A Country And Its Capital City Must Have World-class Aspirations

IN the world of a columnist or a writer for that matter, every context generates its own realities and biases.

The three-hour trip from Geneva to Paris, which I took last Saturday is no different and arguably one of the most scenic trips throughout my travels with the high-speed train in Europe.I guess this trip is also special because I am particularly fond of the French-made Train à Grand Vittesse (TGV). I have taken the trip between Paris and Geneva a couple of times – but I would mostly be travelling from Paris to Geneva. What defined the trip this time around is the fact that I had travelled from Namibia to Geneva and the experience that this generated was of a different kind.After missing my train the previous evening, I ended up in the costly classe première, which apart from the well-manicured and finely-dressed lady with a Rolex on her wrist and a businessman in a Francesco Smallto suit, is really no different from the classe seconde which I would usually take. I was filled with excitement to connect with the Parisian geography, which I have missed for the past three months as a result of my stay in Sweden and the two months I spent in Windhoek. The trip itself is not only scenic with high mountains and rivers, but it is also a triumph of engineering and the adaptation of nature to the needs of man – without unsightly blots. The TGV navigates these mountains quietly like a snake as if it has always been part of this geography since the beginning of man. I started to wonder how the French and the Swiss got intensive labour right without Chinese companies and even more so, Chinese labour, and also how the Chinese get it right with European know-how and Chinese labour. Most Parisians would tell you that every return to Paris generates a new sense of excitement. As a born and bred Windhoeker – but one who had spent a good number of years in Paris – my excitement on arrival there was arguably no different from that of a Parisian native. Since I would usually enter Paris from Charles De Gaulle Airport, my arrival at Gare de Lyon was different, but I still felt like a child in a candy-shop. Since it is in the heart of Paris, my mind swiftly shifted to my to-do list. I had to connect with some of the fine but basic things that I would love to do and have in Windhoek (but can’t and don’t) such as taking my J M Weston’s for fine craftsmanship-polishing and my few suits and pants for proper dry-cleaning. After all, in Windhoek, suits would be returned to me in far worse shape than they’d been received. Just like Giovanni, who I met in Geneva (but lives in Brussels after a doctorate at LSE) who told me that he does not take espressos outside Florence (Italy), I have since stopped eating croissants or crème brulée and many other French specialties outside France. I had to once again prepare myself and polish up my manners to say ‘bonjour’, ‘merci’ and ‘au-revoir’ to the bus-driver or the baker. After all, to greet shop assistants or waiters in Windhoek is a shocking and uncivilized activity that would be met with a blank stare. If Europeans would travel to Namibia for the biggest elephants in the world or the elegant Ovahimba people of Okaoko, one would love Paris for the elegance and people-watching on an espresso and a utopian philosophical conversation around Saint-Germain des Prés. Immediately after independence, Windhoek used to offer opportunities for these utopias with Le Bistro being one such a place. Alas, de-emphasising the city-centre in favour of malls now drives our city planning and architecture. Paris is one of those cities where things would change without changing over a period of years. Progress is largely defined through the adaptation of the soft-infrastructure of the city without disrupting history and charm. It would be unfair to compare, but there is a certain charm to Windhoek that we could have maintained and allowed the place to be inspired by cities like Paris or Rome where to live in the city is not to live in the provincialism of shopping malls. The Windhoek of the 1980s was a place where to have passed grade 8 would mean a good stroll in a sunny or chilly city centre with your mom and to buy a few items from Woolworth and Edgars. Nothing much is left from such natural experiences as we are now in the contrived and utilitarian settings of ugly malls and cheap China-shops. What defines the Parisian experience is essentially the vision of a country and its capital city to be and remain a world-class place. I am not too sure if Windhoek has such aspirations for its inhabitants and visitors. * Alfredo Tjiurimo Hengari is a PhD-fellow in political science and researcher at the Centre for Political Research at the University of Paris I Panthéon-Sorbonne, France.