namibia – all our other local stockists took our goods on consignment, an arrangement that’s not without its drawbacks as in the past things have been stolen from outlets, or have been returned to us damaged or dirty, and it can be difficult to maintain accurate records of the stock held and sold at each store, too.

Not long afterwards, a second shop, the Rooi Dak Padstal run by Barkhan Dune Retreat also placed a large order with us, for which they were similarly prepared to pay immediately. This represents a significant change in our retail model since it is obviously preferable for the craftswomen to be paid for their hard work straight away, rather than waiting months (and sometimes even years!) to be rewarded for their labour.

We now have ten shops across Namibia that sell our upcycled, ecofriendly range. Over 2023, two had sadly fallen away but these were quickly replaced and augmented by others and thus the roster increased in size. Some outlets are very small and only shift a few items occasionally but it’s important that we maintain a presence wherever people looking for ‘local-is-lekker’ gifts, especially, might see our products and decide to make a ‘Proudly Namibian’ purchase.

Fairly early on in the development of the sewing initiative, the two chief producers and I took a decision to keep Sew Good Namibia operations at a micro-enterprise scale and dispense with as many administrative burdens as possible by remaining an informal co-operative (see above). We had all seen how, when projects grow too fast and too quickly, problems with cash flow, personnel and quality control come to take up far too much time and effort. Nevertheless, during 2023 we decided to hand off the exclusive production of our Budget Book Bags to a new member-in-training – Bianca Beukes – and are in negotiations with a skilled seamstress in Walvis Bay – Loide Kambida – for her to make a new product line of stuffed toys.

For several years, we have sat with an unsold pile of table runners like these. They are an example of something that was suggested to us as a potentially worthwhile product line, but which then failed to sell. Suddenly, however, people can’t seem to get enough of them and they have become a runaway best-seller at several of the stockists that support us.

All in all, we can look back on the year past (as well as at our income statements!) and feel a great deal of pride in how far we have come. We have ceased making fiddly, labour-intensive items, such as pencil cases, which were never a great success, and now just focus on a few things – chiefly bags – that we can make well, and at speed.

We are also now able to make regular donations of fabric and wallpaper samples we cannot use to schools and creatives (such as fashion students and people who make crafts for a living), which is a critical part of our ‘nothing goes to waste’ remit.

Onwards and upwards into 2024, as they say here!

The word has been heard?

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It’s now four years since Sew Good Namibia was launched – a long gestation period when you realise that it was back in 2016, when I visited Jakarta for the first time, that I started to think seriously about the impact of Western lifestyles on the global environment and how I could throw my energies into trying to live more sustainably, and get my fellow Namibians to do the same.

But when I began approaching local businesses and private individuals in Windhoek back then to share my ideas about turning waste into high-quality products that could be sold to improve the livelihoods of our poorest citizens, I sometimes felt as if I was talking in Martian or Klingon…

Cut to 2023 and it seems as if finally, finally, the message has begun to sink in here. Perhaps it’s the news footage of wildfires raging across Europe, or videos of Cape fur seals along our coastline ensnared in abandoned fishing gear but – better late than never! – it seems as if the country is at long last waking up to the fact that we cannot continue to behave as if the fate of our planet is not our responsibility – individually or collectively.

Thus the last few months have seen a marked upswing in interest with regard to the work of Sew Good Namibia’s craftswomen. Indeed we now have six outlets selling our bags and household goods made from upcycled luxury furnishing fabric, with several more poised to stock our products in the near future.

We now receive regular messages from companies keen to supply us with unwanted materials that we can turn into new product lines – such as these burlap (jute) coffee-bean sacks that Amory fashions into sets of plant-pot holders/storage containers (and which became a best seller overnight). Donating to projects such as ours doesn’t just solve a logistical problem for these businesses but burnishes their reputation as enterprises who get the ‘ecofriendly’ message and want to support the local-is-lekker philosophy.

