Here's to Hope: The Election Edition

When America elects its first black president, you kind of want to be there.

But if you can’t be in America for such an historic event, Africa is probably the next best place.

Now I realize polls closed a couple of weeks ago, but I’ve been slow on the take to post what the waiting game was like for those of us here in Namibia. Since friends and family keep asking, and since it was my first absentee election, I thought I’d share a bit of the experience with all of you here, on my blog.

It goes without saying that following this election from a developing country proved a bit of a challenge. While a handful of friends in Khorixas have televisions, no regular (or reliable) access to Internet or newspapers meant missing a lot of the day-to-day happenings—and sadly, all of the debates. In America I would have been glued to nyt.com at work, and canvassing the streets on weekends. But here in Namibia I relied almost exclusively on weekly reports from my mom and dad, updates from friends via email and the occasional out-of-date Newsweek, compliments of Peace Corps. Oh, and of course, Namibians.

Whether it’s true for all American elections, or just for this one in particular, I can’t say. But most everyone here was following the coverage as closely as we were (or rather—wished we were). Colleagues dropped by my office to talk about who I planned to vote for and the possibility of an African president. (His Kenyan heritage allows even Namibians to claim him as one of their own.) They spoke with a sparkle of pride in their voices and I could see this election was bigger than just our country. The eyes of the world were watching, and I knew that come Wednesday morning, Peace Corps Volunteers everywhere would have to answer to them. Face to face.

Polls were just opening in America Tuesday as I was preparing for sleep here in Namibia. I was too nervous for bed—wondering just what kind of world I’d be waking up in. We were on the brink of change, and I was desperate to see our country actually cross the threshold. I tossed and turned. Restless. Impatient. Worried that instead of waking up in a new era Wednesday morning, I’d be waking up with the same country and the same problems.

It’s just that this time, I’d have friends and colleagues in Namibia to answer to, too.

Given our limited access to technology, we were pretty reliant on well-connected PCVs for updates. A handful of volunteers arranged to camp out in the living rooms of coworkers or friends so they could tune into international news in the early morning, when the first polls closed at home.

SMSes started pouring in around 5 a.m., but they didn’t wake me up. I’d never actually been able to fall asleep. “Electoral count: McCain 95, Obama 207 so far,” the fist one read. “Right now my state of Texas is neutral—can you imagine?” read another. Then, less than an hour later came, “They just projected Obama the winner. All the polls are closed. 297-139.” Finally came, “OBAMA PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES!!!!”

I could stop holding my breath.

It seemed safe to say that change was finally upon us.

By 8 a.m. we were at my friend Clarence’s door, eager to catch a glimpse of the news on his TV. His entire family was already huddled around the television—cups of steaming tea in hand—watching America’s new First Family—its first black family—take the stage. A family that, in some ways, looked a lot like his. “Congratulations,” they said, getting up to give us hugs. “You must be so happy!”

And the truth was, we were. Because for the first time, in a long time, I felt good to be an American.