Mr. Curiousity
A good investment
"How many cattle do you own, exactly," I asked my intern-turned-friend who was working alongside me for 6 months.
He couldn't be exact.
"Maybe 50, maybe more," the 29-year-old said.
He was given his first calf when he was born. It had multiplied, and its offspring had multiplied. Now there was a herd. Even though he didn't live near the cattle now, he made sure there were reports from the fields on a regular basis.
The herd was once bigger, he told me. But he had to sell some to go to university.
"You're rich," I said, teasingly.
Later, I met a 25-year-old woman. She too had been given a calf when she was born. She too funded her university education by selling some of the cows. In fact, she was also able to help two of her sisters with their education too, thanks to the extra income the cows provided.
She was continually restocking. Extra money that she made from working full-time as an accountant in the city was used to buy more cows. That was real wealth, she said, when you owned a lot of cattle.
For many of the urban residents who I met while I lived in Namibia, there was a cattle herd back home. Usually a relative who still lived in that area was looking after the beasts. It was their second income, a saving bond, an investment.
I had grown up on a farm too. But I didn't own any cattle. But with a stock market that had crashed in 2008, I lost money. I thought about it for a while.
Later, I called my dad from Namibia. "Would you mind..." I asked.
Three years later, my Canadian cow has had two calves. She's pregnant with a third.
A good investment
"How many cattle do you own, exactly," I asked my intern-turned-friend who was working alongside me for 6 months.
He couldn't be exact.
"Maybe 50, maybe more," the 29-year-old said.
He was given his first calf when he was born. It had multiplied, and its offspring had multiplied. Now there was a herd. Even though he didn't live near the cattle now, he made sure there were reports from the fields on a regular basis.
The herd was once bigger, he told me. But he had to sell some to go to university.
"You're rich," I said, teasingly.
Later, I met a 25-year-old woman. She too had been given a calf when she was born. She too funded her university education by selling some of the cows. In fact, she was also able to help two of her sisters with their education too, thanks to the extra income the cows provided.
She was continually restocking. Extra money that she made from working full-time as an accountant in the city was used to buy more cows. That was real wealth, she said, when you owned a lot of cattle.
For many of the urban residents who I met while I lived in Namibia, there was a cattle herd back home. Usually a relative who still lived in that area was looking after the beasts. It was their second income, a saving bond, an investment.
I had grown up on a farm too. But I didn't own any cattle. But with a stock market that had crashed in 2008, I lost money. I thought about it for a while.
Later, I called my dad from Namibia. "Would you mind..." I asked.
Three years later, my Canadian cow has had two calves. She's pregnant with a third.