Friday, September 22, 2017

Snakes in Namibia

It goes without saying that Namibia’s wildlife doesn’t always stay out in the wild. From time to time, it creeps into the cozy, quiet suburbs, with real potential to create a ruckus; mayhem; even brouhaha. Perhaps a snake is spotted near the pool sunning itself. Maybe it’s luxuriating on the cool ceramic floors, or maybe it’s cozied up in the shadows of a closet. 

Lucky for us, we've only had garden variety snakes pass through our yard, skimming across rocks while chasing lizards. Whereas, our neighbor recently found a legitimately dangerous snake in his yard: a puff adder, a snake ubiquitous to Namibia. I'd like to say the situation ended well with the snake safely relocated, but the photographic evidence of splattered snake innards told me otherwise.

Brown, fat, and squatty with a skinny tail, the chevron marked puff adder is a crabby bugger that doles out a crazy painful bite if provoked. Furthermore, untreated bites (usually in the case of people living in rural conditions without medical access,) people will die about 50% of the time from shock as well as hemolytic, coagulopathic, and hemorrhagic responses to the venom. If they are lucky, the victim gets away with only tissue necrosis and severe edema requiring extensive skin grafting.

It's easy to see then why people are so hell bent on total elimination of snakes especially when humans are psychologically wired to be wary of dangerous creatures. They are part of a “legacy of our distant primate past, when the animals posed one of the greatest threats to our survival.” In fact, scientists think they’ve even pinpointed the exact spot in our brains that alarms us to present danger: the pulvinar, which processes the images the eyes capture into a series of signals, and allows the ability to sharpen our attention to the particular danger-filled object, such as a snake. This small part of the brain is part of the thalamus which is sort of a sensory processor. Simply put, it helps us hone in on perceived danger. Interestingly, the pulvinar also plays a significant role in diagnosing Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, or CJD. On MRI, the pulvinar lights up like a fun house in patients with CJD which is a an incurable and rapidly degenerative brain disorder.

During a visit to N/a'an ku sê Sanctuary, the kids, Mark, and I participated in a snake education session that would cover the basics of snake safety along with a snake-show-and-tell, presented by one of Windhoek's premiere snake catchers: Francois Theart. When I made the reservation, I had spoken directly to Francois who was clearly passionate, educated, and driven in the field of herpetology; a man who I pictured would be a bearded, sixty year old professor wearing a button down safari shirt and shorts. Instead, we got a petite, Red Bull chugging, 26-year-old in baggy jeans and tinted glasses, who had taught himself everything there is to know about snakes. I loved everything about him.

For over an hour, Francois presented the crowd with an incredible amount of snake information: their habitats, their reproduction, their behaviors and mannerisms. He spoke at length about the apparent lack of anti-venom protocol in local hospitals and the profound costs associated with inaccurately administering an  expensive and toxic medicine. It makes sense when you think about it, but not all snake bites require the same treatment. Some bites don't require anti-venom at all, but instead could require skin grafting and wound treatments, like with a mild puff adder bite or a copperhead. He had been collaborating with international and professionally trained snake experts to create a standard operating procedure for handling anti-venom, an arduous project that should be (excitingly) finalized in coming weeks.

Francois' biggest soap box however, was trying to allay fears that 99.9% of the time, snakes want nothing to do with humans. They aren't looking for a fight at all, using their defense mechanisms as a last resort. I could see his point when he put a puff adder down at this feet in the snake pit. Pissed as she was, we could hear her hissing from 8 feet away, but she kept circling away from his reach.

Francois showed us a zebra spitting cobra, where I learned that any snake with "spitting" in its name has 90% accuracy for spitting venom towards the victim's eyes, resulting in partial or permanent blindness. This particular snake's head was shoved in a clear tube while Francois held onto the tail. Clearly, he wasn't taking any chances. Putting that one safely back into his plastic shoe box, Francois whipped out another snake of vague grey-brown color. It seemed anti-climatic after the zebra cobra's impressive black and white rings, but the grand finale (at least for the adults) was seeing the black mamba.

Black mambas are legendary for a very good reason: Death from a mamba bite is 100% certain without prompt and careful administration of anti-venom and resuscitative support, within 40 minutes, according to Francois. He admitted that his first (and so far only) snake bite was from a black mamba, ironically not in the bush, but at Hosea Kutako International Airport. As a famous snake handler, he was called in to manage the situation, but the mamba ended up biting him in the hip. 

