Karma Payback
When I started this blog, one of the first posts I wrote was about getting an upgrade. This trip, it was karma payback. I booked a ticket and paid online, and later when I tried to reserve my seat online, I kept getting an error message. When I got to the airport, (confirmation in my hand, thank God) the clerk said my reservation had been cancelled. I had paid extra to have an upgradeable ticket, and to be able to change dates if I need to – it took the fixer-guy over an hour and a half to figure out how to re-instate my reservation.
And I asked for an upgrade – I have thousands and thousands of frequent flyer miles; I don’t need a free ticket but it helps on the night flights to be in business class because you can lie down and sleep! Makes a difference when you have a long way to go. But they didn’t give any upgrades – and when I got on the place, the entire business section in front of where we were sitting was . . . EMPTY. Go figure!
In Europe, I asked for an upgrade for the next leg – not free, I am willing to cash in miles, but the snotty desk clerk told me my ticket was the non-upgradable kind. It doesn’t do any good to lose it in those circumstances, but I was steamed. What did I pay extra for??? When the guy who fixed my reservation fixed it, I guess he didn’t put in the right code. I’m screwed.
After the next flight, which was very long (had a good seatmate, though, quiet, like me, but when we talked it was about books and families and comfortable stuff) I went through immigration and because this was my fifth trip back home this year, when I filled out the immigration form, I listed that I wasn’t bringing back anything. And I wasn’t. I barely have the right clothes. But that got the attention of customs, and I got the full inspection, which after you’ve been travelling for more than 28 hours is annoying. They were cordial enough, but they went through everything, suitcases, carry-ons and purse, very thoroughly. And found nothing.
Last, but not least, I went to pick up my rental car, only to discover I don’t have my stateside driver’s license with me. After half an hour of desperate searching (I am an organized person; things are where they are supposed to be! but it wasn’t!) I offered her my Kuwait license, which she couldn’t read and said she couldn’t accept, and then, miracle of miracles, I came across my old Germany driver’s license. A German license is good for life. And, thanks be to God, she accepted it. And on top of that, for some amazing reason, using a German license made the rate even better than renting in my own state with a state license. Again – go figure.
And I just figure all of that is karma payback for all the good luck I have had in previous trips. We have a saying: Every monkey gets his turn in the barrel. I guess it was just my turn.
Get Out of Jail Free Card
Who could be whispering my name?
I was in the Jarir bookstore, on my way to the airport after a three week visit to Saudi Arabia. My husband wanted me to get a feel for the place before moving there to be with him. To my surprise, I really liked Saudi Arabia, what little I had seen of it. And I really wanted to be with my husband. But who could be calling my name?
“I can’t believe it! Is that you, teacher?”
I turned to see a traditionally garbed man, whom I instantly recognized as my former student in classes I had taught back in the US.
“Khalid! Khalid! I am so glad to see you!” I exclaimed, and I was. Khalid was one of my very best students, before he disappeared from classes. He was bright, he studied hard, and from time to time, he would even practice hard and tell a joke in English. He was a student any teacher would remember. He had more maturity than the other students, who treated him with respect, but he also had a delightful sense of humor.
Instantly, my husband and two other men who had come with us to the bookstore were standing between Khalid and me. I knew they were protecting me, so I quickly explained who Khalid was, and introduced him to the men with me.
“You remembered my name!” he said with an astonished look.
“Of course!” I assured him, “You were one of my best students. I missed you when you left.”
“Truly God works in mysterious ways,” Khalid looked dazed. “I never dreamed I would see you again, and here you are, in my country.”
We had to leave. Khalid gave me his card, and asked that I call so his mother could invite me for tea. I told him I wouldn’t be back for a couple months, and he said he was hoping to start legal studies in London in January.
In the car, my husband and the other two guys were cracking up, slapping their knees, almost howling with laughter. I was annoyed; what was so funny about my running into an old friend?
“He’s a muttawa!” they exclaimed, continuing their cackles, “You’re friend is a muttawa!”
The muttawa, the religious police in Saudi Arabia, are kind of the boogeyman, and we scare one another telling Muttawa stories. The problem is that you never know what new rules are going to go into effect, or what old rules they will begin enforcing. Our embassy guidance, for example, was that we were NOT to cover our hair, that it was a choice made by Moslem women, but not a requirement for non-Moslem women. We were also told to carry a scarf and not to argue if a muttawa told us to cover our hair, but to cover, and to take it off again when out of sight.
