The Caprivi: cycling on a narrow strip of land

The ninth of June we cycle between rows of magnificent baobab-trees into the utmost north east of Namibia, with a visa for ninety days in our passports. We just crosses the Chobe-river, which is almost dry over here. In the wide fields next to the river we see how impala, cows and waterbuck brotherly feed themselves on the fresh green grass, while a bunch of lazy fishermen catch the catfish out of the shallow pools. Once on the land, the one metre long fish are mercilessly killed with a big stone. Three open-billed storks watch the scene, drool coming out of their beaks.
The first thing that draws out attention here in Namibia is the way the huts are built: every family has a yard that is fenced off with reed or wood. On this yard three to sometimes nine rectangular huts are built, the outsides plastered with mud and the roofs covered with thatch. On the yards we often see a braided chicken pen, a separate cooking hut and storage huts on stilts to keep the mahangu (local grain) from being eaten by rodents.

The villages and hamlets all have a hand pump or a borehole with a diesel engine. We see that we don’t have to worry about water over here. The boreholes have been drilled by the government, for free. The villagers only have to pay a monthly contribution for the fuel that keeps the engine going.
In Kalima Mulilo we pitch our tent at a few metres from the Zambezi shores, at the Zambezi Lodge. The sunset at the riverside is phenomenal, just like the hundreds of tropical and water birds.

Katima Mulilo hasn’t a lot to show for, the only feature worth visiting besides the Zambezi (Lodge) and the fauna that’s attracted by the river, is a baobab. The tree itself isn’t very interesting because of its shape or size, but for the door and toilet people built into it. Behind a door that only opens a crack we see a concrete floor and a dusty toilet. Luckily neither of us has to go right now…

At the campsite of the lodge Peter walks around with a wild look in his eyes and his camera grow onto his hand. After just half a day we can add nine new kinds of bird to our impressive list, among which two barbets, four sunbirds and the giant kingfisher.

We haven’t even cycled for ten kilometres on the C49, the gravel road that leads through Muduma National Park, when we turn around, very disappointed. The car drivers, black and white, drive like maniacs, causing thick clouds of dust to block our view completely the whole time. Seeing and breathing are impossible. When a big stone, swept up by car tyres, hits Peter full in the face our limit is reached. With a swollen and bloody face he turns his bicycle and we return to the safe tar of the B8. Unfortunately no Muduma NP for us.
The advantage of the tar road is that six hours later, thanks to a strong following wind, we’ve already arrived 140 kilometres further, in Kongola. A name that immediately reminds us of Dongola in the Sudan. There we arrived over two years ago, in a pick-up truck, after a searing hot five hundred kilometres ride through the Sahara in temperatures no less than fifty degrees Celsius.
In the Namibian Kongola we look for Bum Hill Camp, that turns out to be situated just on the other side of the Mashi-river, in the Caprivi Game Park. The campsite is a community development project. The proceeds go to the local community. Via a very sandy and very steep road we reach the campsite that is beautifully placed on the river bank in the middle of the bush. Their prices turn out to be almost twice the amount other campsites charge and they don’t have drinking water. This is a pity, because this might be a reason for people to go look somewhere else. Like we do.
In a light gear we quite disappointed cycle back to the tar road. At the first crossing of the sandy path Peter suddenly stands eye to eye with a huge elephant bull. He doesn’t know who’s startled more, to bull or he. In a reflex Peter stops and they look each other in the eye , at less than ten metres distance. The fear for human beings turns out to be tremendous, because the enormous creature, that could squash or trample Peter to death within seconds, takes his leave whilst trumpeting loudly.
We cycle back to the other side of the river and get permission to pitch our tent near to the police and army camp in the bush. We fall asleep and wake up with the sound of snorting hippo’s in our ears. Great!

During the two days from Kongola to Divundu we cycle over the narrow, long shaped part of the Caprivi Strip. The Strip is one of the most outrageous anomalies of colonial history. It is a almost five hundred kilometre long sliver of land, running the whole length of northern Botswana. It squeezes between Botswana’s northern frontier and Angola, actually making Namibia neighbours with Zambia. Over most of its length the Caprivi Strip divides Botswana form Angola by less than thirty kilometres. This geographic phenomenon was created in one of the most notorious colonial deals of the 19th Century. In 1890 Chancellor Count Leo von Caprivi managed to persuade the British to swap the Strip for Heligoland, an island in the North Sea. The Germans wanted to control the route from their South West African colony to east Africa and the Indian Ocean. Count Caprivi did not know that the Zambezi was not a navigable waterway all the way to the coast. The Strip cut through the trial territories of many local tribes, the Germans never administered the Strip effectively.
Only three years ago the Strip was unsafe to travel on because of Angolan bandits an people had to travel in convoi with military escorts. Now it’s a long shaped nature reserve which is home to a lot of game. Every few kilometres huge signs warn us for crossing elephants. Apart from their droppings, a bunch of mongoose and some steenbok it’s really quite boring on the Strip. For two hundred kilometres we try to stay alert and discover game in the bush around us. On the second day our concentration weakens and we have to be careful not to cycle off the Strip and this way coincidentally stumble into Angola or Botswana.

And when we don’t expect it anymore it happens: in the distance we see two big herd of elephant. We come close to the Kavango-river that supplies the Okavango-delta in Botswana with its water, and end our cycling tour over the Caprivi. Wasn’t too difficult, cycling over a striplet.