I was eager for more details on the events that followed, but he wouldn't elaborate on anything else. Sometimes snake handlers are a real buzz kill. Anyway, these skinny gun-metal colored snakes have black mouths (thus their name) and are crazy long, reaching lengths up to 12 feet. Like with the others, Francois handled the mamba with a snake hook, having to readjust its wandering head from coming into arm's length. He held his own, but I could see the hesitation and respect he had for this animal. I can't imagine how he managed to speak while the mamba was out in the open.

Sure, the children thought the experience was really cool, but Francois brought down the house when presented a ball python for them to pet. In an instant, all fears were gone as pairs of tiny, eager hands ran down the python's skin. This snake was brought to Francois after police confiscated it from an unlicensed individual. Apparently in Namibia, special permits are required for all exotic animals, including snakes. So the ball python has more or less become the N/a'an ku sê Snake Experience's mascot. I commented that I know someone from the States who has used a ball python as a form of animal therapy for her children. He thought this was 100% awesome because ball pythons for some reason, have a calming effect to most people who interact with it. I wonder if insurance would ever cover that type of therapy? Probably not, but I like the idea.

How to deal with snakes:

We know to stay calm (good luck with that- I know I will be a shrieking mandrake if I ever see a snake in my home) as most snakes will flee immediately if they see you. If opportunity warrants, take a photo and for those up for a challenge, make it a selfie too. Identification is always good and really, who doesn’t love a good snake story accompanied by proof? When out hiking, as a good rule of thumb, avoidance is always a fine idea and give snakes wide berths on the trails. Oh and by the way, spray products such as Snake Be Gone or Snake Repel are totally useless.

To avoid snake bites, wear long pants and boots. Take care when collecting firewood, especially in low light. Always watch your step when hiking over rocks and logs to avoid a surprise ambush, and avoid dreamy strolls through tall grass.

Should worlds collide and you do get bitten, medical attention is of utmost importance, particularly if the snake is unidentified. Quickly remove any jewelry and constricting clothing and try to keep the victim still to keep the heart rate and circulation from rising. Whatever you do, do not cut the skin near the snake bite, nor attempt to suck the venom out. Tourniquets are a bad idea, as is application of ice or hot water. 

It's most important to self-educate.  Take the time to learn “what’s living where” because the dangers in Namibia are certainly different from those in South Africa. So where to look? Part of the "Environmental Information Service of Namibia", the website "Atlasing in Namibia" has a useful database of local species, where users can document, map, and photograph sightings around the country. This includes resources on not just snakes, but mammals, amphibians, birds, and plants too.  Or  you can check out the African Snake Bite Institute, for free downloads and education material. This site was developed by a well known South African snake expert named Johan.  

Of course snakes of Namibia have their own Facebook page. These days, who doesn't? Actually, the page is more like a public support group with the intention of educating the public on identifying dangerous snakes versus the non dangerous. The FB page contains "what is this?" of snake photos, plus documents on first aid, and details for snake catchers within the country - a handy tool for when not only ophidiologists (snake studiers) but people with ophidiophobia (fear of snakes) as well. For non FB people, Instagrammers can search #snakesofnamibia for some gnarly snake close ups. The photos I took at N/a'an ku sê were nothing short of sad. They were blurry and uninspiring, but the trip was still worth it and I can confidently identify what is a snake to what is not. Ha ha.
Will I have any Snake Experience takers for future visitors to Namibia?


Puff Adder, fat and VERY unhappy
Francois and the Zebra Spitting Cobra
Blurry black mamba but you get the idea of length.
A black mamba's head has a tell-tale coffin shaped head. Coincidence?
Petting the ball python. 

Friday, September 8, 2017

The C28: Windhoek/Swakop Route

When we went on the C28 road, it was from Swakopmund to Windhoek, the opposite direction of how I ended up writing this blog. Really, the C28 was so fun and diverse that we are planning to drive to Swakopmund in coming weeks for the sole reason to drive it again. With extra barf bags and snacks that don't smell gross when they are barfed up again...
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If someone tells you to take the C28 road to/from Swakopmund, take it. Sure, it tacks on a few extra hours of driving, (even though it's technically shorter than the B1/B2) and is 90% dirt road, the sense adventure and epically gorgeous landscape make up for it. That's all of Namibia though, isn't it? 

