Ruacana Falls Weekend

On Friday I caught a ride with Mr. Kandjengo, my neighbour and colleague, to Oshakati where I was to meet up with some of my fellow volunteers, Chris, Chloe, Emily and Aleks, before we made our way to Ruacana for a weekend of camping! Chris and Chloe, a couple from Victoria, B.C. (fellow UVic Alum...ya Vikes!) leased a car for their year here and were kind enough to secure me a seat for the 2-hour drive to Ruacana in their adorable little Volkswagen. Squished into the little car with our gear piled high we made our way north, past areas of serious flooding, with water mere feet from the roads on both sides. Houses, huts and buildings inches and feet-deep in water and livestock crowding the roads and wading through the oshanas (bodies of floodwater). Bleak comes to mind, but only scratches the surface in trying to describe some of the worst of the flooded areas.

Upon arriving in Ruacana we pulled into a gas station, where Tomas, Rachel, Carmen and Will were waiting for us. The first group piled into the car to go to the camp site, while the second group waited at the gas station for Chris to return and make another trip. I volunteered to be in the second group, having spotted "icrecream with chocolate sauce" on a laminated menu sitting on one of the gas station's tables - somethings never change. The icecream was everything I dreamed it would be and more, but was hardly the only extravagance to behold at this particular oasis. Also to be found...Coke Zero, whiskey (no, I did not partake, but it's always a good thing to know!), kittens (real fluffy kittens...just past the rodent-looking stage where they start to actually be cute) and, get this, temporary glittery fairy tattoos. Just what every travelling Namibian, or tourist, needs. Obviously Carmen and I considered the N$17.50 for the tats well worth it.

The camp site was amazing. To be honest I had very low expectations of what a Namibian camping destination would be like, but I was blown away. Our site was spotlessly clean, on level ground, had a concrete "gathering circle"(?!) where we would eat and play games, socialize etc and large trees perfect for setting up tents under. All of this situated twenty yards away from a croc-infested river. Sadly, crocs are incredibly stealth and capable of going about their business inconspicuously so there were no campsite croc sightings. The bathroom facilities were spotlessly clean and well maintained- not by outdoor African toilet and shower standards, by any camping standards. There was HOT WATER. Only in Africa do you have to go camping in the wilderness tin order to have a hot shower. The showers alone were worth the site fee. We were the only campers at the campground (if you don't count the three Korean men who were randomly passing through fishing); it was perfect.

Perfect if you don't count the fact that it rained/drizzled for the majority of our two-day stay. The darkness that joins evening comes very quickly, and fully. We spent the first night sitting around our concrete circle in the rain and pitch blackness playing Mafia, a murder mystery game that entertained us for a good two hours. We retired at about 10 (we volunteers are a real wild bunch) for the night, exhausted from travel and life in general. I'd love to tell you that I slept like a baby. I love falling asleep to the sound of the rain. More specifically I love falling asleep to the sound of the rain when I am dry and cozy inside. Two adult volunteers sleeping on the hard ground in a child-sized tent with the world's smallest fly and no tarp in the muggy African rain was less than pleasant. Damp and sticky. I spent the entire night perfectly aware that I was damp and sticky, but unable to determine how much of it was water, how much was sweat, and how much was a water vapour from my breathing and the environment desperately trying to evaporate the wetness but having no exit route from the inside of the tent. There was very little sleep to be had. At six when I woke up I was sadistically pleased that most of my companions shared in my experience. The hot showers helped very much in remedying the morning drowsiness.

We had a slow morning of having breakfast, taking excessively long showers and reading or playing nerdy card and board games. The down time seemed to be exactly what everyone needed. At about noon we took two car-loads up to the falls, about a ten minute car ride away from our site. I guess you could say we technically left Namibia, because we went through the Namibian border security which consisted of a few Namibians sitting on the front porch of a government building asking us where we were from, us replying Canada/U.S. and then being given no further attention. Airtight security. Having crossed the Namibian border we made our way to the falls in no-man's-land, along the barbed-wire fence separating us from Angola. So, while I have never actually been to Angola, I have seen it and, had I had the guts, could have probably touched it.

