Namibians queue up for everything!

I just don’t get why Namibians prefer queuing up for almost anything under the sun. Okay, let me rephrase that – why are we made to queue up for everything? Where is the logic in telling someone who can hardly breathe, to wait in line because ‘he came last’ and ‘there were others before him’?

I am done with queues and will not queue up even if my life depended on it! All my life, I have obeyed rules. Yeah, I was a good boy – always helpful to the elderly and never too tired to lend a hand to a neighbour in distress (Thank you Clarence Carter).

After having been made to queue for something, one just gets so tired of the hassles and drama of queues and I for one, have decided to give up such a ‘hobby’.

After shopping around for what appears to be hours with my better half, who by the way thinks shopping is a hobby, I kindly excused myself.

I had to find a way to pass the time as I knew she would shop the whole day and still argues that the 24 hours the Lord provided for us per day are just not enough to get everything done. Where is Steve Harvey when you need him the most?

The only place that was in close proximity to where we were shopping, and where I could hide for an hour undisturbed – was the Wernhil Park shopping mall lavatory facilities. Well, I didn’t really need them, but thought they could prove to be a good cover for when Madam starts to look for me!

I made my way into the gallery of the cloakroom and lo and behold; there was a queue of at least seven men waiting their turn to use the lavatory.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. At first I thought maybe something had happened in the toilet – you know like someone was killed, or beaten up to a pulp, or something in that line.

I however came to the sad realisation that all these grown adults were waiting their turn to use the facilities, and I had to join the queue too! It was going to be a long wait in the toilet gallery as we watched the closed doors swinging open one by one and another going in.

I tell you, it was indeed a long wait. The problem was that none of us could actually admit to what we were queuing up for. Therefore, none of us even dared starting up a conversation with the rest. In fact, I overheard someone having difficulty explaining his whereabouts to his wife.

“Honey, I can’t talk now…I am waiting for my turn…,” he said.

“Your turn to do what? Didn’t you say you were going to use the lavatory?”

“Yes honey, but we are all waiting. One guy is busy now. Once he finishes, then another will enter… I am fourth in the line honey.”

“Don’t play with me Donald… into what are you waiting to enter?

“Honey, can’t really talk now… these guys may take my place and enter first….”

The funny thing about queuing up is that you are forced into conversations with absolute strangers – many of whom you have nothing in common with. But this was no ordinary queue! What in heaven’s name do I say to the dude next to me? “Hey buddy, don’t worry your turn will come soon?” Or perhaps ask, “Is this your first time?”

I bet the guy who is privileged to be inside the cloakroom will be thinking of those in the gallery and wonder how he could cut his ‘visit’ short to accommodate us all!

It also wouldn’t be strange to hear someone shouting “Ekse my broer, hurry up please my brother…please tog my broer.”

While the person would really be sympathetic to your cause, I guess there are just certain things you cannot rush through.

So, one by one they go in and out of the cloakroom. And one by one they come out of it, wash their hands and put on a ‘you ask me how it was and I will show you how good Mike Tyson was in his heyday’ face as he walks past you.

Whatever the reasoning, there are just certain things that need no queuing up for.

Until then…

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