Читать книгу TransNamib: Dimensions of a Desert - Gabi Christa - Страница 17

Kolmanskop

An insignificant sand hill, not any different from others in the desert, was named Kolmanskop. Mr Kolman got stuck with his cart on this hillock and couldn’t move on. This, among many more interesting things, I learned from a lady who belongs to the third generation of Lüderitz residents. I can only recommend that you allow yourself to be guided by her through the buildings of Kolmanskop. Take a tour back in time into the world of the diamond rush on the sand hill.

Nearly all the houses on the diamond hill were erected between 1908 - 1910. They grew like mushrooms, but were not at all simple or random. Refined taste was the flavour of the day and money didn’t matter; if you did not have money, you paid with diamonds. All of the building material was shipped from Germany. Houses in “Fat Cats Drive” were mostly two-storeyed and adorned with balconies and gazebos. Still today, inside the rooms, you can marvel at the beautifully coloured decorations on the walls. This is due to the lead-containing paints, toxic, but durable in return.

The residents were well entertained at the theatre, the nightlife was exciting enough to attract even patrons from Lüderitz to Kolmanskop. The big hall with its stage and the skittle alley are very well preserved. Here and there, some refurbishment has been done with loving attention to detail. In the former shop, now a museum, many pictures and devotional objects have been collected and are displayed in glass cases. In the shop owner’s yellowed order book you can read that even a theatre company from Hamburg was shipped to the colony. There was neither a lack of caviar, nor cigars, beer or French Champagne; everything was available. Already in 1910, the electrical power station was operational, serving both Lüderitz and Kolmanskop. The deployment of electrical locomotives brought huge relief, replacing the mules that so far had pulled the wagons through the settlement. These vehicles served the residents of Kolmanskop as delivery vans, school buses and taxis. You ordered the taxi by telephone and soon you were shopping, at school or had gone to the coffee party around the corner. Better-off women at that time preferred fulsome long dresses not suited for walking in the sand. Each household received a bar of ice a day, free of charge, from the ice factory. Thus, even in the most extreme temperatures, in the ice boxes butter remained firm, beer and lemonade cold.

Infrastructure was fully developed; there was a post office, a bakery, a butchery and a school. The place could even provide a swimming pool, filled with salt water that was pumped up from Elizabeth Bay. The local hospital at that time was the most modern on the continent. There was an x-ray machine, but not exclusively to scan broken limbs. The temptation to smuggle diamonds out of the area was too great and such a diamond, be it swallowed or in the anus, could be detected by x-ray. People were not lost for ideas when it came to smuggling the precious stones. Hollowed shoe soles, radios, crannies in the cars, even carrier pigeons were used. In 1914, all companies had to be closed, since the Great War was seriously blocking the diamond mining. From 1915, at least for maintenance, production was allowed. War and crisis shook the diamond companies, then as now. In Elizabeth Mine today, they work in 8-hour shifts and the entire plant is under video surveillance, even the manned gate below Kolmanskop. From here, we can watch the workers from the mine as they emerge from an old blue bus. They disappear into a huge hall, where, one by one, they have to parade through a security gate after each shift. Smuggling is impossible, cameras and floodlights are everywhere. The blue bus reverses and gets into position to transport the new crew for the shift changeover.

One carat of raw diamond is worth 300-500 US$. This value depends on the daily fluctuations of the world market. Significant is the fact that 97% of the Namibian diamonds qualify for jewellery. The discovery of the diamond fields at the Orange River Mouth cast a big shadow upon Kolmanskop. The stones in the delta were six times bigger than those from Kolmanskop. This meant the end of the diamond hill. The diggers went south and in 1936 conquered Oranjemund. At this point the last curtain fell on this magnificent diamond spectacle and, in 1938, the diamond rush had ended for good and with it the bathing in Champagne by the ladies and the big Havana cigars for the men. Kolmanskop dropped out of the final inebriation into sober reality and was abandoned. This happened very fast and many houses weren’t even locked properly. Instantly, the ubiquitous sand invaded the houses and the buildings were soon decaying. Today, the wind blows through broken panes and whistles along the beams. It deposits sand here and blows it away again to somewhere else. Everything in these ghost houses is in transition, in an irresistible decline. Inside the rooms, the sand dunes have grown metres high, their pressure pushing the walls outside.

After the guided tour, I stroll across the area on my own, savouring the atmosphere as if it was a good wine.

The ground sparkles seductively. Again and again, the lady had told us that all of Kolmanskop was under video surveillance and that we were not allowed to pick up anything. I am too curious about what is actually shining here. That is the way Stauch started, by just bending down. When lighting my pipe, I inconspicuously drop the matches and pick them up again, together with a bright stone, and, without attracting attention, both disappear into the pocket of my jacket. On the toilet, I examine the stone more precisely and, with a sharp jerk, I pull it across the glass of my watch. Diamond scratches glass; an ordinary stone wouldn’t do so – in any case not as quickly and thoroughly. From the old-fashioned toilet tank nine litres of water flush down the valueless stone. There is no dual flush option, alas, although water is so precious in the desert.