Most of you who have been following my blog lately have probably noticed a theme here in Namibia – the difficulty of traveling in this country due to its impossible weather. Since leaving Luderitz, Bruno and I have scurried through the few hundred kilometers to the border with South Africa, in hopes of escaping the once-again hot hot heat. We passed back through Aus, and then headed south to a zinc mining town called Rosh Pinah before hitting the Oranje River.
The Oranje River serves as the natural border between Namibia and South Africa. It is the longest river in southern Africa, extending far into South Africa before splitting into two and eventually drying up in Lesotho and Mozambique, respectively.
I was looking forward to reaching the Oranje River for several reasons, but mainly because I assumed that near the river I would find relief from the heat. I didn’t. What I did find, however, was a stunning landscape. After weeks in the desert, seeing hues of yellow, purple, orange, and grey, I couldn’t keep my eyes off the lush green on either side of the river. And surrounding these bright blues and greens were the most interesting, rocky mountains I have yet seen in Namibia (though the ones near Solitaire are a close second). In fact, the Oranje River flows through the infamous Fish River Canyon, so the “interesting rocky mountains” I refer to are actually these canyon formations – though not officially part of the Fish River Canyon National Park. The canyon faces tell their story, as each lined layer shares the history of its ancient and gradual formation. Bruno and I took our time here. We stopped off, skipping past the rocks down to the river and dipping our feet into its fresh waters. I breathed in this fresh scenery and felt relief. Relief that I was out of the heat, out of the desert, almost out of Namibia. We found a tree hidden from the road and close to the river, and even contemplated camping there for the night, or forever.
And then the heat came, worse than before, creeping up on us before suddenly sweeping its thick, warm air into our shady, riverside haven. So we were on the move again, seeking refuge in the vehicle and eventually coming across a campsite, 50km from the Nooerdewer border crossing, and just outside of a little town called Aussenkehr.
And at last I found the refuge I had been looking for these past four weeks: Norotshama Lodge. For less than $10 a night each, Bruno and I camped alongside the Oranje River and spent 3 full days swimming in the gorgeous riverside swimming pool. The heat still loomed over us from morning until night (it was 46 degrees Celcius in the day, and not much less in the night, and I admit to one rough, almost-sleepless night), but sitting in that lovely swimming pool amidst a backdrop of meditative beauty, I hardly felt it.
Only one discordant scene disturbs the peace and tranquility of this moment.
When Bruno and I first spotted the Oranje River, we both noticed that its water level was not nearly as high as it evidently had been in years prior. We assumed that, perhaps, the region was still awaiting its seasonal rains. Yet, as we approached Aussenkehr, we could see very large, VERY green fields of something. “Are those grape vines?” I asked Bruno incredulously. “No, they couldn’t be. We’re in a desert” was his very reasonable, very logical response. And yet, sure enough, the fields WERE grapes. We had stumbled upon a massive vineyard at the edge of the Namibian desert.
I wondered, for a moment, where the water to irrigate this high-need crop was coming from. It wasn’t long before it dawned on me – the Oranje River. Later that day, as Bruno and I explored our campsite, we stumbled upon a stone building with pumps heading – where else? – into the water.
With the sad realization that perhaps this was the true reason that the Oranje River was so low this year, other pieces of the puzzle began to come together. Like how Rosh Pinah, the mining town 50km north of the river, managed to be so full of green landscaping everywhere, including palm trees and a state-of-the-art football field – the Oranje River. Why, in Aussenkehr, I saw grapes drying all over the ground outside the villagers’ bamboo huts – the Oranje River – and why in Luderitz, grapes were the commodity most sold by market women – the Oranje River.
I understand that Namibia might need these grapes – their exportation to Europe helps the country’s economy, their production and distribution employs hundreds of people, and their availability gives Namibians a healthy source of vitamins. But, I can’t help but feel badly for the plants and animals that depend upon the Oranje River for their survival. Or the future generations of Namibian children who may not get the chance to drink from its dried-up banks. After emerging from weeks of sun-scorched, driest-of-dry landscape, this irresponsible use of water is difficult to accept. This is a landscape where I saw one tiny water hole – smaller than the Norotshama swimming pool I guiltily swam in –in a 100 km perimeter area being used by feral horses, oryx, springbok, and ostriches. Why couldn’t they grow something else – something that makes more sense to grow in Namibia? Why is it so difficult for human beings to think in terms of long-term, holistic development, rather than simply in terms of short-term economic growth?Today, Bruno and I continued our journey along the Oranje River and crossed the border into South Africa. I watched, as riverside kilometer after kilometer, was overtaken by vineyards. The scale of Namibia’s grape production was even more extensive than I had previously thought.
I’m glad I got to spend time along the banks of the Oranje River before it dries up for good.
