The Himba are a nomad tribe who have avoided contamination with European colonists in the last centuries. They live in Kaokoland, one of the less inviting and visited regions of Africa, in the North of Namibia. It may sound like the beginning of a fantasy story but Himba villages actually exist and some of them can be visited from the town of Opuwo, but only by taking part at excursions organised by local guides.
I am afraid that a guided tour can not guarantee a real meeting with the Himba, but in the end the curiosity for the tribe that seems to have managed to stop the time is too strong to resist. We decide to include Opuwo in our Namibian tour, even if we are not sure yet if we will actually book a visit to one of the villages or we will just drive around and hope to meet them. Due to our doubts of the possibility to meet the Himba and the great distances we need to cover in a short time, in the end we decide to stop more South. In our hut with no elecricity I feel part of the majestic and quiet landscape that surrounds us: layers of stone with brown-red shades show the signs of the past eras, instill respect for their old age, they remind me of the tiny nature of the human being, confused inhabitant of a world, where he is convinced to be invincible, eternal and king of the nature.
After a nice evening entertained by the students of the local school, we have definitely given up the idea of meeting the Himba. But here we get the chance to join a group leaving for a guided tour to a Himba village not far away. I am still hesitant but our final decision is to join them, it is our only opportunity.
A low dune defends a circle of a few small huts looking onto the pen of the precious goats. In front of the doors little fires of stones and logs burn, precious for cooking the meals and keeping warm. A dozen of young men and women welcome us, a few children are running around. The adults wear a skirt with a belt around the hips, the women’s skirts are longer on the back and have brown ruches of goat leather. Obviously I had read about Himba and their costumes, but I am still amazed by them all. We have only just arrived, that our guide begins to point out with his little and quite embaressing stick different hairstyles, jewels and clothing, symbols of the roles the person have in the society and in the family.
Sitting on a blanket outside one of the huts, a young woman is mixing some fat with a red dust she has just made mashing some ochre. In this way she gets a cream that she puts on her body. It gets the typical red colour, in the meanwhile the incense smoke fills the air and perfumes the body of the woman. This private ritual is for Himba like our bath that is why we spontaneously keep a slight distance. But our guide invites us to come closer, even to enter the hut, making us feel uncomfortable again, like nosy people careless of the inhabitants of the village. I am not the only one in the group to think that we are rushed and to suffer the impossibility to communicate with Himba, at least to say excuse me and thank you.
Before leaving the guide invites everybody to perform in a clearly forced dance and we stand in front of them as uncomfortable spectators. Only the children jumping and running around, looking at us with curious eyes give to the Himba village a touch of spontaneity.
On our return from the excursion I don’t feel I can really say to have met the Himba. We have always had doubts about guided tours to the Himba village, but our curiosity was too strong and we didn’t want to miss out on this. I don’t think I know the Himba any better then what I did before or you could do reading a good book. For sure I know more about my sixth continent: when you start a journey you plan it in your mind and rely on your legs to reach the destinations you have planned, but the real journey – that may change you – is led by your emotions and told with your heart.

June 2015

A trip to southern Africa seems to many people synonymous for “big five”. But I have always thought that visiting these places with a list to tick off once you have seen the elephant, the lion, the buffalo, the rhino and the leopard is not enough. Back from my trip in Namibia I am even more convinced about this. But I thought that holding five points could help me to describe my encounters with the animals in Namibia with a length appropriated for a post. So here is my alternative list of five animals, my “top 5”.
Even if they are included among the “big five”, I inevitably have to place the elephants first, as my passion for these animals is one of the reasons that brought me to Africa. The curiosity to watch them closely and the desire to see them in their natural environment had been growing in me since long before the trip that was going to bring the long wait to an end. But the excitement slowly gave way to the fear of being disappointed by the encounter: the big pachyderms I had seen in funny representations and in spectacular TV documentaries could have turned out to be hairy and aggressive animals covered with mud.
But here they come to the waterhole: their movements are slow, heavy but quite, huge but not ungraceful, majestic. The tusks hold the corners of the mouth in a perpetual and infectious smile, a rolling pin seems to have rolled out the big waving ears so thin that they got broken on the edges. The trunk hangs from the face of the animal and is always moving, it can only occasionally have a rest on a tusk. The broken skin of the older elephants tell the tales of long walks under the burning sun, fights to defend themselves and their herd, strong scratches against trees probably not strong enough to avoid being affected themselves: it makes you feel a respect similar to the one moved by wrinkles. Even if it seem that the calves are not able to keep up with their huge parents, they go on under the safe protection of the herd and especially of the mother, that is always vigilant and ready to send loudly away whoever comes to close to her little one.
There is another unique profile you can see in the unlimited expanses of Namibia: the giraffe’s one. They are elegant with the long, patched necks that you can recognise even from a distance, funny with their long legs going up to the crowns of the trees like thin trunks while the head is peering out on the top and the mouth is chewing non stop, incredible when they perform the unusual split of their front legs and they stretch their necks towards the water to drink. Like elephants, giraffes move slowly, as if they don’t want to disturb the peace of the nature all around with the movements of their big bodies. They half run but it seems they are moving in slow motion. It is hard to believe who tells me how strong and dangerous one of their kicks can be.
Because of their similarity with the horse the aspect of the zebras is more familiar, but their coats with black and white stripes are unique. Observing them close up you will see that only the calves have really white stripes, adults are amber brown, as if they had a nice suntan. The lack of stripes on the belly makes the difference between mountain zebras and common ones. The study on the striped coats could have continued if I hadn’t noticed their faces starring at me and I hadn’t felt examined myself. When zebras feel danger, they stop and stay still: they become their own scale models, like the ones children use to play with and put away in the toy box at night. But here they move again and leave galloping toward the horizon, raising a soft dusty cloud above the yellow grass.
I cannot exclude from my “top 5” the family of all those animals with agile pace and wonderful horns that live in the immense Namibian Savannah and whose name I have never heard before: the sprinboks and the impalas so agile at jumping, the kudus with their elegant posture, the oryxes with the black mask drawn on their light faces, the hartebeests with their heart shaped horns, the sable antelopes with their big horns curved backward. All their coats are painted in the golden, orange and brown tones of the land they live in.
I still have just one place in my “top 5”: the black rhino with its dinosaur features drinking and looking at its cumbersome horn in the water or the white rhino following its calf on its short legs, the ostrich dancing with the sinuous neck on its long legs like an old ballet dancer with a puffy black tutu, the trotting warthogs crossing the road with their tails straight up, the threatening jackals, the wildebeests with their dark blue coats? Or thousands of shiny seals playing in the water, the dolphins jumping with joy around our catamaran, the pelicans with their soft rose-coloured feathers and the big beak of crepe paper, the noisy seagulls, the flamingos with the thin legs supporting their pink cloud above the water, the birds of prey with their majestic fly, the small bright coloured birds that make you think of charming princes under enchantment. And many other little animals whose tracks on the soft sand dunes tell about an unexpected life in this apparently dry and hostile place.
Many of the encouters I talked about happened by chance, travelling on the road around Namibia; some of them have been searched for during walks on the sand dunes between Sossusvlei and the coast, excursions on the catamaran between Swakopmund and Walvis Bay, safaris in the Etosha Park. All of them have been waited for by vigilant, curious, wishful, patient eyes, sometimes tired by such unlimited spaces. A few steps away from the animals the emotion and the excitement exploded as if they had increased during the uncertain wait. But it was a dull explosion: there was no need to remind to keep your voice low so not to disturb the animals, the amazement is silent.

June 2015