It seems as if everyone is going to Namibia these days. Wesley Snipes is hiding out from the IRS; Brad and Angelina have been and gone. But when she announced she was headed for Namibia to have her baby, born in June, many clucked their disapproval: Why Namibia? Stereotypes of Third World poverty and unsanitary conditions made the decision seem perversely attention-grabbing.
A better question is, why not Namibia?
During an April interview with NBC’s Ann Curry conducted in the Southwest African nation, Jolie made plain that she is not a novice traveler and that any attention she seeks is for her Teach the Children program. She knows how starkly beautiful Namibia is. Jolie and Brad Pitt have probably been to remote lodges at the edge of Etosha National Park, one of the best game reserves on the continent or climbed the great red dunes at Seisrim.
Besides the natural beauty to lure the globetrotting actors, Namibia’s anti-paparazzi laws are strong, and first-world medical facilities are available in Swakopmund on the Atlantic coast, a few kilometers from the resort town of Langstradt where the couple was living.
Namibia, a German colony until World War I, then a protectorate of South Africa until its independence in 1990, is larger than Texas but smaller than Alaska. Its official language is English, its government is stable and its infrastructure is good enough to allow for a self-drive safari. From the magnificent elephants of Etosha, to stark deserts (Namib and Kalahari), to coastal tidal pools filled with pink flamingos, Namibia offers a variety of terrain and wildlife. What it doesn’t have is many people, about 2-million total or six people per square mile. Maybe that’s what’s attracted Brangelina.
The interest in Namibia spurred by the golden couple’s interest got me thinking about two trips I have made to this natural wonderland. The first was in 1997 when I was a Senior Fulbright Scholar to Stellenbosch, South Africa, and the second was a self-guided adventure a year ago. I wasn’t there to have a baby, but still, it was a memorable experience.
Last year’s journey began with the 25-minute drive from the airport into the capital, Windhoek, population 250,000. We were greeted with a good road, few cars and wide-open, semi-arid rocky terrain. Then a bright and tidy modern city appeared. It offered a few four-star hotels, modest guest houses, good shopping and a scattering of restaurants with continental, especially German cuisine. Feeling like old Namibia-philes because my husband and I had been there once, we passed through Windhoek, stopping only for groceries. Most meals were to be at lodges or guesthouses, but we had gotten a “self-catering” cottage at Etosha and had visions of being typical Namibian meat-eaters by barbequing kudu steak.
By late afternoon, we were close to our first stop at Frans Indongo Lodge. We had to leave the macadam road of broken stone and bump another 20 or so miles over a washboard dirt one. With dusk coming on, the guinea fowl popping out of the bush at our fenders and no signage, we wondered whether our adventures might include a night spent in the car. In the middle of nowhere, we saw the thatched entry-way. The manager whisked us to the deck, encouraged us to enjoy the last rays of sunset and offered us a fruit drink. Offering refreshment at the door is customary and welcome after long, dusty drives, and it even suggested prescience on the host’s part. How did he know the right moment to be at the door with tray in hand?