EJ's Travels

It seems it is human nature to be fascinated (and all too many times fearful) by that which is foreign to us, especially when it comes to other members of the human race. This is made evident with the token visit to a Himba village which no Namibian tour is complete without (mine would come later). These interruptions into their daily lives seem to walk a fine line between serving as an educational opportunity to gain an undestanding of an ancient culture and an opportunity to exploit an already marginalized people with a strange curiosity akin to that with which we view animals in a zoo. I can only imagine what they must think of our requests to peer into their lives while capturing it all on our fancy digital cameras.

In the case of both the Bushmen (also known as San) and the Himba tribes in Namibia the fascination for me is more of an immense respect for soceities which still live life so deeply connected to the earth and its natural environment in a world where our food is prepackaged, our dependence on limited resources grows, our need to leave our home or office vanishes with the advancements of technology, our patience is replaced with an expectation of now, and the majority of us are too distracted with {fill in the blank} to be aware of our own bodies, let alone mother nature and the delicate relationship between the two.

Bushmen used to populate a large part of Southern Africa, but today their hunter-gatherer culture has been almost extinguished. Farmers and cattle breeders have seized much of their land and mining companies and national parks have also contributed to the demise of their traditional way of life. As hunter-gatherers they could recognize more than 35 species of edible mammals, birds, reptiles and insects and list more than 250 edible plants. They would cover up to 2500 miles per year in search of game. Today many of them earn a living as farmhands or survive on the outskirts of villages without any prospects.

Charitable organizations such as UNESCO have arrived on the scene with the best of intentions to help these displaced communities. Every once in a while they succeed, but as is the case with aid all over the world, their attempts are often in vain or gravely misplaced. Tractors are given when there is no petrol to run them, elaborate plans are devised to provide electricity for houses which don’t exist, and more money is spent on executives making visits to these villages than on the villages themselves. But, here in Onamatadiva a new school had been built and would soon begin educating a new generation of Bushmen children. Some of whom had walked as far as 60km alone to reach this village when they heard a school was being built. And it was our mission to paint a mural on the outside of that building.

Our presence seemed a continual source of delight and entertainment, something out of the ordinary. They don’t often get visitors in this remote village, especially white ones. I understood nothing of thier language spoken with clicks, but all that needed to be said was communicated through smiles and kind gestures. And, of course, through the univesal language of dance! It was the weekend and I am not exaggerating when I say that if they weren’t sleeping or eating, this village of young and old alike was dancing. From first light to well after dark the sound of drums and singing was audible. And with it, the well-rehearsed movement of bodies unfamiliar with restraint was visible. Bodies that know to dance before they can walk. Bodies that celebrate the gift of music in an otherwise quiet existance. Bodies that truly feel what it is to be alive.

Before the painting began

Despite their faces they begged to have their picture taken and
absolutely loved looking at their images afterwards!

Cleopaz looking for last minute inspiration

My playmates while the rest were at church

Everyone took their turn in the circle

Their hut-like homes

The finished product

A very happy bunch of people!

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

I arrived in Windhoek, Namibia, Africa, after 36 hours of travel from Buenos Aires. I was met at the airport by Susana who I spent many days trekking through the mountains of New Zealand with 5 years ago. Susana is from Spain, but has been living in Namibia the last 13 years working as a freelance tour guide. She approached me as animated as I remembered her and upon hearing her contagious laughter that I had fallen in love with immediately when first we met, I grew all the more excited for the next couple of months.

The first week we spent enjoying long breakfasts on her terrace overlooking Windhoek, walks into town in the afternoon, watching the sky turn a brilliant shade of colors at sunset from her balcony, and dinners that carried late into the night with laughter and conversation. It felt a bit like heaven to wake each day with no agenda, no list of “have to´s,” no sense of urgency to see and do before quickly moving on to the next destination. We were waiting for her roommate, Maria, to finish her 2 year contract with UNESCO so that the 3 of us could go on holiday together to Damaraland, a remote region of undeveloped landscapes and abundant wildlife in northwestern Namibia. Susana´s boyfriend, Gary, lives in the bush in this region working in conjunction with Wilderness Safaris (a tour company) and Save The Rhino (an NGO dedicated to conservation of the land and wildlife, specifically the red-listed, endangered Black Rhino). Gary has been helping the 2 organizations develop a walking camel safari for clients aimed at tracking and spotting rhino in this region. He was born and raised in England, but has spent almost half his life (20 years) living in various parts of Africa, the last 14 years in Namibia. At the last minute Gary arranged for some long overdue vacation and decided to join us. This was great news since there are few people who know Damaraland better. Especially the far north region where few tourists ever get to, but most of which Gary has explored on foot.

