“The most tragic thing I know about human nature is that all of us tend to put off living.  We are all dreaming of some magical rose garden over the horizon instead of enjoying the roses that are blooming outside our windows today.” 

I recently traveled to the North and left my small town of Otavi for Rundu.  Although Otavi is in the North Central region of Namibia, it is south of the Red Line, which defines north Namibia. 

The Red Line, a veterinary control fence, was initially created to separate the commercial cattle ranches of the south from the communal subsistence lands of the north and prevent the spread of foot-and-mouth disease.  The fence bars the north-south movement of animals and animals bred north of the line may not be sold to the south or exported to overseas markets.  However, this line effectively created a boundary between apartheid rule, standard of the colonial regime in south Namibia, and essentially left the north undeveloped.

The difference is staggering; upon crossing the Red Line the landscape changes from lodges, quaint German architecture, and farms to dense brush, baobab trees, and mud huts.  However, Rundu, which overlooks the Okavango River to Angola, touts modern amenities, such as running water and electricity, which are still lacking in the small villages. 

Were it not for the threat of crocodiles, landmines, and administrative separation from PC I would have considered a cool swim across the river to visit the shores of Angola.  I did not count on the fact that Rundu is perceivably hotter than Otavi with a multitude of malaria-ridden mosquitoes vying for my blood.  Thank goodness I take my doxy diligently as a fellow PCV is now convinced he has malaria coursing through his veins.  My diagnosis? Hypochondria. Last month he thought he had TB.

Though my time in Rundu was pleasant, the trip itself was an experience of its own.  It was my first opportunity to freehike solo across the country.  As my supervisor is not enthusiastic about freehiking, I paid for a hike to Grootfontein and stopped for a quick lunch with a fellow PCV.  We then walked to the hike point and waited… and waited… and waited.  Apparently Groot is not as effortless to get a freehike as Otavi. 

Two hours later I scored a ride in a bakkie with three Owambo men who were not afraid to exceed the posted speed limit but were decidedly interested in livestock.  In fact we stopped the bakkie a couple of times to watch the herders walk the cattle to pasture.  They were a friendly crew but not particularly talkative and we made it to Rundu in record time despite the unscheduled excursions to gaze at our longhorn friends. 

My return hike was decidedly more interesting; I grabbed a ride in an air-conditioned Mercedes with a doctor from Katima Mulilo traveling with a female friend from Zambia.  He filled the three-hour journey with stories about his time abroad with the Red Cross in Asia, studying for his medical degree in Europe, and sharing stories about the preparations for the tourist lodge he was building in Zambia.  His friend, a sweet woman on vacation in Namibia for the week, invited me to stay in contact with her via email.  Who knows, when I’m next in Zambia, I may have a place to stay. 

It is trips like these that make me look forward to my future travel adventures.