By Roxanne Reid
Fun, funky even wacky, these are words you might use to describe the Canyon Roadhouse not far from the Fish River Canyon in southern Namibia. Staid, dull and prim are definitely not. In fact, if you don’t have a sense of humour or a fondness for grinning like a basketful of baboons, don’t even bother to visit; the place will be wasted on you.
Fun, funky even wacky, these are words you might use to describe the Canyon Roadhouse not far from the Fish River Canyon in southern Namibia. Staid, dull and prim are definitely not. In fact, if you don’t have a sense of humour or a fondness for grinning like a basketful of baboons, don’t even bother to visit; the place will be wasted on you.
I’ve written about the Canyon Roadhouse’s eccentric character for Getaway magazine (see Canyon Roadhouse: a blast from the past), so let me just give one example here of the high jinks to be had.
Once I’d absorbed the metaphorical smell of diesel and grease from the old cars and drifted back to the 20th century at the sight of old signs and posters that wrestle for space on the walls, I made a trip to the bathroom and came out giggling like a teenager.
Once I’d absorbed the metaphorical smell of diesel and grease from the old cars and drifted back to the 20th century at the sight of old signs and posters that wrestle for space on the walls, I made a trip to the bathroom and came out giggling like a teenager.
Turn off the gravel road to the Canyon Roadhouse; take a room or pitch a tent in the campsite
Up there on the wall, among Audrey Hepburn and Marilyn Monroe movie posters, among dated ads for Coppertone and Borax Extract of Soap, was an enormous portrait of a rather dishy dude with abs that would look good on a Men’s Health cover. We briefly made eye contact before I noticed the box nailed to the wall over his unmentionables. Labeled Tjongololo’s Box, it had a little door with a handle.
A note nearby warned that I shouldn’t use the handle, should never, ever open the box.
A note nearby warned that I shouldn’t use the handle, should never, ever open the box.
The puzzle of the Tjongololo's box
‘A long, long time ago,’ the note explained, ‘a mysterious animal lived at the canyon. It was a large dark worm, with two long antennae. Night after night it came looking for holes and crevices to crawl into. The humans called him the Tjongololo. If you encountered him you had to turn away immediately, otherwise you were devoured neck and crop – all that remained was a small pile of stones…
It continued: ‘One day [some] women decided to put a stop to the Tjongololo’s doings. At night they waylaid him and doused him with magic water, which made him freeze and unable to move. They grabbed him and stuffed him into a box.
‘We have found that box and hung it up here to remind [women] that curiosity really is a bad, bad thing. The box may never ever be opened again, never ever. Not even in secret when you are alone and think that nobody will see you.’
Of course, you know what happened next; all that forbidden stuff just made me determined to open it. Heck, I’m a writer, I had to know what would happen!
It continued: ‘One day [some] women decided to put a stop to the Tjongololo’s doings. At night they waylaid him and doused him with magic water, which made him freeze and unable to move. They grabbed him and stuffed him into a box.
‘We have found that box and hung it up here to remind [women] that curiosity really is a bad, bad thing. The box may never ever be opened again, never ever. Not even in secret when you are alone and think that nobody will see you.’
Of course, you know what happened next; all that forbidden stuff just made me determined to open it. Heck, I’m a writer, I had to know what would happen!
So many signs, so much fun you'll never be bored at the bar
A firm tug and the door flew open. Bla bla bla! A loud alarm went off and a warning light flashed. Inside another sign told me I now had to buy a round at the bar. I laughed and started thinking of how to fib or fudge my way out of the fix my nosiness had got me into.
Luckily, it was mid-morning and there was hardly anyone at the bar.
What fun everyone at the Gondwana Collection must have had collecting the memorabilia and old cars that fill this shed-like space; and what fun they’re still having with the Tjongololo box (and its counterpart, Pandora’s Box, in the Gents). Thanks for sharing your madcap world with us!
Luckily, it was mid-morning and there was hardly anyone at the bar.
What fun everyone at the Gondwana Collection must have had collecting the memorabilia and old cars that fill this shed-like space; and what fun they’re still having with the Tjongololo box (and its counterpart, Pandora’s Box, in the Gents). Thanks for sharing your madcap world with us!
Lots of pithy comments here. I also liked: ‘It’s not hard to meet expenses; they’re everywhere.’
Throw a plank of wood across this engine and you have a place for part of the breakfast buffet
A big truck laden with lots of gear, but check those skinny tyres
Trucks are part of the family too. I love the yellow line painted around the tree - no parking!
Remember two-toned cars? Canyon Roadhouse does
If the bar is too busy, enjoy a drink on the patio outside
Remember yellow AA Land Rovers and wood-panelled station wagons? Canyon Roadhouse does
The unusual reception desk at the Canyon Roadhouse
Cars, trucks and plants all grow in the garden, with trees and other plants sprouting from bonnets and boots
A quiver tree (kokerboom) grows from a rusted car
A riot of cacti sprouting from a car close to our room
More about Namibia
Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
Copyright © Roxanne Reid - No words or photographs on this site may be used without permission from roxannereid.co.za
Note: I was a guest of the Canyon Roadhouse for one night but had free rein to write what I chose. I paid for all meals, drinks and travel costs.
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