Our small 2-wheel drive Yaris was driving down the back country Namibian dirt road when we came across a camping sign. All four of us (the two Swedes we were traveling with and us) were exhausted and looking for a place to stay anyway, so we cruised up the long residential, narrow, dusty road when we came upon a house nestled amongst several trees. There was a young Namibian in his mid 20’s who we first spoke with. He stood about 5′10″, had extremely pronounced cheek bones, and through his tattered clothing I could see his small set frame. We let him know we were looking for a place to rest and were wondering the price. He didn’t speak much English, but we were able to agree on the price for camping on their land. Upon our agreement, he set off on a quick jog toward a large area of bushes and trees 800m away. We couldn’t understand where he was going until 15 minutes later, when he back back with two women. It was then that I realized these people didn’t live in the house that we pulled up to. Their house must be hidden beyond the bushes.

After speaking with the woman who spoke English best, we realized that they were caretakers of the land. They watched over the main house while the owner, an older German woman, was away. Chris and I wanted to understand their lifestyle better so we invited them for dinner. The head woman rejected since they had three children in addition to four adults, but we insisted they join us and finally they agreed. We would all meet in the owner’s lodge for dinner at 6:30pm.

We didn’t have much time to settle in, set up camp, and begin cooking before 6:30pm rolled around. The Namibian’s began to arrive around the lodge table. They were quiet but seemed eager to have the company. The women brought juice for the table while the main man of the household, Sydney, helped us light candles for the table (we had no electricity). We all decided to make pasta with meatballs because it was one of the heartiest meals we had in our food supply and we imagined they would enjoy eating meat (even if it was from a can). Upon sitting down, we all awkwardly crammed around this non-geometrically shaped small rock table. Eleven of us remained fairly quiet until after we began eating our food. We had small conversations throughout the first serving of dinner however we could tell that dinner is not a social activity with them. It is a way of life. By their second and third helping of dinner, the family began to open up about themselves and their Namibian traditions.

Sydney and his wife were the main man and woman of the household. They had two small children ages 3 and 1. Sydney’s sister Bianca and his cousin George also lived with them in their apparently tiny house with Bianca’s small 1 year old. We learned so many fascinating things about their lifestyle:

• They all survive off of Sydney’s income which he makes monthly from the German owner. Therefore, meat is rare in their diet and most of their meals consists of a traditional porridge.
• When speaking with each other, they used their native language, which is a Khoisan dialect of the African Bantu language. It involves using different clicks of the mouth to communicate. It is truly fascinating to hear!
• They do not own a vehicle of any kind therefore, when they make runs to the grocery store or post office, they plan it well in advance. The closest small town providing a post office and a market is 80km away so they only go to the market every 5-6 weeks. Usually, they can ask their neighbors for a ride or if they don’t have one lined up in advance, they can try to hitch a ride the day of. The only problem is that the road they live on in small and sparsely traveled, so often times they may wait all day for a ride into town and back.
• They would like their children to go to school however with the school also being 80km away, it seems impossible to have them attend. Therefore, Sydney may decide to home school them which is common for many families in their area.

Later that evening, the Swedish med students asked about vaccinations and diseases and how they deal with them. Surprisingly, they were uninformed on the mosquito diseases in the area, how they are contracted, and how the body deals with vaccinations. It shocked me! I wondered how they dealt with sickness if they were uncertain of what it was but then they explained their holistic medicine approach. Should they have an upset stomach, headache, aches or pains in the body, they grind up an ostrich egg shell, oryx liver, and aardvark droppings, and consume the powder. They swore that that they’d always feel better the next day.

It dawned on me over dinner that while we lived lifestyles that were worlds apart, but they were still some of the most down to Earth people I have met yet. All of them were grateful, hospitable, and humble for what they had in life. They welcomed us with open arms into their home, their culture, their family and their lifestyles. In return, they soaked up the information we shared with them regarding US lifestyles, medical practices, education, etc. The night turned out to be more than I could have ever asked for.

I love driving, and even more, I love driving fast! In fact, back in the states, the only things I hate about driving are traffic and that the high cost of a speeding prevents me from cruising at my desired speed.

After renting our Toyota Yaris in South Africa, it never occured to me that I might be able to cut loose on the open road. You see, all over Cape Town there are signs warning of speed cameras ahead. Although I never actually saw one of the alleged speed cameras, it was enough of a deterant to keep me driving just more than a few kph over the speed limit.

Then we crossed the border… I had read in the Namibia guidebook that speeding tickets cost only $1 per km over the limit, which meant at a absolute maximum (given the Yaris’ performance) we’d be looking at a fine of ~$70. Combining that with the roughly 0.1% chance of actually seeing speed checkpoint (based on conversations with people who had driven through Namibia), I felt comfortable going whatever speed I wanted.

The first few hours were on an open paved road quite far from wildlife, so I could literally floor the gas pedal and go as fast as the car allowed. What an incredible feeling! Driving without constantly monitoring the speedometer is how it should always be. In fact, not worrying about my speed or police down the road made me even more aware of the road conditions and my surroudings.

