Unpicking Namibia's painful past in the most German city in Africa

This Namibian coastal town feels uncannily like Germany, with half-timbered houses standing next to buildings from the imperial era.

The street names in this corner of Africa are also German, with Bismarckstraße, home to Woermannhaus, built for a Hamburg haulier in 1894.

Head down the road to the corner of Garnison and Bahnhofstrasse, you pass the Altes Amtsgericht, the former Imperial District Court.

Then there's Hohenzollernhaus, once the residence of a German colonial ruler, a city landmark.

Strolling through the Namibian coastal town of Swakopmund is like a trip back through history.

Holidaymakers can choose between the traditional Hotel Hansa, the colonial-style Hotel Eberwein, the Pension Deutsches Haus or the Hotel Zum Kaiser.

Head to the brewery in the evening and you will find German beer served on tap, to go along with such typical German dishes as knuckle of pork and dumplings.

You can catch Germany's well-known news programme, the Tagesschau, on television in the Am Zoll residential building.

And the stores have typical German names from the Adler pharmacy to the German bookshop, the Protestant church, the German kindergarten, the Engelhard goldsmiths and Hofmeyer school.

It is not surprising in this former German colony of Namibia (1884-1915), which was called German South West Africa at the time.

The local German Cultural Council now maintains 25 German associations, including the male choir and carnival societies in Swakopmund. Perhaps the world has no other towns where Germany's colonial heritage is so omnipresent.

Namibia's 'German city'

Less than 1% of the approximately 2.6 million Namibians are of German descent, estimates say. But here in Swakopmund, home to 67,000 inhabitants, some 1,200 have German ancestors.

The city is a safari stopover for tourists and another major draw is its deeply troubled history. For the black majority, the visible cultural dominance of the former colonial rulers, who committed genocide here 120 years ago, is disconcerting.

In Café Anton, run by Namibian-Germans and located on the ground floor of the Hotel Schweizerhaus - once the exhibition centre of the German colonial society - the Namibian-born grandson of German emigrants, Raimar von Hase, talks about a discussion group that aims to promote dialogue between whites and black Namibians.

For four years, members of German descent have been meeting with representatives of black ethnic groups, especially the Herero and Nama, descendants of the victims of the genocide.

The genocide saw the German Reich brutally suppress uprisings against its colonial rule. During the Herero and Nama War (1904-1908), they carried out a mass murder that is considered the first genocide of the 20th century. Some 75,000 Herero and Nama were killed, according to estimates.

The German government and the government of Namibia have long been negotiating a reconciliation agreement which provides for financial aid from Germany for development projects in Namibia totalling €1.1 billion ($1.2 billion). But the declaration has not yet been adopted.

Complex view of colonial history

Von Hase's family history is closely linked to the colonial era. His grandfather, who came from East Westphalia, emigrated to what was then German South West Africa in 1910, acquired farmland and set up a cattle farm.

Von Hase later took it over. He bred thousands of sheep as well as cows and goats. He has no feelings of guilt, he says. "It was all too long ago for that."

Opposite Café Anton is the naval memorial, prominently positioned in front of the town museum and lighthouse.

It commemorates the Marine Expeditionary Corps of the German Schutztruppe, which was involved in the suppression of the Nama and Herero uprising in 1904.

A German soldier stands wide-legged on a massive rock base, his rifle pointed at the town centre of Swakopmund and, a little further on as the crow flies, at a mass grave of the Herero and Nama on the outskirts of the town.

But what for many ethnic Germans is an important part of history is a slap in the face for the descendants of the Nama and Herero.

They want to see the memorial torn down, says Laidlaw Peringanda, an activist who is campaigning for the creation of genocide memorials in Swakopmund.

Several protests in front of the memorial by representatives of the Nama and Herero were stopped by the police. Unknown persons have poured red paint on it.

The challenges of preserving history

Peringanda lives in a small brick house in a poor neighbourhood on the outskirts of the city, where the desert begins.

The 49-year-old opened the country's first genocide museum here, though calling it a "museum" might seem ambitious to some, as Peringanda's entire space spans just 6 square metres.

The exhibition consists of framed copies of historical photos and a handful of history books. "I want to show visitors what happened back then so that we can learn from the past," says Peringanda.

He also wants to promote intercultural exchange.

Peringanda's ancestors include Herero and Nama. His great-grandfather fought against German troops during the genocide and later died in the Swakopmund concentration camp, along with other members of his family.

Peringanda suspects that their remains are buried in the unmarked mass graves on the outskirts of Swakopmund - at which the German naval soldier's rifle point is aimed.

It is a barren field directly adjacent to the well-kept municipal cemetery, where many Germans are also buried.

Dozens of flat mounds of sand are lined up next to each other. Instead of marble gravestones, fist-sized stones from the roadside serve as nameless markers.

Only at the beginning of the field is there a simple memorial stone in honour of the thousands of children, women and men who died as a result of the violence perpetrated by the Germans.

Unkept graves fuel feelings of disrespect

The city council looks after the graves in the official cemetery every day, watering the bushes and raking the paths.

But nobody takes care of the maintenance of the mass graves, Peringanda says.

Four times a year, he and a group of volunteers shovel up the mounds of sand themselves, seemingly in vain. There is always a strong wind blowing in the coastal town. Peringanda points to dog tracks in the sand saying, "The graves are shallow. They dig for bones."

Peringanda would like to see more respect, dignity and a peaceful coexistence with the people of the country.

Whites and blacks mainly go their separate ways in Swakopmund. The fear of change runs deep among the German-Namibians, he says.

"Instead, we should come together and find a friendly solution," he says.

That is also Raimar von Hase's intention - talking together is the first step towards reconciliation.