by Kate Dernocouer, Guest blogger

I arrived in Namibia after dark on a July mid-winter evening. On the flight north from Johannesburg, I sat by the window and had a preview of the light shows I would see in the coming month. The flat terrain below darkened by the minute from dusty, drought-driven browns and tans, to deep brown, to a bruised-looking blue. The sky started blue, then deepened into the most glorious yellows, then delectable oranges, peaches, and tangerines. The horizon was a straight line dividing earth from the celestial ethers. I could not look away.

The following morning, I awakened from the dislocations of 72 hours of troubled travel (see my blog titled “Aviation System Woes, 2022″ dated 9/9/22). I was in a ninth floor guest bedroom at my friend, Steeve’s, apartment. Outside on the balcony, the dawning sky urged me to fling back the curtains and watch. It transitioned from a deep blue, starry night to daylight in increments of brilliant and various sunrise colors, until the hot sun washed out color and the day was suddenly Africa-hot.

I’ve seen lots of sunrises and sunsets in my almost-70 years, but nowhere are the sunrises and sunsets like those I witnessed in July, 2022 in Namibia. 

The topography of Namibia surely plays a role in the sun’s dynamic daily arrival and departure. The place is dry, and clouds are rare. The country’s big geological features run north to south, leaving the sun to cross-section them on its east-west path like clockwork. To the east is the Kalahari Desert. The Central Plateau, Namibia’s largest landscape formation, rises in the middle and includes multiple smaller mountain ranges. The Auas range is near the capital city of Windhoek, and the Naukluft mountains and Brandberg massif (where Brandberg peak claims the country’s high point at 8,442 ft) are further afield. Then, to the west, the Central Plateau borders on the Great Escarpment. Finally, everything drops towards sea level, the escarpment giving way to the red sand of the Namib desert, whose dunes reach the Atlantic coast. 

It doesn’t seem to matter whether you’re inland or by the sea: those sunrises! Those sunsets! The true meaning of the word “awe” comes to mind (from Google: “a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear or wonder). If there is anything to fear, perhaps it would be the fear of missing one. What a way to start, or finish, the day.