Once Around the World: alone as a young woman through Africa by Michaela Gruber - HTML preview

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5.8 Being thrown out of the slums by the police

 

Namibia, February 2016

Finally, I arrived in Walvis Bay, a small town on the coast of Namibia. My current travel companion, Patrick, craved a cold beer – typically Patrick. But actually, I was not averse to that at the moment.

 

As we got out of our rickety bus, Patrick immediately pointed to the other side of the street. There was a small pub, from which loud music boomed in the mid of the day. Yes, there we could get beer.

The street was dusty and dirty – and generally we seemed to have arrived in a rather neglected neighborhood. But that did not bother us, because in one point we both agreed: Where there are never other tourists, it is always the most exciting.

 

We entered the pub. It seemed to be quite full here. There were a waitress and a couple of guys who – to say the least – were in a good mood. We ordered a beer, which the waitress served us in a 1l bottle, which pleased Patrick very much. It was also super cheap.

It was not long, before the first guys spoke to us. They made a very likeable impression and joined us right away. They told us, that they had never seen a white person in the bar, and that it would be unlikely white people get here. This seemed funny to me, since I remembered that there are many white residents living here in Walvis Bay.

A young man told us, that the whites would all live in the richer districts and would never come to this place. The men gave out a round of drinks for us, and we had fun with them.

 

Later, another man spoke to us in the bar, and he also told us, that normally no white people came here. He also said, we should take good care of ourselves, because it was dangerous here.

That did not seem reason enough for us to leave the place, until the police finally got us out. We were sitting at a table in front of the pub, when a police car drove down the street. Then they stopped next to us and waved us over. Could it really be that they meant us? We had not done anything.

Patrick went to them first. They talked for a while. Then Patrick called me over. When I asked what was going on, the police officer told me, that this was the most dangerous part of the city. They would take us to a safer area. For the time being, I did not think so and found it very discriminatory.

Patrick hissed at me to calm down, and he did not want any problems here. Alright! Reluctantly, I got my backpack. We said goodbye to our new friends. They said we should come back soon, which we promised them.

 

The police were very nice and took us directly to a hostel. They explained to us, that with our entire luggage, we would have been a good target for thieves. Yes, they really meant well, and, who knows, maybe we were better off that way. Nonetheless, this strict separation by skin colors made me very sad.

 

But Patrick and I still lived up to our promise and returned to the pub the next day. This time we came without any of our valuables.

We met the guys from the previous day and celebrated with them until late into the night.

They even showed us their homes and introduced us to their families, who actually lived in the slums. All of them were really nice people.

 

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Patrick and me with the policemen