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| The Old Lion who Sprung to Life in the Night Hunt |
INTRODUCTION
AFRICA the land of
Smoke and Thunder, where the natives say that Africans have time; everyone else
wears watches. It is the oldest place on
earth, sheltering relics of prehistoric times, predators with the swiftness of
foot and silence of death. It is without
modesty or privation. It is brutal and
real. It is a land of solitary hunters and closeness of kin. It is of blazing sun, cool nights and calming
waters. It is of constant danger and
unyielding beauty. It is a pace of life
that is measured in two speeds; turtle like slowness and Cheeta flashes of
speed. There is no middle ground for a
comfortable jog of hoof or foot.
It is a land of wide smiles, tender hands, pleasantries and
chefs of gourmet wonderment. It is a
land of meat eaters where vegetarians will soon hunger. This Africa
is survival. No one person can leave Africa
without being changed emotionally with fear, sadness, friendship and the awe of
its beauty. It humanizes us, opens our
eyes to the simple uncomplicated meaning of life and death. It draws us back with just the mention of its
name. It is one place on this great
earth that everyone should be so lucky as to enter its realm and be changed forever.
Africa has become my
sobering reality and constant reminder of what life is – a wonderful gift that
we should cherish and share our good fortune with all of life’s inhabitants,
human and animal alike. It encompasses
all masses and forms of life, harmonizing every being with the next and finding
a place for every creature under its hot African sun, unrivaled sunsets and
star lit nights.
We all belong to this Africa,
our birthplace of humanity and keepers of its wildlife. Let us go forth and better this world as only
we humans can do, for Africa has shown us the
truth, the light and the finality of death without the incumbencies of meaningless
wealth and greed that ultimately destroy us with false happiness as we collect
THINGS and not goodness of soul. Next time you hear or see the word Africa, be transformed and let giving and goodness enrich
your life and others; instead of collecting and keeping. Amen for Africa.
DAY ONE
At the time of this writing I should almost be sitting,
comfortably in seat 40A of a South African air bus. Instead, I’m writing this note from yet
another hotel room in Washington. As I have said previously, nothing ever
goes smoothly when I travel no matter how hard I try and plan for the
unexpected.
I rose leisurely this morning after a good night sleep,
eager for the long travel day ahead. I
ate a reasonable breakfast then packed up the few things I had taken from my
suitcase the night before and headed to the lobby of the hotel. I decided to ease myself down into the comfee
arm chair and read my novel for a while.
Once in a while, some meeting room participants would break from a
session. Their voice levels were raised
just enough to disturb the rather tranquil atmosphere, distracting me from my
concentration. Before long, I was
heading outdoors under the canopy waiting to catch the courtesy shuttle bus to Dulles Airport. It dutifully arrived on time and I pressed
down into the seat for the short 10 min. trip to the airport.
With passport and tickets in hand, I approached the rather
disserted South African Airways counter to check in some four hours ahead of my
scheduled flight. I passed my
documentation over to the ticket agent.
The attendant readily informed me, “with much regret”, that the flight
was cancelled! Now what?? They were providing me hotel accommodations
with explicit instructions to report back to the airport for 8 am
tomorrow. I was asked to retrieve items
I might need for the overnight stay and then my luggage would be weighed and
tagged right then and there. I had
everything organized in my luggage and rummaged through for a tube of
toothpaste and a tooth brush. I wasn’t
unpacking my whole suitcase on the floor at the ticket desk. Other passengers looked horrified when they too
were informed of the change in plans as they trickled in.
I called my tour operator and told her the problem. I asked her to get in contact with the person
who was to meet me at the airport tomorrow afternoon (their time) and give them
the change in flights. Not only did I
spend an extra $300 in flight change and $300 in hotel accommodation so that I
wouldn’t be exhausted for the long flight today, it was all for nothing as I
will be a guest of the Hilton tonight. I
will also miss a day in Sun City which I was
really looking forward too. Not much I can do without wings!
We all tottered with sluggish disappointed onto the next shuttle
bus, minus our checked baggage of course.
The couple I sat next to where returning home to South Africa and a lady opposite me was catching
a safari out of Botswana. It isn’t the same one I’m booked for, but who
knows, we might meet up again. To break
up the sullen quietness on the bus, my cell phone rang with its distinct
“whinny”. Everyone on the bus started
whinnying back and we all felt much better with a little humour to help soften
our discouragement.
So for tonight, I will wash out my undees in the basin and
use the hairdryer in the hotel to dry them.
As for a nightwear, I’m afraid it will have to be my birthday suit.
Since there is nothing in walking distance to visit, shop or
explore, and since I’m 50 minutes away from downtown Washington, tours of historical sites are
out of the question at this late afternoon.
Instead, I decided to walk the hotel parking lot for some exercise. That is the extent of my touristy visit of
this great state. Sorry George, you
won’t get the pleasure of my company on this trip. I’ll have to catch the White House another
time and maybe when there is a new President in the House. Oops, maybe not politically correct for me to
express my prediction.
Will report back whenever…
You can send me e-mails and I will eventually be able to
read them. (Hopefully, if nothing else
goes array.
DAY TWO
Saturday, 11:17 a.m., South African Airways flight 208 tilts
its noise to the air and takes flight.
The previous flights to South
Africa had been cancelled twice as a result
of a leaking fuel tank that needed emergency repair. Since I don’t swim very
well, it’s good that the trouble was spotted long before we were airborne. (I’m
certain mom and her little angel wings are making sure I have a safe trip.)
After a quiet night and early rise to meet the shuttle, this
was one flight I didn’t want to miss. As
misadventure would happen, when I went to check in through security, I was told
my carry on could not go with me. I had
just purchased a carry-on on wheels to make life easier for me during the long
waits in the airport. I was turned back
to the registration desk. I approached
the SA desk with trepidation, as a small group of bored passengers assembled
around the vacant SA reception desk. It
was now 7:15 am with the scheduled flight to depart at 10 a.m. By 8:10 a.m., everyone was getting a little
anxious since we all needed time to pass through security. Most of us already had our boarding passes,
but our hand luggage was the problem.
Finally, it was my turn to approach the agent and explained to her the
situation. I unpacked my computer and
carry-on purse and checked the now empty suitcase, except for a tube of tooth
paste and brush.
Luckily, there wasn’t much of a line-up for security when I
approached the security area. But with
Murphy’s Law strongly on my side, my hand luggage was pulled for
inspection. I knew that neck cushion
with the massage unit would most likely pose a problem for inspectors. I deliberately left the item unzipped for
easy inspection, with batteries taken out.
The bag got the total inspection examination. Finally, I was cleared to go to my departure gate.
As I walked in the direction of my gate following the very
good signage I might add, I realized my boarding pass was absent. I turned heal and walked back to the security
area once more. The agent that had
searched my luggage was busy checking other passengers. I hailed a passing security agent and asked
if I might please have my boarding pass that was in plain sight of me on the
desk. Without complaint, she complied
and handed me the pass. Finally, I could
check in for boarding after walking the countless moving sidewalks.
I immediately recognized faces from the day before. I had struck up a conversation with a widow
from Virginia (originally from Sweden)
yesterday. The service in the hotel
restaurant the night before was atrocious.
So poor in fact, it took and hour and a half before I finally got my
bill in a half-empty restaurant. Ann
Marie, the widow from Virginia,
wasn’t having any luck either. She
surmised that her baby lamb rack was cooling on the stainless steel counter
back in the kitchen. Since the head
waiter supervisor ignored her hand signals for assistance, her booming accented
voice took over. The cackling of voice
and clatter of utensils were silenced as the now summoned ‘big cahoona’ made
his way immediately to Ann Marie.
Without a due, her delicious presentation of roast baby lamb rack
appeared on her table miraculously. She
could see I was having the same sort of problem getting any service. I only wanted a cup of coffee and rather than
having Ann Marie call out on my behalf, I walked directly to the reservation
desk and asked politely if I may have a coffee and the bill. The head waiter immediately went to my
assistance as I sat down and chatted with Ann Marie for a spell.
Although Anne Marie’s unorthodox approach to getting service
may have seen a bit radical, she did praise the staff and chef for cooking such
an exquisite meal. All was forgiven in
the end.
We were all secured on the trolley taking us to the
plane. Ann Marie sat next to me with a
fellow originally from Zimbabwe
on the other side. We had chatted up
quite the storm and were enjoying each others’ company. As the bus approached the airbus on the
tarmac, it quietly came to rest a few feet from it. As the minutes slowly ticked away, everyone
was becoming over-heated on the non-air conditioned stuffy vehicle. I pulled my trusty fan out of my purse and
cooled down a few of immediate fellow passengers. They were most grateful. One gentleman looked like he was going to
faint and I told him he couldn’t, as the plane would be delayed yet again. He smiled and willingly took my fan for a few
moments of supple breeze. It was obvious
that our flight at 10 a.m. was yet delayed for the umpteenth time. After 20 sweltering moments, we finally
boarded the air bus. I was getting my
first introduction to Africa with the distinct
tones and dialect of returning South Africans and Zimbabweans. It was delightful and entertaining listening
to the native converse in their comfortable lingo.
I look forward to receiving news from home.
Take care…
DAY THREE
The flight lasted some 15 hours and was uneventful. I watched a total of 3 movies, read, wrote
and curled in the fetal position in a vain attempt to sleep. Although the plane was near capacity, I was
one of the few that had a vacant seat beside me. After hours of trying to squirm my way into a
somewhat acceptable position, I decided to lie on the floor between my seat and
the next. At this rate I wasn’t trying
to navigate the seat belts that kept digging into all soft tissue with annoying
discomfort. I’m sure Sherri wouldn’t
have approved, but at this point I didn’t care.
We finally landed in Jo Burg, the local term for Johannesburg. I made my way through customs and collected my
luggage. As promised, someone was there
to meet me, holding a large sign with “Miss Sampson” displayed in large
letters. Well at least I was being
called “Miss” now and not “Madame”. Although
the information he had been given about my flight change from the agency was
wrong, he decided to wait a little longer in case my flight did in fact come
in. I was soon handed over to a very
friendly chap named December for the 2.5 hour ride to Sun
City.
December, as it turned out, was given the name by the family
who his parents worked for. It was, is
(?) the custom for the employer to name the black children. Since he was born on Christmas Day, he
inherited the name December. As is the
tragedy in Africa, both his parents are
deceased and now he must make his way in this world on his own.
The main roadway is a two-lane affair with only a small
shoulder to ease over to give way for someone who wanted to pass. Traveling at 120 km, they waste no time, but
there is also little traffic to content with at least on Sundays. It’s a little tough getting use to driving on
the wrong side of the road. I tend to
want to get in the driver’s seat, mistaking it for the passenger side.
Poverty abounds as the VW van travels the flat straight road
to Sun City, a gaited complex specifically
designed for the tourist trade. On
route, I observe that there are no fences to restrict the cattle, so everywhere
cattle crossing signs appear, much like our deer or moose crossing signs. Although this region has its dire economy,
the people look relatively well fed, including their animals. The tin shacks they call home, dot the
landscape of this bush country. Even
though these people are poor, a great community spirit has roots here according
to December, and the crime rate is almost non-existent in these areas unlike
the larger urban centers. He himself had
come from such a life and is beginning to prosper. After an hour or so of listening to the
different languages, I was getting use to the English version, especially the
word “yes” pronounced yeh’s. The Dutch
translation is “yah”.
As the van cruises along the two lane super highway, huge
billboard type signs are erected in strategic locations along route. It is not the usual type of advertising that
one would see at home. These large print
signs display Funeral services at reasonable rates.
