Ghost Story

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

When we arrived with the crowds at Kolmanskuppe’s gate, we were offered two options; ‘standard entry’ from 08H00 until 13H00 or ‘special photography permit’ from sunrise to sunset.

The prospect of photographing this curious ghost town at nightfall seemed wildly appealing to me at 09H30. Less so for others in our party who opted for standard entry.

There were about fifty visitors in attendance for the 10H00 museum tour.

But by the time The Captain dropped me at the gate for the second visit at 15H30, there was not another living soul around.

Suddenly, I found myself longing for the arrival of one of those maddening tour groups I’d been wishing away earlier in the day.

Be careful what you wish for … now I had the eerie place to myself. No turning back.

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The first diamonds were discovered at Kolmanskuppe, German Southwest Africa (a colonial predecessor of modern-day Namibia) in 1908. Rough diamonds were easily harvested from the grounds and the stores filled quickly. [1]

By 1912, the area produced one million carats or 11.7 percent of the world’s total diamond production.  Kolmanskuppe once boasted the highest per capita wealth in the world due to its relatively low population, reaching 1,300 at its height. [2]

The enormous wealth afforded amenities and institutions including a hospital, ballroom, power station, school, a skittles alley, theatre and sport-hall, casino, ice factory and the first x-ray-station in the southern hemisphere, as well as the first tram in Africa. [3]

In its heyday, the town looked very different. Freshwater bought in by rail from 120km away and pumped into storage tanks nurtured lush gardens with manicured lawns, rose beds and eucalyptus trees. Pets were difficult to keep in the conditions, but a Forman, Ou Kat Coleman, and his family kept an ostrich which was used to pull a sleigh at Christmas ‘given reindeer were unable to cross the desert.’ [4]

But all good things must come to an end. The demise of the town started slowly with the discovery in 1928 of the richest diamond-bearing deposits ever known 270 km south of Kolmanskuppe, near the Orange River. The foundering was accelerated with the depletion of Kolmanskuppe’s diamond field after WWII and the town was fully abandoned with the departure of the last three families in 1956. [5]

Those glory days now long since passed, the Namib Desert sands have been swallowing the place ever since. This graveyard of boom gone bust was waiting for me.

---

Some say that ghosts remain on Earth until there is no-one left to remember the one who died.

I entered the extensive grounds with great trepidation, my overly active mind spinning frightful yarns with runaway speed.

Perhaps an angry Zacharias Lewala haunted here. A track worker with an eye trained at the Kimberly Mines in South Africa, Lewala identified the first diamonds here and dutifully handed them over to his superior, the station master August Stauch. What did Zacharias get for his discovery? Nothing. “no one paid him for it or showed him any kind of gratitude, while [Stauch and] others made diamonds into a big business and made it quick”. [6]

Or maybe the wraith of Lewala’s ungrateful boss, August Stauch still lingered at Kolmanskuppe. He’d experienced his own personal boom and bust from the place, generating substantial riches with the first claim but dying penniless in the end due to bad investments and the Great Depression.

Maybe the place was filled with the souls of the native peoples, those displaced with the creation of the Sperrgebeit (Prohibited Land) designated for mining only, of the Ovambo Peoples, forced into labor at Kolmanskuppe, or of the Namibian Herero people who’d been nearly wiped out by colonizers in a genocidal attack shortly before the discovery of diamonds; spirits now lying in wait for justice.

Reflecting on the beauty that mankind can create and the horror with which we can destroy, I walked through the doorway to the remains of the Mining Manager’s house.

I spent an hour and a half wandering the grounds of Kolmanskuppe, exploring the inside of many abandoned buildings. But a lot of deep breathing and silly self-coaching was required to tour each structure.

I reminded myself that ‘there is no such thing as ghosts’ and ‘that those creaks are just the houses settling or doors/window panes/sand blowing in the wind’.

When that didn’t work, I’d try ‘there may be ghosts but they can’t hurt you’ or ‘it is not the dead you should fear, it is the living’ or ‘it is a good day to die’…and then I soldiered onward.

Most of the time, I wandered calmly, laughing at myself.

But every once in a while, I was certain that something as frightening as the twins from The Shining was waiting for me around the next corner.

In the end, the only shadows that I saw were my own and those cast by the abandoned structures.

Still, I exited the place well in advance of the twilight and returned to the car outside the gate to find The Captain sleeping soundly, dreaming phantom free.

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With an hour of daylight remaining, we returned to nearby Lüderitz, the harbor town where we had anchored.

Given its placement between a sweeping Atlantic coastline and the expansive Namib Desert, Lüderitz’s morning and mid-day skies are often covered by fog or a golden haze. But a deep blue emerges late in the day.

The predominance of German colonial architecture, erected in Lüderitz during the boom years gives a sense of what Kolmanskuppe might have looked like in its heyday.

But populations declined here too, initially with German deportations after WWI and further when diamond mining moved south, diminishing the city’s importance as a trading post. [7]

Today the Lüderitz economy revolves around fishing, tourism and the port with efforts underway to diversify into manufacturing, logistics, and aquaculture. [8]

Its current population size ranks 14th of 20 cities in Namibia, one of the least densely populated countries in the world with just 3.13 people per square kilometer [9]

With a sparse population occupying this remote outpost, one peppered with large buildings, empty streets, and hopes dashed by a stalled railway restoration, Lüderitz feels like a city waiting for people to show up; a living ghost town of sorts, but a very clean and welcoming one.

We traveled twice to this oasis, the first time overland through the desert expanse and then again along its coastal highway under sail, attracted by distinct landscapes, a curious history, a safe harbor, comfortable self-catered accommodation at Haus Sandrose, and seriously friendly souls.

An otherworldly place that I am delighted to have added to my list of global haunts!

~~Next Up – Sossusvlei: A Sacred Space ~~