C28 starts off as Sam Nujoma Drive in Windhoek, a street named after the country's first president. The fine, smooth pavement leads out of the city, past Daan Vijoen Reserve, and into the Auas mountains. Asphalt turns to dirt and the road compliments its winding self with your first views of Windhoek aloe plants standing in groups like "zombie sentries." A beautiful cooperative community has set up shop off the left hand side, complete with a sparkling white church and schools. When everything is so dry and vast, it's always a pleasure to see functioning and thriving life beyond the city.

Further in, the abandoned Liebig House stands alone on top of a hill with stern "forbidden entry notices" at the gate. Set on a stone foundation, faded yellow paint, rusted roof, and busted out windows, the house was obviously once extravagant. Built for farm managers of the Karl Liebig Company back in 1912, the house boasted a skittle-alley (German bowling) and the farm also had a school, shop, and post office. Cattle farming was only part of the Liebig company. According to Namib-web, the man himself, Justus von Liebig invented meat extract prior to the house being built. He had the mindset to provide alternative nutrition for those who could not afford meat. He named it after himself: Extractum carnis Liebig. Today we know it as Bovril, a red capped jar that is oddly stored next to Vegemite, a vegetarian yeast extract in the supermarkets. 

Through the years, the Liebig house went through other owners: a British secret agent, the South African Government, and Namibian photojournalist Margaret Courtney-Clark owns it now.

Not long after the Liebig house is a small four-room fort that was built as a German outlook post, but really, ended up being a place for soldiers to sleep off their hangovers. The sign at the base of the hill infers the same thing, and you can walk into the fort itself. Watch out for snakes though, because the grass is tall and untended.

Eventually, after a hundred more ups, downs, curves, and a region change from Khomas to Erongo, Bosua Pass peaks out at 1,728m (5,669 ft). There's two cool things to see here, and two not-so-cool things. First, there's a sign and map of the Kuiseb Ephemeral River Basin. Second, behind a pile of boulders is an open-air toilet. Obviously the view is cool, but what's not cool is that the toilet is a bottomless, rusted oil drum guaranteed to give you tetanus, and there's discarded toilet paper everywhere.

Moving down the backside, the landscape changes yet again. But, it's hard to describe: darker, greener, and definitely more vast. The road eventually flattens out, cuddled between two parks, Tsaobis Nature Park and Namib-Naukluft Park. There's no more fences to keep out the animals who will undoubtedly run across the road: oryx, springbok, and giraffe, to name a few. The birds get impressively bigger. On any particular day you may drive past a wake of lappet-faced vultures or a solitary kori bustard. Do animal sightings ever get boring? Not a chance.

Along the way, there are several detours of choice. Namibia Accommodation.com has a map to show what's beyond the C28. They are enjoyable because of their variability: hills striped with geological history, dolomite pillars that look not unlike the Organ Pipes in Kunene/Erongo region, sacred Welwitchia plants, and the eye-popping moonscape. If you do take the detours, remember to pick up a Namib-Naukluft Park permit to keep your travels on the up-and-up.


Finally, when the hills settle and you meet up with the above-ground pipeline, know that the end is near. Bland brown dust coats everything and it feels like the terrain deserves a few ostriches. While it is unlikely to see ostrich, you may enjoy cyclists suffering exercising, or sky divers floating in the wide open space. Dirt turns into pavement and the first signs of city life let you know that the next adventure is up: Swakopmund.

The co-op community's church and school buildings.
About an hour west from Windhoek.
The Liebig House was also haunted.
Must be one thirsty ghost way out here.
Von Francois Feste Monument

Bosua Pass toilet. The seat faces north, so it's not very feng shui.


Back side of Bosua Pass

Gnome-like rocks, as if they've been waiting for you all this time. Creepy.
Somewhere on the C28.


One of the ten vultures we saw taking flight.

Desert adapted giraffes.

Thursday, September 7, 2017

Sweaters, Sand, Salt, Ships, and Seals in Swakopmund

Here in Windhoek, Namibia, we routinely get asked if we have been to Swakopmund or Luderitz yet. (Or, the Caprivi region, the Zambezi region, Etosha, Erindi, Sossusvlei, and about a hundred other must-see locations.) As non-beach people having lived on the beach for two years in Brazil, we weren't rushed to visit the beach, but acquiesced after dealing with confused faces of why it hadn't happened yet after one year of living here. We took a quick road trip to Swakopmund, one of Namibia's favorite coast towns last weekend. Due to veld fires (wild fires) the week prior, Windhoek had been congested with ash and haze that blocked out the sun and endless blue sky. We figured the timing was good to get fresh ocean air and do some fancy camping.

