The Little Chicken Who Could (And her Adventures in Namibia)

We arrived at the Namibian border in style. Our dreaded 20-hour bus ride from Cape Town, South Africa to Windhoek, Namibia was actually rather pleasant. We were able to lean almost completely back in our luxury bus seats and stopped every couple hours to get out, stretch, and use the restroom. This comfort, however, did not last long. We were greeted at the border checkpoint in the middle of the night by the most disgusting cockroaches I’ve ever seen in my life. They were HUGE. Probably the size of a dollar bill… or a pickle… HUGE. I almost died of disgust, but after pulling myself together Lindsey, Jevan, and Amy (all fellow CIEE study abroaders) and I were happy to get 2 more international stamps in our passport! What glee!! Nothing makes me happier than seeing my humble little passport fill up with all the different countries’ stamps that I’ve traveled to. I even got to see whirling twinkling fireflies in the Namibian bush for a couple magical minutes on the road to Windhoek.

We get into Windhoek very early in the morning and are picked up by our tour guide, Martin, in his faithful steed- the notorious “Sexy Beast” (literally. that’s it’s name painted on the side…), our awesome safari truck. We are soon joined by one other safari-er, Annemarie who is a gentle and quiet 6-foot 29-year old blonde ex-computer technician from Amsterdam. She had quit her job in the Netherlands and taken 3 months to just re-evaluate life and travel around Africa (pretty ballsy, eh?). Here’s a quick word about my CIEE friends on the trip- you have all already heard about my trusty companion Lindsey (my lovely high school friend from Wellesley); Amy (aka Mexican jumping bean) who grew up going to international school in Mexico City and has traveled/jumped literally all over the world, hence earning her nickname “Mexican jumping bean”, Jevan a chill curly blonde field hockey player from Boston who goes to school at Colby in Maine. It was awesome to find out that it would only be us five ladies on this Namibian safari, considering we were all expecting some huge gaudy double decker bus with a ton of horrible tourists.

Our tour guide Martin is a young ear-pierced skinny dude from Northern Namibia who has lived all over his homeland and in doing so has mastered all 8 languages spoken in Namibia. It amazes me how many languages everyone speaks here. Because each ethnic group/region has a different traditional language in addition to Afrikaans, English, German, Dutch, etc, it’s a necessity to speak multiple languages. Martin claims he has an extra set of teeth because his smile is so big and it’s true- he has the whitest, biggest smile, the kind that forces you to smile right back. He also has a great sense of humor and says wacky things like “super duper” and “whatever’s clever.” He’s definitely not the type to take any shit though, and he’s told us stories of kicking finicky people out of his tour before. He calls all of us his “angels” and always refers to us this way. “ Good night, Angel!”, “Angel, you’re weird”, “Why don’t you eat sausage, Angel?” It’s really cute. We call our group of 5 girls “Martin’s Angels” (haha cheesy, I know…) He calls me “chicken” because I fall asleep constantly on the truck when we’re driving complete with the whole head-bobbing shebang. He says that chickens fall asleep suddenly and then wake up suddenly just like that- I think that the concept is a hoot and a holler. I am proud to be Martin’s chicken. Our loyal helper/cook is introduced as Mr.Faras, but he doesn’t speak much English (cooks like a CHAMP though!). We ask Mr.Faras if he is married after we find out Martin recently got married and Mr.Faras says that he doesn’t have enough money to get married right now. At the time we are retarded and so start singing, “All you need is love!!!!” courtesy of the Beatles, but it makes me realize how different our cultures/lifestyles are. I can’t help feeling conscious throughout the whole trip that we (privileged first world university students) are being serviced by these Namibian black men. At first I’m pretty uncomfortable, but I guess just like any good imperialist, I get used to being catered to. The whole idea of going on safari doesn’t sit that well with me (with all its historical and racial connotations), but tourism is the main form of income for many Africans so it doesn’t do much good to protest the industry.

After driving several hours south through Namibia from Windhoek (the capital city smack dab in the middle of the country) we are all awestruck at the beauty and expansiveness of Namibia’s landscape. Channeling Lindsey’s “Snapple lady” fact spewing, Namibia is the little known second most remote country in the entire world- Mongolia being the most remote. This lack of people is in part to the huge deserts in Namibia, and makes Namibia one of the best destinations to witness raw and unfiltered wilderness. With the bright blue African sky stretching out in all directions, we all marvel at the fierce beauty of the landscapes around us. The whole time, I am trying to drink in the rich red dirt, huge grasslands, colorful wildflowers, white butterflies, and purple mountains like a man dying of thirst.

