Flight to Namibia

The following events occurred between my departure on June 3 and my arrival in Windhoek on June 6.

My flight from San Francisco to Zurich was delayed by two hours. This was ok as I had less time to spend in Zurich airport - only 4 hours.

The 11 hour flight to Johannesburg was pleasant, as the plane was not full. I had an empty seat next to me, such a treat!!!!  A lovely young South African man sat behind me. He is studying economics in England so we chatted when we both were not sleeping.

I had a six hour layover in Johannesburg before my evening flight to Windhoek, so a friend picked me up at the airport and we drove to her luxurious new apartment in Houghton.  We drove through areas immediately familiar to me, Huddle Park, Edenvale, Sandringham, Louis Botha Avenue.  The roads and shops looked more third worldy than I had remembered. Streets and pavements were crowded with cars, white mini taxis, raggedy shop fronts with iron bars. Signs painted on the windows were much more 'african' than I remembered, colorful paintings of faces and names.  I noticed tables set up on the pavements covered with small bags of sweets, chips, etc. which hawkers were selling. On street corners hawkers held up brooms and beaded items.  At the traffic lights beggars came up to the car and some tried to spray the windows to clean them and get a few rand.

At her apartments I showered and nibbled on cheese and crackers. We caught up on gossip and then headed back to the airport. She had an unexpected meeting later so she had to bring me back earlier than initially planned.  This suited me as I would be well on time for the next leg of my flight to Windhoek.

I loaded my luggage on to a trolley, entered the airport and looked for the Air Namibia check in counter.  I pushed my trolley to the number assigned.  The number of the counter was lit up, only the name Air Namibia was not to be seen.  I asked someone standing there where it was. He pointed me in another direction further down the counters.  Off I went, but could not find it there either.  I returned to the first counter - again someone said they had seen it in the same direction as the previous man. He accompanied, but again, not to be found.

Eventually I saw a woman sitting in what looked like an office and I asked her for Air Namibia. She pointed me in another direction entirely. This time I did find an Air Namibia office, but the door was closed and no-one was inside. A semi official looking man sitting outside told me that the lady inside, she is in the bathroom.

As she did not appear to be in a hurry to return I decided to trudge a long distance until I found an information desk. I asked one of the woman sitting there whether I could sit in a lounge until the Air Namibia counter would reopen. She said I needed a boarding pass and I explained that I did not yet have one. She then asked for my flight number. She looked at a monitor at her desk and said to me, 'your flight is cancelled. There is no flight this evening."


WELCOME TO AFRICA

I stood there open-mouthed.  "I will come with you to the Air Namibia Office," she volunteered. "No one is there," I wailed. She escorted me and by now the Air Namibia representative, Nicolene Tehitja, had returned from the bathroom.

Apparently I was supposed to have been informed about the cancellation.  There was a flight the next day at 6.40 a.m.  All I knew was that someone called Johan was to meet me at the Wiindhoek airport that evening at 8.30.  I was exhausted, emotionally compromised, confused.

Air Namibia set me up in a hotel overnight. I emailed my agent in Namibia to let her know of the change, and I was shuttled off to the Birchwood Hotel.  Even getting there was not without many problems, but I did arrive at the hotel and had a glass of wine.  Reception informed me I was to leave the hotel at 4.30 in order to be at the aiport at 5.00 a.m.  I requested a wake up call at 4.15 a.m.  As usual, when I have to get up in the wee hours I awoke to check the time every 30 minutes.  By 3..30 I was ready and waiting in the cold, dark Johannesburg night. I was convinced I would not get my wake up call because I was now in Africa, and on African time.

At preciselly 4.15 a young man knocked at my door and took my case. So much for my misgivings.

Back at the airport, more trouble.  I landed up having to pay for a ticket for which I had paid several months before.  I was too exhausted to protest.

When the time came to handing in my passport and boarding pass, I begged the man at the counter not to give me any more trouble.  He scrutinised my passport and papers, looked at me solemnly, and said "I have to advise you ..... that this time everything in OK.  Have a safe trip."