The sad statistics rate the average age of Africans here a
mean of 42 years, with Aids being the #1 killer. As I would soon discover, every washroom I
would enter has a generous supply of free condoms in an attempt to stem the
rise of this deadly epidemic.
As the van continues in an unbroken straight line, other
billboard signs erupt on the landscape with messages of safe-sex. This disease is without doubt, more dangerous
than any of Africa’s Big Five.
I finally arrived at my destination and secured my large
suite at the Sun City Hotel. The views
are quite magnificent and I hope to post these on the photo site. I managed to grab a few hours sleep before
touring the complex. Unfortunately, I
have to leave in the morning so my chance for a hot air balloon ride has been
dashed.
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| Dinner at the Palace |
Tonight, I had reservations for dinner at the castle. The opulence is overwhelming. What grandeur! I was treated with old world grace and
charm. I was always addressed as Mrs.
Sampson before they ever asked a polite question. I was treated like a millionaire. I felt a little humbled by the whole
experience with ladies descending the two grand staircases in elegant evening gowns
with their partners sporting snow white suits.
With the abject poverty I had seen earlier, I felt a little guilty being
treated so finely. Still the Africans have been well trained for
their posts in such grand fashion. They
are extremely polite, helpful and always service with a smile. This is such a contrast from our North
American experiences. Tomorrow it is
back to Johannesburg.
I am not certain how much longer I will be able to e-mail
home. My power converters don’t fit the
plugs here. It might be just the way the
complex is wired. I have to purchase
wireless e-mail downstairs, so hopefully you will all receive this
transmission. I still have about 60%
battery life left in this computer battery and a fully charged one to keep
going. Hopefully, I will have power at
some time.
I look forward to receiving news from home.
Take care…
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| Entry Hall at the Palace |
After spending a delightful tour of the local aviary and
capturing some fantastic pictures with my trusty digital, I caught the van just
in time to take me back to Johannesburg. I was so pleased to see December waiting for
me with a handshake and smile as I climbed into the front seat looking for the
phantom steering wheel.
We chatted for a while.
I didn’t get a glimpse well enough of the other passengers, but my
little jokes were met with silence. Now
I know how a comedian feels when his routine isn’t going well. However, December laughed at everything,
especially the saying “put the pedal to the metal” which he thought was
hilarious. One guest that sat behind me
with some sort of European foreign accent asked “You’re not American are you?” My reply of course was - NO Canadian,
eh. She thought the accent wasn’t
right.
When most of us disembarked from the van at the same hotel,
I caught on why there was so much dead pan faces and silence behind me. It was a group of Asian tourist. I don’t think they understood me at all.
The hotel I’m reserved at is lovely and spacious. The Rosebank Hotel is situated at the very
trendy “Richie” section of the city.
Sherri would love shopping for shoes here!
After a light lunch pool-side, I leisurely strolled the few
blocks to the shopping area. There is
security everywhere, including razor fencing to keep out the undesirables’. It was here I did a bit of souvenir hunting,
with every vendor begging me to buy something.
I did purchase a few interesting items at most likely outrages prices. Since I read it was impolite to haggle over
a price, I didn’t offer. When I went to
leave, all of a sudden the price dropped dramatically. So much for politeness I guess. I needed Helen with me on that shopping
event.
I managed to get a power converter at a luggage shop that
actually works here. As a lesson to
anyone else who might be traveling to SA in the near future, buy the converters
there. Don’t waste your time and money
at home. Even though the converters I
purchased at home were marked for Africa and
several other countries, SA is an exception.
Most of these multi-plug converters use the British pattern which is
again different from SA. I am happy to
report that I can now recharge the lap top which I am typing on at the moment
while it is charging. That would be a
disaster if I lost power. I’ve managed
to save all my photos to the PC and uploaded some yesterday until I couldn’t
re-enter “photo-site” for some reason.
It is tricky using technology overseas.
Tomorrow I’m off to Soweto
to see one of the two very transverse ways of life. From the very wealthy to the desperately
poor, I hope to record in my journal the experience I come away with.
My morning itinerary takes me to the home of Winnie Mandela,
Bishop Tutu and the former home of Nelson Mendela all heroes in SA and globally,
with the exception of the little black sheep in the family, Winnie.
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| Nelson Mandel's home |
In the afternoon, I will be visiting some of the wealthiest
estates in South Africa
including the affluent northern suburbs.
Mixed into the touring will be a history lesson on South Africa’s
Supreme Court system and the symbolism of Ghandi Square. From there we are scheduled to arrive at the
Market Theatre and Museum Afrika. “Yehs”
it should be a very interesting day.
DAY FIVE
The morning shines bright under the African sky as we head
out to visit the other side of Africa that is
sheltered from the more affluent eyes of the world. Soweto awaits
us as we travel back into South
Africa’s troubled past whose wounds still abound
in poverty and disease. Soweto
means South West
Township and was created to house the
many blacks that worked in the gold mines of Johannesburg.
It was designed as a barrier to keep the blacks from encroaching on the
mainly white city residents of the city proper. Its Dutch immigrant rulers wanted to protect
themselves from the ignorance of the poor native population. This was in fact probably the first racist
and segregation practice employed.
As we approach the “millionaire” row that the blacks now
inhabit in Soweto,
the tour guides awe at the magnificent homes that have evolved from the rubble
of human suffering. To put it into perspective,
our aging farm house would be an absolute palace in comparison. Tiny, yet large by SA standards, the streets
still harbour abandon rubbish, with plastic bags strewn about like giant
balloon in naked trees and other litter scattered among the dead grasses and
shrub plants that dot the hillsides.
As you travel the short distance further into Soweto, the “middle
class” section appears. They are very
modest homes with tin roofs. Across the
street is more of the getto type housing with no sewers and sporadic communal
water stations, portable pot-a-porris are seen in strategic locations
throughout, something new to the area.
As the mini van navigates the tired roads we come to the
more well known residence of Winnie Mandela.
Its massive wall and bullet proof windows grant her some
protection. A little further along we
come to the humble home and beginnings of Nelson Mandela. It is small, cramped and shivering cold in
winter.
You can easily see why his people love him so much as he
gave up his life as a respected lawyer to be sentenced to life in prison
charged with treason. This peacemaker of
South Africa
and his struggle for his fellow countrymen’s independence came with a heavy
sacrifice. And today, life is better in South Africa because of him, even though you
can’t imagine it after visiting Soweto. It was depressingly worse in years past.
As you drive into the depths of Soweto, the shanties begin to appear in large
roaming numbers. It is hard to imagine
living in such conditions. These people
have nothing but pride and religion to give them some strength in their daily
lives. The hopelessness tugs heavily on
their spirit and despair is everywhere.
The driver takes us to the largest church in SA. From the pulpit of this Roman Catholic
church, Desmond Tuto often spoke to his people.
The Anglican priest found sanctity in the place of worship, the only
legal building that people were allowed to gather, as the Dutch respected the
church as well and would not violate it with gun fire. It became a haven for free speech.
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| Memorial to First Victim of Soweto Uprising |
DAY SIX
It’s been a full day of errands before boarding the Rovos
Rail tomorrow. I started the day with a
40 min. drive from Johannesburg to Pretoria. The driver was a rather sour puss; pre-senior,
white fellow who never said two words to me the entire trip. My eyelids grew heavy with boredom as the
kilometers clicked away. He was the most
unpleasant chap I have had to experience.
I usually get the good looking young black males who are most
chatty. For some reason I got stuck with
the “old fart”.
I settled into my classy suite at the Court Classique and
found in short order that my telephone in my room didn’t work. I eventually was able to make contact with
home for the first time, via the hotel reception desk. I tried in vain once more to get connected
with the wireless and it certainly remained “less”. My PC can’t find the frequency so it is
rather useless. Everyone here is
clicking away on their keyboards while mine remains silent. After still more frustration, I decided to
grab a quick bite before taking the courtesy shuttle van to the huge mall here
in Pretoria.
It was a hustle bustle place and very confusing to find your
way around. The main thing I had to
remember was finding entrance 7 in order to meet my chauffer at precisely 3:45
pm. My mission began.
First I located the post office so I could mail my excess
luggage back home and lighten the load of my suitcases. I decided to dispense with the converter
plugs that didn’t work, as well as the chargers, books, some clothing and
various other items of no consequence.
Once I was finished with the post office, I tried in vain to
find the currency exchange. This mall
has several levels with twists and turns that sometimes lead to dead ends. After an hour of walking aimlessly around
this immense structure and after asking a number of shopkeepers, I finally
found the place. I needed to exchange
some US dollars for Rand so that I can keep on
tipping. It is amazing how quickly you
go through the Rand. It isn’t of much value and I’m still guessing
at the acceptable tipping fees.
Once I finished with that, I had five minutes to find
entrance 7 and meet the appointed driver.
As I stole away in my mind earlier key landmarks of where I might find
entrance 7, I finally retrieved the scrap paper mental notes and made it back
up the many levels to the appropriate place.
Looking for a chauffer with a yellow tie with African animals on it was
my only clue. I approached a young man
who seemed to fit the description and was relieved to find out that he indeed
was my driver. Off to the hotel we went.
Even though we were in rush hour traffic, The “beamer” still
cruised along for the most part of 100 km/hr.
They think this is bad. They
haven’t experienced the Don Valley Parking Lot or the 401 at rush hour. Oh,
for Brian, in South Africa BMW means “Break My Window”. It is the most sought after car for thieves
here, next to the Audi and Volkswagen.
Those are the three big car companies here. The only people that can afford them are the
wealthy folk or businesses. I’ve seen just one Chevy and a few Japanese
cars and trucks.
Upon arrival at the hotel, I made a vain attempt at trying
to have someone from Dell Computers walk me through my wireless problem over
the phone. I had copied down the tech
support number from the yellow pages in Johannesburg
in the event that someone might just be able to assist me. The hotel set me up in a conference room with
my lap top in hand. For the next hour,
the technician tried in vain to get my PC to accept the connection. His only resolve was that it couldn’t pick up
the frequency. Everything seemed to be
in proper working order. So there you have
it. A brand new PC purchased especially
for this trip in which I cannot communicate!
I can tell you, I’m not too impressed with Dell Computers anymore.
It was like living in the 70s again when I first traveled to
Spain
by myself, using the post office to mail home stuff and writing out postcards
to everyone; phoning from the hotel lobby, minus my calling card that didn’t
work either. This is the exact same
routine I followed back then. So much
for technology! Still, I can input on
the computer, watch a movie when I don’t understand the tribal language on TV
and copy my photos for safekeeping. That
is something I couldn’t do back in the 70s.
I decided that I wasn’t going to let technology ruin my
trip. So if and when you received this
diary, just remember to always take along pen and paper and a good old fashion
camera. Even the telephones here are a
challenge, so forget your cell and calling cards.
After my futile attempt at inspiring my PC to pick up the
satellite connection, I settled down to a glass of African lager. Now you know I’m not generally a beer
drinker, but this stuff wasn’t half bad.
I was thirsty to say the least and it hit the spot. I was amused by a trio of ducks that strolled
on the walkways, through an open portion of the lobby and back out into their
little stream of water and plants that mot the entrance to the lobby. The amorous drake was feeling frisky with the
hen. Dodo behind just carried on without
them; supposedly not in the mood.