We hadn’t traveled very far before we see our first signs of wildlife. Golden weaver’s birds’ nests I’d only admired from books were dripping from every Cassia tree like precious Christmas ornaments. We run into random herds of goats, cows, and wild horses periodically. We even see families of baboons near the road staring back at us curiously. A sly jackal scurries away from our truck suspiciously. We stop after a couple hours because Jevan has to go the bathroom (this is a repeated theme during the trip, we still joke that Jevan has a UTI-“urinary tract infection” because she had to go pee every 5 minutes). We get out to use the “bush toilet” (as Martin calls it) near a couple shrubs in the wild. A herd of baboons pass close by us and we all hurry to finish- we heard that baboons are quite shrewd and will steal things from tourists if given the chance! (Shout out to a helpful fact from my cousin, Mon) I accidentally piss on an angry anthill and get a couple warning bites on my feet as well as a painful poke from a thorny bush. Ah, how I love the camping life…

The campsite we’re staying at for the first 2 nights is AMAZING. It is definitely a luxury resort campsite, if there is such a thing. There is a nice outdoor bathroom/shower complex right next to the blue-tiled teardrop shaped pool, complete with awning and two story bar where we watch the breath-taking sunsets across the African savannah. The next morning we leave before dawn to try to catch the sunrise off the Sossuvlei dunes of the Namib-Naukluft desert. This famous desert is the oldest in the world (dubiously according to Martin) and is the keeper of the most beautiful, majestic towering red sand dunes in the world (according to me). We have a surreal day climbing some of the higher dunes, identifying wildlife footprints, chasing beetles (or sitting on them in Amy’s case) and lizards, and climbing beautiful Salvador Dali-esque petrified trees (all that was missing were the melting clocks!)- we definitely had the many splinters to prove it! It’s always been my number one travel goal to see these beautiful sand dunes (ever since reading the Little Prince which takes place in a desert…) and so I’m still in awe at how beautiful they are. It’s a sight I’m sure I’ll never forget.

We leave the dunes to see the famous Sesriem canyon and go on to visit a smelly flamingo lagoon and vast salt flats in Walvis Bay. The flamingos aren’t as pink as we’d hoped but they’re really cute. They kick their little webbed feet around in the sand looking to stir up the algae and shrimp that they eat. They prance around in little circles kicking their feet doing the flamingo dance! While driving through the Namibian savannah we see even more animals~ leaping springbok antelope (the national animal of South Africa), majestic long horned onyxes (the national animal of Namibia), and curious ostriches (which according to Martin do NOT bury their heads to the sand… shame on those lying cartoons I watched as a kid!). Best of all, we drive alongside a beautiful herd of zebras!!! ZEBRAS! There are even baby zebras! HAPPY HAPPY JOY JOY! I’m too busy taking pictures to freak out about how cool that is.

We leave the Namib desert and say bye to our campsite with one last late night of story telling around the campfire while running frantically and screaming about HUGE flesh-colored scorpion carrying spiders that are running around our feet. Mr.Faras faithfully stands watch with his pokey-death stick watching out for these suckers. Meanwhile we all tell traditional myths from our homelands and as many jokes/riddles as we can remember. Aside from the bugs, camping is actually pretty cool… This little chicken survived it!

We leave the campsite hanging all our damp bras and underwear out the Sexy Beast’s windows (still wet from the night of rain we had). We must be quite a sight to see on the road… We make our way to Swakopmund, a coastal city on the Southwest coast of Namibia boasting to be the “extreme sports capital” of Namibia. Amy and Annie choose to go skydiving (they are CRAZY) while Lindsey, Jevan and I go ATVing (or quad biking as they call it here…) I’m retarded at first (granted, I STILL don’t have my driver’s license) and go off the track several times, but I get the hang of it as we go along. ATVing through the desert dunes was so cool! We “roller-coaster” off the higher dunes by going up really high along the side and then plummeting down again. As we continue on our journey through the dunes, we rise over a crest and suddenly have a gorgeous view of the ocean. Dunes behind us and nothing but open ocean ahead, I can’t imagine a more beautiful sight. We have dinner in Swakopmund after which Martin orders us to go “boom boom” at the dance floor upstairs, after which we quickly leave because Amy is busy getting it on with her sky diving instructor (scandalous!). Mr.Faras walks us back to our rooms- good ol’ Mr.Faras…

On our way back to Windhoek from Swakopmund, Martin asks us if it’s cool if he visits his sister on the way. He makes a couple tight turns on side streets and before we know it we’re driving smack dab in the middle of one of Namibia’s townships. The poverty is staggering to witness- bumpy dirt roads, scattered trash, the smell of decomposing flesh in the air orders all of our senses to pay attention. Her house is a relatively nice bright blue house next to the thousands of shacks in the township. She’s not home so we head back to the highway all trying our best not to gag (including Martin) passing by teenagers sporting their middle fingers and a man openly pissing in the street. On the way to Windhoek we stop at a shockingly poor craft village that is supposed to have the cheapest souvenirs. The people look sickly and desperate for some business, the heckling has us quickly leaving this depressing place. As we approach our destination, the staggering wealth of capital city Windhoek with its broad streets and German architecture quickly reminds us of the sobering remnants of colonialism that bear witness to past crimes all over Africa.

In Windhoek we share a bittersweet good-bye with Martin and Mr.Faras and give them a soccer ball we all signed for them- for them to keep in the Sexy Beast and kick around with their other tour groups (they both love soccer, just like everyone in this part of the world…) Windhoek is a huge, strangely empty, and frankly boring city. We wander around for a bit before heading back to our hostel. We’re staying at Chameleon hostel for a night before we have to catch our bus back to Cape Town the next evening. This hostel is more like a resort- we chill by the pool and then are invited by the crazy hodgepodge of Europeans staying here to having some watermelon and beers. We end the night at the bar celebrating a petite German surgeon Hendrick’s birthday amongst new friends including a New Yorker named Jenn, a Belgian university student named Tim, a hippie stoner from the south of France, a rude Englishman, and a loud-mouth Dutch pilot. Good times.

I’ll miss you Namibia!! Your chicken will be back before you know it!