Back to Africa

I have not been to Namibia before but there are sufficient similarities with Botswana to make me feel as though I know it.

I slept intermittently during the night, but I was shattered by the time we landed. The airport was awash with workers. When the luggage arrived on the belt, I waited for ages but my case did not appear. It felt a bit like the Generation Game.

I started to recognise some cases on their second time around. It transpired that other cases were being taken off the belt by airport workers. One came to see if I was OK; within 2 minutes he appeared with my case!

There was a huge queue to go through security. Baggage was scanned on its way out. There was a very old fashioned looking box that contained the scanner. A large woman was in charge. She decided which cases had to go through customs.

I expected to wait for a long time when a female employee approached me. She asked if I was travelling alone and told me to follow her - to the front of the queue.

I know better than to argue with African officials. The bags went through the box, all higgledy piggledy, but I was through and could find a rest room!

On the drive to Windhoek I saw a family of giraffes by the road side. The acacia trees are in bloom. After 5 years of drought, there has been rain, even flooding.

I flopped onto my bed in The Hilton. This hotel was chosen for me. I slept for a couple of hours then thought I would have a much needed shower. There was no hot water. Maintenance! The water was slightly warm and I had a “wash down” as Mum would have said, using kettles of boiled water.

Hilarious. (If the place was not as expensive.)

On a short walk, I met the two women in my blip. One works as an Events Coordinator and the other is a civil engineer. She works on a water project. My extra shows the poster nearby. They were huge fun and I made portraits with them.

I was approached by people begging, each with an affecting tale. Women on craft stalls were dressed in native costume and wanted money for photos.

None of this happened when I was in Botswana, all those years ago.

I had a meal at The Cork and Fork. A Belgian man came to talk to me. He likely had quite a story to tell. He brought his 9 year old son to see me. Later I met his wife who is Zimbabwean. They wanted me to stay on for the evening, but I need to sleep again.

What a start to the trip.