Getting to Swakopmund via the short route means driving on paved 2-lane highways for an estimated 3.5 hours. Add on another 60 minutes depending on how many semi trucks are on the road. It was an uneventful arrival and setup at our grassy campsite, and extremely cold (by Namibia standards, we have been here a year after all) with the low hanging humidity.  I had all my layers on, while Margo drenched herself with a forgotten sprinkler and Deets ran around in shorts, as usual. Night came quickly and by 8pm we were all huddled in our sleeping bags. 

By 6am all of us were wide awake, so the kids packed up their suits and towels, insisting they'd be swimming and fighting waves by 7am. The thing about Swakopmund water is that the Benguela Current swirls north from Antarctica making the water quite cold with biggish waves crashing against the shore. Rich in nutrients, it's a happy place for oysters to grow uncharacteristically fast, but not ideal for swimming, especially for a pansy-pants like myself. The Benguela is so important for Namibia, South Africa, and Angola that they created their own commission to preserve the precarious balance of sustaining the ecosystem and industries for fishing, diamond mining, and oil and gas extraction.

Like the sky, the water was grey and drab and no one was going to swim, so we went in search of coffee. The town certainly has a personality, but it's not one that wakes early. The only people we saw that morning were fishermen heading to the pier. We walked past mismatched architecture: 80's mod, deco, gingerbread, colonial, concrete fab, all tossed with ominous German war memorials that were stained with red paint. We saw the 1903 striped lighthouse used to warn sailors of the treacherous Skeleton Coast as far out as 20 miles at sea and a few taunting museums that wouldn't open for at least three more hours. A bloody Mary, espresso, and hot chocolates later we passed through a few touristy streets stuffed with souvenir and ice cream shops before making our way back to the campsite to get out of dodge and checkout Dune 7, south of Swakop on the C34, the country's highest dune at 1,256 feet. 

Dune 7 is pretty cool. There's no entrance free to pay, takes 15-20 minutes to climb/crawl to the top and its yellow sand is extremely photogenic. The trash there however, is not cool. We hiked past too many discarded bottles, cans, and grocery bags blowing in the wind. I pocketed some trash to feel better about it, but with an unattended park entrance, bus loads of visitors, and zero trash cans around, the gesture was fruitless. So we made a few sand angels, took nerdy photos, and ran down the dune to drive north of Swakop.

The C34 also takes you north to Cape Cross. Beyond, the road ambles further to Torra Bay and Mowe Bay where the desolate, unloving terrain of the Skeleton Coast rules over everything. To go beyond these places, you need things like permits, a guide, guts, jerry cans and your own water to gain entry. I dream of making this trek with the family one day.

Anyway, this crunchy dirt road has plenty to see. We visited the 2008 Zeila fishing trawler wreck, a boat destined to India to be used for scrap metal. Instead, it met its fate after the Zeila came loose from its tow line shortly after leaving Walvis Bay. If felt like the middle of nowhere until vendors swarmed the car with offers of colorful rocks, makalani palm nut keychains (sold at a premium), and a look-at-it seal skeleton laid out in the sand. I still can't figure out where they were hiding.

Onward, we drove past snow white salt pans, their factories, and lone road side stands selling chunks of pink salt. Up here it's the honor system, each stand with its own slotted plastic jar. I squealed with delight over this, and pretty much squeal about it now even though both kids all but eat their personal salt licks. Beyond that was the original spot where Diego Cao claimed the land for Portugal back in 1486, and Cape Cross where Cape fur seals live in the thousands. The grunting and the bleating and the smell was just SO spectacular as we walked upon the walkway made of 100% recycled plastic. Really though, we watched seals nap, fight, nurse, walk, play, and swim. Their sheer quantity stretched in both directions along the rocky coast. As far is grand finales go in Namibia, this was spot on. 

Mindful of our 5:30 dinner reservation at new brewery, we headed back for a final night in Swakopmund before blowing our minds a second time on the alternative road we took back home: the legendary C28...

Sweaters in Swakopmund. 

I will never understand bathrooms
with lighthouse themed decor.
Or any other room for that matter.

Sand angels. 

Deets right before he tripped, landed on his head,
 and rolled down the rest of the way.
No child was injured during this session of dune running.

Piles of sodium chloride drying in the sun. 

Zeila Shipwreck 

Cape Cross chillin' 

Two birds with one stone: naps and nursing. 

Pick your own!