2013年10月29日 星期二

Namibia Taps its German Roots for Oktoberfest

Oct. 28, 2013 10:30 p.m. ET

In Windhoek, Namibia, the locals put on an Oktoberfest celebration that rivals anything in Germany.

WINDHOEK, Namibia—A zebra isn’t just good for attracting tourists. It also makes a fine pair of lederhosen for those who celebrate their German ancestry in the African desert.
“We’re in Namibia, so we should have Namibian lederhosen,” says Volker Sailer, a German Namibian, referring to his black-and-white-striped leather shorts, which he wears in the southern African nation for special occasions. His 23-year-old son, Toni, has a matching pair held up with zebra-skin suspenders.

Toni Sailer, left, and his father, Volker, celebrate at an Oktoberfest gathering in Namibia while wearing their zebra lederhosen. Devon Maylie

Revelers around them clink steins full of lager, and singers croon odes to Germany. Women in form-fitting dirndl dresses vie to be the beer queen. This year, 45-year-old three-time winner Sonja Hoth took it again by lifting 18 beer-filled, 2-pound steins at one time. Men competed to see who could cut through a log the fastest.
The extent of Namibia’s Germanic heritage is on display annually at this country’s Oktoberfest. Namibia was a German colony for 35 years, around the turn of the 20th century, and things are still Teutonic here. It’s the only country in Africa with a German language daily newspaper, for example, and some locals speak German as their first language.
This year, however, some have had their lederhosen in a twist. The Namibian government says it’s time to start remembering its heritage before the colonizers arrived—and it is gradually replacing what is German with what is local.
In August, the country changed some town names. The Caprivi Region, named after Franco-German war veteran Count Leo von Caprivi, was renamed Zambezi, after the river. The harbor town of Luderitz will be called Nami-Nus, a word in the Khoekhoegowab language, which most visitors (and Germans) can’t speak. The government also wants to move a statue of a German cavalryman mounted on a horse near the Parliament building to a less prominent place.
Some see the Reiterdenkmal, as the equestrian monument is known in German, as a charged colonial symbol. Installed in the early 1900s to represent Germany’s dominance over the region, the bronze rider and his horse face Berlin while overlooking the capital, Windhoek. The statue also sits atop the location of a former concentration camp, which the Germans established to hold groups of indigenous people when they colonized the country.

“The statue isn’t what you call culture. It’s history,” says Esther Goagoses, the head of the National Museum of Namibia, whose own children attend a private German-language school. “Moving it isn’t about getting rid of German influence. You have good history, and you have bad history. The statue is a painful history.”
Despite the moves to nudge out some German colonial references, Namibia’s Germanic heritage won’t be so easy to erase. Locals have a stake in that legacy. German tourists make up a large portion of the country’s tourism revenue and many Namibians want to ensure the visitors enjoy themselves.
“This is summertime. The festival marks the start and is just a fun atmosphere,” says 34-year-old Angura Tokundu who sells crafts in downtown Windhoek. “We’re just happy we’re living together. We understand what was in the past, now let’s move on to the future.”
The Namibian Oktoberfest, in its 55th year, ties it all together in a tipsy reverie.
The festival has grown from the early days, when about 1,000 German-Namibian speakers would gather in the sports club on the outskirts of the city to celebrate Germany. Today, several thousand come from across Namibia’s 11 language groups.
A Munich band flown in for the event struck up “Ein Prosit,” a song whose title refers to a German toast. Men and women, sweating in 90-plus-degree heat, stood on tables and waved their giraffe-patterned steins in the air.
“I’m Namibian but part of me is so German,” says Christian Mueller, the head brewer at Namibia Breweries Ltd., which started to sponsor the Oktoberfest in Windhoek three years ago.
The lager the brewery makes during the year is 4% alcohol. But for the festival, Mr. Mueller says, a slightly stronger version is served.
The mayor of Windhoek, Agnes Mpingana Kafula, presided over the opening of Oktoberfest, clinking glasses with leaders in the German-Namibian community as they hammered open a festival keg.
In contrast to the men in leather shorts around her, the mayor looked more suited to the hot weather with a flowing white top and linen pants. “We have one nation, one Namibia,” Ms. Kafula said after tasting the special festival beer.
The Oktoberfest this year had a few modern twists.
As the Munich band left the stage, a local rock band sporting board shorts patterned to look like lederhosen struck up a combination of German songs and American rock. The lead guitarist wandered shirtless through the lederhosen-wearing crowd, and climbed on tables to belt out ballads.
“This is the place where you want to come,” says 35-year-old Natashja Pinsenschaum, a fourth-generation German Namibian festivalgoer. She knocked back a shot of Jagermeister and took a turn trying to lift 16 beer-filled steins. “It’s a big family,” she says.
Write to Devon Maylie at devon.maylie@wsj.com

Read the original: Namibia Taps its German Roots for Oktoberfest


沒有留言:

張貼留言