Schlink Attack: Puros Conservancy and the Tail End of Camping

Namibia's constitution has an actual section dedicated to habitat and natural resource conservation. Few other countries have this integrated, protective backbone. In fact, in 1993, USAID (in addition to several other international organizations) assisted the newly formed Namibian government to support their priorities of guarding the land and its people on it. It was a long slog with complicated legislation and policy making. There were countless meetings with local chiefs and their communities, complicated logistics that took years to untangle, and layers of red tape to navigate even in the Namibian government's infancy. Finally, 1996 was the year of policy enactment and the launch of demarcated conservancies throughout the country, of which there are currently 82.

A conservancy is a community that has registered with the Ministry of Environment and Tourism, dedicated to protecting the wildlife and habitats in exchange for rights over tourist operations in the area. In other words, they have a say in whether tours can pass through and some of the fees paid through these tours go back to the community. I had noticed conservancy signs posted along most roads in Namibia, but I didn't give it much thought until we exited east out of the Skeleton Coast Park, and started driving south into the Puros Conservancy.

There are no fences dividing wildlife from livestock. The people live among them both, balancing their livelihood against hungry animals, drought, and poachers, to name a few dangers. Most conservancies derive income from either trophy hunting, a huge payoff for locals as they often reap the benefits of fresh meat (it cannot be transported outside animal disease checkpoints, let alone exported outside the country) and earn far more money from permit fees. They also derive income from tourist related activities such as game drives, local village visits, and selling of handmade crafts.

The village of Puros is no exception. Located on the banks of the Hoarusib River, the village is a mixed Himba and Herero settlement. The river banks are thick with tall green trees and bushes that peter out to flat terrain for about one kilometer before the mountains begin again. Just before the western mountains is the Okahirongo Luxury Elephant Lodge, where if you have to ask the price, you probably shouldn't book there. I asked. Rates start at 350 USD/night per person.

Tucked on the other side of the valley to in the eastern mountains is a Himba village the relies heavily on visitors. The women demonstrate how they make their famous ochre skin protectant. Hematite, a reddish mineral is ground to a powder with a stone, and mixed with animal fat, and scented with the oils of a commiphora plant, which smells like minty camphor. The emollient is applied to their skin and hair, providing sufficient sun protection and warmth during the cool nights. Showers are not a thing, the women proudly do not bathe but use the protectant as a natural deodorant too.

No one sleeps in sheets or blankets. Instead, they use tanned hides as their bedding inside the rounded, low huts that require crawling to enter. They are made of whatever material that can be found and adhered to the existing frame: cloth, dung, tall grass, wood, plastic, sheet metal, etc.

Himba women wore tall ankle bracelets with leather straps weaved into them to indicate the number of children they produced, and head pieces if they were married. Shirtless and in skirts and jewelry, the women wore nothing else. Children wore necklaces and a tiny flap of leather to cover their front side. The sole husband of the seven women at the village wore a button down shirt with khakis.

When my father in law asked about what they eat, the interpreter flatly said "what you eat" and proceeded to their potjie pot (poi-key, a cast iron pot that has three legs and a lid) and showed us simmering meat but declined to tell us what kind. That meat had seen better days. The interpreter then showed off their crafts of hand carved animals, woven bowls, and dolls, quoting prices that demanded a massive amount of bargaining. When prices couldn't be agreed upon, the entrance fee was paid and we walked away empty handed.

"In town" Puros has one store sparsely surrounded by corrugated metal houses. Sometimes there is gas and beer available for purchase. They have a primary school, but older children go to hostel in Sesfontein, about two to three hours of untamed and very rough driving further south. Heck, the road coming from the north is wince-worthy as well. On the days we were in town, there was a meeting held outside under a giant camel-thorn tree next to the store. Government vehicles were there, and Herero women were dressed in their finest, with cow horn shaped hats and long sleeved Victorian dresses that swept the ground. I asked a man at the store who was visiting, and he said the leader of their region and a couple of government officials to check up on the conservancy.

In this area, the road is the river bed. It is a favorite spot for elephants, cattle, and goats, whereas ostrich and springbok prefer the vast expanses. The campsites along the river require 4x4 access due to the deep, soft sand. The community camps are well maintained with under large camel-thorn trees, each with private ablution facilities and flush toilets. The privacy walls are made of makalani wood, a type of palm tree found readily in northern Namibia. Hot water is provided through ‘donkey’ wood-burners and fresh water from a borehole is available. The sites have large trees and are equipped with a kitchen sink and counter. Everywhere, signs are posted to put away all food. Elephants love sweet scents and won't hesitate to make themselves at home.

Camps are part of the conservancy too, but since they are in such remote locations and typically without phone or Internet access, advertising and accepting reservations can be very tricky. Little did I know that when we "checked in" to the Puros Community Camp, we didn't have reservations at all. It was great there were campsites available, but if there weren't, we would have continued a few meters down the road to another site. The whole place had signs of elephant life marching through the camp. We got our safety 101 talk: if there is something looks like a tent and is moving in the middle of the night, just go back to sleep.

Leaving this place was hard, especially since it had just what we needed: hot showers, elephants, and cold beer. But it was time to pack up again and head to Sesfontein, another place with its own conservancy. It was much bigger and much dustier. Here we would fill up our tanks at a normal gas station and head further south to Damaraland, a place that I love returning to again and again. This time, we would attempt to stay at another community camp without reservations made and fail miserably. The day turned into a much longer one when we tacked on another two hours to end up a the Brandberg While Lady Campsite for a final night of roughing it. For dinner, we went big with kudu steaks and red wine after taking yet another luxurious hot shower under the stars.