Written November 7, 2014
By Sam Wasserman (Colby College)
After spending a couple days back at Wereldesend getting the car fixed and restocking on food, we headed back into the field towards northern Palmwag Concession. As we drove through Palmwag, a no hunting zone where the animals show no fear towards humans, zebra, springbok, gemsbok, giraffe, and elephant cluttered the rocky hills and lined the sandy riverbeds moving only when we were within 10 meters. It took the entirety of the day to drive to our campsite, but the beautiful landscape of the red basalt rocks and the abundance of wildlife was well worth the hot and sweaty hours in the car. We spent 2 nights in northern Palmwag and back at the Hoanib finishing up some data collection before we headed to Omatendeka Conservancy. During both days the temperature soared into the 90’s and peaked at 106. We were covered in dust, dripping with sweat, and thirsty when we pulled into our campsite at Omatendeka.
The landscape consisted of a small mopane woodland with no undergrowth, surrounded by mountains on the east, south, and west sides, but bordered by a large open shrub plain to the north. The sun was just falling below the western horizon when we arrived, yet the heat was still quite suppressing, and, without any leaves in the trees, the potential for shade was minimal. I remember thinking as I set up my tent, “Tomorrow is going to be hell.” Low and behold, by noon the next day we were all jockeying for a position beneath a tarp that we had rigged between four trees for some relief from the sun. In as minimal clothing as possible, we drooped motionless in our chairs oozing sweat from every pore. Luckily, the wind soon picked up and drove off the plethora of mopane flies that swarmed around our eyes, nostrils, and ears.
Around three o’clock, the wind completely died and a heavy wave of humidity smothered us again; however, off in the distance over the eastern and western mountains, dark clouds hovered over the peaks. A sudden rush of excitement coursed through us as the idea of rain made us dance with excitement. We hadn’t seen a drop of rain since arriving in Namibia and we were all way overdue for a shower, but with Namibia’s very unpredictable micro-climates, we were told not to get our hopes up. We continued to huddle beneath the tarp and eventually began to prepare dumplings for dinner accompanied with veggie soup and fresh springbok.
Just as I finished lighting the fire, a forceful wind blew from the west bringing with it plumes of dust and sand that stung our exposed skin. The dark clouds now hung directly above us and the temperature dropped significantly. People ran out into the field leaping in the air praying for rain. Suddenly, the fresh smell of rain filled our noses and within five minutes the skies unleashed a downpour of fresh cold water.
One aspect of life that you really come to miss in the desert is cold water. By now we are all used to drinking extremely warm water when thirsty, but there are some days when I think I would pay ridiculous amounts of money for a glass of ice water. Thus, when the crisp droplets splattered against my skin I instinctively opened my mouth to try and catch every little bit. Everyone ran off in their own direction to enjoy the refreshing storm. I grabbed my soap from my tent and ran behind a thicket of mopane trees and undoubtedly took the single best shower of my life. Thunder and lightning erupted over the mountains while the crusty dirt and dust dripped off my skin, revealing that I actually wasn’t as tan as I had previously thought. Not only was I physically clean, but my previously pessimistic and scornful attitude transformed into a beaming grin.
The rain lasted for about an hour and a half and only when it began to lighten up did I emerge and begin to try and reconstruct dinner. The wind had blown the tops off every lid. The rain was so forceful that the impact of the raindrop on the ground sent gravel airborne into the various pots and bowls full of food. The dough for the dumplings that had been rising by the fire was coated in a fine covering of dirt, so we spent a fair amount of time meticulously carving off thin slivers of the surface in a desperate attempt to salvage the majority of the dough. It took some work, but in the end, we were able to cook up a hot and delicious meal to warm our bodies. Smiles and dripping wet hair were common characteristics around the dinner circle that night as we watched the sun sink below the mountains. We all agreed that Namibia’s first rain had treated us well.
Top photo by Rebecca McGehee.