Tonight I sampled the Ostrich in dark red wine. The owner of the wine cellar and bistro
paused a while at my table engaging me in conversation. As he put it, I was about to learn a little
unknown Canadian history. He went on to
tell me how SA sent over lumberjacks and pine cones to help establish our weed
ridden hills. When he was done, I
replied, “thanks for the fable” to which he heartily laughed. He soon returned with his mock up business card,
writing his name as “Sir Cedric”. As he
sauntered away, he said to me, “and in case you forget what I look like, my
photo is on the back.” I curiously
flipped over the card to reveal the head of a lion. Very nice I remarked as the flirting
proprietor had the last laugh.
I have been very impressed with the flavour of the dishes
served here. They are quite
remarkable. I’ve never eaten pumpkin as
a vegetable, so the chef and I were exchanging recipes. I told her that pumpkin is used in pies as a
dessert. She had never heard of such a
thing and was going to try it with some nutmeg and brown sugar. As for
my main course dinner, I’ll never look at an Ostrich again in the same
light. Their meat is like beef and
unlike any poultry I have ever tasted.
Very good I might add.
As the evening progressed, I chuckled to myself as the drake
seem very boisterous this evening, paddling by in his little mot river, his
noble green feathered head raised just a touch higher.
Just the same, I am only eating very small amounts of
everything, just in case I get that vengeful nasty visitor better known as traveler’s
diarrhea. I have even eaten fresh fruit
salad and took a wee bit of fresh salad the other night for the first time. So far so good!
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| Rail Station |
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| Steam Powered |
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| Interior of my private Cabin |
DAY SEVEN
Chug, chug, chug, puff, puff puff, the whistle signals our
departure from Pretoria on route to Victoria Falls.
After an informative tour of the railway station, repair
depot and revitalization of the old carriages, we stepped on board and into a
romantic era of turn-of-century luxurious train travel. Walking through a railway yard with freshly
washed sneakers is like wearing white in a stable. The black smudges mar the pristine white of
the shoe. My butler is Thobi and he
briefly explained how the relic, but now modernized apparatus works, ie
plumbing etc. The passenger list
consists of 99% American, one South African and of course me, the lone
Canadian. Naturally, the owner of Rovos
Rail introduced me to the other passengers; sort of a celebrity or some might
say oddity, as a passenger on board this “orient express” style train.
Our coal-fired, steam driven revived engines will soon start
rambling along the steel rails. It takes
5-6 ton of coal to create enough heat to put life into the valves and pistons
that drive the train. The train uses 100
kg of coal per 1 km and substantially more in hilly areas. The soot and distinct odor from the coal
smoke forces me to close my open air window until we begin to roll. I can see why breathing coal can be very
unhealthy if it were to linger in a stationary position for too long.
Even the signal lights have been restored to their former
red and green, imported from abandoned stations throughout SA. These early 19th century mechanics
still provide the means of communication to the Trains’ engineers. Of course
modern technology is also used as a backup.
Slowly the train gathers speed as we push forward heading
west and then east. The rock of the compartments
and clickity clack of the rails is very soothing to the soul. I am now transferred back into another time.
My Edwardian style room with its rich solid wood paneling
and finely appointed fixtures gives the allure of traveling a century ago. My computer is rested upon my writing table
as I watch the views of Africa roll by.
The cong rings throughout the passageways and rooms,
announcing that lunch is now served.
Since I have a deluxe suite, my room is situated at the front of the
train. The walk back to the dining room
is long and slow. My best comparison for
navigating the passageways would be like taking a rolling sidewalk and adding
some twists and dives to it. Eventually,
I entered into the first dining room where I took the first available
seat. I suppose it took me longer than
most to reach the dining room as it was near capacity when I arrived.
As previously mentioned, I’m the odd ball on the train. The rest of the guests are with the
Smithsonian Institute; all professors and the like. There I sat, the little horse trainer from Canada,
unassuming and quiet.
The table across from me introduced themselves and we began
a conversation immediately. When they
learned I was a horse trainer, one asked if I was a “horse whisperer”. I said, no.
I don’t do anything mystical. They
laughed and perceived me a rather down-to-earth sort. They seemed very intrigued that I would
travel all alone in the not so safe place as Africa. One fellow commented that I was a very brave
soul. My answer was that if you wanted
to do something that bad enough, you just do it. You can’t always be afraid to explore and
learn. The response I got was
“bravo”.
My salad fork speared some leafy delicacies as lunch time
conversations continued. The main menu
event arrived shortly afterwards, mine being rib eye and scallop potatoes. What a treat.
My fluted glass was frequently filled with sparkling white wine. I’m certain if I hadn’t said anything, the
wine would not stop flowing. The fellow
across from me was very flushed and noted that he thought he had had a bit too
much.
The conversation turned to the litter that sullies the
beautiful landscapes where people occupy it.
It is a shameful display of squalor and human indifference. My
American colleagues’ approach was to supply a better system of garbage
collection. This was a very practical
approach to help solving some of the problem.
I too had been pondering what might be done to alleviate all the filth
and resulting disease that this waste brings.
My thoughts were more philosophical, dealing with getting the root cause
of why so much litter.
Although I may be totally off mark here, I find that poverty
and litter go hand in hand, regardless of the country or racial lines. I feel that when people suffer from such low
self-esteem brought on from a desperate feeling of hopelessness, the litter
becomes the lowest element in their society.
Without pride in oneself, the act of tossing whatever is used up, often
reflects how they must internalize their feelings of self-worth. It is a reflection of their misery. My observation was that the African people
are still struggling to grow as a people and find their rightful place in this
world of change and conflict. This will
take a very long time to achieve and perhaps no one can understand this better
than our own native aboriginal people.
My opinion, which was met with such candid expression of “possibility”,
was welcoming to their ears.
Now that the serious matters of Africa
were dealt with, I was cordially invited to attend the speaking session with
thoughts and words on Mandela and SW de Cleric by the Smithsonian group. They
are providing me with my own headset and asked to participate. This should be interesting..
The presentation was of political interest as the speaker
outlined the different factions and parliamentary procedures. The system here is based on the British
parliament, the same as ours. Although
it must have seen foreign to the American audience, I on the other hand was
quite familiar with it.
After the presentation I had time to regroup and dress
formally for dinner. This evening’s
dinner had a selection of asparagus, Tuna or Ostrich. Since I’m not a fan of either fish or
asparagus, I had Ostrich again. They
gave everyone a slice of roasted garlic to ward off the mosquitoes. That’s not all it will ward off! I tried it but it was rather pungent so I
abandoned the practice. I’ll keep my
windows shut and leave the air on instead.
I skipped dessert and extra wine as these meals are becoming
increasingly rich and not too good for the caloric count.
Dinner was at 7 pm, a common dinner hour here. They eat quite late, something I’m not use
to. By the time the meal was consumed,
it was 8:45. Now, I’m trying to wear it
off a bit before I pull the covers and switch off the lights for the
night. The train is still chugging along
at a good speed, but will soon idle somewhere for the night when we reach our
appointed destination near the game reserve.
Tobi has been very vigilant in keeping everything in
order. Even the toilet paper is folded
every time I come back from a meal or something. My bed was turned down for me with a little
package of sweets added to my pillow. He
even left me tomorrow’s weather schedule which should reach a high of 29
degrees! He left me a tea pot and
assortment of teas and biscuits for my nibbling and sipping. I’m
going to take advantage of the laundry in the morning. Who knows when I’ll get a chance to do it
again?
Tomorrow starts early at 5 am. I hope I will be able to sleep some. Tobi will wake me in the event I doze
off. It’s a full day’s outing so I’m
looking forward to the game drive and research and rehab centre for the wild
beasts of Africa.
P.S. There is someone
else here besides me whose wireless doesn’t work either. She told me she was so frustrated she was
about to chuck the whole machine. I
sympathized with her.
 |
| Sleeping Quarters |
DAY EIGHT – Elephant Standoff
It was just before 6 am as we disembarked from the train and
awkwardly heaved ourselves into the waiting open air 4X4s. The morning air was fresh with a new day as
the sun slowly rose in the east to reveal dawn in Klaserie.
Our guide and animal tracker was called Freedom. He certainly lived up to his name as he bore
down on the rugged dirt road at 40 km.
Freedom was free and fast! As we
all sort of kept a unified common comment of “holy crap” to ourselves, we
didn’t know how much we would need a fast get-away that only Freedom could
provide.
 |
| The Wild Driver "Freedom" |
Dawn in Africa is in some
ways similar in nature from a literal sense as we know it. It is the breaking of a still night when the
wild birds call the hour of sunrise to order in the bush land.
 |
| Wild Guinea Hens |
Our first encounter with African wildlife on this protected
game reserve was a small herd of Zebras.
It is one thing to see animals in zoos, and it is quite another to
witness them in their natural habitat.
Every animal we captured on film and in memory this day struck us as
creatures of strength, beauty, fitness and speed. They are all so well suited for their
environment and truly a wonder.
We were asked what animals in particular we would like to
see if we came across them. I immediately
piped up with “Elephant”. One other lady
wanted to see the big cats. The rest of the gang was silent.
Freedom would slow occasionally to 30 km as he watched for
traces of wildlife scratched in the dirt road.
We came across several grazing deer like animals called Bush Bucks and
the Kudu. This large animal is similar
to a very small moose, but much larger than a deer for example. They are powerful and fast.
 | |
| Sunrise with the Zebras |
The graceful giraffe was everywhere. Their quiet demeanor is unobtrusive and stoic. I posed the question to Freedom as to what
its natural enemy was since it was so tall.
To my surprise, it is the lion.
Since the giraffe is Africa’s tower in
the bush, the lion has to force the animal into rough terrain. When the giraffe becomes unbalanced, stumbles
and falls, it is then that it becomes prey for the lion as the pounce on the
downed animal.
The coyote type, Jackal looked with interest at our vehicle
before shooting off into denser bush.
Freedom was on the hunt for the elephant.
 | |
| The Shy Jackal |
After an hour of searching areas that the mammoth descendant
may be, we finally struck pay dirt. It
was obvious we were on the elephant’s trail as it left its calling card only an
elephant could leave. Our tracker was in
constant contact with the other vehicles as the CB crackled away with the
announcement of various wildlife sightings.
I continued to glance at the speedometer that read a steady
pace of 40 km, as we rolled and juggled our way over all sorts of terrain. It was almost impossible to spot anything at
this speed unless you had an experienced trained eye on the bush.
As we approached a fork in the road, the air suddenly
changed with a whiff of an unidentified odour, not bad, just strange. ELEPHANT!!
No sooner had Freedom informed us that we were getting close, as we
rounded the next blind corner, it suddenly appeared in the roadway. It was a young bull in powerful testosterone
fervor. Its breeding season here and
this fellow wanted to show us his Provo
do and courage by chasing us from HIS ROAD!
This was to be our “High Noon”, although it wasn’t a western
movie; there weren’t any actors, just flesh and blood reality, no six-shooters
– just two adversaries staring down at each other waiting for the first move.
To many it was sheer horror
when the elephant blasted a deafening warning with his massive trunk
raised. His ivory tusks gleamed in the
early light of dawn. Like a stallion
does in aggression, the elephant shook his massive head from side to side and
then suddenly went into a raging charge! This may have been described as a mock charge
by the experts, but to us it seemed the real deal and was most likely not a
mock charge.
 |
| Note the look of horror on the lady's face and her determination to push the jeep faster! |
Without time to lose, Freedom shifted into reverse and
hammered the pedal with his foot. A
short distance away, the elephant seemed to have made his point. We waited quietly for a moment before turning
the 4X4 around to make what we hoped was a peaceful exit.
