After driving
through Rundu and Grootfontein, we ended up in Tsumeb, where I spent another
night on the ground under chilly cloudless skies. My travelling companions were
headed to Etosha to take in some game viewing, but I had had enough. While I
would have loved to see Namibia’s premiere game reserve, I could not afford to
continue with my new friends. My pennies were feeling pinched and the date on
my airline ticket had me counting the days. So I bid adieu to my rag-taggle
group, was charged for gas and rental fees while in their car, and departed
from them N$122.50 lighter. At that rate, if I had continued with them, I would
have been left in the middle of the game park to bunker down with the lions
again! Egad!
So I struck out
on my own again, this time with my thumb as my only travelling companion. It
was a brand new day and my third in Namibia. It was about to get a little more exciting,
but NOT in a way that I would have liked. In fact, it shaped up to be one of the
scariest days that I endured throughout my whole stay in Africa.
So after my
rented ride roared off, with high spirits I plunked my backpack on the side of
the road and stuck my thumb in the direction of passing vehicles. It didn’t
take long before one of those motorists stopped. In hindsight, I wish he had
not, but things happen for a reason and on that day, I climbed in with a
gracious smile. For my efforts, a crooked smile was returned, before the driver
aimed his car back onto the road. The word “aim” was the best description for
what he was attempting. I quickly discovered that my driver was three sheets,
or more, to the wind. He reeked of booze and swerved all over the road. Every
time he talked to me, the car veered in the direction that his head was facing
in. I was terrified. My smile turned from gratitude to horror, as I clutched at
the door, bracing for impact with oncoming vehicles. I knew it was a miracle
that the driver did not flip the car every time he grazed onto the gravel
shoulders and manically thanked my guardian angels for every near miss. Their
wings were fluttering like mad that day.
How I got out of
the car, I have blocked from my memory, but suffice it to say that I did. I
felt like I was down a life or two, but still had miles to go before I could
call anyplace home. With a little more trepidation, I clung to the side of the
road again, praying that my angels would forgive me my transgressions from
months gone by. Cars zoomed by and I remained where I was. I was only half
discouraged, as my last ride remained fresh in my mind.
The arrival of a
young woman broke me from my train of thought. She appeared to be about my age,
perhaps a little younger, maybe a little older. It was hard to tell and no common
language could rectify that. She was obviously a local woman and travelled with
a large bag, minus the live chickens that I had become accustomed to. I remembered that I was in Namibia though, and
life here was a little more progressive. While both of us were still hitchhiking,
it was on a good paved road and lines even ran down the middle of it to define
left from right. As it was obvious that we were going in the same direction, we
both gravitated towards each other, despite our lack of verbal communication. A shy smile passed between us and that was
enough to let us know that we were on the same path. So when a big rig applied his brakes and rolled to a stop, we both ran together to jump in
for the next leg of our journeys. I prayed that this ride would prove to be less eventful.
