Namibia trip part 2

By Alois Bunjira

AFTER we played Namibia in Walvis Bay we still had to go and play them again in Windhoek, for their Independence Celebrations again. 

Once again we won 2-1 .I remember after the match when we got our allowances, we rushed into town for shopping. Most of the young men in the team had little babies. I remember most of us went to the kiddies shops to buy some clothes and toys for our little ones and their mummies. Weislaw Grabowski used to laugh at us asking “How can babies have babies?”

My daughter, Yolanda was a few months old. Shuto’s (Stewart Murisa) daughter Natalie was 2 months older. The shopkeepers were really amazed by these kids buying children’s clothes instead of fashionable tops and sneakers . . . lol.

We were leaving for Harare the next day at 1pm,I remember. Our flight was flying from Windhoek to SA, then we would connect with Air Zimbabwe to Harare. That evening at dinner our Namibia tour guide and our head of delegation came to the table and said:

“Guys, we have a bit of a problem. Our plane to South Africa has been overbooked. There are some delegates who need to be in Johannesburg and cannot be left behind. However, we have an early morning flight to Harare, via Victoria Falls. We have 7 places in that plane. Do we have guys who would prefer to leave for Harare earlier at 7am?”

The attraction of leaving for Harare early was so appetising. So naturally we all raised our hands. The guide then counted us who were closest to him . . . 7 of us.

He then asked us to pack our bags that evening as the transport to the airport was picking us up at 05.30hrs. We agreed. The following morning the 7 of us; Stewart Murisa, Elasto Kapowezha, Vusi Laher, Alex Munawa and two others and I, not sure who, were picked up for the airport. Right from the hotel, the first surprise confronted us. We took the direction opposite the direction of the international airport. We kept asking each other where we were going. About 30 minutes later, we found ourselves arriving at an aerodrome. The driver quickly brought a big trolley and all our bags were taken, presumably to the plane. They said we only needed to go and collect our boarding passes inside as everything was already arranged. We got into the building and there an attendant handed us boarding passes. From where we were now sitting, we could see the whole runway, the hangers and parking slots. We wondered where our plane was. All we could see was a tiny little plane parked in one of the parking bays. Fifteen minutes later we heard an announcement:

“All those travelling to Gaborone, Victoria Falls, Kariba and Harare may you kindly proceed to board through gate number 1.”

We looked at one another, wondering what was happening.

“Could it be we are boarding that small plane?” Vusi Laher asked rhetorically.

I looked at him with a shocked face and said “No way dude! I ain’t boarding that little plane.”

The announcement came again and we started walking towards the gate and then onto the tarmac. There we saw other passengers, probably 8,walking towards the tiny plane. It was a 17-seater plane.

At that moment I made my decision as at the same time the trolley taking our bags to the plane was right in front of us. I called out to the steward who was pushing the trolley to stop. I then rushed and grabbed my bag. He asked me what I was doing. I called out:

“Bro, that’s my bag. I ain’t travelling in that small plane. No way. I am going back to the hotel. I will book me a bus back to Harare.”

The man was stunned. My teammates were stunned. They watched in disbelief as I walked away from the plane, pulling my bag back to the departure building. The Namibian guide was still there and he saw the whole thing. He came to me and asked me what the problem was. I told him:

“My brother’s best friend died two weeks ago in Zimbabwe in a small plane like that. No way am I going into that plane.”

Those from Zengeza would know Nhengu Makore who died in an Air force plane crash on a farm in Beatrice. He was my brother’s best friend and like a brother to me. The tour guide then asked me what I was going to do then. I told him he should take me back to the hotel. In the meantime I needed to make a phone call first.

The beauty of networking, when I was at Prince Edward High School we used to stay at a flat in town. At the flat there used to stay two Namibian ladies . . . Hilde and Amelelean. They were doing a marketing course somewhere in Harare. When they left for Namibia on completion of the course, they left us their numbers. They had followed our progress through papers and they kept in touch. They were close to us and Derby Mankinka, who also stayed with us at the flat .I then made a phone call to Hilde Petrus from the airport. I told her the story and asked her to come and help me book a bus to Harare. In no time Hilde was at the airport. She then engaged in a discussion with the tour guide. Luckily Hilde was now working for the Ministry of Sport in Namibia, which coincidentally had arranged our trip. I then heard the tour guide saying he would take me back to the hotel and see what he could do. Hilde came with us to the hotel.

The other guys were surprised to see me back at the hotel. After about an hour I was then told that they had managed to get me a seat in the big plane to Johannesburg and then Harare. We said our goodbyes and Hilde left for her home. We took the plane to Johannesburg alright. I told my other teammates the story and what happened. They couldn’t believe it!

We arrived at Harare International Airport at around 6pm.We were told we had to wait for the guys who had left with the small plane. They were only arriving at Harare Airport at around 7pm.When they arrived, they were all almost crying and sweating. They had a horrible journey in that small plane that took them 12 hours to get to Harare via Botswana, Vic Falls and Kariba. I felt sorry for them as they narrated their journey. I wondered if I would have survived the turbulences and the horror flight. I was lucky I missed such horror . . . To this day I have a phobia of small planes. I will tell you guys a story about a small plane in Burkina Faso . . .