The movement of the vehicle alerted the elephant once again
to defend his territory. This time he
meant business. With Freedom charging
down the dirt path at 30 km from a dead stop quickly shifting gears. The elephant kept gaining on us. I was trying to capture the moment on film to
verify what I write is true, although it was hard with everyone looking back
and not allowing me a clear shot.
Curiosity from the onlookers on our vehicle, turned to terror as
everyone was shouting at Freedom to “step on it now!” The elephant had come within six feet of our
vehicle before it tired and backed down.
As we slowed, you could see the defiant bull elephant raising his trunk
in victory. He had driven the annoying tourists
from his domain and I suppose feeling quite proud of himself. To be quite honest, I don’t think a human
could outrun an elephant. You might even be hard pressed on a horse,
although the horse will have more stamina and should outlast an elephant’s
brief charge.
Although most felt it was too close a call, I was intrigued
by it all. Wow, having an elephant
charge is something you can’t imagine unless you are in the moment. He was magnificent and my admiration for this
large thundering animal has not diminished.
It made my day. I knew I was
finally in Arica!
As everyone settled down, we observed some less aggressive
animals, notably the hippo and catlike deer called bush bucks. The ugliest of all, was the quick witted wart
hog. I finally managed to get a photo as
a small group wallowed in and around a mud hole. This wild pig is vicious, fast and I suppose
unpredictable. Still it has its place
here even if God didn’t grant it any good looks.
The big cat was still allusive. Time was running short as early light sudden
grew in intensity along with a rise Celsius.
Freedom had also tamed down his driving to 30 km now as we
cruised the many dirt trails in search of lions. The CB crackled into life again as the troupe
ahead had discovered a pride. We turned
down another road when we came upon it.
A large male lion rested in the tall dry grasses. We were able to drive within 10 feet of it as
it rested its bulky frame in the cool African grass. I’ve never seen such a large lion
before.
Freedom told us it was a male in his prime weighing in
between 400-500 lbs. He was such a sight
to behold. With all his grandeur, he rose
to his feet and casually sauntered off in search of his pride. A low droning growl emanated from deep within
him.
 | |
| Afternoon Nap for the Big Cat |
Turning back onto the track, and only a few meters away, his
pride lay under the umbrella shade of a weathered tree. There were 4 of them altogether. Obviously they had a night of successful
feasting, as we were of no consequence to them.
They posed for our cameras and listened to our silly chatter. Freedom continued on only to pass the male
again, lying by the side of the road this time, not far from where we last
encountered him. You could almost reach
out and touch him, we were now that close to him. He seemed very bored with us as he placed his
weary head upon his huge front paws and dozily closed his eyes.
Well it was off to a hearty breakfast in the bush..
Leaving the “bush breakfast” which is really a closed in
patio affair, we headed off in the 4x4s for the Cheetah Rescue Project Centre
and the wild dog breeding program.
Entering the compound you are immediately taken by the beauty of these
sleek spotted cats. Amazingly, they purr
and meow just like the domestic cat. I
would have thought that it would be such a resounding growl or something, not
this meek little hello. The Cheetah is
endangered and so this non-profit group is specializing in breeding these
animals and releasing them back into the wild.
Although there is no human contact by hand, the Cheetahs certainly
recognized the handlers and come when called.
They seem to bask in all the attention that is given to them by
visitors.
Their diets are strictly controlled so that when they are
released, they are extremely healthy.
They are fitted with a radio collar so that their movements can be
monitored once released as part of their research program.
They are also a rehabilitation centre for injured wild cats
and dogs. They also have a few pensioners
that are too old Cheetahs or sick to be released back into the wild. The two
tigers housed at this facility are the result of abandonment from a circus. These animals were released into the wild and
being domesticated and trained tigers not exposed to wilderness life, their
chances for survival were nil. They
would have simply died. Hence, they live
at this sanctuary in peace and tranquility, even though they are not native to Africa.
As the gate was unlocked
and we drove over the electrified cattle grate, we entered the wild dog
compound. These dogs were very curious
upon our arrival and posed enthusiastically for our cameras. The wild dog of Africa
is also an endangered species. This is
an important breeding program to help re-establish their numbers before it is
too late. The animals themselves are not
large, perhaps the size of a medium-sized dog.
Their radar ears are what are most notable. It was a small group of five, but a scrappy
lot at that.
Most are scarred from fighting and one had lost its tail,
bitten of in some quarrel. Although they
are cute and colourful, I wouldn’t want to disembark from the vehicle to greet
them.
With our excursion completed, we headed back to the train
for our lunch and final dinner of the trip.
Tonight I will do my final packing and bid farewell to my very discrete
butler, Tobi. Tomorrow it is off again
in the plane and onto Victoria Falls.
DAY NINE
The alarm pinged away announcing 6:15 am. I rose to a sprinkle of rain that speckled
the glass of my observation window. All
packed and ready to depart, I wandered the half a kilometer narrow passage way
as the train bumped and grinned its way along.
This time it was only a light breakfast. I stuck to what I was used to –
toast, coffee and orange juice.
Although, the waitress tried in vain to indulge me in other delectable,
I resisted.
I was still recovering from last evening’s farewell dinner. As we returned to our sleeping quarters for
the last evening on this classic train, we were all pleasantly surprised to
find a special treat waiting for us in our rooms. I was of no exception.
Tobi had turned down my bed linen as usual and spread rose
pedals on the sheets with a bottle of sparkling Brute and accompanying flute
glass, nestled into a cozy blanket. I
had written him a sweet note thanking him for all the attention to detail and
care he had taken. I left him a small
token gift from Canada,
a copper key chain with a grizzly bear engraved on it. This morning Tobi located me in the lounge
and personally thanked me for the gift.
As is he custom here, you don’t necessarily shake hands but they take
both your hands in theirs as a sign of respect.
In many ways I will miss him as I journey on. As we clambered onto the bus for the short
journey to the airport, all of the Rovos Rail staff stood on the platform
waving their goodbyes.
I managed to clear immigration at the airport easily. One passenger however was taken aside and his
luggage inspected. They seemed to be
questioning his medications which weren’t in proper prescriptions bottles. I’m glad I left mine in their labeled
bottles.
I made my way up the narrow swaying steps into the old bird,
a DC 3 aircraft. We were assured that
she was one of the safest aircraft ever built and that she has been completely
refurbished. The vintage plane with her
nose pointing upward on the tarmac, quickly spread her wings and took flight
with ease once we were all boarded.
There are no modern conveniences on this old lady. You are literally transformed into the aviation
past when air travel was less complicated.
We are flying at a lower altitude, glancing out the window at the landscape
below our wings. It is a 3 hour run to Zambia
fraught with turbulence from cutting through a head wind. I should have taken a Gravol before we left,
but I had no idea the flight would take so long or be so rocky. It’s been a long time since I last rode in a
small aircraft.
I was never so glad to set my feet down on firm
footing. My nausea eased considerably as
I entered Zambia
without incident. The border police were
quite amused when I produced a letter from their Consulate office in Ottawa stating my intentions. They said they have never seen anyone so
prepared and welcomed me to Zambia
with a wide encouraging smile.
After retrieving my luggage I found my to the awaiting taxi
vans looking for their pick-ups. I
approached two men with the Wild Horizon sign.
I wasn’t on their list and so they made some calls trying to establish
where my contact was. Apparently, plans
had changed and someone was waiting for me at another airport on the other side
of the border. Since I didn’t know that
and followed my instructions to the letter, they decided to take me across the
border into Zimbabwe
and transfer me from there.
The border crossing was interesting or should I say
intimidating. Wild monkeys climb all
over everything. Don’t leave a door or
window open or you will be sure to have a monkey join you.
I had my visa in order before I left Canada and I
was waived passed to the next check point.
While waiting for transfer, an official noted the black bag I was
carrying and asked it that was a computer. I said yes and was hauled over for further
scrutiny. They wanted me to declare it
or I might lose it or have to pay for it.
Being prepared, I produced my Canada Customs Declaration green card
showing in detail that all the electronics I had in my possession where
purchased in Canada. She looked at the
official form, then handed one of their own to me and said I will need to
complete it before I leave. It was at this point that I figured I might be
in for a difficult time of sorts. I
remember my nephew lecturing me not to say or mention names of any political
nature while in Zimbabwe. I already got the same recommendation from my
driver from Zambia. It is a rather tense border crossing.
When I arrived at my hotel, the luggage was unloaded. Of course, my luck, I had one bag and someone
else’s. They had mine and what a
surprise if they were to open it up and find a riding helmet inside. Fortunately I had locked it. The poor fellow had to travel across the
border again and retrieve my luggage in Zambia.
When I got to the reception desk, the paperwork that was suppose
to be waiting for me, that wasn’t ready at my time of travel to Africa, of
course WAS NOT THERE. Now what? I’m still waiting for them to straighten it
out as everything is paid, but no paper trail to prove it. I was lucky to be able to make two overseas
calls to have Bob contact the travel agent and try to fix it. I’m still waiting.
I checked in anyways and decided to go on an elephant
safari. What the heck, I was chased by
one yesterday, maybe I should see what they are like from above.
 |
| On the Trail |
It was a long dusty drive to the elephant camp. When we finally arrived, a beautiful clean
camp with breathtaking views greeted us.
The guides welcomed us and served us a cool drink before introducing us
to our elephants.
I got the elephant with baby in tow. Up I went on the gigantic mounting block to
ease myself onto the elephant’s broad back behind its handler. After brief intros, we headed off into the
setting sun. Elephants amble along
rather slowly but surprisingly silent.
The enormous bulk sways in lateral movement and is actually very easy to
sit to. Although somewhat wider than a
horse, you can still use leg aids. I had
a very interesting conversation with my guide as we discuss how he trained his
elephant. We were comparing notes and found
a lot of things are similar. Granted,
the elephant is more intelligent and can play games easier than a horse, but
the basics are the same.
At one point in the ride, my elephant stopped to relieve
herself in a Niagara Falls flow, no let me
correct that, Victoria Falls gushed out. Behind us was a bull whose tusks were
directly beside me. I saw his trunk
begin to rise as if sniffing the air and the utter glean in his soft brown
eye. I looked at him and said, I know
what you are thinking bud, behave yourself, I’m up here. And then I asked the guide if my elephant was
possibly in season. He said no and asked
how did I know what the bull was thinking?
I said to him, if you don’t know, then you’re in trouble and I’m in
bigger trouble. He chuckled as he
kneaded his elephant on, leaving the bull to ponder the moment.
Baby kept right up and it is interesting to see how the
whole herd bonds with the young one.
They all look out for her. The
rough hide of the elephant and the keen sense of smell and touch of their trunk
is a wonder at how such a bulky huge animal has such a caring attitude. This was so evident when we arrived back at
the base and an orphaned baby girl elephant followed her handler about. She was just two months old when she was
rescued. It’s been a struggle to save
her and she is still on the thin side, with the jury still out on her chances
of survival. Her trunk caresses her
handler with great loving affection. He
brings her a bottle every 2 hours and she suckles for brief moments. The survival rate for these orphans is not
good. The orphan elephants need round
the clock attention. They can’t be left
alone. They hunger for nourishment and
contact; the latter being of utmost important for an elephant and is essential
to their wellbeing. One without the
other is fatal. As the baby started to
lean on me for attention and wrap her trunk with similar affection around my
arm, it is my wish that she will make it to adult hood and find her place with
the other adoptive elephants. It breaks
your heart, knowing how lonely it must be for her without mom to protect her
and comfort her.
 |
| Orphan Female with her Keeper |
Back at the hotel, I was now famished since I hadn’t eaten
all day. I went to dine. During dinner, I had the pleasure of being
serenaded by a local troupe of acapella singers. I loved the African music and was delighted
to support these struggling artist and purchased their home grown CD.
