Namibia - Andy Duffus arrives

Duffus the snakecharmer
see all photos »

We tore our hair out for a full 5 days in Windhoek, saved from madness only by the excitement of the World Cup and the thought of our first visitor from home arriving on the 8th - Andrew Duffus (aka Arthur Blackpudding, Andy Dufraine, Doofus, Duffers, the Barrow Sage, J-Lo - I'll explain that one later).

As Andy walked through arrivals to be greeted by the usual embarrasing sign (which for the amusement of anyone who knows Andy, and apologies for irrelevance to those who don't, read, 'Arthur Blackpudding, Mensa'). He had the look of an Africa (not AfricaN) virgin - someone who had been whipped up by his mates into the usual fearful frenzy about this continent . . . Should he have brought a backpack cage for his bag? What was the average length of time before he would be violently mugged / kidnapped? Where was his bullet proof vest?

Attempted J-Lo mugging

Mopane worms - a treat to eat!
see all photos »

Windhoek was not really what Andy was expecting of an African city, and it wasn't long before he was queueing to sign up to the 'most boring city in the world campaign'. The thought of spending more than one day in the town centre was just too much so we arranged for a day trip to Dan Viljoen Game Reserve. Here we spent a great day walking a supposedly 9km route (actually turned out to be 15 as we got quite lost and had to make a number of detours so that Andy could stick his hands under rocks and down holes looking for deadly snakes) around the park and its resident wild animals.

Andy's new haircut - a bit severe!
see all photos »

Apart from the snakes there aren't really any predators in the park, just antelopes really, such as the beautiful Oryx and Kudu. As we watched them graze we looked forward to the Braai (bbq) which we would have at the backpackers that night and for which we would roast . . .Oryx and Kudu (absolutely delicious actually and better than a beef steak). Perhaps feeling disappointed by the lack of predator action in the park, Andy got busy working his Barrow charms on a young American lady at the bar.

Katatura township home
see all photos »

The next day we headed up to the township, Katutura. We had had enough of sterile, Germanic, white Windhoek and wanted to see how the other half lived. When the South Africans were awarded Namibia they quickly got to work imposing their fair, just and enlightened policies on the nation. The blacks and coloureds were removed at pace from the more desirable areas of the city and relocated to various townships, one of which was Katutura. Here they were placed in rudimentary housing and a letter placed on their door, depending on which ethnic group they belonged to. They were denied jobs, had their freedom of movement restricted and basically treated like 2nd class citizens. In a cemetary we visited we saw the grave of a man with a German surname. This might not seem strange but he was coloured so despite his German heritage he had to be buried in the 'black' cemetary. People weren't equal here even in death and though things weren't quite as bad as in South Africa but they were bad enough.

Katatura
see all photos »

Although apartheid has ended, it will take many years, even generations before there is anything approaching racial equality here and the black population still predominantly lives in the old townships. Most of Katutura isn't like a shanty town as you might imagine and the area now has electricity and running water. But in the poorest part of the area, newcomers arrive and build their houses with whatever they can find - corrugated iron, mattresses, flattened oil drums.Many of these residents trek into town each day and wait by the main highway to be offered work. Some wait a month before they strike lucky with a days work.

Somehow poverty can seem worse when laid bare next to the lifestyle of the white people and rich Namibians in Windhoek. It could be a depressing place to visit but what Katutura may be lacking in material wealth it makes up for in atmosphere. The streets are vibrant and there are the usual entrepeneurs and stalls selling clothing, food (including Mopane worms!), cutting hair (Andy got his head skinned) and making shoes from car tyres. As ever in these areas, people don't sit around waiting for help to arrive, they get on with it! In nearby Penduka, a community project employs women to make arts and crafts to sell to visiting tourists and to export abroad. The project is so successful they have recently opened up a TB clinic where poor women can pay for their treatment by making crafts for the project.

After months on the road with really very few mishaps, we had always been keen to reassure Andy about safety in Namibia, and in Africa in general, as quickly as possible. And sure enough, after a few days here, he felt pretty relaxed . . . pretty quickly . . . and pretty soon after that 2 guys tried to mug us.

We were just walking home to the back packers slightly before dusk. One guy came up to me and held my hand saying that he wanted to chat, whilst another guy got between Andy and Chris and started asking them for money. Chris and Andy luckily had their money in a money belt (cunningly hidden down the trousers so at least if a thief went down there to get something they'd get something in return!) and we presume the men had mistaken the mobile phone in Chris's pocket for a wallet.

Whilst I was being distracted behind, the man talking to Chris and Andy was getting pretty insistent that they had some money and that he should have it. I wrenched my hand from my assailant and as I started to catch Chris and Andy up I could see the other man's hands trying to get into Chris's pockets. So I very physically barged in between Chris and the thief and delivered the killer line, "do you want to step away from his pockets!" in as Ray Winston an accent as I could muster. The men then started insisting that they only wanted to talk to us - at this point we knew they were definitely trying to mug us as people don't talk to you in Windhoek centre! Chris spun round and, arm and index finger pointing straight out, yelled, "you're not talking to us, you're leaving . . . now!".

Suddenly the men stopped in their tracks. The Cornish pixie had scared them off. Either that or Andy (who hadn't actually realised that they were trying to rob us and genuinely thought they wanted a small donation or a chat) had completely confused them into submission with his honest "I don't have any money son", delivered in the most northern of northern tones.

The men looked like they were going to follow us for a while but we managed to lose them at some traffic lights. We were lucky it was still light and quite busy on the roads as we found out two weeks later that two other guys from the backpackers had been robbed at knife point in almost the same spot. Worth mentioning also that we had all changed our travellers cheques that day and had about $1000 between us, although the unsuccessful thieves weren't to know this. A lucky escape.