Leaving Cape Town, Finding Namibia

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I'm not going to write about Cape Town, because I have too much to say. I wouldn't know where to begin, and if I did begin I might never stop. In 31 years and 33 countries, it’s the greatest city I’ve seen.

My boyfriend and I had been living and working in Cape Town for 3 months. Both of us would trade our London lives for this city in a heartbeat, but despite an understaffed healthcare system, as foreign doctors it’s incredibly difficult to find employment here. We’d been volunteering at a hospital in the notorious Khayelitsha township, but indefinite volunteering is not sustainable, and our visa wouldn’t allow us to work, even unpaid, for any longer. The time had come to move on.

We were left with 4 weeks before our flight home, and a desire to do some exploring. Namibia was the obvious choice, as we’d already been lucky enough to visit South Africa’s other neighboring countries back in 2013, during our first African adventure

Namibia’s harsh, sparsely inhabited desert landscapes sounded starkly different to our experiences elsewhere on the continent. I wasn’t sure exactly what there was in Namibia to see, but everyone I met who'd been there had said it was stunning and wild. I imagined red dunes and empty horizons, diamond mines, lion tracks in desert sand. Sam was excited by the thought of the many treacherous roads he could potentially wreck our car upon.

The history of Namibia isn’t well known around the world, unlike that of its more famous neighbours. I knew very little, and desperately trying to make the most of my final weeks in Cape Town whilst working 50+ hours per week at the hospital, I didn’t have much time to learn. There were many surprises, things I only became aware of during the trip. That Namibia is one of the youngest countries in the world, only gaining independence from South Africa in 1990. That a large percentage of the population is white, almost as much as South Africa (7% and 8.4% respectively). That Namibia has the second lowest population density on earth, beaten only by Mongolia. That it was the first African nation to incorporate preservation of the environment into its constitution, and 42% of the land falls under some form of protection. That German colonialists killed 80,000 Herero people (80% of the Herero population), in what has been described as the first genocide of the 20th century.

All of this I still had to learn.

For our road trip we’d hired a 4x4 with rooftop tent, a Toyota Hilux, complete with fridge and comprehensive camping equipment. This was the kind of car we dreamed about during our travels around East Africa 4 years ago. We gazed longingly at these magical vehicles whilst push starting Sam’s 10 year old Mitsubutshi Colt, duct taping tent poles together, eating cross-legged on the floor and drinking warm beer.

Since we were due to fly home from Johannesburg, Sam rented the car from a company in Joburg and arranged for it to be driven over to Cape Town. This worked out nicely for us, and was also more or less the cheapest quote we could find for an equivalent vehicle in either South Africa or Namibia. The reason for this would become clear.

The owner of the rental company immediately did not endear himself to me by inexplicably turning up at the airport, instead of our address. He called to ask whether our flight had landed and we said yes, 3 months ago, you’re supposed to bring the car to our flat. He then asked whether we’d mind terribly just coming to the airport to collect the car. I made it clear that I did in fact mind. Finally he said he would to come to us, but asked whether we could drive him back to the airport afterwards. Sam, who is nicer than me, took the phone call and agreed to this, but I’m sure I could be heard yelling “NO WE FUCKING WON’T” in the background. I’d have sympathy had it been some poor employee who’d got the wrong information, but it was literally the guy who owns the company, the same one we’d been corresponding with. He’d known our address, we’d paid extra to have the car dropped off in Cape Town, he was late and the airport was the opposite direction to where we were heading. I was already feeling emotional about having to leave Cape Town, a city I’d recently decided was my spiritual home which fate was cruelly tearing me away from. I was in no mood for any degree of faffing.

Car Hire Guy eventually turned up, a middle aged white dude, looking knackered and sheepish. He’d probably had to drive all night from Joburg. I felt bad for about 20 seconds, until I started checking the car and noticed the back hatch of the pickup (the “bakkie” in South African terminology) did not lock. The car itself looked solid, about 2 years old, but the casing enclosing the back looked suspiciously second hand. All three of us stood around waggling the lock ineffectually, while Car Hire Guy muttered vaguely about it being fine earlier. It was not fine.

Whilst angrily throwing tins of beans into a plastic box in the unlockable bakkie, I pointedly stated that Car Hire Guy would now be making his own way to the airport. He needed to make a swift exit for his flight back to Joburg and was apparently unfamiliar with the concept of Uber, so we had to order him one on Sam’s phone.

The broken lock distracted me from noticing that the spare tyre was flat and the fridge didn’t work. These discoveries were made later.

So instead of an early start to go hiking in Cederberg, we spent several hours searching Cape Town for somewhere that could fix a lock on a Sunday. A lovely locksmith in Century City Mall managed to dismantle it and scrape the rust from the mechanism so it just about worked, if you perform a special wiggle and get the angle of the handle just right.

We finally left about 4 hours later than planned. Sam was driving. I watched Table Mountain, my anchor point for the last 3 months, getting smaller in the rear view mirror.

Cederberg National Park was our stop off on the way to Namibia. We had planned a short hike to some natural pools near the campsite, but we arrived too late. I spent much of the journey quietly plotting my revenge on Car Hire Guy.

Luckily the campsite was beautiful enough to banish my crankiness. It was surrounded by steep red rock, glowing warm in the late afternoon sunlight. A shallow river ran through the middle, filled with tiny fish, tall reeds and soft, silty sand. There was also a very conveniently located vineyard right next door, so we bought some chilled white wine to drink as we paddled in the warm water.

Only day one of our roadtrip and already there were fascinating wildlife interactions to observe. Like a young male of the white Afrikaans variety, in his natural habitat, defending his territory by attempting to poke a Cape Cobra out from under his bakkie with a massive stick. A bakkie is a pickup truck, for any Brits alarmed by the terminology and wondering exactly where the snake went. Apparently they like to wrap themselves around the axle. I watched this display from a safe distance, stopping just short of getting my binoculars out. I'm not sure how Man vs Snake ended. The guy eventually got back in the pickup, with snake still in situ, and drove to the farm next door, where apparently they had better snake wheedling equipment. I didn't hear any screaming.

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Photos

Cape Town
Table bay, looking back on the city.

The view from our Cape Town balcony
Hence my extreme reluctance to leave.

Cape Town
Chapman's Peak hike.

Comments

[Home and Away]

We've missed you over the last four years, so welcome back!
We expect more blogs about Namibia.

[Jenniferious]

Thank you!! I've missed blogging. I have a month's worth of notes written on my phone, I just need to edit it and add photos. Hopefully I won't give up half way through this time!

[D MJ Binkley]

Welcome Back!!
We do hope you will continue to blog as we've missed you. Do not give up on getting those blogs published. This location is on our short list and have really enjoyed reading along.