Namibia (2): Moving along.

What was I thinking of? Or not. I failed to mention that our visit to Swakopmund, Namibia, coincided with the 5th Congress of Odonatology of the Worldwide Dragonfly Association, with attendees from 35 countries. And, first time on the African continent. Can you believe that? I'm sure my kiwi buddy Dr. Croc is interested. Did you know there are 5600 species of dragonfly worldwide, with 127 in Namibia! ( the weekly Informante newspaper) It was the Namibian critters that were the highlights of this year's event - in fact, the congress coincides with the release of a handbook on Nambian dragonflies. And the Post Office released a stamp! (Come on Croc, fess up, you were there laying low weren't you?). I can't belive I forgot.

And patching up another incomplete story: There was in fact a fourth brewer, InBrew NV, involved in the beer-cartel-of Europe story. But they were granted immunity and spared a fine for having dobbed in the other three. As in 'real life', you soon find out who your real mates are.

Paul Theroux wrote 'Africa is where people come to wait.' And consequently, it is where you come to have your patience tested. It took 55mns to book a train Swakopmund- Otjiwarango, probaby a five minute exercise at home. I won't labour the details, except to hint at the minefield of double negatives and 'Yes, there is no ... ' statements. But done, we were at Swakopmund station awaiting the 4:00pm train which begins its journey at Walvis Bay, 35kms away. At precisely 10:00pm. it arrived. But honestly, it was OK. The people around made it a nice wait, and a book.

This was a great trip. Originally scheduled to arrive at Otjiwarango at 1:00am, which in itself would have created some difficulties as the phone network had been down (!) and we had been unable to make accommodation bookings. But, hey. But now, and with an additional two hours falling behind schedule we arrived at 9:00am. Much more civilised. Whites don't travel on trains, and blacks generally ignore them because of unreliability. As a result we had a six-berth sleeper to ourselves. Luxury. In Namib the passenger service is one wagon thrown into a goods train. Lots of stops, and real slow. Neat way to travel.

The benefit being it turned into a 'game train'. Because of the delays we traveled through sunrise and the early morning and as a result saw a lot of game from the window, including a a way cool cheetah.

Actually, rolling back a whisker. South Africa was really like being on holiday. Pretty easy traveling. But now in Namib, a true sense of travel has begun. The trains have been fun, but shuttles are an experience. They leave when full. One wait was three hours - we arrived first (or just missed the prior, depending upon your perspective). The operative word being full. Deb sat with a six year old black boy on her lap for one leg of travel, his two brothers (12 and 8) alongside. Mum, Dad and the other three kids followed on the next shuttle, whenever. Over three legs we covered 525 kms. When in the middle of nowhere, and 100km from our destination (152km from departure) the van rolled to a halt. The driver and three other guys on board all huddled, making appropriate grunts etc., under the bonnet - I just sat and pulled out my book. I know, I know. Eventually, not long really perhaps 10-15 mns, the announcement was made: "We know the problem, but cannot fix. We have no knife." Ah ha! But I carry a SAK! (Swiss Army Knife, to the initiated.) They do whatever it takes a SAK to do, and we are off. But wait there's more, when I produce a BIC propelling pencil so they can unwind/untangle a cassette tape and get the music going again, a new title is bestowed: Mad - hero of the Namibian Highways.

What would Africa be without mentioning animals. In fact, I would be prepared to suggest they are what most/many people travel to Africa to see. I guess the Big Five being the trophy list. Before departure, Deb and I had ringed Etosha National Park as one of our 'destinations'. We were not disappointed. At best, it seems the tours do three days/two nights (and less). We hired a car and camped for five days/four nights. The benefit being able to park up at waterholes for hours and watch what unfolds, as opposed to this waterhole - tick, that waterhole - tick, let's get out of here. We were handsomely rewarded. But still one remains for us - the elusive leopard. Many people leave Africa without a sighting. We still have a way to go, and remain optimistic.

A benefit of waiting at the 'holes, is you experience 'herds of animals' behaviour. I need that young mate of mine, Pete, with me. One - he's a good buddy, two - he knows his animals, and three - I gave him a web-sourced list of collective nouns before leaving. He could tell me what 'herds' of giraffe, springboks, elephants and rhinos are called. I know its a 'dazzle' of zebra. For real, only because it rhymes with Deborah! (He could also solve another problem a couple of mates and I had recently, cycling through Naenae; What's the collective name for a group of bogans? My friend, who casts a shadow often mistaken for a total solar eclipse, swears blind it was Taita, not Naenae.)

We had a fantastic moment watching three large male lions for two hours, all to ourseves. It was like the Einstein relativity comparison of being on a date with a pretty girl - time just flew. And I was with Deb, and after 18 years. Isn't life wonderful.

At the Etosha gates we gave a local woman a ride to Tsumeb. She was stunned to hear I had moved countries to live with Deb. "Sister, you get the man to come to your country?" "Oh sister, how wonderful, you got the power!" I drove on silently. But thinking 'pigsarz'.

Back to a bit of reality. I read in The Namibian that Judaie Ibn Salem, a Saudi, lost part of his nose requiring seven stiches when assaulted by his two wives when threatening to take a third. "I swore I would do it because they were impolite and that's when I came under an even bigger attack." (Poor old Ibn Salem) "I never realised they would get so worked up. But really, the only way now to restore my dignity is to take a third wife." (He's a man of principles.)

While quoting The Namibian, I'll bet this is a headline you won't ordinarily see in Australian/New Zealand newspapers: 'Businesses fine with BEE, but say it must be properly rooted.' I could elaborate, but where's the fun in that.

Oh yeah another thing. Addresses given in Namib when in the bush, and all over Southern Africa so far, is long/lat GPS co-ordinates. Luckily for us hiring the less technically fitted vehicles, they also give 87kms west of the C362/D1209 junction. Just look for the sign on the gate.

Anyway, we've headed off to the north-east of Namibia and off towards the Caprivi strip. Until as recently as 2002, Angolan guerillas often raided. And there have also been separatist movements here. It's poorer than other parts of Namib, and infrastructure is worn down a bit - probably a government punishment. But what you can do now, and avoiding visa payments (which are damned hard to get anyway) is because you travel alongside the Okavango River-banks which form the border, nip over by boat for a quick 'Cola in Angola'.

Anyway the Okavango swings away from the border and heads south where we stopped at Ngepi Camp, an island on the river. From there we took a mokoro (dugout canoe paddled by a joker standing) along the banks and through the reeds. In this idyllic state I began to daydream, recalling canoeing the Wanganui with the legendary Speightsie. Awoken by a squeal from Deb, four hippos lunged out of the water giving hippo grunts(?) roars(?) (where are you Pete?). This was a tad too close for comfort. Yeah, I've read the stats hippos kill more people per year in Africa than any other animal. All thoughts of Speights vanished. There's close to nature ... and there is having to change your pants. We saw hippos in St. Lucia, South Africa but from a boat. A big boat. We were in a way-too-close-to-the-water freakin canoe. But hang-on, then a bloody great croc starts swimming across the river. Oh man. Canoeing the Wanganui with Roosters never seemed so appealing.

So now it's time to act like the Okavango River, and head for Botswana.

A man spoke frantically into the phone:
"My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart.
"Is this her first child?" asks the doctor
"No!" shouts the man, "this is her bloody husband!!

Max
aka Mad