Namibia and Elephant Stories

From my last trip to DRC with 80 million people to Namibia with 2 million people, the difference is staggering. But this is Africa. This is reflective of its enormous diversity in people, landscapes, politics (well, maybe) and cultures. We are here looking at potential investment projects for a new fund we have set up. The idea is to provide loans to communities to help them gain equity in robust businesses, so that they can benefit substantially from conservation, also loans to businesses who benefit conservation and communities.


Namibia is a predominantly arid country, and yet we are here during the wettest period in years. It is raining buckets. The capital Windhoek seems quite civilized with good roads, space and not much congestion—a nice break from Nairobi. You have to love the main road which is named after Robert Mugabe. We spent most of our time in the northwest part of the country. Vast, open land, mountainous, with massive canyons and rivers. A spectacularly beautiful country. Namibia is famous for its desert adapted species, such as lions and elephants.

One night we stay at a simple camp that we are considering investing in with a man who has been living in this remote camp for years, Dennis. A colleague prods him to tell the story of the elephant. He does. There was a bull elephant who hung around his camp. Dennis did not mind and for years, this elephant did this. The only time Dennis minded was when guests were around. One time there were guests and Dennis "shooed" the elephant away, as he normally did. However, this time the elephant went around the edge of the camp. Dennis noted that he was ripping grass but not eating it, ie. he was really ticked off and considering what to do.

A journalist was staying at the camp, and she got close to take photos. Dennis warned her, but before they knew it, the elephant started running after the women. She tripped, fell on her stomach. Knowing what would come next, Dennis threw a rock at the elephant. The elephant turned, looked at him, looked at the women, and started charging Dennis. Dennis too tripped, landed on his stomach. The elephant flipped him over onto his back (breaking a number of rips in the mean time) and placed his trunk on Dennis’s chest. He stood over him with his trunk pressed on his chest, not hurting him, but applying enough pressure so Dennis knew who was boss. The message: listen guy, you and I have co-existed quite well, but let’s make one thing clear, I can easily wreck you. But he didn’t. After a few minutes, he lifted his trunk off him and walked away.

I asked Dennis if he has seen the elephant since then. He said, oh yes, when I got back from the hospital, he was here, and we keep our respectful distances since then.

The rain continued and one day we drove in an open sided vehicle, your traditional safari vehicle, and the rain came in buckets, sideways. We were drenched. It seemed that every time we needed to be outside, which as you can imagine was a lot, the skies would open. When we were leaving from the airport, the sky was black. I said to my colleague “you know what is going to happen, as soon as our flight is called, it will monsoon.” Sure enough, the skies opened. This is not an airport where you are in a tunnel to the plane, you walk what seems like a kilometer to the airplane. Passengers refused to leave the gate the rain was coming down so hard. So they backed a truck to the door, and lifted us all into the truck with a construction levy, you know, the ones you put goods on, and raise it up to the flat bed of the truck. Then they delivered us to the plane. TIA. This is Africa.