While wandering around Mongu I had entertained the idea of getting off of the bus, in the middle of nowwhere, to visit a rarely visited waterfall called Ngonye falls; it wouldn't be easy to get there - I would have to hitch my way to Sesheke once I had left the bus, but I knew that if the road was reasonably well travelled then I could easily pick up a ride. It was at four in the morning that this idea was thrown out the window - as our massive old bus became mired in knee-deep mud, in the only road in southwestern Zambia. We would probably be the only vehicle to come through this way for days.
But this was one hundred percent Africa - dozens of us tossing rocks into the mud and rocking the bus to get it unstuck, my flashlight one of the few among the 50 of us; all of us walking through the pitch black in mud, like some lost pilgrims, to catch up with the bus once it had moved out of the mud pit. And the blue, flat plains surrounding us. I wouldn't have traded the inconvenience for anything.
And when sun rose, we crossed the Zambezi river in a pathetically small ferry, so small that it had to take the bus and the passengers on separate trips. It was here, at six in the morning, that I realized that ground nuts were not a very good choice for breakfast.
We continued until 11 in the morning, when we finally reached Sesheke; I had entertained wandering around for awhile, but everyone asked me "you are going to Namibia, right?" to which I responded "yes," and they all pointed me down the road. After a wonderful chat with the Zambian exit police - it is surprising how friendly even the police are - I continued into Namibia. I was greeted by several Namibians; and on the leger of entries of people coming through this border post, I was the only westerner to have passed through in several days at least.
I was greeted by an African in German; one of the strangest things you might imagine is an African talking German. I responded, and I bet you that his German was only slightly better than mine. A ride with a border guard into the town of Katima Mulilo provided me with some information about the problems in the Caprivi Strip: it is okay to pass through the strip, despite the rebel and bandit activity, because they are giving a military escort to all vehicles passing through. Although, as one traveller pointed out to me later, a military escort might be too intimidating a proposition for your average tourist.




And oh, Namibia - suddenly the sand on the ground here is fine beach sand, and Katima Mulilo is a remote and dusty town; but extremely western. It could be Arizona or Florida if someone never told you that it was in fact Namibia.




An artisan was hassling me for quite awhile, so I finally stopped to talk to him. He was begging for me to buy something; tourism has dropped right off in Katima Mulilo - it used to be a good place to catch tourists passing through, but now they are rare. In the past few months there have been rebels and bandits coming through the town, having shootouts in the square. There are white people who live in the town, though. And it was a very quiet town during the afternoon that I visited.
I met many extremely friendly people again; the Namibians are just as friendly as the Zambians, and they all speak english, except they are larger than the Zambians and have colder eyes. A teenage boy showed me the way to the backpacker's hostel in the town, and didn't beg for any money from me - it was his pleasure to show me. A young boy also pointed the way to me earlier. I met the teenager the next morning as I was leaving, and we chatted. I wish these people the very best.








In the morning I waited around for a ride to the Ngoma bridge to Botswana; it would be too far to walk. There was a large group of women and girls gathering in the bus stop; they were organizing a march to raise awareness of women's rights. And it was not riotous at all; they all politely kept to one side of the road, behind the cop car designated to control them and their march. Good people. Very nice; it's just unfortunate that they're caught in a political trap because of the problems in Angola spilling over into the Caprivi strip.
My short stay in Namibia, about a day, was truly enlightening. The second country of my journey, and the people are just as friendly as the first. There is much better infrastructure here though; the villages of mud huts along the road to the Ngoma bridge actually have addresses, and there are ATMS and a few western style supermarkets here also. And as well, something else that caught my eye: an internet shop, and a gun shop. You can buy guns in Namibia. Perhaps here is the source of their bandits acquiring the equipment to practice their profession.





Into Botswana, and then back to Zambia
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