We covered 700km through five different lifts. That's London to Strasbourg in one day. From the built up capital of Windhoek through the arid and dry landscape of mid-Namibia to the lush green of Rundu, on the Angolan border and on the Okovango river.
Getting out of Windhoek was the hardest single aspect. As with any big city you have to get a ride or taxi to the city edge, to the right road heading in the direction you want to go. Our obliging taxi driver did as we asked but first we had to drive through the throngs of people who wanted to 'help' us on the city edge.
There is no mature and extensive public transport system in Namibia. The country's two million habitants are scattered over an area three times the size of Great Britain or two times the size of Germany. The country has, however, a very good road network system. This is partly due to tourism but mainly due to the fact that most of the country's foods and goods is transported by road from South Africa (see previous posts). This road network has led to the formation of an informal public transport system in the form of mini-buses. They wait at designated fuel stations with a trailer on the back for luggage. As soon as they are full they belt off at break neck speeds to their destination. As well these mini-buses private cars fill up their cars with paying customers. Prices are negotiable.
On the city edge was one of these locations where everyone gathers to find mini-buses or private vehicles come to fill up their cars. Seeing our taxi pulling through they gathered around all wanting to help us. Indeed they probably wanted to help us, but also wanted to help themselves by requesting extortionate prices. They tried to open the taxi doors and convincing the taxi driver that this is the only option. Through our persistent 'no's' the prices began dropping, $100NAB per person became $50NAM per person but it was already too much. "Onwards! Take us out of town, now!" we commanded our taxi driver before our taxi was over run with people. We stopped on the road going North a little way out of town where the taxi driver thought it would be safe to hitch hike from. One of the more persistent men followed us with his car - he was going to a town along our way right now and was looking for passengers - he lowered his price but after all the commotion we wanted some peace. He left us, the taxi driver left us and we were soon alone in the growing sun on the main road.
Our first lift came after about twenty minutes. A small courier van stopped. A Damara man.
"Matisa?" - Hi, How are you.
"!Aa-aa" - I'm fine.
He looked nervous, in his cabin there were two seats but certainly not enough space for our luggage. "We'll have to put it in the back." I mentioned. He looked up and down the road and hesitantly said "ok, quickly!". He opened the back which was completely empty and we dumped our rucksacks inside and clambered into the front. He mentions that if he gets caught giving rides to people he will get fired. We speed off. He took us to the first big town on the way, Okahandja and when he left us off he put his car down the bank of the road, out of sight. "Ok, quickly, get out!"
Our second lift arrived as we walked under the peaking sun towards the main intersection outside Okahandja. Evelyn's arm outstretched and thumb upwards pulled over a small car and just in time too. It was now 11am and the sun was blazing hot and our rucksack straps slowly digging deeper into our shoulders. It was a small car with a lone driver. A white man in his mid-twenties got out and waited for us to reach him. He was a service representative for a South African industrial water company and was on his way to Otkiwarango for a meeting and the next town on our journey northwards.
Softly spoken he descriped how he came to Namibia 14 years ago from South Africa. "Would you ever go back?" I asked.
"No way, never!" He exclaimed. "I had an option to go back for a promotion to Durban, South Africa for a salary that is triple of what I am being paid now. I turned it down. You can't live in South Africa with all that violence around you. And later, when you have kids, what sort of life will they have? They cannot go outside and play anymore. They go straight from their schools to their homes and stay there all evening playming their X-boxes and Play Stations. That's not a life they should be having and good for their development. Here in Namibia you can go out and play without worrying about getting mugged or worse."
"And even in the schools it's not safe. There were, what? a hundred murders in the schools last year. And then unless you are the captain of the football team or rugby team you will surely get picked on, bullied, and there are more than a few suicides in school children there. There is no way I'm going back."
The dusty, arid landscape continued as we drove the long straight road northwards. Knee high yellow grass filled in gaps between a peristent thorny shrubbery and small dry trees. Large acacia trees punctuates the scene and those tree's close to the roadside with their large umbrella of branches and leaves provides some shade for the lone trader.
"What are they selling?" I asked, pointing to one trader in particular piling identical white sacks on top of each other on the side of the road. "It's food fo the sheep, coming from the seeds of the tree overhead."
"And the other thing about South Africa," he continued, "is that, now the ANC [the ruling party] have a huge issue with the [powerful] youth leadership and if they lose the next election, the country is heading towards civil war. But, one can say the same thing for Namibia too, Namibia has been independent since 1991 and it's been the same party that's been in power ever since. Each election they promise more jobs and in Namibia we now have an employment rate of 50%. For a country of only two million habitants that is devastating. People are now starting to wake up and realise that they are not delivering on their promises and they want change. I hope that if change does come the ruling party will relinquish power without causing trouble."
"Yes, let's hope they are more responsible than other African states." I offer in reply.
"Oh, Namibia and Namibians have far more sense than the countries around."
In Otjiwarango he let us off about a kilometre past town, the best place to hitch hike from.
Our second lift arrived as we walked under the peaking sun towards the main intersection outside Okahandja. Evelyn's arm outstretched and thumb upwards pulled over a small car and just in time too. It was now 11am and the sun was blazing hot and our rucksack straps slowly digging deeper into our shoulders. It was a small car with a lone driver. A white man in his mid-twenties got out and waited for us to reach him. He was a service representative for a South African industrial water company and was on his way to Otkiwarango for a meeting and the next town on our journey northwards.
Softly spoken he descriped how he came to Namibia 14 years ago from South Africa. "Would you ever go back?" I asked.
"No way, never!" He exclaimed. "I had an option to go back for a promotion to Durban, South Africa for a salary that is triple of what I am being paid now. I turned it down. You can't live in South Africa with all that violence around you. And later, when you have kids, what sort of life will they have? They cannot go outside and play anymore. They go straight from their schools to their homes and stay there all evening playming their X-boxes and Play Stations. That's not a life they should be having and good for their development. Here in Namibia you can go out and play without worrying about getting mugged or worse."
"And even in the schools it's not safe. There were, what? a hundred murders in the schools last year. And then unless you are the captain of the football team or rugby team you will surely get picked on, bullied, and there are more than a few suicides in school children there. There is no way I'm going back."
The dusty, arid landscape continued as we drove the long straight road northwards. Knee high yellow grass filled in gaps between a peristent thorny shrubbery and small dry trees. Large acacia trees punctuates the scene and those tree's close to the roadside with their large umbrella of branches and leaves provides some shade for the lone trader.
"What are they selling?" I asked, pointing to one trader in particular piling identical white sacks on top of each other on the side of the road. "It's food fo the sheep, coming from the seeds of the tree overhead."
"And the other thing about South Africa," he continued, "is that, now the ANC [the ruling party] have a huge issue with the [powerful] youth leadership and if they lose the next election, the country is heading towards civil war. But, one can say the same thing for Namibia too, Namibia has been independent since 1991 and it's been the same party that's been in power ever since. Each election they promise more jobs and in Namibia we now have an employment rate of 50%. For a country of only two million habitants that is devastating. People are now starting to wake up and realise that they are not delivering on their promises and they want change. I hope that if change does come the ruling party will relinquish power without causing trouble."
"Yes, let's hope they are more responsible than other African states." I offer in reply.
"Oh, Namibia and Namibians have far more sense than the countries around."
In Otjiwarango he let us off about a kilometre past town, the best place to hitch hike from.
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