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Travel Diary #2: Self drive road trip Namibie-Botswana 11303

The second leg of our journey is a self-drive road trip starting from Windhoek in Namibia and ending in Maun, Botswana. For budget reasons, it was impossible to hire the services of a driver-guide for a month. Moreover, we love the adventure and freedom that this type of travel brings. We rented a 4x4 with a rooftop tent and a trunk filled with all the camping essentials: sleeping bags, dishes, propane, and even a small fridge. Upon our arrival in Windhoek, where we would only spend one night, it's striking how well-constructed and clean the city is. Paved sidewalks and no litter along the roads, unlike in Tanzania. However, there is much more begging. Here, it’s not about someone wanting to provide a service in exchange for some change, but rather an extremely insistent form of begging. The same was true in Swakopmund, on the western coast by the sea. In several towns with frequent tourist traffic, we encountered this dichotomy between cleanliness and begging. We then left civilization, heading north along the coast. We crossed the Skeleton National Park. I didn’t think a desert landscape could be so varied. Sand dunes, arid areas with some bushes, red earth sometimes tinged with purple, and occasionally the bed of a dried river with a bit of greenery and some antelopes surviving while waiting the next rainy season. Another striking aspect of this desert is the transition to the Atlantic Ocean. The shift from desert to ocean happens very abruptly, with waves crashing directly in the desert or, further north, on the few pebbles that serve as a boundary between water and land. The northern tip of the park is called Terrace Bay. The campsite where we stop is actually a very popular spot for fishermen from neighboring countries. We chatted with one of them who had come all the way from Cape Town (South Africa), having traveled 2000 km to get here with his 4x4. The next stop on our road trip is the famous Etosha National Park. It is very different from the parks we visited in Tanzania. The dirt roads are in better condition, and the park is more suited for a self-drive visit. The small waterholes (natural or artificial) attract many animals during the dry season and are well marked on the map. However, to see certain animals like cheetahs and lions resting in the shade of trees, it's best to signal other visitors to stop and exchange information. Even the guides, identifiable by their vehicles with pop-up roofs or completely open cars, are generous with advice. A simple wave will have them stop alongside you for a chat. The park is less varied in terms of landscapes compared to the Serengeti, for example, but the sight of the many species sharing the waterholes is magnificent. Once we crossed Etosha from west to east, we arrived in Rundu in northern Namibia, the second largest city after Windhoek. The owner of the campsite where we stopped told us that there is very little work, and thus most people living on the outskirts survive on what they find and trade. We went with him to see some houses in the village. They are simply areas of land marked out with wooden sticks and a few shelters, either made of metal or a wood/clay mix. For the end of the Namibian part of the road trip, we headed northeast along the Okavango River. We stopped at a fishing campsite. A little sunrise tour on the river allowed us to chat with the owner, who was very pleasant. He taught us a lot about poaching management and the damage it causes to the river's wildlife. There are almost no fish left. According to him, less than 10% of the aquatic wildlife in this river remains. After a little rest in a room at Popa Falls, we headed to Botswana and the Okavango Delta for the last two weeks of this part of our journey. Notably, the Namibia/Botswana border at this point is at the end of a long dirt road that crosses Bwabwata National Park. Before entering the Moremi Game Reserve on the east side of the delta, we spent a night at a campsite near Maun. This town is the equivalent of Arusha in Tanzania (see dedicated article). It’s the starting point for safaris. We stocked up on supplies: fuel, water, and food for the next five days. On the way to the southern entrance of the reserve, a few kilometers after leaving Maun, we realized that driving conditions would be a bit more challenging. The paved road ended, giving way to dirt and sand. We activated the 4x4 mode after just a few meters. Once in the park, conditions changed again. Unlike Etosha, there are no large, flat gravel roads. Thanks to the paper map and the maps.me app, we managed to explore the meanders at an average speed of 20 km/h for about five hours that day. This was followed by several similar days of intense driving that required sharp concentration and a keen sense of direction. The park is very wild, and the campsites are basic. We camped by the Khwai River in the north of the park. Arriving in the early afternoon for a slightly less intense driving day, we saw about twenty elephants drinking and crossing the river. We quickly lit a fire to signal our presence. What an experience! This road trip has been a crescendo of adventure. Our tourist experience in Botswana is relatively good, but not on par with the previous two countries. The cleanliness and quality of services (campsites and guesthouses) are much lower than in Namibia and Tanzania, with significantly higher prices. I don't want to minimize the beauty of the Okavango Delta; we saw stunning landscapes and all kinds of animals: kudu, zebras, elephants, giraffes, baboons, etc. Moreover, far from complaining, I feel privileged to be able to experience this adventure with my family. However, the prices are far too high. If I could do it again, I would spend a bit more time in Namibia and Tanzania for the same budget. A very beautiful leg of the journey comes to an end, but stay tuned for more adventures in a few weeks!
Antoine Antoine