I am now looking for a new project that can utilise more of the unwanted waste that comes my way now that Sew Good Namibia has finally hit its post-Covid stride and generates income month in, month out for its craftswomen. One idea is to train people who are ending a custodial sentence to make small picture frames from wooden offcuts discarded by framing businesses. And I still want to link up hotels and accommodation establishments with a home industry group that can upcycle guest soaps – as has been done successfully elsewhere.

There’s a long way still to go. Namibian consumers are ready to embrace a greener lifestyle it seems but often they are faced with choices that are a compromise at best. I no longer bore people senseless talking endlessly about the scourge of plastic waste and similar issues (although the threat of climate change is one that still only really reaches one sector of the community apparently). Pointing out that buying an imported cotton or paper bag is not truly a viable alternative to a single-use plastic bag, or that industries that claim to recycle old clothes are often guilty of greenwashing, can be tricky if someone is genuinely trying to commit to changing their purchasing habits and you don’t want to demoralise them with buzzkill

But the message is here, and it’s here to stay. I no longer believe that people are just shrugging and ignoring the small steps they can take to halt Earth’s destruction, nor are they suffering from eco-fatigue. The burgeoning green ethos is captured so beautifully in a quote I am seeing more and more online: Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.

(2026 update: the egregious and indiscriminate use of AI-generated images by just about everybody online now is making me re-think whether people really want to absorb the message that all those cute (fake) animals allegedly filmed bouncing around on garden trampolines at night are the result of processes that are contributing to environmental destruction…)

Burying our heads in the sand?

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A person working in any capacity to protect the environment quickly becomes, for better or worse, a spokesperson for the ‘green movement’ more generally. And, rightly, must be prepared to submit to scrutiny regarding their own lifestyles – not excluding the self-auditing that accompanies a bewildering number of everyday decisions.

The temptation to lecture people about their polluting habits or to correct misapprehensions they might voice about topics such as recycling, GMOs, renewable energy etc. can be hard to resist. But simply attacking individuals rather than building consensus towards meaningful, positive change is unlikely to result in the desired outcomes. Defensive people have a habit of acquiring selective deafness, simply entrenching themselves further in their own little foxholes…

I’m often guilty myself of ‘Why don’t they just…?’ thinking too, when it comes to some of the seemingly intractable issues confronting our planet. Visiting Bali recently (yes, full disclosure, I didn’t get there on foot but flew!) I watched as a man – presumably hired by the hotel where I was staying – painstakingly swept up all the plastic bottles and other such debris that was dumped on the beach by the high tide every morning, then dug holes right there in the sand in which to bury this sizeable accumulation of non-biodegradable rubbish. His daily activities represented, in microcosm, much of the world’s attitude towards this particular problem: dump our trash out of sight and leave the consequences for another day.

Workers remove plastic waste from Kuta Beach, Bali in January 2021. The 30 tonnes of trash collected was later transported to a landfill site. Photograph from the CNN Travel website.

Yet in consuming foodstuffs portioned into tiny, single-use plastic sachets and polystyrene clamshells, and buying bottled water – all in the name of hygiene – I was, inevitably, contributing to the environmental degradation of an island with very limited capacity to deal with refuse management. What is the answer when we are confronted with dilemmas such as these?

It can be draining (and frankly downright unfeasible) to weigh the merits of each alternative over the many others available when it comes to trying to live more ethically, especially as companies get more clued up about how to deploy greenwashing as a marketing tactic. We eventually become jaded and view with scepticism the euphemisms and images wielded by advertisers we suspect are only paying lip service to environmentalism. This is especially true when regulatory bodies are still playing catch-up with respect to how vague claims to ‘holistic’, ‘wellness’ or ‘earth-friendly’ products can be evaluated against empirical (sometimes contested) research, and codified.

Do individuals (especially travellers hoping to have a relaxing holiday after the prolonged limbo necessitated by Covid-19) have the finances, time, or inclination to always research and settle on the most eco-friendly option out of many – from choosing a reef-safe sunscreen to hiring an e-scooter instead of a conventional motorbike? And what about the trade-off for locals who must find a way to offer their goods and services at competitive prices – which often means eschewing those that are ‘greener’ but much more costly?

