Kolmanskop: Where Dreams Turned to Dust
“. . . there are soft boundaries between what is real and what is remembered, and each place in front of us is somewhere else too.”
– Deb Wilenski
As I gaze towards the outlines of the scattered buildings in front of me I marvel at how uninviting they look in the half-light of a cold, grey morning. I’ve long dreamed of visiting Kolmanskop in this tucked away corner of Namibia, but for a brief moment as I hover outside the gate I fail to experience the tingle of excitement I expected to feel. I shrug off my disappointment, pull my jacket closer to my body to brace myself against the wind, and head towards where the buildings peter out at the edge of what was once one of the richest towns on earth.
Nothing remains of the European luxuries that once abound in Kolmanskop. The hospital which is said to have housed the first X-ray machine in Southern Africa now hunker down against the onslaught of a persistent wind, and while the theater, ballroom, sports hall with skittles alley, and ice factory have been partially restored, the rest of the town is slowly being swallowed by the Namib Desert. The small tram line that was constructed to help residents avoid the inconvenience of trudging through sand, and the champagne, fresh caviar and strawberries that could be found in the local grocery store, now feel more like figments of someone’s imagination than the truth.
The wheels of fate Zacharias Lewala set in motion on an ordinary workday in April 1908, when he showed his boss the strange stone he picked up while working on the railway line at Grasplatz have not only changed the fortunes of the people who got sucked into the ensuing diamond rush to this inhospitable place, but also the landscape. Although diamonds were discovered in a variety of places in the area, it was Kolmanskop that became the centre of the thriving industry. It is said that diamonds were so prolific in Märchental, or Fairytale Valley, close to Pomona that diamonds were twinkling like stars in the moonlight, and that workers crawled around on their hands and knees picking them up with tweezers from among the rocks and dust. In a rather bizarre attempt to prevent theft the workers were said to have been locked up for the night in sleeping quarters that resembled coffins.
The scarcity of water did not dampen development. A monthly supply of a thousand tons of fresh water was initially shipped to Kolmanskop all the way from the Cape in South Africa, until the problem was solved by an underground aquifer that was found at Grillental which fed four boreholes that could then supply the surrounding mines and settlements with the fresh water they needed. At a time when one out of every five diamonds in the world came from the area, 300 hundred German adults, 40 children, and 800 Ovambo workers called Kolmanskop home. But the boom was short lived, and with the changing fates of the World Wars, depression, and discovery of higher deposits of alluvial diamonds in Oranjemund, mining in Kolmanskop ceased in 1930.
Walking through the remains of this one’s thriving community it is hard to fathom the excesses and luxuries that coloured daily life, although hints linger in the architecture, fittings, fading patterns and colours on the walls, and peeling wallpaper.
The notes of the resident orchestra have been replaced by the moan of the wind, the saltwater swimming pool has been emptied by the rays of the sun; and the memory of children’s laughter echo only in my mind and not the empty school building I shuffle through.
No longer controlled by the whims of human hearts and hands, the desert is gradually returning to its original state of equilibrium, or at least doing its best to do so. The gardens with their manicured lawns, rosebushes and eucalyptus trees would have been the first to disappear. In all likelihood long before the last couple of families eventually left town in 1956.
Its current inhabitants, those tiny critters who come out after the heavy footsteps of the tourists have retreated for the day, don’t care about the past, or changing fortunes of those who once dreamed and laughed here. Their tiny imprints on the sand, and subtle interplay of light and shadow, both inside and outside the crumbling buildings, fill me with a nostalgic sadness as I am reminded of just how fleeting our presence on earth really is.
When I leave the last crumbling mansion, I think of Zacharias Lewala, and wonder if he also managed to make his fortune. If he did, history is silent about it, as it was his boss, August Stauch that in the end got credited for discovering the rich diamond fields, and who became a very wealthy man. For a while at least, because in a twist of irony he lost his fortune in 1931, and died a poor man in April 1947 in his home town of Ettenhausen in Germany of stomach cancer.
To Read:
## Diamonds in the Desert: The Story of August Staunch and His Times by Olga Levinson (Published by Tafelberg in 1983)
** Click on any image to view bigger versions of the photographs.
NOTES:
# Opening hours is from 8h00-13h00. Guided tours are included in the entrance ticket and take place at 9h30 and 11h00, except for a Sunday and Public Holidays when there is only one tour at 10h00. The Champagne Bar in the erstwhile casino now serves as a restaurant where visitors can enjoy breakfast or a light lunch. (8h30-13h00)
Entrance fee is N$100 for adults, and N$20 for children (6-14 years).
If you want to visit Kolmanskop outside of opening hours for sunrise or sunset, you need to obtain a Photo permit beforehand, which you have to display on the dashboard of your car when you park just outside the main gate. This costs N$235 per person, and can be bought from Lüderitz Safaris & Tours in Bismarck Street. (They are open until 18h00.)
Remember to be sensible when exploring the buildings, and to dress appropriately for the conditions.
