Mudumu National Park
The small, flat Mudumu National Park covers the eastern riverbank and floodplains of a meandering channel of the Kwando River. Signposting is virtually non-existent and there is only a handful of sandy tracks – some of which peter out into bush – that weave their way through mopane, wild syringa, leadwood and mangosteen, nearly all within the strip of land between the main road and the river itself. That said, you’re likely to have the place to yourself – apart from the police, who occupy a small outpost to keep a watchful eye on cross-border activity – especially if you spend the night in one of the three bush camps.
Birdwatching in the park is particularly rewarding; while dawdling along the river, watch out for African skimmers, cranes, storks, jacanas and ibis, while western-banded snake eagles can be sighted wheeling above. The water attracts larger visitors too: elephant and buffalo come to drink in large numbers, and roan and sable antelope and eland are also present. If you’re lucky, you might catch sight of a spotted-necked otter in the shallows. Consider also visiting the nearby Lizauli Traditional Village – well signposted off the main road to the north of the park – to learn more about Lozi traditional culture; it’s also an opportunity to purchase genuine local crafts.
Nkasa Rupara National Park
The many channels of water of the Kwando-Linyanti river system comprise Namibia’s largest protected wetland, Nkasa Rupara National Park (formerly Mamili), a mix of marshland, high reed beds and woodland savannah that collectively offer visitors an area rich in birdlife, with over 430 species. Elephant, buffalo – over one thousand – red lechwe, reedbuck and puku wade or jump through the reeds, while huge crocodiles, hippos and water monitor lizards occupy the shallows. Lions are also very much in evidence. The park is mostly inaccessible as many of its “tracks” are filled with water, and much of the area is flooded during the wettest months of the year – usually February and March – and when the floodwaters arrive from the Angolan highlands (which can be weeks later), and so is a true wilderness.
Crafts in the Zambezi Region
The Zambezi Region, like the neighbouring Kavango region, is renowned for its crafts, especially woodcarving and basketry. Over the last few years several centres have been established to showcase these skills and sell the fruits of the artisans’ labours as souvenirs to tourists. These have been encouraged by government as a means of sustainable development, though with varying degrees of success. However, the overall rise in visitor numbers to Namibia has increased the demand for crafts, resulting in more mass-produced items and fewer genuine, high-quality individually crafted pieces. Indeed, the selection varies little from place to place: walking sticks, wooden animals, baskets, clay pots, soapstone carvings and tie-dye textiles abound, with a smattering of jewellery across the craft shops. Designs often reflect the surrounding environment, also incorporating themes and techniques brought over from Zambia and Zimbabwe, while some items are straight imports from these neighbouring countries.
The northern Kalahari
Namibia’s slice of the northern Kalahari is very different to the southern Kalahari east of Mariental and Keetmanshoop: there, a series of linear red dunes ripples towards the border, receiving an average annual rainfall of less than 250mm, which results in shorter, scrubbier and sparser vegetation, typically grey camelthorn and shepherd’s tree. In contrast, as you move up into central and northern areas of the semi-desert, the duneveld gives way to flatter, paler sandveld, with more savannah grassland and a greater coverage of acacia trees and shrubs. Even further northwards and eastwards, the increase in rainfall – albeit erratic and localized – is aided by a network of omiramba (water courses) and a smattering of pans to create a landscape of taller trees and a denser canopy. There are also more broad-leaved species, such as purplepod terminalia, wild teak, wild syringa, mopane or marula. While some visitors are here to tackle this inhospitable environment – usually in convoys of 4WD vehicles armed with GPS, satellite phones and all manner of equipment to get you out of a scrape – most come to interact with the semi-desert’s most resilient inhabitants, the Ju|’hoansi San.
Khaudum National Park
A wild, unruly reserve, undeveloped for tourism, Khaudum National Park is probably the least frequented of Namibia’s protected areas – outside the Skeleton Coast Wilderness Area – visited more by elephants than people; just the place if you want a real wilderness adventure. Clinging to the Botswana border, this 3,842-square-kilometre expanse of Kalahari sandveld is, for the most part, a dense tangle of tree and shrub savannah, streaked with omiramba. These life-giving sandy valleys generally run west to east across the park, feeding into the Okavango in Botswana. It is along the two main omiramba that you’ve the best chance of seeing wildlife, from late August to October – once water has dried up in the clay pans and before the rains have started. There are twelve artificial waterholes and two natural springs, many of which have hides, where you can wait in safety for the animals to show up.
