A Girl, A Year, A Blog: One Day I’ll Camp in a Tent: Take 27

Today I was force-fed a piece of cake the size of my head.

This might not sound like a problem to most people, but the taste was not worth the calories, and at the moment I could easily author a best-selling memoir called Fat in Africa.

It was a co-worker’s birthday bash today, so we had a rager in the empty Grade 7 classroom. Closest thing to a nightclub you will find in the bush. This boisterous party included some bumpin’ Namibian jams, an obscene amount of picture-taking, and a pink cake the size of the suitcase I brought to this country.

Anyway, for some reason I was not allowed to leave the party until my cake was finished.

In a culture where being fat is attractive, the word “diet” does not translate. Which is disheartening, since I had actually lost a pound or two after last weekend when I went on a quadbike trip with two Afrikaaners who require only the occasional brotchen every 3 to 4 days to survive. However, because I’m a normal person that actually consumes more than beer everyday, they made sure I didn’t starve to death. Considerate.

The trip started in Opuwo, went up to somewhere on the Kunene River, followed the river to Epupa Falls, and then came back down to Opuwo. Past that, I have no idea where we were at any point. A common theme of this year.

And by this year I mean my life.

As is usual when hanging with these two, the trip was full of bumps, hiccups, mishaps, scrapes, a pretty solid bruise on my hip (that one was my fault), and sleeping outside in the sand, sans tent.

And also lots of trance music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R4shwJBnYEM

But while they are debatably certifiable, Mr. Trance and Mr. Dance are entertaining as all get out. Dull moments are few and far between.

The so-called road we took was a bit rough, to say the least. And although I drove the bike once (with supervision), I was glad to be passenger for the majority of the time.

The scenery was definitely up to standard, and nothing cheers me up quite like hauling ass around the mountains of Kunene.

So much ass-hauling happened that by Saturday the bike had had enough of life, crapped out completely, and was relegated to the trailer attached to the back of the bakkie that made the trip with us. At some point between this happening, almost dying of heat stroke, losing the bike off the back of the trailer, finding the bike yet again, startling several Himbas, and arriving in Epupa, the Great Chutney Spill of 2013 happened.

Massive explosion of chutney.

Spare tires, clothes, bags, coolers, and a decent portion of the truck bed were covered in pinkish brown goo. While my appreciation for chutney has never been that of your typical South African, it was even less so after seeing the condiment version of nuclear fallout.

However, there were no real causalities. The mess was cleaned up (with a repetitive “chutneyyyy…chutneyyyy…” coming from the mouth of the Afrikaans Peanut Gallery), and we drove back to Opuwo.

Ironically, Opuwo means the end in Otjiherero, so that is a fitting place to end one’s journey. Although the end of what I’m not sure. Tar roads? Grocery stores? Your sanity?

So, while I stress about the mountain of cake that is now in my stomach and sing that “It’s the end of the world as we know it” song in my head, here are a few photos to help you visualize the trip.