The Falls were beautiful. The water level wasn't especially high, but there was enough water flowing for the view to be pretty amazing. The Kunene region is a lot more lush than what I am used to in Omusati. It's very green, with rolling hills and fertile terrain. From where we were all you could see for miles was green and alive- you would never guess that the vast majority of this country was an arid desert. We followed a set of stairs that ran alongside a large pipe, in which you could hear-and almost feel-water rushing through, to the base of the falls. The pipe had me somewhat nervous on the way down due to the general state of disrepair of the stairs and broken handrails and the fact that it was already leaking, resulting in a wet and slippery descent. There were over 500 stairs in total, so needless to say the descent was much less formidable than the climb back up. At the base we relaxed, climbed along the rocks and watched a group of vervet monkeys playing from afar. It was here that I also had my first croc sighting! Okay, so I didn't actually see the crocodile, but I saw it's ripple. As aforementioned crocodiles are sly and sneaky devils and do their best to be remain undetected. I took some pictures of the suspicious ripple though and confirmed its crocodile status with the use of my zoom and digital editing. Nothing escapes me.

That night for dinner we had veggie burgers and beans and potatoes, followed up by some more relaxation and Mafia in the dark. We were interrupted mid-murder mystery by the screaming of the dam alarm. Recalling a sign that mentioned something about an alarm, rising water, and evacuating, we all scrambled to grab just our essentials (passports/wallets/cameras) and leave the site for higher ground. A few minutes into the chaos, in a rare moment of lucidity and rational thinking I realized that the sign (which also happened to be posted at the campsite next to ours) was a warning about swimming conditions and that the alarm warned of risks of sudden rises in water level. It would take copious amounts of water for the river to swell all the way up to our site. After some deliberation we called the rest of the group back to the site and decided just to keep an eye on the water level as a precaution. In the end we barely noticed the water having risen much at all. I think that the most unnerving thing about the whole situation was how aware we were of all that we didn't know. How does one react to the sudden boom of an alarm at a remote campsite in Africa? What, exactly, is protocol if you fear that you may be suddenly overcome with water from the nearby dammed waterfalls? (It might be important to note that Angola is notorious for maintaining dams on the rivers and bodies of water at the Angolan-Namibian border so as to reap all the benefits (fish, power, water etc) and then openning the dams during flood season, spreading and exacerbating the floods and devastation in Africa). The panic and frantic scramble paired with the lack of overall threat is the stuff that great blog entries are made of, so naturally I was thrilled and looked forward to relaying our experience to everyone back home.

Upon settling ourselves back down we played a few more rounds of Mafia and then called it a night. I slept about as well the second night as I did the first..knowing that I had a hot shower to wake up to was the only thing keeping me going.

The next morning we packed up and said our good byes then made our way back to our sites. I returned to Oshakati with Chris, Chloe, Aleks and Emily. I got some groceries and then caught a taxi home to Okahao. I was shocked to see just how much water had come down over the weekend. Water bordered both sides of the road and had, at one point, washed out the road completely. We only just barely made it past. Houses and cars were feet-deep in water and the locals were fishing. Yes, fishing. Much of the floodwater is overflow from rivers which builds up in the oshanas and low-lying lands. The locals then use nets and lines to catch the floodwater fish and sell them in the markets or alongside the road. They are thrilled to have fish-it's the one positive thing that comes from flooding. It completely grosses me out. For some reason the thought of eating catfish-looking creatures swimming in stagnant floodwater among livestock and over top of garbage and animal feces doesn't particularly appeal to me. To the locals however, it is the one blessing that comes with the devastation of flooding, so I ought to try my best not to belittle it too much.

As of yesterday there are 38 schools closed in the Omusati region alone, and that number is predicted to increase, as we continue to receive rain daily. I will keep you posted. I pray that it doesn't get worse- I can't stand the thought of floodwater catfish becoming a staple in my diet.