As I finish this last journal for the day, I look forward to
gazing out onto the great reserve in front of me and watch Africa
come to life at the watering hole in the morning.
Good night from Zimbabwe.
DAY TEN
I woke to the sound of coos and monkey chatter. These opportunists were scurrying around
trying to steal whatever they could manage.
At breakfast, a couple of more daring monkeys, slid down the roof and
reached from the overhang to steal some fresh fruit from the table. With sling shot in hand, one of the waiters
took aim, but the monkeys fled before he could get an accurate shot.
 |
| View from my Room |
 |
| Victoria Falls |
My morning trek took me to the Smoke with Thunder, aka Victoria Falls. Its
overall sheer size, dwarfs Niagara Falls in length. It is like comparing apples to oranges, each
distinct and each beautiful. Spray wills
the surround area with a smoky mist and vegetation is lush. Its cooling effects are quite noticeable as
you get closer to the observation points.
It is truly an amazing sight, or more correctly, sights to behold with
its endless connecting falls.
We arrived back at the lodge late morning, time for a much
needed nap after climbing the steep rock stairs up and down the expanse of the
various sections of the falls. By noon,
I settled into the bar for a bite of food.
One of today’s menu items was a buffalo burger. I can certainly attest to the fact that lions
have good taste! The meat is lean and
less fatty than a bovine hamburger. I
don’t know why the natives didn’t try to domestic these animals. I wouldn’t hesitate to eat another one.
Late afternoon brought me to the Zambezi River,
one of the longest rivers in the world.
I boarded a canopy platoon boat for our tour. I was seated next to a fellow whose accent
betrayed his true identity. Although he
spoke with an Australian flavour, he was in fact a Canadian who had lived in Australia the
past eight years. He had been taking a sabbatical from work as a school teacher
to travel these past couple of years.
Originally from Hamilton,
we struck up a conversation that stuck the whole journey. At our table was a young couple from South Africa. We shared thoughts on both our different
countries and explored these differences.
As we worked our way up the river, the occasional hippo would raise its
eyes above the waterline and thrash about to show off. In fact, hippos account for more human deaths
by wildlife in Africa than any other. So when a hippo makes a threatening gesture,
beware. Vulnerable out of water, they
are a deadly menace in the buoyancy of water moving with amazing speed.
 |
| Hippos aka River Horses |
 |
| Sunset on the Zambezi |
After quietly riding upstream we eventually found our way
back to the docking area as the sun began to sink below the calm African
sky.
Upon returning to the hotel, I dined on War Hog
tonight. As the waiter pointed out, the
beauty of the Wart Hog is not on the outside, but on the inside. I would have to agree. It was delicious. I told him I would never look at a Wart Hog
in the same light again.
 |
| Wart Hogs |
DAY ELEVEN
It was a long morning waiting for a ride to take me to Botswana. After a delay at the border, my driver
arrived with a couple of other passengers.
We made the hour trek to the border crossing and passed through the two
check points fairly easily. It is still
intimidating on the Zimbabwe
side and the dead pan faces look with incriminating eyes at you. After a 30 minute ride into Botswana we arrived at the safari lodge in the
heart of Africa’s jungle. Botswana is home to the largest
herd of elephants and they are everywhere.
I felt more at ease when we arrived in Botswana. The quality of life here is seems much
improved over Zimbabwe. The hotel staff was extremely kind and
helpful, even sorting out my flight arrangements for me with British Airways
which no one could do from home or in Zimbabwe where I will be flying out
of.
As I entered my suite and looked out through the huge
screened patio doors, a local wart hog sniffed around and came within a couple
of feet of me when I approached the patio.
All the wild animals room the entire complex and it is not safe to be
out after dark. The hippos and elephants
wander at will after dusk and can be very dangerous if encountered. We in fact are visitors of their habitat and
everyone must respect the animals first and foremost.
I was scheduled for the river sunset boat ride beginning at
3:30 pm. There wasn’t a minute lost to
wonderment as the boat cruised slowly up the ancient Chobe River. At almost every corner and shoreline, nature
presented itself in every imaginable form.
Most notable were the elephants.
Huge family herds of elephants were without exception as you followed
the shoreline. Elephants being
elephants, splashed in the water, teaching their babies how to do it as well as
eating all sorts of vegetation. One was
off on his own, in the deep water, swimming about eating lily pads to his heart’s
content. Only his massive head and tusks
were visible.
 |
| Mongoose |
 |
| Buffalo |
They are truly social animals and family oriented. They look out for each other and care for
everyone. We could learn a lot from the
society of elephants.
As the river wandered aimlessly along, great numbers of
hippos floated like giant fishing bobbers in the water. We approached with caution as these huge
water logs spied us with a wary look.
When we arrived back at dockside, I prepared for
dinner. As I portioned out small bits
for myself, I heard a painful loud groan just a short distance away. I said to one of the staff that I hoped it
was a hippo wailing and not someone in mortal pain. She reassured me it was indeed a hippo.
Tonight I dined on Kudu.
Once again, it was delicious. I
slowly made my way back to my suite, following the lit wooden bridge, hoping
not to encounter some form of wildlife on the way.
Tomorrow it is another early rise as we adventure out in the
4x4s again to see Africa up close and
personal. I’ve changed batteries and
memory card in my camera ready to take aim.
DAY TWELVE
Another early morning rise before the sun caught up to the
night. With my cotton quilted jacket
affording me little warmth from the surprisingly cool night air, I hoisted
myself up into the Rover. Blankets were
dispensed to everyone on board to guard against the frigid breeze we were to
experience as we traveled the open air on the highway before turning onto the
national park entrance.
Slowly the air began to warm with the rise in the east of
early morning dawn. We spotted a number
of smaller game but nothing in the more substantial version. It was extremely quiet with little
movement. On the long trek back after 2
hours of searching the many pathways, I started to drift off into
sleepiness. I think the early mornings
were starting to take their toll.
However, I awoke when buffalo were finally spotted. This is one animal that has eluded me so far
in my amateur photography. Not any
more. I clicked away capturing a family
of buffalo with a huge male standing very alert and defensive. My excitement for the morning was over as we
returned to the lodge with a hearty breakfast awaiting us. I was booked again for another afternoon
cruise of the Chobe (pronounced Chobee).
But first, I needed to take a much deserved nap.
 |
| Crocks on a Buffalo carcass |
After eating a very small meal, I made my way onto the boat
once again. Today, the wildlife wasn’t
as abundant. Not so many elephants this
time, just a smattering here and there.
Hippos were big on the watch list today however and I finally got to
capture one out of the water.
Cruising slowly along the shoreline of the Chobe, we came
upon a buffalo who had succumbed to some sort of fate. It was lying in the shallows as we
approached. The garbage collectors where
out in great force, chewing away on the carcass. Revolting as it might seem, this is real
life in Africa as I photographed the
crocodiles dining on a large meal of rump roast. Nothing is wasted here. According to our guide, this two day old
carcass will be gone in a couple of more days.
At least it won’t pollute the water.
We carried on observing a variety of wild birds, Water
Monitors, Mongoose, Elephant, more Hippos, Kudu (pronounced coodo) as well as Impala,
Water Buffalo and the Nile crocs.
On tonight’s menu was Impala which I tasted a sliver. It is much like venison and not too wild of a
taste. I’m still eating just a mouthful
of this and that, but the food being as rich as it is, makes it difficult to
count calories.
Tomorrow I head back to Zimbabwe
to catch a flight back to Johannesburg and then
back again to Botswana
the next day. Seems totally ridiculous
why in earth I have to travel across three borders and back again within 48
hrs. I don’t know why I just couldn’t
stay in Botswana
the extra day. Travel agents for
you..
I’m all packed and ready for another day on the road. With any luck I will have no hassles crossing
or at the airport. Wish me luck..
DAY THIRTEEN
It’s been a day of travel.
I declined the 5 am safari this morning, opting for some much needed
rest. I was packed and ready to go for
my 10 o’clock pick up. At 10 past 10, I
was getting a little concerned. Drivers
came and went, as I inquired after each one if I was on their list. Each said no.
At last, one driver couldn’t locate his only passenger by the name of
“Simpson”. I said that it was most
likely me. He was scheduled to go the
airport so I convinced him that I was his “Simpson”. Off we went heading for the Zimbabwe border once again.
This was the part I disliked. After handing over my passport, I was told
that I needed to pay $65 US cash for another Visa. There is no point in arguing, you just keep
you mouth shut and pay up. At least this
time I left my computer with my luggage, otherwise I might have lost that
too.
After a two hour journey, we arrived at the airport. I said goodbye to my friend and waited at the
check-in counter to have my bags weighed.
I was aware that the weight had to be a lot lighter than it was coming
over and I thought I had taken that into consideration when packing – I know I
had. At any rate, I was told I was 10
kilos over and had to pay $55 US cash. That
wasn’t bad considering the fellow behind me got nailed for $165 US cash. After an hour’s wait in the security area, we
were finally allowed to board the plane for the trip back to Johannesburg.
Now this part of the trip seemed really ridiculous as
mentioned previously. Not only did it cost
me a further $120 US just to get out of Zimbabwe, I lost a whole day in
travel. I arrived in Johannesburg at 5 pm and got settled into my
hotel. The porter helped me with my
luggage to the courtesy van, after I replenished my US cash at a foreign exchange
desk. The porter didn’t seem well at
all. He was coughing and sputtering the
whole time and I figured he had TB or worse.
I tried to avoid his coughing as best I could.
After a nice dinner, I tried in vain once again to get my PC
to connect either wireless or by dial-up.
Both attempts failed miserably.
So here you have it.
Tomorrow I fly back to Botswana in the morning – crazy!!!
DAY FOURTEEN
The alarm buzzed me awake as I dragged myself from beneath
the covers. Time to get ready for
another day of travel - ugh.
I had a very light breakfast and arranged to leave one
suitcase behind in a secure area of the hotel until my return the following
week. That substantially lightened
things up for me.
After checking out, I hopped on the shuttle for the 3 min.
ride to the departure area of the airport.
The Air Botswana desk wasn’t opened. Many of us milled around the area waiting for
the booth to come alive with Air Botswana reps. It was eight a.m., two hours before the
scheduled departure time. By 8:15, a
young lady dressed smartly in navy colours, announced that the flight had been
delayed. It was now scheduled to leave at
11:30 am. By 11 am, we, the intended
passengers checked our bags through and went to the security area. It is a very relaxed security system, unlike
our airports in North America and beyond.
Breezing through security we headed for our designated gate
number. I had already been in the
airport proper for more than 2 hours, as I stood in line with an odd assortment
of people who didn’t look like they were going to Botswana. As it turned out, they were all heading for
Dubi! I thought they looked Arab or Muslim
of some sort. The Botswana flight
had been delayed yet again and this time the gate number changed. Just goes to show you that you can’t believe
everything you read. They are a little
slow at updating things.
Off I went three hours later to sit and wait yet again. At this point I was becoming quite dull and
bored. Between BO from others, cell
phones ringing off and nauseating fumes from the planes with the exit doors
open, I was totally disgusted at wasting yet another fine day in an
airport.
Finally, we boarded a prop-job airplane and of course I had
the very last seat in the tail of the airplane. It was at that point I searched in vain for
some gravol without luck. It must have
packed in the suitcase I had checked.
We soon became airborne and to my surprise, it was a very
smooth flight, unlike the earlier one I had on the DC3.