# Mining operations included Charlottental, Meob, Conception Bay, Grillenthal, Bogenfels, Elizabeth Bay and Pomona, where abandoned buildings face the same fate as those in Kolmanskop, but as they are in the Sperrgebiet (prohibited area), where mining operations continue today, it is not possible to visit them independently. Coastways Tours in Lüderitz does hold a concession for a tour into the Sperrgebiet, which, since February 2009, is also a National Park, and includes a visit to Pomona ghost town, which clocks the highest average wind speeds in Southern Africa. This is not a tour you can decide on at the spur of the moment, though, as you need to send them a copy of your passport at least a week in advance for them to arrange the appropriate permits.
# What is today known as Lüderitz was historically called Angra Pequena (Little Bay) by the Portuguese explorers who happened upon it in 1488. It makes for a great base to explore the area (Kolmanskop is only 11km out of town), and is a lovely town to discover on foot if the wind isn’t blowing. Spend at least two nights here, as both Felsenkirche and Goerke Haus are only open for an hour or two a day.
# There is something about abandoned places that stir my soul, especially when I find myself completely alone in them, as I did in Kolmanskop. Other favourite abandoned villages of mine are Kayakoy in Turkey, and Jazirat al Hamra in the UAE.
Visited: February 2019
Oh my God! These photos give me goosebumps. They are so evocative and incredible.
Glad they stirred up such a reaction, Cindy. It was fascinating exploring the place on my own so early in the morning. I must confess that I had a good couple of shivers down my spine, especially when the sun wasn’t up yet, and the interiors still filled with many dark corners. Rather spooky to say the least.
impressive glimpse of what
remains, decaying in the sand!
thanks for bring me there
the the African desert 🙂
So glad I could take you there. It is a very special place.
Amazing experience and wonderful photos.
Thank you so much.
You are a never-ending source of amazing and fascinating sights and stories. I have an ancestor who left Bradford England to become a miner in South Africa in the late 1800s. I presume it was diamonds – but who knows? There is so much I could research on him if I had the time. I know he served in the Anglo-Boer war as a stretcher bearer (for the English), and then went on to have some type of SA government position before ending up in Australia via Canada. Who knows? He may have even straggled north to Kolmanskop. Another five hundred years, and it will be as fabled as the lost city of Atlantis.
And you never seize to amaze me with finding all those weird and wonderful ancestors of yours, Gwen. Can you imagine the stories he could tell? He sounds like the perfect subject matter for another novel one day. And of course you would have to travel far and wide for that research . . .
Excellent documentary!!! Chapeau!!!
Thank you, Herman. Have you ever been? I can only imagine the amazing pictures you would take there.
It’s on one of our bucket lists …. SOOOO many tings yes to see… 😉
I know! My bucket list seems to grow much faster than the items I can actually tick off. 🙂 Namibia is one of my favourite countries, and the opportunities for photography is endless. I hope you get there some day soon, Herman.
Absolutely stunning. I haven’t even heard of this place yet. Simply glorious photos. Thank you!
Thank you, Manja. I had a wonderful time exploring this corner of the Namib desert. Such a fascinating history!
Always look forward to your next adventure. Thank you for sharing.
Thanks, Bev. I hope our adventures can intersect again one day. Michael seriously considered doing the next Cape2Rio, but work commitments got in the way.
What a sad place! Your photographs are wonderful and the history of Kolmanskop is fascinating.
Thank you, Clare. It is indeed sad to think that dreams and prosperity, even when built in stone so to speak, can be very fleeting.
I’ve seen many posts about abandoned mines in Namibia, but the writing in this one outclasses everything I read so far! I, too, have a “thing” for abandoned places: I’ve spent lots of time reading about UrbEx in the USSR and, still, one of my most thrilling reads was the one when two Russians trekked the steppe and found the Buran shuttle in an abandoned hangar… Here’s to more such posts from you!
Fabrizio
Thank you for the compliment, Fabrizio. It took me quite a while to write this post, as I struggled to find the right angle. I marvel at how many abandoned places there are in the world. And the stories surrounding them are just fascinating!
Definitely something out of the ordinary shown today. I am certain if the walls could speak, a very thick novel could be written of the happenings that went on inside these now abandoned buildings.
Indeed, Greg. It would make for a riveting read.
It must feel surreal to see this in-person. Your photos – as always – are stunning and are a wonderful combination with your writing. I feel as if I am there myself 😉 As always best wishes!
Thank you, as always, Takami. It was such a wonderful experience to at last see the place for myself. And the fact that I wandered around all alone on the day I visited, until the gate officially opened, made it extra special, even though it was a tad creepy at times. 🙂
“…even though it was a tad creepy at time” – I think I can relate! But very glad you enjoyed the experience.
On a side note, I left a comment on your other blog (A Taste of Freedom). It appears I’ve somehow accidentally un-subscribed from receiving updates and don’t know how to subscribe again…. 😦 Worst case scenario, I have the site bookmarked, and will check-in regularly.
Wishing you a great week ahead!
Hi Takami. Will hop over to our Portugal blog quickly, and see what I can do. Will respond to your comment there.
