Last week, while drafting a description for work, I typed out a reference to a bacteria found off the coast of Namibia. Namibia…where is Namibia? Africa, yes, but where on that enormous continent? I had no idea where to look. I typed the country into Google and made myself memorize a few details. North of South Africa, along the Atlantic. By Botswana and Angola. Capital: Windhoek.
When I was in fifth grade, my family traveled to Sacramento, California, for the state’s Geography Bee competition. I didn’t know much about the places on the map, but my older sister did*. So we drove over seven hours to watch Adri and ninety-nine other middle schoolers answer questions about culture, economics, and rivers I couldn’t pronounce.
As a competitor’s younger sister, the Geography Bee was just a chance to see northern and central California. We climbed white-blooming trees on the grounds of the state capitol. We panned for gold at Sutter’s Mill, the birthplace of the 1849 gold rush. We visited friends in the town where I had lived for the first three years of my life. I had learned about the state capitol and Sutter’s Mill in fourth-grade history lessons; I had learned about Ripon from my parents’ stories and the family photo albums. But I had never matched this head knowledge with the ground beneath my feet. When we returned home to San Diego County, I felt more oriented in my state’s history and my own. And I had gained a lingering love for factoids about the capital cities of non-Western countries.
As I read about Namibia, its capital city made me pause. Windhoek? I know Windhoek. And for the silliest reason: Windhoek is a stop on Ticket to Ride’s Africa expansion^, a city that appears on the game board and on Destination cards. Of course it sounded familiar. I was already fond of somewhere in Namibia, and I didn’t know it. Over 400,000 (and counting) people live in Windhoek. Of course these people have much more love than I do for the city where they work, cook, worship, vote, and practice hundreds of other rhythms of life. But at least now I have a little hook of affection for a place many people call home.
I will probably never navigate to Namibia or a thousand other places on the globe. But even though I never participated** in a state geography bee^^ like my sister, even though Google Maps can tell me a hundred details about cities and countries and regions, I still find it important to learn more about places I only know as names. I know I’m a trivia nut, a former knowledge bowl girl, but I don’t think these details are only relevant to a good round of Smartass*** or Trivial Pursuit. In my mostly Midwestern life, I love populating my mind with better, truer, richer details about the rest of the world. And I hope, in some small way, I’m reorienting my imagination about its people as well.
* And still does. Thank goodness the Zonnefeld sisters usually play as a team in Trivial Pursuit, so I rarely have to battle Adri for a geography question.
^ Highly recommend.
** When we moved back to Iowa, my middle school—unlike my sister’s in California—did not participate in the National Geography Bee. Boo. I did participate in a knowledge bowl team, so I did have a chance to nurture my nerdily competitive skills.
^^ Sadly, the Bee has been canceled every year since 2020. Perhaps someone can restart it so future generations can strive for geographic glory.
*** Also highly recommend. A lesser-known trivia game than Trivial Pursuit, Smartass includes both clues to the answers and an element of speed. Unsurprisingly, my sister is a formidable opponent in the “Where am I?” category.
Courtney Zonnefeld graduated in 2018 with a degree in writing. She currently lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan, where she works for Eerdmans Books for Young Readers. In her free time, she enjoys reading, baking, and saving up for more herb plants. You can usually find her wandering a farmer’s market, hunting for vintage books, or browsing the tea selection in coffee shops.
