My journey to Namibia

CHANDAPIWA BAPUTAKI
Staff Writer | Friday April 9, 2010 00:00

Then my friend from Windhoek, Namibia, called and invited me to visit him. 'Wow!' I was speechless and gamely accepted the invitation.  I had never been to Namibia before, let alone travelled to the western part of Botswana. 

With a packed backpack as my only luggage, I set off the following morning to the bus rank to board the AT&T Monnaakgotla bus that was travelling straight to Namibia.

As I arrived I just managed to catch sight of this bus fully packed and leaving the bus rank and realised I had been a touch too late. Still excited about my trip and feeling adventurous I made the decision to hitchhike, because it was certainly out of the question for me to back down at that stage.

I decided to take the bus to Gantsi but was told that I would have to drop off by the junction, travel to Charles Hill and hitchhike from there.  I shook my head in amazement but was on the bus in no time, which took off at 0800 hours.  I sat next to a young girl with a brush cut and dressed more like a man than a woman. She was wearing baggy jeans and a golf shirt that was too big for her. While we exchanged greetings everyone generally minded their own business.

An hour later we were in Lobatse village where the bus stopped to pick up more passengers, and a middle-aged woman sat on the other side of the young girl.  The Jwaneng bus rank was a kind of recess place as everyone got out of the bus to stretch their legs and buy snacks as well as make use of the bathrooms. Then we were off into the open spaces as we drank in the wonderful beautiful countryside of Botswana. As we passed through Mabutsane I struck a conversation with the young girl and the middle aged woman and confessed that it was my first time to be in that part of the country.  'Where are you going?' they asked. 'Windhoek', I said and decided to tell them that I did not even know where I was supposed to jump off and get another form of transport that would take me to Namibia. They both laughed. 'So you are like the whites who just jump onto the bus not knowing where they are going but use a map to get there,' the middle-aged woman said as I pulled a face in agreement.  I felt embarrassed that I was telling people that I was visiting Namibia for the first time. 'I will show you the junction and I am sure you are not the only person who will be getting off there,' she said.

With me having provided an opener, the young girl decided to share her life history with us.  She revealed that she was on her way to collect her result slip so she could apply for tertiary education and that she had only just discovered her biological mother. All along she had believed her mother's sister was the one who had given birth to her as she had grown up with her.  The truth only came to light when this aunt passed away and the real mother had to take over her care. 'My uncle first explained the situation to me, how my aunty wanted to raise me while her sister was working in Gaborone. It is funny that I do not feel any bond with my real mother. Even when we are together we never really speak you know, but I can say anything to her sister's children whom I grew up believing were my siblings. I communicate what I want from her through them not directly to her,' she said as we listened. She was one brave girl, I thought. She told us that she has always been a loner and her uncles had at one point thought she was insane. 'I currently stay with my mother in the city even though we do not talk that much. I pray that I get admitted to the University of Botswana and get on-campus accommodation. I am working on finding inner peace and getting assistance from my church,' she said.

I wanted to give her a hug but ended up exchanging numbers with her so that we could keep in touch. She disembarked at Kang and thanked us for talking to her and listening to her story. I wondered at the stories I have missed in my lifetime as I travelled on public transport without conversing with anyone. Certainly everyone has a story to share and sometimes it is so much easier to confide in a stranger you may never see again, rather than bottling everything inside.

'Here you are lady,' the middle-aged woman said pointing to the junction where I was to disembark. Thanking her profusely I promised to call and to tell her of my safe arrival to my destination. Three more people disembarked with me. We were all bound for Charles Hill. 'There is no transport on this road except the trucks going to Namibia. You will be lucky to get a private car,' one of the women said. There were two trucks parked by the bus stop and they offered us a ride. I had never before taken a ride in a truck, but hop in I did. I was joined by another woman and we soon discovered that the driver was a Zimbabwean. My fellow lady passenger disembarked at the Mamuno border gate, which was just eight kilometres from Charles Hill and I was left alone with the driver. He told me he was on his way to Angola. The time was now 7 pm and I was now worried as I anxiously waited for those manning the weighbridge to finish with the driver. Windhoek was still a good 300 kilometres away. We finally got the green light and whisked passed the border as we were lucky enough not to encounter any queues. By 7:15 pm we were in Namibia. Then the driver informed me that he was tired and would put up for the night at the border.

It was now very dark and I battled with the idea of taking another truck or asking for a lift from one of the private cars.  I did not know much about Namibians so I opted for another truck which had two Zimbabwean drivers. I can string a word or two in Shona as well as Ndebele if I have to. I thought that if they planned to do something bad to me I would understand what they were saying as forewarned is forearmed. The truck left the border at 8 pm. The drivers informed me that their target was to reach the Angolan border by morning and would thus not make any stops along the way. We chatted as we travelled. We reached Windhoek at midnight and my cell phone battery was now flat. The driver was kind enough to loan me his phone which I liberally used to ask for directions to Pioneers Park.  The good driver dropped me there and I was happy to find my friend waiting for me.

 At the end of the day I realised that the drivers were not bad people as I had initially feared. I was not able to travel much in Namibia because of my friend's busy schedule but I learnt that the country is just as laid back as Botswana although Windhoek is much cleaner and more beautiful. The streets of Windhoek adorn the names of Namibia's struggle heroes, There is Sam Nujoma street, Toivo ya Toivo street, Herbet Kutako street and many more including Robert Mugabe and Nelson Mandela streets, as they honour those who helped in their liberation struggle. The language barrier though was the biggest problem during this visit. It was hard to imagine that Namibia is practically a neighbour to Botswana.  I did not understand a word of the widely spoken Afrikaans or Otjiherero language. I gave up on those who could not understand English as much as they looked at me quizzically when I told them I did not speak either Afrikaans or Otjiherero. I realise now I must return to that country at a later stage to visit all the other interesting places I failed to see on my crazy journey.