All fixed, Takami. The Subscribe button that mysteriously disappeared is back! You can now re-subscribe. 🙂
😀 😀
How have I missed your Portugal blog? Off to find it now.
Wow!!! What amazi amazing g images
Wrong button pressed…. now I’ll finish…what a statement about humanity and what is happening to us with all our excesses….eerily poignant I find myself most drawn to the half drowned doors and windows…. must have been amazing.
It was truly amazing. One can really get lost in time there.
Fascinating history lesson. Great snaps, even if they seem a bit depressed and haunted.
Thanks, Lani. Yip, I did feel goosebumps creeping up my spine a couple of times . . .
So eerie! I didn’t even recognize this as the place I’ve always wanted to see with slanting doorways fulling with sand. But indeed it is the same place, and it’s far sadder than I imagined. I think seeing the appurtenances of daily life, like bathtubs and sinks and electrical outlets, made it all the more real as a place where people actually lived, and lived well at one time. It makes me think about what my own world might look like some day …
I wonder about the same thing, Lexie, especially when I visit abandoned places, because I am sure that the people who built and inhabited them could never have imagined what fate would befall them. My husband hates visiting places like these, as he says it saddens him too much to think that the crumbling buildings once contained peoples dreams.
Love the photos Jolandi, they certainly tell a story. They gave me the same feeling as I get when I stand in a ghost town near my hometown and wish the walls could talk, oh the stories they could tell. You took us all there with you and I loved reading about this lost and forsaken spot.
Indeed, Terri. I am definitely attracted to these places partly because I am drawn to stories, both real and imagined. I could easily have spent the whole day there, as it was quite overwhelming, but the wind was very unpleasant, and we had a long drive ahead of us.
Wow, so many grains of sand, what a mysterious place, the desert.
Indeed! I love the desert for so many reasons.
Your coverage of this place is perfection. Lexie and Manja let me know of your post and I so enjoyed reliving Kolmanskuppe through your lens.
Thank you, Lisa. I also just had a look at your post, and I so love that you were there when there was a deep blue sky. So different from my early morning adventure with low mist clouds obscuring it. Not to mention the fierce wind. I always marvel at how different a place can look depending on the time of day and weather conditions. I also love how one can become part of a blogging community, as I’ve actually discovered your blog through Lexie, and have been following along since her visit to you when you were in Madagascar.
I have a similar reaction to once thriving, now abandoned locales, Jolandi. Each one serves as a memento mori, and exhorts to make the most of our time.
They certainly do, Tanja. Love how you put it.
This puts a whole new spin on the idea of dreams turning to sand. Great photos!
Such a powerful post and photographs. I’ve always enjoyed your writing style, and you bring the power of nature and the desert into full bloom here: “what was once one of the richest towns on earth” I kept asking myself how could this be when compared to what you have shot. But then, perhaps it is living in a small town in the western part of the States, where I can understand that at some point towns seem to move backwards in time.
Thank you, Randall. It really is amazing to see how us as humans can “conquer or orden” nature, but only if we keep our hand on it, otherwise nature is definitely the more powerful force.
Beautiful photos Jolandi. Ghost towns intrigue me too, raising all those questions about what we hope to achieve and how often our dreams end up becoming destructive forces not only for the planet but for our fellow humans. Looking at your photos I kept thinking about all the people in this region whose lives were exploited for the pursuit of stones. Zora del Buono, in an article in der Spiegel wrote, “Lewala’s name entered history but not much more, the man had nothing of his find, no one paid him for it or showed any kind of gratitude, others made the big business and they made it quick.”
I know! It is sad how greed ignore the value of human life, Atreyee, as it is only a small percentage of the people who toiled here, who made money and lived a good life. For the rest, life must have been very miserable.
Absolutely beautiful photos and writing … abandoned homes, abandoned dreams … and the sands of time march relentlessly onward … love that introductory quote: “. . . there are soft boundaries between what is real and what is remembered, and each place in front of us is somewhere else too.”
I remember being in London the day Jimi Hendrix died … grey, overcast day … and the words from his song that seemed so apt: “And so castles made of sand fall in the sea eventually”
Love the words from the Jimi Hendrix song. So appropriate not just for Kolmanskop, but our lives too.
Fabulous post. I love abandoned buildings too. These photos and commentary are magnificent.
Thank you, Peggy. Abandoned buildings leave so much for the imagination, which is perhaps why I love them so.
Visions of this place always spring to mind whenever I think of Namibia. The beauty of decay is strong in this place. Thank you for the photos.
I think a visit to Kolmanskop is a must when visiting Namibia. I wish I could have spent the whole day there.
What a fascinating story and amazing photography. Abandoned places are so interesting to me. They can be overwhelmingly sad when imagining the life and love that once was and the care that went into them and now they’re left to be mere ruins…
Thanks, Susanne. Yip, there is something about abandoned places that draws me in. My husband dislikes them, as he says that it saddens him to think that these spaces were once people’s dreams. And it is true, but I guess they speak to both my imagination and heart in a way that softens the sadness.
❤️