I first visited Maun in 1988: My husband Matthew and I hitchhiked from Joburg to the Okavango with the optimistic naivety of youth. A lift deposited us on the roadside some way beyond Francistown, where we stood, thumbs out and increasingly dejected for more than 24 hours until an overland truck took pity on us and drove us to Maun.
In those days, Maun had the air of a frontier settlement. It was dusty and low-key and although we were relieved to get there, there wasn’t much to do. Donkey carts vied for space with bakkies and safari vehicles on the unpaved streets, and the limited stores were frequented by overland travellers, safari guides and hunters.
The tarring of the road between Maun and Francistown in the early 1990s spurred tourism development, and Maun has grown dramatically since then. The town now offers a diverse array of tourism activities and accommodation options to suit all budgets. There is a bunch of cool cafés and restaurants (even shopping malls), a craft brewery, and a burgeoning art scene. Indeed, Maun has become more than just a place to refuel and restock before tackling the Delta or Moremi, it has become a destination in its own right.
It’s still sleepy, and you’ll still encounter donkeys and goats, but there’s also a sense of anticipation and excitement, especially among tourists who are forever either on their way to a nearby wilderness destination,
