Almost in Angola - Under African Skies by Sara John
It was about 5-30 in the early evening but dusk was already falling. We were all dusty and a little tired. We were so far, it seemed, from anywhere. All we could see out of the windows of our vehicle was scrubland, flat very flat scrubland. No buildings, no water sources, no power plants, no lights. No one mentioned it but everyone was concerned with what we hoped would be our evening refreshments, washing facilities and sleeping arrangements. No one felt it was appropriate to ask. No one spoke up. We had been travelling north, since early morning, from Windhoek the capital of recently independent Namibia and heading for Etosha, an enormous Nature Reserve, the size, we had been told, of England, with only an area the size of Surrey, enclosing a vast salt pan frequently but not always, open to visitors. We were in a comfortable Dormobile with eight other guests and two guides, one a botanist and the other a specialist in creatures of all castes, colours and countries. Namibia (labelled German South West Africa in your old school atlas) had been placed under mandate to South Africa by the League of Nations after the Great War. Eventually plans for Independence had come to fruition in 1990 . My husband had recently completed a report on aspects of the management of the Namibian Broadcasting Organisation This was a nation with at least a dozen recognised languages including at least one which was not written. On Independence it was agreed that English should be the universal national language. His report being completed I flew out to join him for a holiday there. I could not wait to start this new adventure. By now we were far from anywhere following a long substantial unpaved road. We felt we were in good safe hands, (armed safe hands that is). Our two guides took turns to drive and with binoculars always at the ready, spotted birds which we would otherwise have missed seeing. In this location they were often Cape Doves, quiet and gentle. Or, very distant airborne vultures, busy as always keeping the place clean and tidy. As they had been heard to say, “well someone has to do it”. I was, at this juncture, introduced to the military system of identifying where a particular bird (or alien aircraft?) was in the sky, and you had to be quick about it, by referring to an imaginary clock face. I heard myself informing the others (we had not had a chance as yet of introducing ourselves, that would come later) with a combination of words I would have never thought I would say, “Vulture at two o’clock.” On we went, then the driver suddenly stopped the
24 CARDIFF TIMES
vehicle, and there was, all of a sudden from nowhere, a local man standing on the side of the road waving at us. He had a basket full of items for sale. What could he possibly be selling such a distance from any settlements, farms, or houses? The guide got out, clearly knowing who the man was and what his business was. The guide made his purchase and turning around to his astounded passengers, waved aloft the biggest egg in the known world. An ostrich egg, just the one. Sufficient, said the guide, for a tasty omelette for a dozen people. The egg seller had already disappeared back into nowhere. Note to self about the day so far. You, (meaning me) happily posing as a smartypants when watching University Challenge KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ANYTHING. I kept all questions about the possibility of a baby ostrich being inside the egg, it was certainly big enough to house a kindergarten of young ones, to myself. Along with a great number of other things I was wondering about. By now it was dark. Very dark. Were we lost? How would we know? Were we innocents being kidnapped? Who would pay the ransom? Had the heat earlier in the day affected my normal common sense? Too much imagination again, a tale to tell, nay a possible serial? For radio? Maybe our vehicle has a radio connection to ‘somewhere’? No one worried about mobile phones or