Hosting a wide variety of trees, in addition to the ubiquitous camelthorn and other acacias, Khaudum boasts substantial teak forests, patches of evergreen false mopane, leadwood, wild syringa and the occasional unmistakeable baobab. The thickness of the vegetation, however, makes wildlife-viewing tricky, though the occasional grassy clearing can be particularly rewarding as huge numbers of large mammals – including elephant (with a reputation for aggression) but also the less common roan antelope, eland and tsessebe – inhabit the area. Khaudum is also rich in predators, with plenty of leopard, lion and even wild dogs, though catching sight of them is a wholly different matter.
Birdlife is similarly prolific, with over 320 species: look out for colourful racket-tailed rollers, the russet belly of the African hobby falcon or the extraordinary turkey-size ground hornbill; further brightly coloured delights arrive in summer (Nov–April), including African golden orioles and carmine and blue-cheeked bee-eaters.
Progress through the park is glacially slow, as you have to force your way through deep sand the whole way – or mud if it has rained – probably having to clear away trees that have blown down or been uprooted by elephant. Khaudum is also heavy on fuel. Only if you are experienced at driving in these conditions, and you are fully armed with a GPS (and preferably a Tracks 4 Africa map and satellite phone) and are travelling in convoy with plenty of fuel, water and food, should you consider driving here. If all the above seems like too much work, or beyond your skills level or comfort zone, consider visiting on an excursion from Nhoma Camp or Tsumkwe Country Lodge.
Tsumkwe
After driving on autopilot along the C44, a seemingly interminable gravel road, for a full 220km, it’s easy to drive right through Tsumkwe before you even realize you’ve arrived. You certainly expect the place to be more substantial than the glorified crossroads that it is – enhanced by a short stretch of asphalt – though possibly no less forlorn. It’s a place where you do your business as fast as possible, then get out into the far more appealing surroundings. The main reason tourists trek all the way out here is to interact with the Ju|’hoansi (San), though for some it’s a stopover on the way to Khaudum National Park. Yet there are also a couple of scenic attractions in the area, too.
The Nyae-Nyae Conservancy Office, which should be your first port of call, is hidden behind a chain-link fence and a large tree on the right-hand side as you approach the crossroads, the ersatz village centre. Next to the office, G!hunku Crafts sells jewellery and artefacts from various settlements, and is worth supporting. Demand for Ju ostrich-shell jewellery is now so great that the conservancy has to import most of its ostrich shells from a farm in South Africa.
Despite having a fluctuating population of 500–800, Tsumkwe possesses a secondary school, which serves the 1500–2000 wider conservancy population, though few of the Ju|’hoansi complete their education. A couple of thinly stocked stores, a petrol station, a courthouse, police station, clinic, a handful of churches and shebeens, and a sprinkling of houses make up the rest of Tsumkwe.
Visiting a Ju|’hoansi community
There are several ways to visit a Ju|’hoansi community as an independent traveller. A major consideration is language. Within the Nyae-Nyae Conservancy, only three communities currently have English-speaking guides: at Doupos and Mountain Pos, around 8km and 12km south of Tsumkwe, respectively, as well as at the Little Hunter’s Living Museum in ||Xa||oba, 23km north of Tsumkwe. The conservancy office can give you directions. In addition, the living museum near Grashoek, off the C44 by the veterinary fence, was the first such set-up to be established in Namibia, in 2004, and so is used to receiving visitors. The living museums both have set prices for activities, given on their website, such as N$150 for a bushwalk, or N$200 for a whole four or more hours of mixed activities, which will generally be carried out in traditional animal skin clothing. Activities can include tracking, learning about medicinal plants, setting snares, hunting, making ostrich-shell jewellery, preparing food, storytelling and dancing. You’ll get the most out of your visit by being willing to join in and by learning at least a couple of phrases in Ju|’hoan from your hosts. Each museum has a “demonstration village” with the kind of “beehive” grass-covered wooden domed huts the San constructed when they practised a nomadic lifestyle, though if you stay a night or two, you may also be invited to their modern settlement. Be prepared for jeans and T-shirts, and makeshift shelters from sheets of plastic, as well as clay bricks, or breezeblocks and empty Coca-Cola bottles. Each of the living museums has a few nicely located campsites with well-maintained long-drop toilets, a tap, bucket showers and a fireplace. For both these places, you need no prior reservation.
Alternatively, you can stay at Nhoma Camp, where the lodge owners have lived and worked among the N||hoq’ma community for many years, and the experience is organized much more around the rhythm of the Ju|’Hoansi’s daily activities, rather than tourists picking and choosing what to do from a menu. There is no demonstration village and residents wear their normal everyday clothes.
