Giraffes and Windhoek’s Nightlife

On Sunday, we first drive to the church in downtown Windhoek, where we see women from the Himba tribe, dressed in very minimal clothing, selling souvenirs. Since there isn’t all that much to see in Windhoek, we decide to head to Daan Viljoen Game Reserve, a private nature park. Soon after entering, we spot several giraffes and antelopes. We then leave the car behind and hike along a dry riverbed all the way to a dam. Apart from us, we see only one other hiker on the trail.

After returning and having dinner in an enormous beer garden (after all, this used to be a German colony), we decide to explore the local nightlife. We walk a few hundred meters to a place called King’s Lounge. At first, it seems predictably quiet for a Sunday evening, and after finishing one drink, it feels like a good time to head back. But then, a woman named Betty, who is sitting at the bar near us with a man, starts talking to us.

She is quite drunk, and it’s hard to understand her at first, but gradually we manage to piece together her story. She is originally from Angola but has been living here for 10 years and works as an auditor at PwC. According to her, she speaks eight different languages. The reason, she says, is that her father is a “baboon” — meaning he has fathered children with different women in various countries around the world, including Finland and Cuba. To communicate with all her half-siblings, she has learned different languages. One of her brothers even owns a local ride-hailing company whose services we have already used.

The man sitting next to her turns out to be another one of her brothers. He works for a mining company headquartered in London. They both open new mines and reopen old ones. He explains that he doesn’t want Namibia to become too rich — if he wants to drive a Lamborghini, he can go to Dubai and rent one there, but on Namibian roads it would be useless.

We are then introduced to the owner of the place. It turns out he studied computer science in London while working as a bartender on the side. After working for two years in his field, he realized he didn’t like it and instead opened two bars in Windhoek. The owner tells us we are the first Estonians ever to visit his bar, buys us drinks, and even has the DJ give us a shout-out.

Gradually, more people arrive and the place becomes quite lively — everyone is chatting, joking, and some are even dancing a little. Betty tells us this is the only place in Windhoek where there’s life even on a Sunday evening. When she hears that we walked there, she insists that we absolutely must take a taxi back, even though our apartment is only a 10-minute walk away. She repeatedly emphasizes that the bar itself is very safe, but the streets are not.

Unfortunately, Betty becomes increasingly drunk, disappears for a while, and eventually tells us that it’s probably time for us to leave. We take her advice, step outside, and order a taxi using a local app. At the same time, two young local women arrive in a taxi, clearly in high spirits. One of them exchanges a few words with us and immediately decides to hug both of us. The other quickly follows suit. They ask why we’re standing outside. When we explain that we’re waiting for a taxi to leave, they seem disappointed and head inside. Our taxi arrives, and that’s how our first party experience in Namibia comes to an end.