I’ve been online now drafting this for an hour or so – ample time to make my own regrettable contribution to climate change (the electricity-hungry processes driven by social media and other internet-enabled communication mean that globally, netizens are responsible for a larger carbon footprint than the aviation industry). Does this make me a hypocrite? That would be for others to judge I suppose, but my own philosophy is that while it is ultimately the responsibility of governments to work together towards reaching binding agreements in time to pull us all back from the brink of climate catastrophe, and to deploy their budgets in support of research and innovation rather than business-as-usual, we each have a part to play – in whatever way is realistic for us at the time, and using our skills and talents to the best of our ability.

When I used to write opinion pieces for The Namibian newspaper, my unofficial tagline was: ‘If you are not part of the solution, then you are part of the problem.’ Rather blunt, perhaps, but it did encapsulate how I believe that it’s not enough to gripe and throw a few dollars at an issue in order to assuage your guilt. Effective advocacy doesn’t have to be shouty and performative, either (in fact it’s my view that a good way to generate unhelpful pushback over literally any debate is to be intolerant of people who need some convincing to be swayed).

In essence, every gesture we make towards greener living – be it ever so seemingly insignificant – leads us away from the worst-case scenarios we can hardly bear to contemplate. As does every comment we drop into our supermarket’s suggestion box, every lift we decide to share with another car owner, and every written response we demand of our elected officials.

Organisations such as Greenpeace UK have been pushing for a ban on plastic food and beverage packaging and containers for years. While retailers used to insist that their customers preferred their fresh produce wrapped, public opinion and consumer behaviour are forcing them to switch back to loose fruit and vegetables, just as some governments have also been prompted to introduce bans on packaging such as this. Photo: © Angela Glienicke / Greenpeace

If we want to contribute towards a sustainable future, our own efforts need to be sustainable too. Not one-off, ‘look at me’ gestures filmed and posted for the ‘likes’ but small daily acts, often undertaken anonymously and in private, and perhaps involving even some element of sacrifice or expense (which most of us can ill afford these days). What IS unconscionable is sitting back and thinking that as individuals we have no power to turn the tide.

Playing catch-up

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It can very often feel as if my adopted country fell off the map when the rest of the world started using the Internet for basic transactions, research, entertainment and social communications. Many bills still arrive by mail in a post office box (or did before the pandemic) and – with huge swathes of the country still un-electrified – using wi-fi at home remains a privilege reserved for the wealthier residents of bigger towns.

Add to that the fact that local competitors to Amazon have never been able to make inroads when packages cannot be guaranteed to arrive safely at a post office, nor is it possible to deliver during working hours to an unoccupied house given that tall palisades, electric fences, remote-access gates and large dogs tend to guard even modest homes and whole suburbs can be devoid of street signs – well, a physical trip to the shops or open market remains how most of us still get all our goods.

Coronavirus changed all that. We only experienced one full-scale national lockdown but with international supermarket chains sourcing nearly all of their products from overseas and cross-border transportation completely halted, suddenly the whole country was looking for new ways to access even staple products. And identifying and buying locally manufactured or home-grown goods suddenly became a necessity, not a novel experiment.

A veritable deluge of Namibian online shopping sites offering a ‘local-is-lekker’ consumer experience emerged, as it seemed, overnight. But good intentions didn’t get them very far when minimal thought or expertise went into their design and most fell away just as quickly as they had sprung up.

Sew Good Namibia now utilises an online marketplace platform called ‘Padstal Namibia‘, set up (full disclosure) by my daughter, daughter-in-law, and a friend. They put many, many hours of work into conceptualising the platform and ‘test driving’ it before full roll out. Therefore many of the glitches that sabotaged their less-professional competitors were ironed out before Padstal Namibia started to accept uploaded products from vendors and open for business.

