We had to make a plan. Our visitor's entry permit was expiring on December 24th and our truck was still not ready. We've been in Namibia since the end of July and have already had to go to Home Affairs once for an extension. With a two month extension back in October, we really thought that the truck would be complete in this time frame. But, one thing led to another and the rebuild did not finish before Christmas as I had desperately hoped.
We embarked on a quick 1000 km round trip to Botswana two days before Christmas with the hopes of getting another 90-day entry permit upon re-entering Namibia. We borrowed our friend's bakkie and sped off to the Trans Kalahari border post. We planned to pop across the border, have a coffee and then later in the day drive back to Windhoek. The drive was more or less uneventful, except for the golf ball sized flying beetles ricocheting off the car like bullets. I'm surprised they didn't crack the windshield upon impact!
Our first stop in Botswana was this little town called Charles Hill. The main part of the town lay along a dusty gravel road. The main attractions, a Metro (like a mini Costco) a two pump Shell gas station and a tiny shack made from corrugated metal and scrap wood which proudly displayed a hand painted sign indicating that it was in fact an auto repair shop. Our next stop was a town called Karakubis.
As it is summer, the landscape is amazingly green and the flowers are plentiful. It's beautiful. But it's hot. Bloody hot. Even the cows were seeking refuge in any kind of shade they could find. We were lured into a small corner store displaying the ubiquitous adverts for Coca-Cola. Just what I wanted. Since we couldn't find a place to drink coffee, a coke would have to do. A cool drink sounded better in this heat anyway. Turned out that the town hasn't had electricity for the last couple of weeks and the drinks in the cooler were about the same temperature as a cup of coffee!
I have to say that I was thoroughly impressed with the cleanliness of the towns we drove through. Spotlessly clean. Organized garbage disposal. Beautiful gardens. These people took pride in their town and homes.
Late in the afternoon we headed back to the border. Fingers crossed. Our plan almost worked! I handed my passport to the officer, who happened to be the same officer that stamped our passports on the way out of the country. First, I thought this was going to be a problem, but it turned out to be a benefit. She jokingly commented, "oh, back so soon?!" She stamped my passport and asked how long I intended to stay and upon my answer, wrote down 90 days. Things were going well. At that moment the officer sitting next to her became available and indicated she could take Ingrid's passport. A stern looking woman, she carefully flipped through the passport noting the fine collection of Namibian stamps. Some simple math and the officer realized we had already been in the country for about five months. She was not even keen on even letting us back in and begrudgingly gave us an extra couple of days. The 90 days written in my passport was crossed out. She told us to apply for an extension with Home Affairs in Windhoek. What a shame. So close!
We headed out to the coast to spend Christmas and had to return to Windhoek a couple days later to go to Home Affairs. Fortunately, our friends know the Deputy Director for Alien Control, Citizenship and Immigration at Home Affairs. A courteous and practical lady, she quickly had our extensions sorted. Clearly this would have been the better route from the beginning, but last time we applied for extensions we went through the regular channels which was not nearly as straight forward.
So then it was back out to the coast for the remainder of the holidays! Without warning, three kilometres outside of Swakopmund, the bakkie's engine packed up! Not lecker at all. It doesn't seem like I'm having too much luck with motorized vehicles. Perhaps I should consider a bicycle. Or perhaps a camel. Just nothing with an engine.