Namibia's iconic red women & of course sand

We convinced a tour company to just take the two of us to Sossusvlei, which was a hard task as if you can’t find enough people to fill the car they usually try to charge accordingly. The drive to Sossusvlei was surprisingly mountainous, which I wasn’t entirely expecting. The land was incredibly dry, and it was like being in a sauna. Even with all the windows down, and being basically naked in the back of the van it was still not enough. We stopped in the middle of nowhere where there was a lone tree for lunch and a bit of shade. After a day of driving in the stinking heat we arrived at Sesriem, which is the town at the entrance to Sossusvlei. We found out the camping ground had a pool, so as soon as we got out of the car we made a beeline for the pool. At sunset we headed to Sesriem canyon, which is where Sesriem gets its name. When the area was discovered it took six (ses) ropes (riem) to get water from the canyon.

Not my star sign but thought we'd better stop

On the walk down to the water Juliet kept complaining about all the flies surrounding her, it was the second time that day she’d complained of flies attacking her. The flies in Africa are unlike any flies we’ve encountered in the world, they are fearless and super fast. They will land in your mouth, nose, even eyes, but they have a preference for ears. Anyway Juliet came up with a million theories as to why the flies were attacking her and not me, from them liking long hair, to her wearing moisturizer and sun block. The real reason in my opinion was she hadn’t showered in days and in all honesty she smelled a little funky; I try and shower at every opportunity because I’m a shower connoisseur, and I like to rate showers according to certain criteria so I’m usually sparkling clean, no flies on me.

Sesriem canyon

We were warned to keep our footwear and clothing in the tent because of jackals in the night, which I thought was a yarn until I was woken throughout the night by jackals fighting over our food scraps. We were up at the gate to Sossusvlei at 5am and were the only ones at Dune 45, the most photographed sand dune in the world, for the sunrise. That climb was a battle, as we were the first there we had to make our own tracks which meant walking with your legs at two different levels as the sand came rushing down, 2 steps up 1 step down. The view from the top as the sun changed the colour of the dunes was unbeatable. We got to roll down the sand dunes when we were done, and were off to Sossusvlei & Deadvlei. From what I gather from our driver and a bit of googling “vlei” is the Afrikaans word for marsh, and “sossus” means dead-end. There used to be a river thousands or millions of years ago (timescale is pretty vague I know) that ran through the dunes into the Atlantic Ocean, but for whatever reason the sand dunes blocked it off causing this phenomenon. You aren’t allowed to climb Sossusvlei, but you can climb the neighboring dune. From the top you get unobscured views of everything, especially Deadvlei, which gets its name from all the dead trees in the driest area of the dunes.

Juliet stands atop Dune 45 gazing longingly into the distance

Maxxing on top of Dune 45

Juliet straddling Dune 45

The view from Dune 45

Sand dunes in the distance

Dunes around Sossusvlei

Deadvlei

That afternoon we drove to the town of Solitaire, which consists of a petrol station and small hotel with a campsite; there is nothing else there or around. There are a lot of rusted shells of cars that had broken down there and the Solitaire sign has the population written underneath it which has been corrected 3 times. There was probably a population boom when the card game Solitaire came out, but since then it has leveled out.

The route back to Windhoek was not on sealed road, but it was far more scenic, and quite a change to the long straight roads of most of Namibia. The rock formations and mountains with the barren plains gave a real prehistoric feel dotted with the occasional (tasty) oryx and (delicious) springbok who have adapted to the desert environment.

When we got back to Windhoek we had to make a decision whether to visit a Himba village up north, a culture I’d seen documentaries about and dreamed of visiting one day, or visiting Luderitz and the ghost town of Kolmanskop in the south. We eventually decided after a couple of beers to visit the Himba village, and arranged it with our driver friend Ellis to pick us up on our last day in Windhoek. While at the bar we got talking to a group of Spaniards, three girls from the Canary Islands and three guys from the mainland. We all decided to go out for dinner to Joe’s Beerhouse; Juliet & I ordered the meat platter which consisted of Ostrich, Crocodile, Zebra, Kudu, and Oryx. The only one that was inedible to me was the crocodile because it tasted like fish, but Juliet enjoyed it. Ostrich was like an intense version of chicken leg meat, Zebra was lovely, Kudu was tough, and the Oryx was delish.

From the left (on the spoke); Ostrich, Crocodile, Zebra, Kudu, and Oryx

One of the Spanish guys, Reuben lived in Namibia and was studying and collaring cheetahs. Namibia has a lot of farmland, mostly beef; however a lot of the farmers also keep game as they are low maintenance and can be quite valuable for meat & hunting. The most valuable of the game are some of the smaller antelope (steenbok, springbok etc.) but these are also part of the cheetah’s diet. So the farmers either have to shoot the cheetahs or sell them to be hunted (about 3000 Euros which is also the price to shoot a giraffe). Reuben and his team work with farmers by trapping and collaring the cheetahs, releasing them and finding out on a map where the cheetah’s territory is, and making a plan of action (i.e. moving livestock to other parts of the farm) accordingly.

