The border from Angola to Namibia was as easy as it gets. We got our immigration stamps and carnet de passage stamps, paid the road tax - and suddenly, we were in an environment that felt familiar. The service stations had the same offerings and brands as in Europe. The fuel didn’t have a weird colour anymore. ATMs with cash had no cues. Contactless payments worked. But there were things even more fundamental:
Here in Namibia we don’t stand out anymore just by the colour of our skin – about 5% of the population are white.
After Togo and Cameroon, Namibia is the third country of our trip with a German colonial past. Deutsch-Südwestafrika was a colony of the German Empire from 1884 to 1915. But in contrast to the first two, the traces are very visible here. Street names like Moltke Street, Hindenburg Street and Prosit Street are not seldom. There’s a German-language daily newspaper called Allgemeine Zeitung.
Between 1904 and 1908, the German Empire conducted the first genocide of the 20th century, killing thousands of Herero and Nama. Yet, at a service station we met a Herero called Heinz which left us puzzled.
One other fundamental thing caught us a bit off guard. In Namibia, you drive on the left side. Same as in South-Africa, Botswana, Zambia, Zimbabwe. Meaning: all countries we might visit from now on have left-hand traffic. We adopted a very careful riding style, remembering our time in Japan and how easy it is to slip into old habits – especially when turning a corner.
Our first day in Namibia was rainy, but not for us. Our road went right between two huge black rain clouds. Good timing.
The speed limit on Namibian country roads is 120 km/h. Rightfully so. They’re flat and go straight for miles and miles. It meant we had a lot of white pickups (which seems to be the gold standard here) overtaking us, since we didn’t want to push our bikes to the limit.
We didn’t visit the famous Etosha National Park on the way, because motorcycles are not allowed there. After two long riding days, we reached Windhoek.
But we only just made it to the capital: 150 meters before reaching our guesthouse, Thies’ CRF300 just stopped. The engine shut off, the yellow warning lamp came on.
We had always planned to get new tires and a full service for our bikes at the local Honda dealership. Now, there was an additional issue that had to be addressed: There was oil in the airbox of Thies’ motorcycle. Usually, that’s the result of a bike drop. We wanted to get to the bottom of this. On our first morning in Windhoek, we brought the bikes to Honda Pupkewitz.
Now bikeless, we decided to visit the Independence Memorial Museum. From outside, it has bigtime North Korean vibes. Inside, it is very well structured.
Unfortunately, the exhibition doesn’t provide you with many facts or much storytelling. It’s basically one big invitation to buy a history book or consult Wikipedia.
From its terraces though, you have a stunning view of Windhoek and beyond.
The Christ Church aka Christuskirche is one of Windhoek’s biggest sights, belonging to the German-speaking Evangelical Lutheran Church.
Down the road from Christ Church, we were scammed for the first time on this trip (well, it was the first time we later realized that we were scammed). Two men approached us and quickly told us the astonishing story of their lives. In flawless German they explained that they grew up in East Germany. On Schloss Bellin near Güstrow, to be precise. We had never heard of the DDR-Kinder von Namibia. During the South African Border War the GDR took in children of Namibian refugees and political exiles. Between 1979 and 1988 a total of 430 black kids came to East Germany. Upon German reunification, they had to return to Namibia – a country they knew very little about.
The two guys were fundraising for a get together of all 430 DDR-Kinder and a documentation. Except… they weren’t. When we researched the story and spoke to some locals, we found out that they’ve been “fundraising” for this since at least 2009. It’s a scam.
But it’s hard to blame them. According to the World Bank, Namibia is one of the most unequal countries in the world. In 2015, its Gini coefficient was second only to South Africa. Over 40% of Namibians do not have enough food.
Honda Pupkewitz serviced our bikes quickly and we were happy to get new tires (Anakee Wild again). The mechanic in charge also found the reason why there was oil in Thies’ airbox: the oil level was too high.
We decided to test the new tires on a trip westwards, taking the C28, a 300 kilometer gravel road to Swakopmund.
According to dangerousroads.org, the C28 is one of world’s least traveled roads. Fewer than 10 cars use it every day. We counted 7 pickups on the first 50 kilometers. Afterwards, only one camper van and one guy on a push bike crossed our path. Oh, and a road maintenance vehicle.
Except for some sandy patches, the gravel was really good and the views were stunning. That’s the kind of road you do a trip like this for – and have a bike like the Honda CRF300 Rally for.
At its highest point, the Bosua Pass, the road climbs up to 1.728 meters above sea level.
After the pass, we rode through some grass lands.
And then, we were in the desert: we entered the Namib-Naukluft Park. It encompasses part of the world's oldest desert, the Namib Desert.
Namibia has the second-lowest population density of any sovereign country, after Mongolia. And here in the Namib, it surely felt pretty lonely.
The last 50 kilometers of the road were tarred. We were happy to reach Swakopmund – and we were curious. It had been described to us as the most German town of Namibia.
The Hohenzollernhaus below is a landmark of the town, built between 1904 and 1906.
As we had already seen in Windhoek’s Zoo Park, Swakopmund has a monument for German soldiers who died in the Herero and Nama genocide.
At Swakopmund Museum, there was a good exhibition on The Dark Years. But when we went to a beer garden called Altstadt that night, there was a small Reichskriegsflagge – considered a Neonazi symbol in Germany – casually hanging at the bar as well as some German military helmets.
The next morning it was very misty in Swakop (as the locals call it).
We left Swakopmund with mixed feelings, not only because of what we had seen – but also because of our bikes. There was oil in Thies’ airbox again, in fact more than ever. Since there is no Honda dealer in Swakopmund, we decided to slowly ride back to Windhoek, this time taking the boring asphalt road.
We brought the bike directly back to Honda Pupkewitz.
Here, the compression of the engine was checked – and the result was not good. It should have been at least 10.7 bar. Thies’ engine had only 4.5 bar though.
To check if the piston rings were damaged, the mechanics at Honda Pupkewitz had to take the engine apart. The results were devastating. A piston ring was broken, there were big dents in the cylinder.
There were also little metal parts – presumably of the piston rings – in the oil. The list of engine parts that have to be replaced grew by the hour.
In the Pupkewitz showroom is a poster for the Honda CRF300L, the sister model of our CRF300 Rallys. They share the same engine and a lot of other parts. Yet the tagline “Tough enough to take you anywhere” did not resonate with us much.
This Honda CRF300 Rally was bought brand-new off a German Honda dealer in August 2023. It was well maintained throughout the trip, visiting pro workshops in Dakar, Accra, Yaoundé and Pointe-Noire. Yet, the engine is broken, kaputt, done – after only 17.000 kilometers.
“That’s odd for a Honda” was one of the many comments we got – and it’s true. Honda is known worldwide for its reliability. An engine failure this early shouldn’t occur. Yet, it does: we read about at least six other cases online.
We trust that Honda Deutschland will take responsibility and put us back on the road. In German, we call it Garantie or Gewährleistung. We don’t want to call it a day – we want to finish this trip.
Wish us luck! We’ll keep you posted. :)