Damaraland

As we left the animals of Etosha and headed for Damaraland we knew immediately the new awestriking sights would be landscapes. The expansive salt pan flats gradually turned into towering rocky mountains laden with huge boulders. We were dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the scenery!

Our truck stopped by a petrified tree forest where, eagerly perched in the middle nowhere, sat street sellers with their crudely carved wares in the hope tourists just might turn up. After that we visited an ancient valley lined with huge red boulders with ancient carvings that gave some insight into the life and travels of the ancestral tribes.

On our way to camp we also stopped by the incredible "organ pipes" marked only by a tiny hand-painted signpost staked at the side of the road. Anywhere else in the world these vertical shots of volcanic rock, frozen forever to resemble huge organ pipes rising out of the ground, would be a national treasure. But hey, this Namibia, where every bend is more beautiful than the last.

But the absolute standout for me was visiting a Living Museum. This invaluable cultural initiative by the government is the erection of working villages that recreate the ancient cultures of each tribe. The present descendants now earn a living reliving the lifestyle of their ancestors, in turn keeping the teachings alive. They make no secret of the fact that they no longer live like this, but these living museums allow the tribes to resuscitate the lifestyles and ebbing traditions of their past, while connecting the children with lost heritage, all while providing an income for the tribe.

We were greeted by a beautiful Namibian woman with flawless English, as well as 5 of the most dazzling children's faces I have ever seen. As we weaved through the village we learned about traditional medicines, metal working, beading, firemaking, even forms of entertainment. We had our faces painted ocre to protect us from the sun, and we enjoyed a wonderful dance by the women of the village. All for just a few dollars.

But the standout for me was the children. One tiny baby did not stop giggling the whole time as he lay naked and merry on an animal pelt besides the beading women. The older children were so proud to show us around, taking our hands and dancing their way from hut to hut. I was especially touched by the affectionate relationships between the men and the children. I have noticed this throughout eastern and southern Africa - the men are so hands on with the children, cuddling and playing with them, and teaching them constantly. It's beautiful to see. I bought a resin covered Mopani tree branch from their makeshift little shop and gave them a big, genuine hug to show them how sad I was to say goodbye.

That night we stayed in a basic little campsite that was brought alive by some local woman, and a few men, who came and sang around our bonfire. We whooped especially loud for the Amarula song (our favorite African spirit) and giggled at the Toyota "beep beep" song, with accompanying dance.

That night I'd sought out the only private shower, or so I thought, until I was forced to share it with a rather stubborn little mouse who refused to vacate. Once again the little creatures in Africa make the fondest memories too!

Love to my little Bear

Xxx