About 10 days later, we arrived in Etosha National Park, where at the main building they had the recently revised speeding fines posted. Evidently the $80 ticket from before the guidebook was written now cost over $500 plus a court visit. I guess I was quite lucky we hadn’t been pulled over yet. Despite that we never once saw a police vehicle for the rest of the trip, we kept ourselves to a more reasonable speed.

I’ll never forget how enjoyable driving is when you don’t have to worry about your speed. Looks like I’ll have to wait until I’m on the autobahn in Germany to enjoy it that much again!

I will remember Candy for the rest of my life. Not for what he looks like or what his occupation is, but for the we way he opened his heart and home to us along our journey through Namibia. We first met Candy across the road from his homestead under a large tree shadowing the village bottle shop. We introduced ourselves, chatted for a bit and then Candy pointed us in the direction of his homestead. We drove our little Yaris across the street and into the fenced in area which to my surprise housed five small mud huts. The huts used few branches to frame the outside of the mud packed walls. The mud had began crumbling in some areas creating holes in the walls large enough for a hyena to sneak through. Candy is 22 and attending 10th grade this year (we we’re introduced to him by his teacher Kerri, with whom we happened to be Couchsurfing the night before). His younger sister also attends a local school approximately 3km away from their land. Candy’s brother and grandmother are both unemployed so the only way they make money is when Candy’s Aunt sells milk from her cows and shares the proceeds. Candy was born and raised on this homestead and now lives there occupying one hut, while his sister, his brother, and his grandmother occupy the other three. The fifth hut has been empty since his uncle passed. There is a small, low grass-thatched hut situated between two of the mud huts where a fire was still smoldering.

Candy began to paint us the picture of his village life immediately. We first joined him to go and collect fresh water from the clinic 5km away. There were two fresh water spouts in his village for its entire population, neither one being extremely close to his homestead. Usually, he would walk there with two large empty containers, fill them up, and carry them back… 5km away!

Once we filled the water and returned it back to the homestead we set out on foot where Candy showed us around his village. He took us to one of the infamous cooka shops where the villagers produce a grainy, tart, traditional alcoholic beverage. Candy mentioned it’s a very popular place to hang out during the day for for the high percentage of people not working (it gives them something to do during the day). Candy then showed us the small convenience store that villagers visit whenever they have money, which is sporadic and infrequent. Until then, they try to survive with the little they have.

That night for dinner, Candy taught us how to make mahango porridge over the fire which he prepares and eats every day, three times a day. Usually, he will include a soup mix or a local relish from the bush to dip the porridge in. We all sat around the fire and enjoyed the small meal with him. Afterwards, we sat idly around the fire (still somewhat hungry) on disintegrating cinder blocks and old paint cans chatting about village life and answering Candy’s constant questions about the US. Chris began showing him pictures of the US, our families, etc and he was in complete awe. I could not tell if he was more impressed with the photos or the iPhone we used to show him.

The next morning, we all indulged in more porridge and said our goodbyes. Candy thanked us several times for sharing his meal with him and allowing him to share with us his village lifestyle. He was so proud to share his customs, his homestead and the village life. Upon driving away from his homestead, I remember looking back and being humbled by the experience. Those who say the village life is so simple overlooks several key factors. Their agendas may not be filled with breakfast meetings, running errands, soccer practice, and vacations, but they are focused on the hard work of day to day living. He appreciates the laid back lifestyle of showing his guests around, chatting with his friends, living off the land, and attending to the chores of his homestead. It surprised me with how long it took us to do basic stuff such as retrieving clean water. I’ve never in my life appreciated the things we take for granted (running water, electricity, and plentiful foods) so much. THANK YOU CANDY FOR THE AMAZING EXPERIENCE!

(Not sure why this was never published, but it was from back in South Africa)

People tend to think that if they decide to go camping as they travel, that they have to lug all of the equipment with them from the get go. On the contrary, I’ve realized that it’s much easier to buy your equipment at your destination of choice (pending you’re flying into a city). Asking locals for cheap places to find these items (whether they be dollar stores, used sporting goods stores, etc.) opened up a whole new (and much cheaper) purchasing experience for us. Below are the essentials that we’ve included on our camping list:

• Tent (used at a sporting goods store)
• Sleeping bags
• Ground pads
• Mosquito candle
• Silverware
• Plates, cups, bowls
• Small stove + 10kg gas tank
• Pots
• Soap
• Sponge
• Cooking utensils
• Aluminum foil
• Toilet paper
• Lighter
• Select food items

The best part is, when we are done camping, we can sell the items back to a used sporting goods store or we can barter them off for rides, goods, food, etc.

