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A visit with the Kavango

After decades of turmoil, Namibia's northern peoples start again

The B8 road from the Caprivi Strip west to the Kavango town of Rundu follows the Okavango River, which for 400 km, forms the border between Namibia and Angola. Compared to the semi-desert that covers most of Namibia, the Kavango region is blessed with enough rainfall to sustain crops of millet, maize, and sorghum. Not surprisingly it is one of the country's most densely populated areas and the countryside is dotted with tiny rural villages, each with a cluster of traditional thatched mud and reed huts, and a kraal of vertical poles. Broad-crowned mopani and acacia trees provide shade for people gathered around smoky cooking fires, and as we get closer to Rundu, women in brightly coloured traditional dresses wait for tourists to stop at their roadside craft stalls. The Kavango are talented wood carvers, weavers, and potters and the stalls are filled with high quality works of authentic African art.

The small town of Rundu, once a base for South African military forces, is now the capital of Kavango. We stopped there just long enough to top up our fuel and buy supplies before moving on to nearby n'Kwazi Lodge, arriving just in time to watch the sunset from its comfortable open-sided lounge. We chose a table with a view overlooking the pool and beyond to the lush green floodplain of the Okavango River. Moses, a congenial black fellow who seemed to be in charge of the place, brought us a beer and took our order for dinner. It was a scene of peace, tranquility, and plenty that bore no hint of the strife and suffering that rocked the Kavango region of northern Namibia until only a few years ago.

"Namibians on the eastern Kavango border are living in terror as Angolan armed forces use the area as a springboard for attacks against Unita." (Dec. 1999, The Namibian)

The flare-up in Angola's civil war is only the most recent disruption in the lives of the Kavango people. Before Africa was carved into colonial chunks during the 1800s the fertile land along the Okavango River was their traditional home. But when the River was made the boundary between German and Portuguese colonies it doomed the Kavango homeland to decades of turmoil.

Angola's war of independence from Portugal began in 1961 and when independence was finally won in 1975 the country lapsed into a bloody civil war that repeatedly spilled across the border into Namibia. And Namibia (formerly German Southwest Africa), the last African country to throw off the yoke of colonialism, faced its own struggle for independence. When Germany was defeated in WW1 Namibia became a "trust territory" – part of South Africa's apartheid regime.

In the early ’60s SWAPO (South West Africa Peoples Organization), launched an armed revolt against South Africa's racist government and Namibia was plunged into a 24-year war of independence. Eventually even the super powers got involved in the fray. During the ’80s SWAPO forces, operating from bases in southern Angola and backed by Cuban troops and Russian advisors, faced European- and American-backed South African forces in northern Namibia, and once again the Kavango people were caught in the cross-fire, this time involving the clash of Cold War ideologies.

"Life in the region has been disrupted as violence from the Angolan civil war has spread into Namibia, with civilians bearing the brunt of the banditry." (Aug. 2000, The Namibian)

Moses brought our dinner, asked where we were from, and stopped to chat. He was reluctant to talk about the past, but optimistic about the future and eager to share the success stories of his people. And, yes, he would be happy to give us a tour of his village in the morning. n'Kwazi Lodge, where Moses is employed, was built on the banks of the Okavango River in 1995 during a lull in Angola's civil war. Its success is just one small example of the resilience of the Kavango people who, like their Caprivian and Ovambo neighbors to the east and west, are rebuilding their lives after decades of "collateral damage" inflicted by warring factions that have used the Namibian/Angolan frontier as a battleground.

"As the Angolan armed forces press on with their campaign to eliminate the last pockets of Unita resistance, the hostilities are spreading dangerously close to the country's borders." (BBC world service, Oct. 2000)

The next morning we piled into the back of a pickup truck and bumped across an open stretch of dusty bushveld to one of the nearby villages. Small groups of children on their way to school waved as we passed and women with buckets of river water balanced on their heads trudged stoically toward their homes two kilometres away. At the village Moses was greeted by an older woman surrounded by pre-school kids. She was seated in the shade of an open sided thatched structure that serves as communal living space. Other women were already at work pounding millet into flour for the evening meal. Using wooden mortars and heavy poles as pestles the task will take hours of tedious labour. In the shade of a nearby tree a group of men sit watching another woman start the day's batch of sorghum beer in a couple of battered garbage cans. The air is thick with its sour, yeasty smell as she stirs the brew with a pole. The women, it seems, do most of the work.

The village consists of several clusters of mud and reed thatched sleeping huts, a storage hut on stilts, and a few communal shelters where people can escape the sun. We are shown into several of the huts, tiny circular spaces barely large enough for a raised platform where the parents sleep, a tiny table, and floor space for the children. According to Moses this has been the traditional way of life for generations. But not everyone is here out of choice. Hounded by the dogs of war thousands of refugees and internally displaced people have settled here to escape the fighting in Angola. And even after the fighting ended the legacy of war – land mines and UXO (unexploded ordinance) continues to take its toll.

"From 1999 to July 2002, landmines and UXO have reportedly killed 135 civilians and injured 440 others, with 23 killed and 138 injured in the Kavango and Caprivi regions alone in 2000 and 2001." (Namibia, Landmine Report 2003)

From the village Moses took us to the Mayana Primary School, 20 km east of Rundu. I was surprised to find the place surrounded by a high chain-link fence and the entrance secured by a locked gate. Inside a gaggle of kids, kicked up a storm of dust on the makeshift soccer field. When recess ended they made a dash to drink from a single tap beside the field before going back to class. And I learned later that the fence was there to protect that precious source of water from contamination by wild and domestic animals. It also protects garden plots where the children are taught the basics of agriculture.

Mayana Primary was established in 1977 and for years classes were held under a tree beside the church. In 1984 a permanent building with five classrooms was built but under South Africa's apartheid laws blacks were taught just enough to make good servants and labourers.

Since Namibian independence in 1990 the school has flourished, providing quality education to almost 600 students in Grades 1 to 7. It costs between $30 and $65 per year for a child to attend – more than many parents can afford. And sadly many of the children are orphans. At the time of our visit the head teacher told me 160 of the students had lost both parents to either war or AIDS. But even the poorest children are able to attend, and the school has a feeding scheme that provides the kids with a bowl of soft porridge three times a week. By our standards it seems so little, yet for local villagers schools like Mayana are a beacon of hope for a better quality of life.

The students now enrolled at Mayana Primary are the first generation of children in decades that have not faced the terror of war or the humiliation of apartheid. In one of the primary classrooms they greeted us with their song, "We are the future" and we responded with a rousing rendition of "You are my sunshine." They clapped, cheered, and gathered around to show us their work – a math assignment. A few had their sums correct. Others had not yet grasped the meaning of the marks on their paper, but what they lacked in understanding they made up for in enthusiasm and effort. Many of these kids had walked several kilometres for the privilege of attending school. Hungry for knowledge and eager to learn, all they need now to succeed is a lasting peace and a little help from us – their more fortunate international neighbors.