We drove as far as Palmwag Lodge (belonging to Wilderness Safaris) our first day where we camped and where Gary couldn´t escape without taking care of some business the following day. We set off from there in our 4×4 and as we drove deeper into the bush I smiled contently to myself convinced that I must be one of the luckiest people in the world. The roads we followed were not roads at all and would be unrecognizable to anyone unfamiliar with them. The recent rainfall made them even harder to spot and occassionally we had to stop the vehicle and search for the lost track on foot before carrying on. At other times the grass that had sprung revealed 2 faint parallel lines void of any growth stretching out before us and carving out our path ahead.

View at Palmwag

Sunset at Palmwag

Our road ahead

Before even reaching Namibia I was told of the above average rainfall it was receiving, turning the typically red landsape green. Both Susana and Gary assured me this was a rare treat which only instensified the beauty of the place. “You are extremely lucky, Erica. You could visit Namibia a dozen times over and never see it again like this.” More than double the average rain had fallen in many parts of the country and records were being broken as well. At least 30 years have passed since the country has experienced such an abundance of rain.

Looking out the window I found it hard to believe that this grass filled terrain which resembled the wheat fields of my childhood in North Dakota was typically rock fields barren and red. My guides were in disbelief as well continually remarking on the treasured oddity and the fact that they had never seen it like this before. As the wind blew the long grass shimmered and danced across the horizon like flames of a fire. It was so hard to imagine this was not a common sight for it was everywhere the eye could see.

Blowin’ in the wind

The landscape was more mountainous than I imagined. In fact we spent the 6 days winding around peaks, in and out of valleys and canyons, crossing one dry riverbed after another. There were moments when I could have convinced myself I was somewhere in Utah… that is until a herd of zebra would come into view.

A greener than usual Damarland

Our first campsite in the “bush”…not bad eh?

Sunset at camp…have I mentioned I fell in love with African skies?

Sunrise wasn’t so bad either

Bottleneck tree

The wildlife I saw there was truly wild, no fences, no patrol, no reserve set aside and populated with game for viewing pleasure. The animals were countless in number and also the only signs of life we saw the 6 days we roamed the region. I still recall spotting my first giraffe as we rounded a corner and there it stood towering above us not 20 feet from the car. I was breathless. It was alone and despite the vastness that served as a backdrop it still appeared giant in statute. It paused from its grazing to check us out, equally fascinated, and perhaps a bit fearful, of us. The hours and days that followed were filled with zebra, giraffe, oryx, springbok, ostrich, baboons, desert elephant, and the aforementioned endangered black rhino, along with an array of birds, insects and lizards foreign to me. Although I heard them outside my tent our first night in the bush, I never came face to face with a hyena (I fear them most… one too many gruesome tales has been told), nor did we spot any lion for which I had hoped.

I don’t know this beetle’s proper name, but they were everywhere

An oryx caught in the sun’s rays

Oryx, oryx everwhere

Zebras at roam

The most exciting and rewarding animal viewing was of the endangered black rhino. Our second day camping in the bush we arrived early enough at our destination to take a wander in search of wildlife and potentially another campsite for Gary´s giraffe safaris. It felt good to be out of the vehicle taking in the sights and sounds while getting a little exercise. I was content just to be walking about and by no means had my heart set on seeing anything in particular. Just as we reached the valley that would lead us back to camp by dark, Gary signaled from ahead for me to quickly join him and Maria. He gave me 2 thumbs up and whispered, “rhino.” I peered into the distance and saw the creature grazing lazily a couple hundred meters away. Gary checked the wind and led us to the riverbed where we could approach it without our scent being detected. Rhinos are practically blind, but their smell and hearing are especially keen (in fact their nasal passages are larger than their brain!). And, if feeling threatened, they will most certainly charge. Maria and I took off running behind Gary as quietly as possible amidst our excitement and nervousness. We found a bush perhaps 30 feet away where we could camoflauge ourselves while watching it and taking pictures. It slowly moved nearer to us, seemingly unaware of our presence. Spying through Gary´s binoculaurs I became aware of the incredible strength and power of this animal weighing in at between 2000 and 3000 pounds! It is almost impossible to believe that something so massive can run at speeds up to 50km/ hr. It was flawless in appearance save for the small corner of its left ear that had been marked for tracking purposes. My adrenaline was pumping. There was little shelter aside from the bush we were crowded behind. But the rhino passed right by us unphased and with its back to us we began our escape. Glancing back over my shoulder as we ran away I saw the rhino turn in our direction, ears perked, but with only a mild interest as we disappeared up the valley.