At just after 4 pm, I was met at the airport and driven the
short distance to my hotel. The airport
in Maun (pronounced Ma oon) is very tiny and casual. It was nice for a change to get back to some
sort of sanity.
Tomorrow I grab the small bush plane to join the horse
safari. At least I will have six days in
one place!!!! so to speak.
DAY FIFTEEN
I managed to sleep in this morning and was collected for the
short trip to the airport at 10:10 am. I
met three other ladies from England
who were also going on the horseback safari.
It was a good job we were all traveling light as we were led out to the
tarmac and our SMALL revived old Cessena plane.
As it turned out, the captain of our plane was a Canadian
from Montreal. Since I was the only other Canadian, I got to
ride beside him at the controls. I paid
attention to his pre-warm up routine as he adjusted the choke and brought the engine
rpms up to speed. The gages all read
normal with the pressure gage coordinating with the engine’s rpm. Oil temp looked good and we had lots of
fuel. Who knows, if something happened
to him, I might be required to fly the thing.
God help us!
After a short, little
bumpy 20 min. ride, we found an abandoned airstrip in the middle of nowhere where
he set the plane down. From there we
were transported to a whirly bird (helicopter) for the next 10 min. of flight. How exciting!
Again, I was chosen to ride beside the pilot. It was an amazing ride! I now love helicopters. You see the ground right below your feet as
we hovered just above tree tops skimming along at a leisurely pace. I clicked a few photos of buffalo on the run and
elephants grazing before we set down at the camp in the lovely lush delta known
as the Okavango Delta.
The camp is situated on an island and it is in the heart of
wilderness beauty. We were greeted by
the staff and shown to our own private tents.
These are luxury strong canvas and screened houses on a
raised platform. As this is wilderness,
we may have the occasional hippo or elephant wandering by as the sun sets.
We are advised just to stay quiet and calm while they
pass. Under no circumstances are we to
bring food into out tents. That is only
common sense, but we all know that that can be in short supply with tourists.
Before lunch, I met some of the assortment of horses. I spied a relatively good one; dark bay with
a medium blaze and white sock. He turned
out to be a lead horse and the owner’s private mount. I’m not sure who I will be saddled with this
afternoon, but it will be an introductory ride.
All the horses are very
fit and mostly sporting roached manes and hock length tails. The majority are thoroughbred crosses with
huge withers from plenty of saddle work.
As I would later discover, these horses band together 24/7 and are
totally insensitive to rein pressure (i.e. no brakes). They depend on the lead horse to tell them
when to stop or turn. They instinctively
trot/gallop when the lead horse starts whether you are ready or not and jam on
their own brakes when they feel it is time.
Not the sort of horse I’m use to.
One I sort of favoured, was just recovering from an attack
by a croc on one of the rides. He seemed
sound enough.
I met their Staffordshire Bull Terrier and Pit Bull who are the
family pets. Life for canines here in
the Okavango is short with 3 or 4 years being considered
very old by the living conditions. It is
not that they die of disease, it is predatory attacks from a variety of animals
and snakes that claim them as victims.
It is a reality here that you must always be watchful of everything from
snakes to crocs to Hippos and Rhinos and the like. Always look up and down.
The wilderness is tranquil and yet dangerous. It is not for the faint of heart. Only rugged, challenging people need apply. You definitely appreciate life in its truest
form here. This is Africa!!
My ride out in the afternoon brought back shades of Spain
and the grey gelding Romero. I was given
a grey thoroughbred gelding who played with me most of the time. Just so you know, I’m ditching the camera
tomorrow. You can’t imagine how
difficult it is riding with one hand and holding on to your camera with the
other cantering through knee high water and the like. Not to mention my horse who decided it was
time to get down and play. His canter
was filled with rolling bucks of delight as I hung on with the camera in one
hand. If I roll the dice and get him
again tomorrow, I’m ready with both hands on the reins this time. You will all be happy to hear that I stayed
on despite my handicap.
Of course the best horse in the herd of 56 was the one I
liked; the owner’s horse. Go
figure. Well at least I can say I have
good taste.
The horses only spooked once when a wart hog ran from the
bush and startled the otherwise bored horses.
I’m not use to riding low headed Thoroughbreds so I didn’t feel quite at
home in the saddle. And saddle… I’m really spoiled with my Freedman! Although these were fairly good quality
saddles with cheat seats to boot, I couldn’t find a very comfortable seat. My crotch is still tender tonight. The tip of the saddle puts you in a constant
forward lean and the twist on the saddle is narrow and very unaccommodating to
a woman’s hip. Don’t know how the guys
do it. Still it was fun and an
experience riding the delta.
After a feast in the evening and a brief sit by the campfire,
we have retired to our tents. We are not
to be alarmed if we have a lion, elephant or hippo pass by our tents during the
night. They quite often do here. We are told that the lions are more
interested in the buffalo than humans; and the elephants just want to browse
around. Still we shouldn’t wander out at
night.
I zipped my tent shut (just the screens), sprayed for mosquitoes
and I am listening to a chorus of frogs and crickets at waters edge; no call of
the lions yet but the night is young. I just
hope no crocs come by.
Night all….
DAY SIXTEEN
After just two hours of sleep the 5:45 am wake up call came
to my tent. Eating late is a real
problem for me as I can’t just fall into silent slumber for the evening. At 3 am, I decided to read a chapter in the
novel I had brought along, trying to deactivate my busy mind.
At 6:00 am, a lion’s deep groan could be heard throughout
the camp. It was just across the
river. This area in Africa
is home to the only pride of water swimming lions. They have adapted very well to the water
here, so crossing a river is not an impossible feat for them. I always thought that cats are especially
fearful of water. Apparently, these big
cats are not.
After a quick coffee and a muffin, we mounted up for a six
hour jaunt through the wetlands of the delta.
Feeling the effects of yesterday, my knees and ankles still ached. We trotted and walked and galloped over all
sorts of marsh and dusty elephant paths.
We stopped on occasion to squat behind a tree before
mounting again and trotting off. It is
the custom that you find the nearest log to mount your horse and NOT mount from
the ground. I mistakenly swung up on my
little Egyptian Arab horse, Zulu, and was unceremoniously chastised for this. Believe me, I’m not looking for a log if
something big is coming that requires immediate action for
self-preservation. I conceded to the
rules from then on and perched myself next to a log or termite mount for future
mounting sessions. At least here there
are so many fallen trees due to elephant construction also know as destruction,
that you’ll find one almost around every corner.
We slowly edged our way around some barbarous looking bushes
at the edge of a waterway, only to find a family of hippos grazing along side
the tall grass. Usually, they are in the
water at this time of day, so this was a rare find. It was complete silence as we passed by
them.
We discovered a small herd of zebras next and shortly after,
we came across an even bigger herd. As
our horses approached the statuesque zebra, they (Zebras) turned tail and went
to the gallop. We followed along. These pony size members of the horse family
were giving us a good gallop as we closed in on them. We pulled up (or should I more correctly say,
the lead horse pulled up) and the Zebras soon abandoned their escape as well as
we turned and continued on our journey.
By the fifth hour of our ride we were all feeling a little
tired (me more than the others) when a large crack from the bush momentarily
startled the lead horse. Behind the
crack in the forested area was a large bull elephant. He had decided to take the tree down for
better pruning. The enormous tree fell
like a bulldozer had just hit it. Our
horses stood silently grazing the tall grass while we watched and waited. Assuming it was safe to continue, we
completed our ride as we galloped through the waterway back into the camp
confines.
After a relaxing dinner and swapping stories amongst the
guests, we were coming together as a group.
I would best describe my companions as follows: The British are crazy, the Germans –
disciplined, the Americans, although very hospitable – know everything and then
there is me, not quite the right cog in this wheel.
One interesting cast of our crew of riders, was the very
pretty “alfa” female (as she described herself) who is one of a handful of
Captains in the world who command large cruise ships. She is becoming more Americanized in her
thinking, even though she still calls herself a Brit. One story struck me as quite funny, but at
the same time encouraged by our border inspectors.
She was telling us that she will never visit a port in Canada
again after her trouble with the authorities.
She went on to explain that when her ship was boarded and asked if there
were any weapons housed on board, the Captain stupidly replied “no”. A regular search them ensued when the agent
came forward with two full magazine clips for a Glock handgun which were
located in the Captain’s night stand.
The agent gave the Captain an option.
She could tell them were the rest of the firearms were, or they could
send in the dogs and rip apart the ship searching for them. The Captain wisely complied and went to the
bulk head of the ship and retrieved two pistols, an automatic machine gun type
weapon, stun guns and bear spray, all illegal in Canada. The Captain was then cited.
She, the Captain, couldn’t understand all the fuss. She reiterated to our little campfire chatters
that they didn’t have any intention of using the firearms that were secured as
she put it. I thought to myself, let me
see, she works for a Texan who is gun crazy, she lies to the inspectors, then
produces a string of lethal weapons, all on a “luxury cruise ship”! What isn’t right with this picture?
At any rate the Captain was quite indignant about how
Canadians treated her and vowed she will never dock in Canadian waters
again. That is fine with me. Who is to say she wasn’t transporting weapons
for criminal intent.
As I’m keying this journal in, a lion has just called out in
the blackness. It’s coming from across
the river. Since I’m alone in my tent, I
hope that it stays on the other side for tonight at least. To be quite honest, I think the lion is less
of a danger than the Captain.
Mid afternoon was a sightseeing adventure from the confines
of a dug out canoe. As our guide polled
us along the water, we observed a wide variety of birds, foliage and
fauna.
It is now pressing just after 10 pm as I close this
entry. Tomorrow our horses must swim
across a river and I have to ride it bareback.
I just hope I don’t float away and become prey for a croc. With roached manes, there isn’t anything to
hold on to. Hopefully, I will survive as
we break camp for the next leg of our safari.
DAY SEVENTEEN
Another early morning call as we embark for the river, minus
our shoes with pants rolled above the knees.
I was mounted on a big grey Thoroughbred named Mazoozoo as he strode out
at a good walk down the trail. We had a
new guide today, PJ, the owner of the camp who kept us at a good pace. We came upon a lone bull elephant as he
watched our horses graze at the end of the rein. (It is the custom to let these horses bulldog
the reins away from you and graze whenever they want. It is not the custom here to allow these bad
manners on the trail. Again, I found
this very annoying, not to discard the fact that it can be quite painful.) It was during this self-grazing by my mount that
the big grey pulled very hard as I was slightly turned in the saddle, observing
the elephant for safety sake. That
strong yank on the too short rein pulled a lower back muscle and I knew I was
in for trouble the rest of the six hour ride.
Trotting was almost unbearable and the gallop
excruciating. At break I tried to eek
out some relief by stretching and walking.
By this time I was feeling quite nauseous and faint. We mounted again and continued the long trek
to the new camp. About ½ hour out from the
destination of our new camp, the horses were put into a full mad gallop. It was all I could do to stop from passing
out as the horse reeled and did a final buck before coming to an abrupt halt,
digging his toes into ground with great urgency. I was never so relieved to see a tent on the
shore knowing I was at the end of the ride.
I could barely dismount, my back flaming in pain. They decided to take me across the river in a
dug out as I couldn’t imagine swimming with the horse. I think I would have taken my chances with
the crocs at this point.
At dinner, the dogs joined us and vied for attention from
the many guests. The male pit bull is
the dominant one, since he came first.