We were told that if our abaya was too short, a muttawa might hit our legs with sticks. We were told not to laugh, and to keep our eyes lowered to the ground to avoid problems. We were told that sometimes you might be arrested and not even know what you were being arrested for, and to always carry your cell phone with the embassy number on speed dial. In short, we lived in terror of arbitrary powers of the dreaded muttawa.
“Khalid is muttawa?” I couldn’t believe my ears. My husband explained how you could identify muttawa, the short robes, the lack of egal, the sandals, and that Khalid had probably broken the rules he was in Jarir to enforce by having spoken to me.
I never saw Khalid again, not in the Jarir bookstore, not anywhere. I am guessing by the time I returned to live in Riyadh, he was in London studying. But I often think of his amazement, and my own, in that one-time encounter. I often think, as he said, that “God works in mysterious ways.” I wish him well.
For me, I was never again terrified of the Muttawa. Khalid was muttawa, and he was a good man. I carried Khalid’s card with me, and figured if ever I was arrested (never even came close) that I would tell them to call Khalid, and he would help me. I thought of it as my “Get out of Jail Free” card.
Going back to the Locard Exchange Principal . . . knowing Khalid as a student and as a person made a difference to me. It colored my ideas about the muttawa, made me less afraid. If the Locard Exchange Principal works on a social and spiritual level, I wonder if knowing me has colored his perceptions?
Houseguests in Kuwait
Our son and his bride will visit us in December. Oh! We can hardly wait! We are already making lists of what we want to do. . . the Tarek Rejab Museum. . . the Heritage Market . . . a drive along the Corniche . . . a drive to Fehaheel . . . a boatride to Failaika. . .hit a couple of the fabulous malls. . . and . . . then what?
We want to knock their socks off. We want them to love Kuwait, and to be SO SO glad they came.
Help me, friends. Give me your input.
Hemingway Safari: Leaving the Kalihari Lions (Part 11)
Our last morning hearing “Good morning” and zip zip, as our water is delivered. The big full moon is still up as we get our coffee around the campfire, hating to go. But, all too soon, it is time to load our bags into the truck and head for the airstrip. It is cold. I have my sweater on over my dress. Both Godfrey and Paul, at separate times, admire my long Saudi dress, and tell me with approval that I look like an African woman. I am just glad that there are also blankets available in the truck, as it is really, really cold in the desert.
I am even more glad for the blanket a couple hours later, when Godfrey slows the truck, and then stops. In the middle of the road, not 100 yards away, are two lions. Big young male lions. They show no fear, and, in fact, one starts walking purposefully toward the truck. He eventually turns back, but as we begin to leave, he turns back for another look. Now, there are three of them. The biggest keeps walking toward us, and walks to the side of the truck, the side where I am sitting. Godfrey tells us just to keep still, and all that he has taught us about lions goes through my mind. Sit still, look him in they eye so he will know you are dominant and not afraid.
We’ve seen lions before, in Chobe, in Moremi, and in these more heavily travelled game parks, I think the animals know you aren’t a threat. Most of the time, they just tolerate you presence, or slowly walk away. And, my friends, I am looking this lion in the eye. He is four feet from me. And I know sees me. And I don’t think he thinks I am a part of the diesel and rubber smell, he looks amused, and intrigued, and . . .hungry.
I have seen my cats look at little mice the same way. And I am aware that we have no gun, and no real weapon. There is a shovel, but it is attached to the front bumper. The jack is on the rear bumper. There are thermoses, but they are in the wicker baskets. I am sitting her with nothing but a blanket and a camera, and this big interested looking lion is within pouncing distance. And he doesn’t think I am dominant. And he is very, very close. “Godfrey, DRIVE” I say, and I can hear AH and Angela breathe again; we’ve all been holding our breaths. Godfrey drives, very slowly, and the three young males lope along behind us.
I will add, that while I was sitting motionless with terror, eye to eye with the Kalihari lion, my husband was sitting just behind me, shooting photos over my shoulder.
What if we had had the flat tire in the middle of all this, we wonder? How would we change a tire? Godfrey says, you just wait until they go away. Waiting out a lion could take a LONG time, and it would seem even longer.
Then, out in front of the truck steps a female, and she has wounds. Godfrey drives very slowly, very carefully, for a wounded lion is a far less predictable lion. We are nearly giddy with relief when we finally get free of the lions, who lope along behind us for quite a while. The road is sand, and we can’t drive very fast.
