Sunset.

My favourite time of day.

Not just because the light turns everything golden and magical (although that, too). But because it gives me a quiet moment — to breathe, to reflect, to let go.

To raise a glass to the day that was: the highs, the lows, the things I managed, and the things I’m still learning to carry with a bit more grace. And maybe most of all — to toast to myself. Just for showing up.

Again.

Out here in Namibia, the sundowner is more than just a tradition. It’s a way of life. And somehow, it has become one of the most cherished rituals in mine. It started long before me, of course — back in colonial

times, when dusty safari boots and tired faces were rewarded at day’s end with a gin and tonic (supposedly for the quinine to ward off malaria — although let’s be honest, that was probably just a very good excuse to enjoy a drink while watching the sun melt into the bush).

But here, the sundowner has grown into something deeper. More soulful. More sacred. Namibia is a place that teaches you to be still. To watch. To listen. To feel the space between moments.

Where else can you witness the sun setting behind the blood-red dunes of Sossusvlei, or watch the sky catch fire as elephants move quietly across the Etosha plains? Where silence isn’t empty, but full — of wind, of birdsong, of something ancient and grounding. Here, a sundowner isn’t about what’s in your glass — it’s about what’s in your heart. It’s the pause between doing and being. It’s the breath before the night.

Often after a long day — whether it was filled with meetings, emotions, dusty roads, or just life being life — I find myself sitting outside, barefoot, wrapped in a blanket, the dogs by my feet, and the sky putting on its evening show.

Some evenings I laugh. Some I cry. Sometimes both at once. But every time, I feel connected. To this land. To myself. To something much bigger than all of us. And when I share this ritual with others — around a fire, in the bush, on the porch with a friend — it becomes even more special.

It’s not about perfection. It’s about presence. No phones. No pressure. Just a moment to exhale and say, “Today, I made it through. That’s worth celebrating.” So if you ever find yourself under African skies, don’t miss it. Find your sundowner spot. Pour something you love.

Watch the sun go down without needing to do anything at all. Let the earth remind you that everything has its rhythm.

Even you.

And if you’re not in Namibia (yet), you can still try it. Even a balcony sunset with a cup of tea can become a sacred pause — if you let it.

deardiary@myeishanamibia.com

Until next time,

From Sandra’s pen, Namibia