We had driven over a thousand miles in our 2-wheel drive Toyota Yaris for three reasons: Sossusvlei, the Skeleton Coast, and Etosha. Our first destination was Sossusvlei and upon leaving Cape Town, I had the excitement and anticipation of the sand dunes pumping through my veins. The drive is not exactly convenient or easy from Cape Town to Sesriem (the town just outside of Sossusvlei), and towards the end of the drive I was begining to question whether the dodgy dirt roads and dents in the car would be worth the satisfaction of feeling the orange sand between my toes. It had been several days by the time we reached Sosssusvlei and by the time we had made it to Sesriem, we were all most excited about the cheap rental car having made it with no issues. There was not enough time to check out Sossusvlei that day so we stayed at a campsite 40km away.

The next morning, we were up and in the car by 5am to get in the line (aka the queue) for enterence into Sossusvlei. We waited for the gates to open until 6am and when they finally did, we went to turn on the car realizing to our horror that the car was dead. Nooooooo! Car after car passed by us as we sat there trying to wave someone down. What were we thinking… no one was going to stop and help us. They had waken up just as early as we had to try to make it to see the sunrise over the dunes. Luckily, Chris had come up with an alternative. He sat in the car as the three of us got behind the car and began pushing towards the gate. Slowly, we built up speed and just when we thought that it wouldn’t work, Chris stepped on the gas, and popped the clutch out with enough speed to start the car!!! YES! Having only lost 20 minutes, we hurridly purchased our permit inside the gate and was on our drive through Sossusvlei. Sixty kilometers later, the road had ended and we decided to park and walk towards the largest dunes 5km ahead. The sun was rising as we began our climb onto the largest dune. The African sun hit the dunes perfectly creating a god-like orange hue on the sand. The shadows exaggerated the perfectly edged lines of the dunes creating unique shadows to each mound of sand. The hike upward drew on as the sun baked the earth. Not yet all the way up, we stopped to strip down to our bottom most appropriate layer. It was then that I recognized that the sun burns so hot during the days that it scorched the sand. The sunny side of the dunes showed a black hue on the surface from the heat of the sun’s rays. ‘Did I bring enough water with me?’ I thought as I wiped sweat off my forehead. This hike had better be worth it.

Reaching the top turned out to be more than worth it. It was breath taking! More so, it was one of the most amazing things that I’ve ever seen in my life. The orange hued sand contrasted dramatically against the bright tourquoise blue sky. There were few green shrubs that managed to survive the heat of the sun below. In certain areas where water would collect at the base of the dunes were white sand floors. From above the white sand pools looked like a winter’s lake frosted over with snow. The sand dunes extended in all directions for as long as we could see. It was brilliant, beautiful, breathtaking, energizing, and peaceful. Enjoying the scene, the four of us took off our shoes, put our toes in the sand and enjoyed this once in lifetime view.

Photo taken from Izla Kaya (izla on Flickr)

We were driving between the Skeleton Coast and Kamanjab when we drove through a small little village carved into the edge of a rocky hill along the dust covered dirt road. It always interests me in whitnessing other’s lifesyles, ways of transportation, careers, and education so I stared out the window intently hoping this villiage would be able to provide some insight for me as to what it’s like as we passed by. The first sight I experienced will be blazed into my mind forever. We had come to a T in the unmanaged dusty dirt road with a sign giving directions to two towns. Under the sign were a group of boys no older than ten years old. As we had stopped in front of the sign, three of the boys began running towards our car, barely clothed, minimal meat on their small set frame, and no shoes on their feet rubbing their bellies asking for food. They chased after our car, sprinting along with their small bare feet on the rocky unpaved roads asking for food. The pain in their eyes was unbearable. It was heartwrenching. I wanted to stop and cradle them in my arms. I wanted to stop and give them a hearty meal. I wanted to stop and give them money. I wanted to stop, hug them and tell them everything would be okay. I wanted to stop and understand their pain. But stopping wasn’t an option for us. Our gas gauge had been running on empty half way up the Skeleton Coast and the last thing we could do is stop and get stranded in a place with no fuel stations, much less cars. As we drove further through the small town, I peered out the window to see extremely small houses… no, extremely small outhouse-sized shacks in which a whole family lived in. The goats and cows roamed freely and the best mode of transportation I saw was a man with his two sons riding a half broken down wagon pulled by a donkey. There were no signs of work, therefore there were no signs of making money to live. There was no farming to provide food because the land was too dusty, dry and hot. There were men, women and children alike sitting along side the road. Some of them were sitting in the dirt, some of them were standing peering out with lifeless eyes. There was a family trying to hitch a ride to the next closest town. It made me wonder what it was that had them needing to go to the other town. There was a small school burried between the village’s living areas. The school was tiny and didn’t look adequate enough to house and educate the children and people of its community. Where did the teachers learn the information to share with their students? So many questions ran through my mind as something dawned on me. These people are living on land that is not suitable for farming, not large enough to bring in revenue, not easily accessible to bring in goods and people, and not connected enough to make people aware of their issues. Meanwhile, I was concerned about running out of fuel to make it to the next town?!?!? My mindset changed in an instant. I was instantly happy to have an adequate roof over my head, shoes on my feet, food in my belly, and a family who has raised me and given me everything I’ve ever needed to be successful. It was then that I promised myself to be more flexible, more understanding, more positive and most of all more gracious for the people and things that I have been given in life.