My Adored Husband is totally annoyed that he ran out of film in the middle of the episode; I had film but I didn’t want to shoot while I was busy maintaining eye contact with the lion. (As it turns out, he did get one really good shot of the lion, a very beautiful shot, the lion is light gold against the white wheat of the background, and I love the shot.) The adreneline is still pumping. We made it to the airstrip just in time, in spite of the time we spent with the Kalihari lions.
Time to say goodbye to Godfrey, climb aboard our last little Cessna and leave the bush. What a way to go! Our flight to Maun is uneventful. Maun is a funny little airport, very small. We find a couple gift shops – we haven’t been spending anything out in the bush – and we deliver a message to Afro-Ventures from Godfrey, telling them he needs more information on his next safari. He has a full contingent of seven for the safari, a reverse of ours, starting in the Kalihari, just hours after we leave. They promise they will radio him the information.
We are not the same people as before we went to Botswana. We miss our camp. We loved this trip. You have to be able to endure the bumps and lumps of the overland drive to handle this particular trip, Afro Ventures’ Botswana a la Hemingway, but there are other ways, there are trips where you fly from destination to destination, and stay mostly in lodges. You would still experience much of what we experienced, just not the camping portion.
AfroVentures and CCAfrica merged, and we don’t think you can get a better combination of knowledgeable guides and gracious accomodations. Every single day of our journey exceeded expectations. It was a grand adventure. Thanks for coming along.
This lion is actually a Grumeti lion from Tanzania, but I wasn’t digital yet when we travelled Botswana.
The Hemingway Safari: The Kalihari (Part 10)
The next morning, we take it easy, late breakfast, get all packed up and are ready for our short trip to the airstrip. Our pilot is Collin McAlister, again, which we find delightful. And this time, I don’t even feel the least bit claustrophobic. I LIKE flying this way, where you stow your own bag, you get on, fly, get off, grab your bag – it is SO efficient!
This flight is totally different from the last one, in that we go from the lushness of the Okavango Delta into the dry Kalihari. Now the Kalihari airstrip seems remote enough when we see Godfrey there to meet us, but we still have a four hour drive in front of us to the Deception Valley camp site. Godfrey has put the canvas top over the wagon which protects us from the hottest part of the sun, but still we can see out.
Godrey points out to us the tiny melons growing along the side of the road, and says that the lions eat them for water, as there is no source of water in the middle of the desert. There were some pumps, but there was an earthquake and the pipes broke. Later, on one of our game drives, we see a crew out in the middle of way-far-out-nowhere, and they are repairing the pipes so that one day the water holes will function again. We also see a tiny green desert hibiscus flower.
We have never seen such a bleak landscape. It is hard to believe that this land can support any life at all, but . . . Godfrey shows us wonders. One of the first is an entire herd of gigantic male kudus, very large deer-like animals with beautiful twisted antlers. They can bound over very high fences, and make it look easy. We saw this, on the long drive to our camp site, the fences were over 7 feet high, and these huge antelope sailed over at a gallop. It takes our breath away.
We also saw ostrich, many of them, male and female, and they always run away when we get close. When they run, they really bounce from side to side, and look very comical, like ballerinas running off-stage.
We have to stop several times to go through gates into the Kalihari game reserve. We want to see the lions, the lions of the Kalihari, the great, very wild lions we have heard about. We don’t see any on the four hour ride to our camp, but we have seen so much that it hardly matters. And we are grateful to sink into our familiar beds in our familiar tents, to have a hot shower, and a rest before the afternoon game drive.
As we come into camp, John and Richard are leaving in the big truck, to go get water. We use water very sparingly, but supporting life out on the desert means you have to bring in everything. John and Richard will drive a couple hours to the water station, will fill and drive back. The water is a little red. We don’t drink it, and we keep our mouths shut when we shower.
During our late afternoon game drive, we see a Cape Fox running through a herd of steinbok, and just as the light is failing, Godfrey spots a cheetah walking through the grass a few hundred yards away. We watch until darkness falls and we can’t see it any longer.
By this time, our ears have adjusted and we can understand Godfrey almost perfectly. When he says the steinbok dig for “tubas”, we know it is not musical instruments, but tubers. When he says “maybe he feign-ed illness, I don know”, we understand that maybe Paul was sick and maybe he wasn’t. We know that the “red boo boo shirke” is the red breasted shrike. We have come to admire and respect Godfrey immensely. He has so much knowledge of the animals and birds and trees and flowers, and also he manages the staff so well, keeps them operating smoothly under very extreme conditions AND keeps all the equipment well maintained.