In addition, several villages in the Nyae-Nyae conservancy have established community campsites – a couple under giant baobabs – though some have absolutely no facilities, not even a latrine. On arrival, you should ask permission to camp from one of the community elders. Traditionally the Ju|’Hoansi’s non-hierarchical social structure does not entail a headman, though pressure from outsiders wanting to negotiate with leaders has, over time, pushed some into these leadership positions. Establish what the camping rate is in advance (usually N$60–80/person). Note that wild camping is forbidden. Many of these settlements (which may only consist of around 20–25 people) with campsites are also beginning to invite tourists to join in foraging, hunting, cooking or craft-making activities. Women do the foraging, whereas men hunt. There may not, however, be anyone in the village who speaks English, so unless you have some Afrikaans, which some of the older Ju|’hoansi can speak, you’ll be reduced to sign language, though you could make enquires about engaging an interpreter at the conservancy office in Tsumkwe in advance. The conservancy has given the villages general guidelines about payment, which generally relates to fees for groups: N$1000 for a day’s activities, N$750 for a half-day.
When camping at a community site, make sure you take all rubbish away with you. You should also bring sufficient water, and preferably firewood, with you, as they may not be available, or cook on gas. Where there is a tap, be sparing with the water, and if wood is not available for purchase, you should not collect it from their precious supply. Alcohol is another sensitive issue; be discreet if you’re having a beer and do not drink in the presence of your hosts, as alcohol dependency is a problem in many Ju|’hoansi communities. All services and activities currently need to be paid for in cash; that said, bringing some food to share with your hosts, such as nuts, dried or fresh fruit, is welcome. Sweets are not helpful, given the lack of dental care available, though you’ll find sugar, tea and tobacco are common purchases in the general store. Excessive tipping is also ill-advised as it disturbs the economic equilibrium within and among communities, creating jealousies and raising expectations that subsequent visitors may not be able to fulfil. Photography is another delicate topic; if you want to take photographs, make sure you ask about the etiquette before you bring out your camera.
A visit to almost any community almost always concludes with an invitation to purchase some crafts; these usually have labels with fair, set prices; haggling is not customary. Choose from exquisitely made ostrich-shell necklaces and bracelets, as well as bows, quivers and arrows, small leather pouches decorated with more shells and, best of all, love bows – these miniature blunt arrows are traditionally fired at a young woman’s buttocks by an aspiring suitor, and she indicates her response either by picking up the arrow and clasping it to her bosom, or letting it lie in the dust.
The origin of Namibia’s panhandle: the Caprivi Strip
The reason the anomalous Zambezi Region or Caprivi Strip belongs to Namibia goes back to a colonial barter in 1890, in which Germany persuaded Britain to accept the islands of Zanzibar and Heligoland (a small archipelago off northern Germany) in exchange for this sliver of land, which was then part of Bechuanaland (present-day Botswana). Keen to gain access to the Zambezi and create a riverine trade route that would connect with the Indian Ocean, the Germans seemingly overlooked the very substantial obstacle to such a plan: the Victoria Falls. This stumbling block, however, turned out to be irrelevant, since defeat in World War I meant the Germans had scarcely set foot in the area before they were forced to hand it over to South Africa – though not before naming the strip of land after the then German Chancellor, General Count Georg Leo von Caprivi di Caprara di Montecuccoli, which was mercifully shortened to Caprivi.
The strip’s strategic potential, given its location at the confluence of five countries, repeatedly put it at the forefront of a succession of conflicts, and led to the development of the region’s eventual capital, Katima Mulilo, which soon became a garrison town. In 1964, in opposition to South Africa’s apartheid policies, the Caprivi African National Union (CANU) – a movement pushing for Caprivi self-governance – joined forces with SWAPO to fight for Namibian independence with the proviso (so they say) that once it was secured, Caprivi could itself be independent – a deal that SWAPO vehemently denies. Discontent about alleged discrimination against Caprivians and repeated calls for Caprivi self-rule simmered throughout the independence struggle and beyond, though matters didn’t boil over into full-scale conflict until 1999, when an attack on Katima by the Caprivi Liberation Army (CLA) – the military wing of the secessionist movement – provoked intervention by the security forces. Several deaths resulted, abuses were committed by both sides, and many civilians were forced to flee. In the end, 121 separatists were arrested and put on trial for treason – a trial that dragged on for around 12 years and which received much criticism from human rights groups. A verdict was finally reached at the end of 2015; the final tally was: 79 not guilty, 30 guilty, while 12 had died in custody. Most of those found guilty have appealed against their sentencing to the Supreme Court, while the Namibian state, in turn, intends to appeal against the acquittals, which is rather ironic given their lack of interest in pursuing similar crimes committed during the independence struggle.
In the meantime, Caprivi has controversially been renamed Zambezi, arguably part of the ongoing erasure of colonial names, though opponents of the name change argued that it was another attempt by SWAPO to undermine Caprivi identity and stifle any further secessionist ambitions.