The following day we spent shopping around Windhoek, and forgot about making a booking for a room at the backpackers so our place was fully booked, but they had one campsite. So we gave Ellis a call to see if we could borrow his tent, which was fine and we set it all up. Then as if someone had set us up it was like a bucket of water fell onto Windhoek, with a lightning storm included. Because rain historically has not been an issue in Windhoek there is no storm water infrastructure in the city so it floods. Entire roads can be blocked by “rivers” and early last week we heard that the roof of one of the big malls collapsed under the weight of the rain. Anyway our tent which was a very light desert tent was damp to say the least; and we had to get up at 4am the following morning to head to the Himba village. The sleep was terrible, and the sleeping bags were wet, you’d get the occasional drops of water on your body as a wake up refresher.

Heading up north we were on extremely straight sealed roads in the dark going the speed limit of 120kmph with desert grasslands on both sides. In Namibia it is too dangerous to drive in the dark because animals running across the road hitting vehicles is a common occurrence, these animals aren’t small either and kill a lot of people. You’d occasionally see a pair of eyes roadside, and just hope it didn’t bolt.

When we got to the Himba village we met an English speaking Himba man, which is uncommon for the Himba because they don’t believe conventional education is important. He took us around and introduced us to the culture and the people. We came across some little kids as we entered the village building sandcastles. When they saw us they were originally very shy, but as soon as we asked if we can take a picture of them they opened up. I’ve got hundreds of photos of them on my phone as they mastered the iPhone pretty quickly. I also have a 5 minute video of them singing and dancing, that they watched on repeat laughing hysterically.

Himba kids having a boogie

Young Himba girl with a single plait; when she gets a bit older this becomes four plaits; then after puberty a full head of plaits

Two Himba kids relaxing in the shade

The Himba tribe has a lot of equality between the sexes; to me that is usually the measure of a society. The men are the hunters and farmers and are out in the fields for most of the day. The women look after the children communally, make and maintain the huts as well as cook. Although the men are stereotypically the leaders the women have a large influence. The political system they have consists essentially of a monarchy, with a chief, and when he dies it is passed to his oldest son. However, how it differs is that if the chief is not up to the job (cruel, inept etc.), they will democratically elect a new one, I guess it is one of the nuances of a nomadic tribe, where the people can just get up and leave.

One of the telltale signs of equality between the sexes in asking the mothers if they would rather have boys or girls. Every woman we asked wanted at least 6 kids and would prefer an even split of boys and girls.

The Himba are big into animal husbandry, they keep animals in a pen in the centre of the village with the door of the pen facing the chief’s hut. Drawing a line from the door of the pen to the chief’s hut is where the holy fire is kept and is never put out.

The Himba according to our guide are relatively progressive in the sense that there are far more “love” marriages than arranged marriages these days, and the concept of girlfriends/boyfriends was even thrown around. We talked a lot about marriage with the guide, he said that if a man wants to marry a woman he must pay 5 cows to the woman’s father, two of which would be slaughtered for the wedding celebration and the other three join the father’s herd. I enquired as to how much a cow was in Namibian dollars, and it turns out to be around $N7000 which is about $700 NZD. So I’ve got a bit of saving to do when I get home.

Putting in the groundwork for my future Himba wife; one on the right is playing hard to get

Two Himba huns; the large ring around their neck means they haven't had a child yet

Juliet and three young Himba woman; (left) little girl with single plait; (centre) dried goatskin is intertwined in her plaits symbolizing she is ready to marry

There is an article going around about the Himba, about the idea that a child’s age doesn’t start when it is born or even conceived. It starts when the mother decides she wants to have a baby and she goes and sits under a tree until she hears the song of the baby. Now I enquired about this to our guide and I looked like a right muppet, he laughed at me, and said there are no contraceptives in the village so babies are born around 9 months after they are conceived. He said it isn’t a tradition that he’d heard about, but further up north on the Angolan border they might practice something like that.

Juliet and a young Himba woman and her child

Going for a walk

A Herero (a separate tribe) woman has married a Himba man, so lives in the village but keeps her traditional dress; the hat replicates the cows horns as the Herero are very reliant on cattle

When you see a Himba woman the first two things that strike you are the claylike dreadlocks, and minimalist outfits that the women wear. The substance that they put on their hair as well as their bodies is a combination of red ocra and butter fat. This obviously makes it hard to shower and clean, so they use smoke to “shower” as well as clean their clothes. They use what looks like a giant egg cup that is filled with perfume, wood and mixed in with butter fat then they burn it. As it smokes they put it under their armpits, then through their hair and the rest of the body. The women wear a lot of jewelry which all has specific meaning usually to do with puberty, marriage and children. If you are wondering about Himba men, they dress “normally”, so we didn't bother photographing them.

Himba woman heating her "shower" up

Himba woman using the perfumed smoke to clean her body

I was talking to the guide as we were leaving and I said to him that the culture and traditions are very similar to the Maasai culture in Tanzania. It turns out that they are closely related. The Maasai made their way across Africa towards the West coast and down through Angola and settled on the border between Angola and Namibia and became the Himba. This explained a lot about the architecture, animal husbandry, and their weaponry. The differences in dress, and hair would be a result of the differences between the Namibian/Angolan desert and the Serengeti plains as well as cultural influences from neighbouring tribes and interbreeding.

That’s a little bit of cultural history for y’all anyway.

We are making our way back to Tanzania now, this time by plane which is a hell of a lot quicker. Not long now.