Antoine

I am the CTO and co-founder of Bluwr. I love designing and writing scalable code and infrastructure.


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Eternal Morocco, Unbreakable Morocco: The Identity That Triumphs Over Exile... 92

There are affiliations that geography dissolves over time, and others that it strengthens as distance sets in. The Moroccan experience undoubtedly falls into the second category. Across generations, sometimes up to the third or fourth, a phenomenon intrigues. Women and men born far from Morocco continue to recognize themselves in it, to feel attached to it, to project themselves into it. They have left the country or never lived there long-term; they were born far away, but Morocco has never left them. How to explain such persistence? Why does this loyalty cut across social classes, faiths, degrees of religiosity, and even nationalities acquired elsewhere? How is a memory so indelible? How does it withstand the test of time, distance, and new cultural acquisitions, if not through the profound weight of national consciousness? Morocco is not merely a modern state born from 20th-century recompositions. It is an ancient historical construct, shaped by centuries, even millennia, of political and civilizational continuity. Dynasties like the Almoravids, Almohads, Merinids, Saadians, or Alaouites forged a stable political and symbolic space whose permanence transcends apparent ruptures. This historical depth irrigates the collective imagination. It gives Moroccans, including those in the diaspora, the sense of belonging to a history that precedes and surpasses them. Being Moroccan is not just a nationality. It is an inscription in a continuity, a composite identity forged by inclusion. Moroccan identity has been built through sedimentation. It is Amazigh, African, Arab, Andalusian, Hebraic. These are layers that coexist in a singular balance, complementing and interweaving without exclusion. This ancient plurality explains Moroccans' ability to embrace diversity without identity rupture. Thus, a Jewish Moroccan in Europe or a naturalized Muslim elsewhere often shares a common affective reference to Morocco, not out of ignorance of differences, but because they fit into a shared historical and geographical framework. This inclusive identity enables a rarity: remaining deeply Moroccan without renouncing other affiliations, with the monarchy serving as a symbolic thread. In this complex architecture, the monarchy plays a structuring role. Under Mohammed VI, it embodies historical continuity and contemporary stability. For Moroccans abroad, the link to the Throne goes beyond politics. It touches the symbolic and the affective, a dimension fully grasped only by Moroccans. It acts as a fixed point in a shifting world, offering permanence amid changes in language, environment, or citizenship. This transmission occurs invisibly in the family, in rituals. It is not a memory but living, sensitive memories. The diffusion and transfer also manifest in cuisines with ancestral recipes, in music and sounds, in living rooms echoing with Darija, through summers "back home," gestures, intonations, moussems, or hiloulas. Moroccan identity is transmitted less through discourse than through sensory experiences: tastes, smells, rhythms, hospitality. Thus, generations born abroad feel a belonging not formally learned, an active loyalty blending affection and claimed will. The diaspora does not settle for abstract attachment. It acts. Financial transfers, investments, public commitments, and defense of Moroccan positions internationally bear witness. This operational patriotism extends affection into action, a duty to the nation, a Moroccan loyalty. Moroccans may be exiles, but never uprooted. For the Moroccan diaspora, attachment transcends oceans. Even in political, economic, or academic roles abroad, Moroccains carry their country of origin explicitly or implicitly. The otherness of host societies reinforces this identity. The external gaze consolidates this sense of belonging to a culture so distinctive that it crystallizes, is claimed, and magnified. This phenomenon, intense among Moroccans, compels us to name what went without saying in the homeland: a continuity at a distance. Neither frozen nostalgia nor mere inheritance, this relationship is a profound dynamic. Morocco is not just a place; it is the bond that spans generations, adapts without diluting, reminding us that exile does not undo all affiliations. Morocco is in our daily lives, in a perennial, solid, and unyielding memory that defies borders and time.