In an area forged by wind and silence, a herd of horses run freely across the gravel plains near Garub. These are the wild horses of the Namib Desert, feral, tenacious, and uniquely adapted. They are not just survivors of nature, but of history itself. More than a century ago, the Namib Desert was set for a battlefield. During World War I, German colonial forces entrenched themselves at Aus in what was then German South West Africa.
Garub, which means ‘leopard’ in Nama, now known for its wind-swept waterhole, was once the site of a strategic military station. In 1915, as South African Union forces were stationed at Garub, an aerial bombing by a German aircraft reportedly scattered an estimated 1,700 horses into the desert. Most of these horses eventually returned, but a portion remained and with time, began their transformation. At the height of the war effort, Garub was a critical supply post. On 16 December 1914, advance troops clashed with a German rearguard, and by February 1915, Union troops found the railway station torched and the water tanks and boreholes demolished.
Photo credits: Gondwana Collection Namibia
They immediately began repairs, establishing a base where 10,000 soldiers and 6,000 military horses were massed. General Botha even visited the camp to boost morale as troops prepared for further advance. It is here, amid the dust and military tension, that the origin story of Namibia’s wild horses begins to take shape. Left to fend for themselves over the years, these horses adapted in extraordinary ways. They shed the softness of domestication and developed into hardened creatures of the desert capable of going days without water, surviving temperatures that swing from searing heat to near-freezing cold, and subsisting on sparse vegetation.
Over generations, the bloodlines of cavalry stock, transport animals, and stallions from stud farms merged into a single, uniquely adapted herd. The origins of Namibia’s wild horses trace back to Farm Kubub, where Emil Kreplin bred work and racehorses before World War I. These horses formed the core of the Garub herd, providing strong, adaptable stock that later mixed with cavalry and transport horses during the war. Long after the war, Garub remained an important watering hole on the Luderitz to Keetmanshoop railway line until the 1960s, when diesel locomotives replaced steam.
The borehole, however, continued to provide water not only to maintenance teams but also to the growing wild horse population. Eventually, as conservation took root, sections of the Sperrgebiet were integrated into the Namib-Naukluft Park, culminating in the establishment of the Tsau //Khaeb (Sperrgebiet) National Park in 2004. Garub became a place of both memory and preservation. Their freedom, however, is under constant threat. According to various sources, the number of these wild horses had dropped to as low as 50 in the early 70s. By the late 2000s, the population had grown and stabilised to around 280.
Photo credits: Gondwana Collection Namibia
But in 2013, drought and a clan of spotted hyenas began preying on the herd, decimating the population to less than 70. As of the latest estimates, less than 100 horses remain. However, another source closer to the ground, Telane Greyling, pegs the number at 87 (approximately 16 foals are reported), with steady growth expected due to factors like adequate rain, food, and a limited pool of predators. Greyling is no bystander. A zoologist whose PhD research became an extensive scientific work on these horses, she has monitored the herd for about 3 decades.
On my visit to Klein-Aus, she accompanied me to a hide along the B4 road, built specifically to allow visitors a respectful view of the horses in their natural environment. This viewing hide and the water troughs are part of Garub’s modern legacy a quiet conservation outpost where wild horses can be seen cantering to the water point, sometimes catching patches of shade by the ruins of the old railway station. Over the years, visitors young and old have stopped here, capturing photos of horses against the backdrop of timeworn stone and desert sun. As we watched them through binoculars, Greyling spoke of each horse as if recalling an old friend because, in truth, she had named every one of them.
Photo credits: Gondwana Collection Namibia
She does not name them to domesticate them, she told me, but to honour their individuality, and to create a bond that transcends biology. Names, after all, do more than identify; they invite remembrance. Like a title etched on the spine of a book, a name gives a wild horse a place in our minds and a chapter in our shared story. The Namibia Wild Horses Foundation, founded in 2012, has played a pivotal role in this continued preservation.
As a non-profit organisation, the Foundation undertakes long-term research and helps to maintain water infrastructure and nutritional interventions vital to the horses survival during drought. Although not formally recognised as wildlife under Namibia’s Nature Conservation Ordinance, the horses have achieved a kind of cultural and symbolic status through years of public advocacy. Their informal recognition as a national treasure helps shield them from threats of culling or removal even as debates over their future continue.