Looking at the pictures below it should be noted that black rhinos are not actually black at all. The distinction between it and the white rhino is not one of color. The white rhino got its name from the Afrikaans word, “weit,” meaning wide-mouthed. Conversely, the black rhino has a hook-lipped mouth. Apparently the word “weit” was mistakenly understood as “white” and as such the two species became commonly known as black and white.

Gary & Maria walking ahead of me unaware of what was to come!

Black-rhino approaching

The following day we were startled when driving along we dipped down over a small rise in the road and found another black rhino waiting for us! An additional gift from the animal gods it seemed. Gary was particularly pleased as he had never seen a rhino in this part of Damarland before. Although the wind was in our favor, the rhino was definitely aware of a presence in its close vicinity. We shut off the engine and sat watching and waiting. It was a mere 10 feet from us, staring at us head-on, when it began snorting and scraping its back feet into the sand in an agitated manner. Sitting in the front seat I felt vulnerable and was seconds away from crawling into the back when it began running in circles and then departed in a cloud of sand and dust. A truly magnificent beast. I felt blessed to have encountered it twice in this wild landscape.

A little too close for comfort!

His profile in the far distance

The landscape was forever changing and in time we came across the red rocky terrain Damarland is known for, as well as desolate expanses of sand and dunes. The last day we were planning to drive up the riverbed of the Hoanib River, the largest in the region. This of course depended on whether or not the riverbed was dry. I guess you could say it was damp. In places there was resting water. But we decided to try our luck and head as far east as we could manage. It seemed a bit risky considering there had been recent rain, and what looked like current rainfall in the distance, which meant the river could come in at any moment carrying us and anything in its path out to sea. Gary had shared numerous acounts of people and vehicles being swept away in its fury when caught unexpectedly with only seconds to escape. We traveled 6 or 7 km before water which was slowly heading our way forced us to turn around quickly. That night we camped beside the riverbed and as we were preparing dinner a couple of hours later Maria exclaimed, “the water!” The sound of water rushing by was audible. We walked in the dark down to the river and saw that it had in fact come in. We were thankful to have exited the riverbed on the north which meant we would not be stuck waiting for the water to go before being able to cross in order to carry on.

Land of wide open spaces

Now I lay me down to sleep

Yep, I’m loving my life!

And just like that the grass disappeared

So elegant

The Hoanib riverbed

Maria watching sunset above our last campsite

The next morning we woke early in order to begin our drive back to Windhoek. The plan was to spend one last night camping in order to break up the long ride home. After 8 ½ hours of driving without so much as a lunch break, Maria and I were quite anxious to reach camp in order to fill our empty stomaches. Knowing this we could not understand why Gary insisted we stop by Damarland Camp (another belonging to Wilderness Safaris) for a spot of tea before reaching our campsite which was still a 30 minute drive away. Gary took his tea and Maria and I stood impatiently waiting to leave. In the meanwhile we were introduced to the staff who asked why we didn´t just stay with them for the night. We explained the obvious… we didn´t have the money to stay in such a place (it runs $300US/pp/night). Gary and Susana had disappered and when they returned Gary told us, “There seems to be a problem with the vehicle and we are going to have to stay here for the night.” We laughed knowing he wasn´t serious. He instructed us to get our bags so that Simon, assistant manager, could show us our sleeping quarters. Both Maria and I looked at him in disbelief. “Surprise,” he said. It turns out he was in fact very serious. In exchange for the delay leaving Palmwag Lodge our first day when he got roped into work, he told the manager he wanted accomodation at Damaraland Camp (not a camp at all, but an all inclusive lodge) for all of us on our return. I don´t think he knows how grateful we were. It was like heaven after 6 glorious days in the bush.

Maria overwhelmed by our accomodation for the night!

One of our last views en route to our “sundowner”

Sundowner

My first adventure outside of Windhoek. It was worth the trip to Africa alone.

see more photos at: http://ej.smugmug.com

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