The Oshikunde Photo Shop

Since we are on the subject of pictures, I thought this would be a good time to describe my latest little project, the Oshikunde Photo Shop.

From the moment I first pulled my dinky Nikon Coolpix from my pocket one fateful afternoon, I was hounded by learners with requests to take and print out their pictures. After talking to other volunteers I learned that it is not uncommon for Americans who have cameras to snap photos of people around their school, and for a few dollars apiece, take the pictures to a photo shop in town, get prints made, and distribute them. I do go into town with some regularity, but I thought to myself, “Why not do it all in house?” So over the past few weeks I have been gathering supplies for my business venture. I sunk a few hundred of my own capital (I am going to try to use as many professional business terms as possible) into the acquisition of the necessary supplies: paper, camera batteries, and ink cartridges. Then I typed up a budget with places to record my expenses and revenue, and at the morning assembly on last Monday I announced to the learners the grand opening of my shop.

In its first week my entrepreneurial brainchild (the learners think the word “entrepreneurship” is ridiculous) proved itself to be more than a modest success. After making over $70 in revenue in the first couple hours, I had to turn learners away so that I would have time to print out the remaining shots I had taken and still be able to finish my teaching duties that day. The system became refined over the next days with the addition of an order booklet to record names, image numbers, sizes, and quantities, and the institution of times for picture taking, picture printing, and picture retrieval. I have even begun typing captions with names and dates directly onto the images upon request, which I see as a nice added bonus to not outsourcing my printing.

The start-up is still very much in the red, but the revenue is coming in at a much faster rate than I originally expected. If the trends continue, my projections show I will start making a profit in the next month and a half. I intend to use the proceeds, should there be any, to improve the shop (i.e. invest in higher quality printing paper) and to purchase supplies for the school, which seems to be perpetually out of ink otherwise.

Even if I overestimated demand, set prices too low, or made any other mistakes that may cause the business to fail, the learners have gotten a kick out of seeing their likenesses slowly emerge from Mr. Vilo’s printer. And although in Namibia most people seem to prefer a serious face to a toothy grin, my shop has coaxed out a handful of smiles. Mission accomplished.