WINDHOEK is just like any other African city, save for the German and Dutch-named streets, which are a constant reminder of its colonial history.

Some of the major roads in the city centre are named after prominent liberation war heroes, including the Robert Mugabe, which is one of the biggest and busiest roads in the city centre.
The city is a reflection of multiculturalism; and it is easy for a ‘foreigner’ like me to distinguish between the different tribes such as the Himba, Nama, Herero and the Damara because of the different cultural dressing and physical make-up.
For example, it is easy to notice that the Damara women have the widest hips, and while the Nama women also have big hips, they are also very light in complexion.
The high presence of mixed race children and Cape coloureds is easily noticeable.
“Even though the Boers in Namibia practised the worst form of apartheid, maybe even worse than in South Africa, they could not resist the attractiveness of black women which is why there are so many coloureds in this country,” Violet, a friend of mine who works in Namibia tells me as she takes me to a Bureau de Change.
The presence of white people is also very high and it is easy for me to distinguish between the Afrikaner and other ‘Europeans’ because of their different physical appearances and the way they treat/view Africans.
Violet also tells me that there are a lot of Germans in the country, and that most black people in Namibia still have that ‘fear’ of white people, unlike in Zimbabwe.
I go in a supermarket, where a white woman expects me to give her way, as what most black people are doing to her.
I don’t budge.
I push past her, forcing her to move her trolley to the side.
She says something in Afrikaans to her colleague, but I don’t care.
In a restaurant the same happens to me; the black woman serving food prefers to serve the white girls behind me first; but I remind her that I came first before them.
She says something in a Namibian language, and I decide to take my protest to the young white girls, who appear like tourists, and tell them that I have to be served first because I came before them.
They apologise, but my action angers the food steward.
She refuses to serve me and I walk out of the shop wondering when some Namibian people will finally shake off their inferiority complex of whites.
Zimbabweans have long since graduated from that.
Namibian people look happy, laid back and relaxed as they go about their businesses.
It is difficult to imagine that a couple of decades ago they were still fighting for their independence from the Boers.
But a visit to their museum tells it all.
It tells the visitor a rich Namibian history, both social and political.
The museum also tells a history of suffering under the Germans, who, I am told, killed hundreds of thousands of black people resisting occupation in the 1890s, just like Zimbabwe.
My guide tells me that the deserts hide beneath them skeletons of hundreds of thousands of black people in what could be one of the worst human atrocities in the world, a Black Holocaust that is never talked about!
After the brutality experienced during the German occupation, the Namibians were also exposed to inhumane and degrading treatment by their new colonial masters, the Boers, who still control the economy.
Although the people have had a horrendous past, just like Zimbabweans, they have moved on.
They narrate the proud history of SWAPO and how it liberated the country from the jaws of colonialism.
They are proud of their leaders and founding fathers.
They are also proud of African nationalists especially President Robert Mugabe.
“He is our hero,” says my 25-year-old guide.
“The flat where I live is at the junction of Sam Mujoma Drive and Robert Mugabe Way.
“It is like a meeting of the giants.”
She takes me to a restaurant, where they sell traditional food.
I over-hear two Zimbabwean people talking in Shona.
They are talking about getting fake work permits.
The guy talking seems to be the middleman of some sort.
He takes money from the other guy, who I later learnt, was a qualified electrician in Zimbabwe, but is now working illegally and doing odd jobs in Namibia.
They speak in low tones.
They think I am Namibian and won’t pose any danger to them.
I go to their table and introduced myself to their visible discomfort.
I ask them when they were last in Zimbabwe and how they are finding Namibia.
The one who has taken money from the other guy does all the talking.
He tells me that Zimbabwe is not a democratic country; there is no freedom of expression like in Namibia, and that he has no wish to return to Zimbabwe, the familiar tired stuff, just as it was in the UK.
He boasts about his wealth in Zimbabwe.
He tells me that he is making more money than the people in the UK.
I guess he could be right especially if he makes money exploiting vulnerable Zimbabweans by selling them fake work permits
But he is the only Zimbabwean that I came across in Namibia who is anti-Zimbabwe.
At my friend’s house, where she invites me for a barbecue, the discussion drifts to Zimbabwean politics, and she tells me that she is happy the MDC did not win.
“I don’t think Zimbabwean people really liked Morgan Tsvangirai in 2008,” she says.
“I think it was just a protest vote.”
She is not the only Zimbabwean I meet in Namibia who wants to return home.
On the bus (Intercape) to Livingstone I talk to a few Zimbabweans on board (during one of our short breaks); and they all express the desire to return home and live.
They tell me about the progress and development being done on Zimbabwean roads.
They are also hopeful that the government will reconnect with people because they are now tired of living in foreign lands. One lady tells me that although Zimbabweans are resented in Namibia, the situation is not as bad as it is in Botswana and South Africa.
We all agree that home is best.
The Intercape coach takes me through Zambia to Livingstone and Victoria falls.
When we get to Livingstone, the Zimbabweans, who are by now the only remaining passengers, are relieved to be near home.
We start making comparisons between Zambia and Zimbabwe, and all agree that Zimbabwe is by far much better than most Southern African countries in terms of development.
One passenger says the problem with us Zimbabweans is that we complain too much; while another says we complain because we have set very high standards for ourselves and we are never contented as a result.
At the Victoria Falls I feel relieved to be home at last.
I have been in the UK for more than 13 years although I came to Zimbabwe briefly in 2010.
My friends in the UK are eagerly waiting for feedback from me.
They have asked me to explore business opportunities and how they can return home.
Mudzimu we shiri uri mudendere.