A padstal was originally a roadside farm stand selling all manner of local produce and handicrafts and indeed there used to be similar shops in the malls when I first came here in 1998. The new, 21st-century iteration allows consumers at home to place orders online and have them delivered in Windhoek and the surrounding areas – a real boon when we were all sheltering in place. It also, of course, provides the sort of free exposure and retail support that micro-scale enterprises like ‘Sew Good Namibia’ would not be able to finance on their own.

Marketing ‘Sew Good Namibia’ products with an online shopping platform gives customers a much better opportunity to view and compare products than we can achieve by posting them on Facebook and Instagram.

It does very much seem as if shoppers are still getting used to the idea… and it will take a while before we urbanites all abandon our habit of the weekly shop in crowded and expensive stores. But for ‘Sew Good Namibia’ – and other home-based industries we have been able to introduce to the concept – online shopping has allowed us to reach a much bigger pool of potential clients, who will be able to place automated orders once the economy picks up and people are once again looking to browse and buy non-essential items such as those made by our craftswomen.

(2026 update: customer numbers never really reached viable volumes for ‘Padstal Namibia’, nor for the huge number of similar online shopping sites attempting to service Namibian consumers during the pandemic. When you consider that our pharmacies have always provided a home delivery service via motorbike couriers, there must be limiting factors – such as the need to deliver perishable foodstuffs quickly – that prevented these sites from achieving success. Of course, Amazon doesn’t have a Namibian platform and has struggled to establish a foothold in South Africa so the logistical challenges must be complex and considerable.)

Green shoots in tough times

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The rain has blessed Namibia as it hasn’t done in a decade. The dams are full, the antelope families are fat, the trees are full of birds’ nests. There are even lakes in the desert… but although we are all just plain relieved to be free of the drought conditions that have prevailed for far too many years, the absence of the visitors that would bring a much-needed boost to the economy is a sobering reminder that the rest of the world is still stuck in the terrible suspended animation of Covid-19, 12 months old now.

Our statistics with regard to the medical impacts of the pandemic show that we have been the lucky ones so far, relatively speaking (2026 update: this wasn’t to last, unfortunately). But the economy was already in extremis before 2020 and the figures for businesses shuttered and people retrenched as coronavirus delivered the coup de grâce are far less salutary.

Many consumers, here and worldwide, pivoted towards purchasing locally sourced products last year – by force of circumstance as borders closed to imports, yet also by choice. But the ‘Good for Namibia’ initiative that was already established – the ‘Sew Good Namibia‘ project – as well as others that were ready to launch have been victims of the diminishing purchasing power of the nation as every household found itself affected, in one way or another, by the need to scrimp and save for the long haul. The income from the sewing work is still enough to make a difference for the craftswomen of the co-operative, and we have even taken on another producer recently, but our sales have inevitably plateaued.

I continue to admire and celebrate the young Namibians (and a few not-so-young!) who are flexing their entrepreneurial muscles and adapting their business models to the straitened times. As well as those that are moving towards, and embracing, the concept of sustainable use of our precious resources. You only have to spend half an hour on Instagram to see that their hustle is being rewarded.

The creative women of ‘Sew Good Namibia’ continue to explore new ideas while waiting for our old markets to revivify. I am still hopeful that at some point too, when hotels begin filling up again, I can launch a long-incubating recycled soap enterprise: ‘Good and Clean’. Namibia is officially ‘open’ (if you can just jump through a million bureaucratic hoops!) and we look forwards to the time in the not-to-distant future when we can share the bounteous year that nature has gifted us with our international tourist friends, too.

Lightweight safari scarves, each one unique, made by Julia Gomachas of ‘Sew Good Namibia’ from upcycled luxury embroidered and sheer fabrics

Kindness is the new currency

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We all have our own individual takes on how reality has changed since we became aware of Covid-19, wherever we are in the world. The first commercial flight in many weeks arrived in Windhoek a few days ago and with it, one assumes, the first overseas mail in a long while.