The female Staffordshire is the guest and he becomes jealous when
attention is paid to her. With this in
mind, it was not wise that the owner picked up the male and placed him on her
lap at the dinner table. The female,
feeling left out, sat next to the guest beside the owner and as expected or
even predicted, the guest showered loving pats on the female. Without warning, the male attacked. The owner hung on to the male as she leapt
from her chair calling for help to control the brute as he struggled to get out
of her grasp and continue the fray. Two
large men took the dog from her and held it away from the group. It was a very uneasy time as we waited for
the male to settle down before being led away and tied up for the remainder of
the evening. The female was banned
immediately and taken to the kitchen tent.
As much as these seemed like nice dogs, I really don’t think they are
good trusting pets. They are fighting
dogs and I feel rather unsafe around them.
I’m going to beg off the game drive this evening as I’m in
terrible pain. I don’t even think I’ll
be well enough to hoist myself into the saddle tomorrow. My cot is hollow and not very
supportive. At this point, I think I
have to surrender to the ride.
DAY EIGHTEEN
I chose to rest my back today and opted for a ride in the
4X4 to rendezvous with everyone for lunch under the umbrella of an old sausage
tree. It was a rather boring day, but I
was feeling so ill and sore, it didn’t really matter.
 |
| Sausage Tree |
We arrived back in camp around 5 pm as I burrowed once more
down into a novel that I had exchanged with another rider. I had finished my book so we switched.
Dinner tonight was a wonderful curried chicken dish. It was so good, I had two helpings. With the help of a little glass of red wine,
my back is starting to loosen up or at least felt like it. I hope that I can make the last ride back to
base camp tomorrow and still be able to get into the small bush plane tomorrow
for the trip to the airport in Maun. I
start the day by swimming on the horse across the river at dawn. I’m hoping my body will hold together for the
six hour journey.
DAY NINETEEN – BLACK DAY COMETH
I’m semi writing this bit in much pain. Most of this journal entry will be completed
another day. I will make brief points to
remind myself of the day’s events.
We broke camp this morning and to be just on the safe side, I
requested horse leg wraps from the stable grooms as I wrapped my sore lower
back for extra support. We walked out
and I was being cautiously optimistic that I could make the six hour, 25 mile
ride back to base camp. Instead,
Murphy’s Law was upon me.
After passing a large bull elephant approximately one hour
into our ride and working our way through razor sharp barbed bushes, we started
off at a steady strong trot, head to tail down a winding elephant animal track
trail. Six horses in front of me merrily
weaved their way through the hard concrete packed clay when all of a sudden my
large grey Thoroughbred dropped like a stone beneath me. As he scrambled out of a very nasty burrowing
hole, I tumbled out to the left landing on my shoulder and hip, coming to rest
finally on my previously injured left side of my back. I howled; writhe in pain. As riders gathered around me, I first wanted
to make sure I hadn’t broken my back. My
toes and legs were OK, but the back pain was excruciating. We were in the middle of nowhere with every
conceivable predator a possible ambush in the making. I was helped me to my feet and slowly walked for
a short distance, trying to compose myself and reorganize my badly bruised body. The thought of being hoisted back onto my
horse was unconceivable, but it was either that, or walk the next five hours
with a guide and riffle in hand. I would
be very easy prey for a lion or leopard in my condition.
The game plan was to switch saddles, giving me a trail
saddle (semi Australian stock saddle/western more on the lines of a cavalry
saddle). The high pommel steel frame
gave me a little support as I tried to keep the bump of the stride and pitch of
the saddle from jolting my back. Riding
mostly standing in my stirrups, leaning heavily on the pommel, my back twisted
and burned to the rock of the horse. The
next hour was agonizingly slow and miserable.
As we cut through more dense brush, we startled a herd of
buffalo. All the horses were on edge as
the Buffalo
kept crashing about in the thickets trying to decide which way to exit. The rifleman took hold of my horse’s left
rein to steady him and be ready to pull the rifle from its case. I thought for a moment that I had met my Waterloo and I would die
on this delta should the buffalo charge us.
There was no strength left in me to hang on to a crazed-with-fear
galloping Thoroughbred. Luckily the
buffalo decided to negotiate a clear path and thundered off to the right of
us.
By the time we reached a deeper water area where a dug out
canoe could navigate, I was near passing out with the pain. I gently lowered myself to the ground and sat
on the floor of the dug out as two men polled me out to a waiting outboard boat
15 minutes later.
Next I had to transfer from the dug out to the aluminum boat
and sit yet again as my muscles shook in protest and nausea started to creep in. The two pain pills they had popped into me at
the time of the accident were quickly losing their effect.
When the prop was dropped into the cool water of the Delta,
we navigated only about 100 feet, before the men took over the polling. Percy (our driver) pulled the heavy load of reeds
from the propeller. This routine went on
with repetition for the next half hour before we finally reached deeper, less
grassy open water. Gunning the engine,
we started to make better time before our boat succumbed to the string and drag
of grasses again.
By this point, I decided to try a little humour to see if
that might help me forget the ugly stabbing pain. And so, the boatmen of Botswana joined me with a chorus of “Row Row Row Your Boat”, every time they took
up the long polls.
Roaring around again in open water, we came across the
bumping half submerged logs known locally as hippos. Instinctively, and with much aggression, the
male disappeared under the water. When
we looked back, 20 feet in our wake, the huge log leapt out of the water with a
menacing grunting roar of defiance as our tin boat flew down the river.
As we approached the
camp I was helped out of the boat feeling somewhat light headed and insanely in
pain. I asked for some ice for my back
and with a steadying arm, was helped to my tent. Momentarily, two frozen packs wrapped in a
towel appeared and I settled them under my seized and fiery hot lower
back. Awe, at least the heat was
dissipating slowly and the stiffening process was working in earnest.
More pain killer tablets prescribed to me which I gladly
took. I was left to rest while the camp
radioed for help.
I was in so much agony that tears began to well up and roll
down my cheeks. I felt like a little
whimpering baby so far from home, so all alone almost being transported into
another world by a wild herd of African buffalo. I soon shook off the useless nonsense of
self-pity as I pulled the ice packs from my back. I caught a strong whiff of fish as I lifted
the packs away. My God, as I almost
vomited, these have been keeping some fish frozen. (Even the slightest odor of fish puts my
stomach into utter turmoil.) As I
gagged, I tossed the packs to the vacant bed beside me and tried to shut my
eyes and also shut out the pain and world around me.
Later that evening, a nurse arrived at camp and was trying
to coordinate a copter ride out for me to take me to the hospital in Maun. I have given her my insurance paperwork and
contacts, medical information and the like.
The deluxe insurance package I had purchased turned out to
be totally unhelpful. Since I hadn’t
broken anything that was obvious at first glance, they (insurance agents) didn’t
see the need to help me. They wanted the
camp to call back during office hours!
Some idiot in Toronto has no idea what it is like to be stranded on an
open plain, surrounded by the BIG FIVE of Africa with only radio contact to
civilization, that someone with a severe back injury being tossed at speed from
a horse, can appreciate. As the pain
increased, my lioness roar will be heard once I get back to Canada AND God
help the person if I find out which one took the call!
Try as they might, a Medivac air ambulance wasn’t going to
happen because of the insurance company’s uncooperativeness. I could of course privately pay $5000 US cash
for a commercial helicopter to retrieve me from the jungle. I didn’t have $5000 cash on me. I would have to wait until morning and see
what transpires. In the meantime, I am
being held captive by a roaming elephant between my tent and the short 20 ft
walk to the eating area. He is taking
his time so I dare not disturb his supper.
They will bring me a tray to my tent with more pain meds later and the
horse liniment I requested from the stable’s equine medical supplies.
DAY TWENTY
I had a rather sleepless night with lions growling, hippos
roaring and elephants continuing to graze by my tent. The morning has not brought good news. The insurance company is being very difficult
so now my only alternative is to ride out on a mattress in the back of a 4X4
traveling at 10 km/hr. following game tracks.
I was dosed up on painkillers for the long 2.5 hr. drive out
to the airstrip. After bracing with my
elbows lying in the back of the truck, with only the hot African sun pressing
through the screen netting as dust filtered through and spray from the wetlands
showered me for brief periods, and the missile sausages loomed over head as the
truck passed under their shade, we arrived.
My dress had flipped up during the journey exposing my lily white legs
to the hot African burn. I couldn’t move
to cover myself so instead added a painful sunburn to my litany of injuries.
My purse which was originally set beside me was relocated to
the cab of the truck for the journey. I
think their thought was that it just might bounce out. The trucks were unloaded and I specifically
asked if my purse was among the luggage.
I was informed it was.
I struggled to climb into the small Cessena for the trip to
Maun airport where an ambulance with flashing lights was waiting to take me to
the hospital. I kept my eyes closed for
the 20 min. flight to Maun hoping the miles would fly by quicker.
Finally we bump, bumped down and rolled to a stop with the
ambulance along side. The rest of the
passengers disembarked along with the luggage.
I chatted briefly with the medics who have offered to take me to the
hospital but feel that I could probably continue on to JoBurg and seek better
medical attention there if I wish. There
isn’t a whole lot they can do with soft tissue injuries, other than give pain
pills and/or therapy. The worst was
behind me so I decided to fly on. As a
parting word, the medics said that I should take this matter up with my
insurance company as they felt they (insurance people) were very negligible in
assisting me and further stated that if it had been a heart attack, broken
bones or head injury, I would most likely have died waiting for them to give
the go ahead. In their mind, and mine as
well, this was totally unacceptable procedure.
As we sorted through our baggage, I was shocked to see that
my purse wasn’t among the items. I was
literally stranded!!!
Shaking in pain, standing with no passport, money, credit
cards, plane ticket, visas and the lot, I was now quickly acquiring the temper
of those wild buffalos. When the rep for
the Safari people mentioned that they would charge me for sending a plane back
for my handbag I started to lose it right there in the airport. I don’t normally raise my voice or swear, but
now I had nothing to lose. I WAS NOT
AMUSED!
As it turned out, they sent the plane back, held the Air
Botswana flight departing for JoBurg until I had my purse safely back in
hand.
I have arrived back in razor-wire city JoBurg and civilization
which comes with a hot deep tub in my 5 star hotel room. When I pulled the plug, I think I have left
half of Botswana
in the bottom of the water depleted tub.
As my aching back slumbers in the bed sort of, I close this chapter of
my day.
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| My Rescue Team |
DAY TWENTY-ONE
Four AM rise comes way too early for my battered and bruised
body. Slowly I point myself in the
direction of the shower and standing patiently as the warmth eases my muscles
briefly.
Packed and ready to go, I’m off to the airport for the trip
to Kruger.
The flight is pleasantly short but the drive to the game
camp is horrendous. Two and a half hours
of wash board roads tugs cruelly at my injured back. My hands have turned purple with the grip of
the rail trying to soften and suspend the bounce of the van. Finally, we arrive at this beautiful gem in
the middle of Kruger
Park.
After settling in, I took the opportunity of booking in with
the massage therapist. I felt a lot
better after a session with her. Still
very stiff and sore, but at least I can sit a bit now. I’m having two more sessions with her to try
and get myself right or at least comfortable to some degree. I hope to be able to get at least one game
drive here before I leave.
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| My Little Rondavel |
Still, this afternoon, I had elephants rooming below my
balcony, browsing on tree branches, a large bull elephant some 30 ‘ away and a
lioness wandering by on her leisurely early evening hunt. This is God’s place in Africa!
p.s. I’m working on making friends with an African
Grey Parrot name Fritz. He already seems
to be warming up to me. He was chasing
people away from the chair I was sitting in.
Reminds me of my Taboo..
DAY TWENTY-TWO
I rose stiffly this morning but with less warm up of
muscle.
