We are now at Serra Cafema, Namibia, on the banks of the Kunene River. It creates a border between our Wilderness camp and Angola. The Kunene flows brown and into the Atlantic – only 30 miles away, carrying the earth to the ocean below.
While keeping an eye out for alligators, we gaze in amazement at the towering mounds of metamorphic rock that surrounds and dwarfs us. It is a wonder of nature, and hard to believe that we are experiencing yet another level of awe.
The Kunene creates a lush fertile band in an otherwise barren landscape – mostly inhospitable and admittedly very challenging to get to.
In this remote area of Northern Namibia, camps are few and very far-between. Consequently, besides our hosts and a fascinating people called “Himba”; we find ourselves immersed in deep silence and the abundance of Grace.
Getting here, by Cessna and Land Rover, was through turbulent air and spectacular landscapes – which photographs nor words can adequately describe. I felt complete vulnerability and ultimate surrender.
Bill and I have indeed traveled into the wilderness, distanced ourselves from anything we have experienced before. A destination that, for me, is as spectacular as the journey is difficult.
I’ve never given birth, but it is often said that after the trauma of doing so, one forgets the anguished process. Memory is cleared by the cessation of pain; washed in the exquisite delight of what comes next. It feels that way for me, now.
Very few animals can survive this place. Those that have successfully adapted to the desert and remain in the landscape are resilient and rare. It is to experience them, the Himba, and the unique quality of the environment that we have come.
I pray we will safely return from this miracle and know that we were once here.