My very out-of-date ‘New Yorker’ magazine from earlier this year duly arrived in my post box and it reads, honestly, like a communication from another planet. Even those few short months ago, the pandemic was still a semi-abstract concept for people here in Namibia. In the US city where it’s published, however, the writers and photographers covering the unfolding crisis for the magazine back in May were clearly aware that, to use that overworked word, they were dealing with an unprecedented catastrophe… And yet, with the gift of hindsight, their words and images seem – now – to be wholly inadequate to the task of warning readers what might still be to come.

But over the past few weeks, as the infection rate has risen here at home and the government has responded with what seems to me to be pragmatic, consistent and effective leadership, it’s also been possible to see how – to use another cliche – the worst of times has brought out the best in people. And I’ve been truly humbled by the numbers of perfect strangers reaching out to the Sew Good Namibia project specifically, and local producers and traders more generally, in an effort to assist in ways that uplift the most hard-hit and impoverished communities. Together we are forging connections that will endure and bolster the circular economy – whereby goods are exchanged and repurposed, rather than discarded and replaced anew – after the dark days are a receding memory.

In the ‘All Trousers’ page of this blog you will soon find the details of the businesses that have generously supplied us with donated fabric and other resources so that the craftswomen can continue to keep creating the bags and other items that help to support their families. However, I couldn’t resist including here a photo of the FIVE big boxes of large burlap (jute) coffee-bean sacks delivered to Windhoek from the coast, for free, courtesy of Two Beards Coffee and Formula Courier Services. Their selfless determination to see us supplied with a new type of material for upcycling so that we can add to the range of products we offer is just one example of the generosity flowing freely between Namibians right across country.

Green is in ‘Vogue’

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Magazines are ‘stuck on the truck’ currently, as we say here in Namibia – a nation that is compelled to source so many of its consumer goods from South Africa and where, at the time of writing, the flow of cross-border imports has pretty much ceased completely. The copy of British ‘Vogue’ I recently picked up off a very empty shelf at the store (my guilty-pleasure luxury in these trying times) was an issue from way back in April this year so it represented a sort of distorted lens through which to view the recent, pre-Covid past.

With a (fairly new, fairly young) Editor-in-Chief in Edward Enninful OBE, and refreshing insights into the future of the fashion industry, I wasn’t surprised to see that the publication has created a new role, that of Contributing Sustainability Editor, in order to focus on the ways in which designers and manufacturers will be meeting the challenge of waste in a world growing increasingly conscious of the costs of instant-gratification consumerism.

The ‘Sew Good Namibia’ project recently received an amazing donation of new, high-quality hunters’ camouflage clothing, which was the starting point for the creation of this one-off shopping bag.

This growing global awareness has repercussions for all producers – large and small, industrial and artisanal – who work with fabric, as people begin to reject the purchase of throwaway items of ‘fast fashion’ clothing (and other such goods) meant to be discarded after one season (or even one use!)

The Namibian craftswomen of ‘Sew Good Namibia‘ are increasingly turning their hands to commissioned items that embrace this ethos. When we started out, we just used donated luxury furnishing fabric to make simple, upcycled patchwork shopping bags – intended to replace single-use plastic ones. Now, Amory and Julia, who head the project, are imagining and producing a much wider range of stylish items, including ones that use the tiniest scraps of pleather – cellphone covers, for example – as well as others that would not look out of place in an upmarket home-furnishing store.

Using tiny blocks of colourful scraps, we were able to produce this gorgeous throw for style maven and influencer, Ms Martina Karny

This has led me to think about how we can conceptualise, and capture in a meaningful phrase, what we do as we progress to selling unique products online for specific customers. It’s also clear that we need to make a wider range of goods for ‘small money’ for events such as the Finkenstein Bush Market, so that younger customers can purchase our items and cash-strapped locals can still treat themselves to something sustainably-made and truly lovely.

“BUY it because it’s beautiful

VALUE it because it’s eco-friendly

CHERISH it because it uplifts Namibian families”