I checked in for another massage and spent the day reviewing
my journals of the trip so far. I walked
several times, did stretches and read my book.
With the back starting to release its terrible grip somewhat, other
bruising and soreness is complaining now.
My tail bone in particular is very sore and a large shiner is starting
to poke to the surface of my left hip.
Tomorrow I hope to participate in an afternoon game drive and get some
of my last photos. I’m missing the rhino
and leopard yet. With any luck I’ll find
these to complete the series of the “big five”.
Tomorrow I have my last booked massage so hopefully I will
be well on the way to recovery before my long flight home. I’m certain I will still have some
discomfort, but nothing like I have had to endure.
DAY TWENTY-THREE
I rolled over and hung my feet over the bed and pulled
myself into a sitting position. The
stiffness was still present, but perhaps a little less. After breakfast, I went for my 10 am massage
and felt a lot more relaxed. My tail
bone is still paining and a few other places that I hadn’t notice before.
As I immersed myself in a good murder mystery novel while
lounging in the bar, news flash on the radio and drifted out into the air until
it caught the attention of my ears.
“Tourist killed by elephant on safari in Botswana”! There were no further details and I wondered,
was it my safari camp? That could have
been me on the report. What a sobering
thought.
Today was the day I was going on the afternoon game
drive. I still need evidence for my
camera of the illusive Leopard and Rhino.
 |
| Buffalo |
 |
| Wildabeast at Dawn |
I put on my back brace and took the front seat position on
the Land Rover. In front of me was a 410
riffle, big enough to take down an elephant if need be. My ranger was Stephen, the biggest guide at
the camp and a very handy driver.
Knowing he had a handicap person on board, he took the bumps very
slowly. It was good to get out at long
last. We found the usual assortment of
Impala and elephants before coming upon the leopards.
Our first encounter was an 18 month old female. She came right beside the Land Rover which
made for some perfect shots (camera of course).
Later we came across her handsome father as he ambled up a steep gully
right into view. We followed him for a
long time before he finally wandered off into denser brush.
As rangers, they keep records on the animal population and
since many species do not travel great distances, it is a simpler task knowing
which animals are in your territory and who are new comers.
The leopards are sleek and muscular, but not as large as a
lion. These two examples were a delight
to photograph, almost posing like movie stars for the cameras.
 |
| Leopard at Dusk |
As the sun fell below the horizon and darkness set in, the
spot light held by our spotter sitting on the hood mounted jump seat, fanned
the light from one side of the road to the other as we searched for big game. A few Impala were seen but the real catch of
the night was a pride of six female lions and one male. They sauntered down the track looking quite
pleased with themselves. Stephen
suggested that they had come off of a big kill and were well fed tonight. He figures that they took down a Kudu,
giraffe or some larger size prey due to the fact that all of the lions had satisfied
their appetites and looked quite full.
Just as well, I don’t think anyone of us wanted to be their dinner.
DAY TWENTY-FOUR
It was dark and cool as I stepped out of my thatch roof hut
at 5:15 am. I am determined to find my
Rhino today. We all loaded into the Land
Rover with spotlight and headlights guiding our way through the dense brush and
rut-punishing roads. It wasn’t long
before we found a track that led us straight to a huge white Rhino, lying
peacefully in a clay mound. I snapped
away at the sleeping hulk, amazed at its 2 ton size. Now I have all of the BIG FIVE
photographed. Later in the day, we would
come upon this fellow, slowly trekking down the road spraying his boundaries
with a hydrant force gush of urine to ward off any other male rhinos.
Further along we met up with a large herd of about 50 elephants. It was tricky not finding ourselves in the
middle of the herd. It seemed as though
they where circling us and one grumpy male trumpeted his disapproval of our
visit. Cautiously we kept out of the
Indians circling the wagon, so to speak.
Traveling through large thickets, the Rover continued to
grind its way along in first gear. Under
a tree lay a pride of lions, including the old fellow we say the night
before. It was the same group and they
looked very content with full stomachs.
The grand old lion didn’t even raise his head in acknowledgement. I think he was happy just to be fed. Lacking teeth now in his elder years, the
females take care of him. Hopefully, he
can remain with this pride for the remainder of his days. Once you see his photo, you can’t help but
feel for the old gentleman. He still is
majestic with the years of wisdom etched in his face.
The afternoon game drive turned in quite a performance. We tracked our usual elephants, catching the
tail end of a mating ceremony at the old water hole. Elephants were in abundance once again as we
watched them play and socialize in the water, take mud baths and just generally
just be elephants.
As the sun set low over the horizon, we attempted to find Leopard
and Hyena to no avail. We did discover a
Hyena’s den but no occupants present. As
the fading light of day dropped off the rise, it was time to switch on the spot
light for night vision. As it would be,
we found our pride of lions again with the old male tagging along. It must have been the call of the wild today,
because to our surprise, old kitty mated with one of the females on an
abandoned air strip. Being under the
cover of darkness, those who attempted to catch the feat on camera were sadly
disappointed with only fuzzy images of a very private affair. We followed the orderly fashion of a lion
hunt for half an hour. Following each
other, spaced out accordingly, walking a slow methodical single line with
determination in every step. We would
shut off the vehicle and kill lights only to find lions on either side of our
vehicle using it as cover in the open grass.
They were after the Impala at the edge of the landing strip.
Lions are amazingly silent, tracking each hind paw exactly
in the front paw track. They have an
extra padding of hair that softens any crack of a twig that may give them
away. We never heard them coming behind
us and looked a little shocked when we found them quietly lying beside the land
rover when we briefly turned a light on.
It is somewhat unnerving to have a lion a hair’s breadth away.
We decided to let the lions continue on their insidious nightly
hunt without us busy bodies following their every move. Off we went back to base and settled in for
the evening.
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| View from the Deck and Pool |
DAY TWENTY-FIVE – The Lion Hunt
The early morning game drive went on a usual as I lay in my
netted tent bed, the “DO NOT DISTURB” sign hanging on the door handle
outside. After a light breakfast, I
walked the short distance to my added appointment with the massage
therapist. Relaxing on the table, the
warm stones penetrated deep into the stressed and tired muscles of my back and
shoulders. Two game drives yesterday
proved to be a little too much for my injured back and increasingly sore tail
bone. But still the incredible scenery
and photos paled in comparison to my protesting back.
This afternoon I will take up my post opposite the
guide/driver for another experience following the game tracks. Perhaps this time we will find the allusive
Hyena.
We loaded up for our four hour sunset game drive which was
the most adventurous and climatic of all the game drives I’ve been on.
We came across one of the many herds of elephants sauntering
across our path in their slow motion sway.
One female with calf in tow came extremely close to our stationary
vehicle. Instinctively, the large female
ushered her calf to her right side placing her between us and the Land
Rover. I sat dead still looking into the
large brown eye that peered at me. We
were within a foot of each other. I
didn’t squint but softened my face to give no hint of fear or aggression. The momentary reading of eyes passed as the few
tons of wild elephant continued her walk following the rest of the herd.
In just two hours of
exploring dense bush, dried up seasonal river beds and well trodden dirt game trails,
we had spotted all of the BIG FIVE. My
only wish was to at last see the shy but lethal and vicious hyena. As late afternoon turned into darkness, I was
ready to release any hope of finding the Hyena.
All of a sudden, Stephen mumbled something to our spotter after
receiving direction from his secretive ear piece from the other game driver. We were off quickly crashing through brush,
over logs until finally meeting up with another Land Rover. Caught in the spotlight was my Hyena. I clicked away hoping that even with just the
smattering of light from the hand held beam, I could capture this boy on my
camera. I was lucky having several pics
come out reasonably well. He looked
profoundly menacing with steel trap jaws that could tear apart and crush
anything with ease.
As we turned away and headed out another route, we came upon
a pair of Leopards. They too had a brief
love affair going when we arrived. What
is it about the wilderness and the three letter word? I know procreation is everything, but to see
it on such a regular basis was quite a lesson in the birds and bees.
We followed the Leopards
for about 20 minutes before we broke off and gathered with another group of
Land Rovers on open grassland. It was
the lions and my sweet old boy again. The
lions now on hunt, were positioning themselves for a kill. All lights were extinguished from all
vehicles as we waited in silence and blackness for the chase to begin.
As the previous night, the lions used our vehicles as cover
while they skillfully got into position.
The small Impalas were nervous, sensing that the lions were close, but
unable to detect their exact proximity.
The buck snorted his alarm to the herd.
A small rolling thunder of little hooves grew louder as 40 or so Impala
took flight across the open plain. You
could hear a skirmish of sorts approximately 40 feet ahead of us and then the undeniable
roar of the kill boomed into the blackness of night. Seven lions had calculated with deadly
mobilization the taking down of one unfortunate Impala.
With engines switched on
and lights blazing into the blackness of the night, we arrived in mere seconds
to find the lions devouring the Impala with a ravishing hunger I had never seen
before. The smell of death permeated the
still night air as steam rose in the cool air from entrails eviscerated from
the Impala. The lions smeared in blood
on their broad faces, crunched and tore into the flesh of the little Impala with
ferocity.
The old male lion took command of the largest share and
wandered off with his prize catch of meat.
That soft amber eyed ancient lion I had photographed earlier was now a
full fledged hunter in the fury of the kill.
His weary muscles suddenly erupted in mega tones of power as he slipped
away with his kill, clutched in his mouth dripping red with blood.
Squabbles broke out among the females vying for the
remainder of the kill. We were reassured
that the lions – just a mere 10 feet away – wouldn’t attack us. It seems a little precarious to think that
four wheels and a little steel on an open air rover, can afford protection from
these marauding killers, never mind our point man whose legs dangled from the
jump seat at the front bumper in a teasing manner. I think he needs danger pay for this job!
As sickening as the scene was, I managed to capture some
photos under the artificial lights of the vehicles and spot lights trained on
the killing field. The lions seemed
unperturbed by the glaring lights and they continued to devour the prey in
large heaping gulps.
My first thought when we arrived on scene was a silent cry
of sympathy for the deer-like wee animal.
I was somewhat relieved to see that the animal was already dead and not
suffering. It had died within seconds of
being tackled.
I must admit that the lions are very efficient killers and
get down to business as swiftly and deadly as possible. It was a reality check as to how dangerous a
night on the African grasslands can be. The
lions would soon be on the hunt again tonight, for this one Impala would only
satisfy the feeding requirements of one lion, not seven. “The lion DOES NOT sleep tonight”.
DAY TWENTY-SIX
It’s early evening as I sit at a patio table on the deck
overlooking the Park, not far from last evening’s traumatic event. There is an elephant just off in the treed
area breaking off branches to feed itself.
The baboons are calling and a few monkeys scurry above me in the large
tree. It’s peaceful, only the elephant
slowly making its way into view. Another
elephant has joined it as I am listening to two slow grunts
simultaneously. It’s mating season so
there might be more going on in the brush than I can see.
I’ve sorted my luggage, had one more massage and have spent
the day taking it easy and reviewing my journals. Nothing too exciting. Tomorrow will be a very long day as I start the
long journey home. My back still gives
me grief and the therapist suggested I see my physician on my return. I think I will too.
It will be good to get back to my own bed although I will
miss the wildness of Africa. A little part of me has been forever changed
with this experience. Our lives are too
complicated and rushed. Learning about
survival and the natural beauty that abounds, makes you stop and wonder what we
are doing. I think the animals have it
right. They keep life simple, but never
boring. It is a very respectful,
dangerous but orderly life here.
Everything has its place and purpose.
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