We admire his driving ability. You would have to see the roads we are on to understand, the narrow, one lane, unpaved roads. Sometimes rocky, mostly sandy and always rutted and full of holes. In the Kalihari, there is the additional challenge of aardvark holes. The aardvark loves digging in the roads, as the roads are clear of brush. But aardvarks dig HUGE holes.
Back in camp, the lanterns are glowing in front of our tents, Dorcas meets us with hot washcloths, and oh, glory, there is a huge full moon rising over our camp. Here we are in the Kalihari desert, and we never want to leave.
I DO miss the sound of the elephants and hippos, and I don’t hear any lions. Even the birds are quieter here, no owls. It is very, very quiet. And then, there is that huge, full moon. We are in heaven. For dinner that night, Sky serves chicken in peanut sauce, and oh, it is delicious. The next morning when we stop for mid-morning tea and coffee, we find he has made sandwiches with the leftovers, and we are delighted. On this morning’s game run we see mongoose, an aardwolf, and a bat-eared fox. Four days in the Kalihari, and where are the lions?
We take a full day game drive to far away places. We see a solitary giraffe, and wonder how on earth he survives? He is very old, you can tell by his very dark color, Godfrey tells us. We set up for lunch under a huge tree. Godfrey looks up, and while we don’t see a leopard, we know a leopard has been there, as there is a dessicated springbok carcass high in the tree, where the leopard left it.
We get to see the springbok springing, which is a lot like the pronking of the impala, and we see a red haartebeast, and a brown hyena, all very rare, but still, no lions. We do see lion poop, Godfrey tells us we know it is lion poop because it has fur in it.
On our way back to the camp, at the end of a long day, we have the first, and only, flat tire of our trip, and the cause is a thorn. Not just any old thorn, this thorn is as thick and strong as an iron spike. It is astonishing how fast Godfrey and Paul change the tire. The tires are big, thick, sturdy tires, and we are amazed that this is the first and only one we have had. And at the same time, we haven’t seen anyone else for hours. If we didn’t have a spare, or if we lost a tire AND a second tire, we would be very very isolated out here in the middle of the desert. It is a soboring thought. The kind of thought you don’t think before you make a trip like this or you might not make the trip at all! 😉
We are back in camp this last night of our journey about 5, early for us, but we have been out all day, and we have to be packed to leave the next morning BY seven, in order to make it to the airstrip for our pickup.
Godfrey prides himself on being reliable, and says if you get a bad reputation for not being on time the bush pilots can refuse to do your pick ups. Not only does he deliver people promptly, but he always has tea/coffee/sodas and sandwiches available to offer to the pilots, and from talking with Collin, we know that this is exceptional and remarkable. But Godfrey is a very unusual person, and we have watched him now for two weeks, and learned that a lot of his success comes from taking his time with people, talking with them, building relationships and consensus. We kid him that one day he will probably be president of Botswana, but Godfrey says he will be happy to be president of the Tour Guide association.
Watching Rome in Kuwait
My husband and I just finished watching the entire season, unexpurgated, of Rome, Season One. We had tried watching it on American Plus, but this being Kuwait, we weren’t always able to figure out just when it would be coming on – so we would catch an episode here and part of an episode there, and had enough glimpses to intrigue us, but not to satisfy us.
We waited with great anticipation for the release of Rome: Season One in August, and now are able to watch the entire season without interruption – and my friends – What a way to go.
We were riveted. From the initial episode as Vorenus and Pullo are with Ceasar in Britain, to the very end with the betrayal of Ceasar, we couldn’t wait to watch the next episode. We stayed up late. We turned off our phones. We talked about it in the car, on the way shopping. Even after it ended, we debated fine points, options taken or not taken, strategic approaches. We feel like we spent a couple years in Ceasarean Rome.
WARNING: In the boxed set we got, there is a lot of nudity, including full frontal male nudity. There are frank sex scenes and sex scenes between same gender people. If you are a family-values kind of family, you won’t want to be watching this with your children, and you won’t want your younger children watching this at all – it is very very bloody in places, very violent, the stuff of nightmares. Your teenagers will find where you hid it and will steal it to watch with all their friends.
I was comfortable watching with my husband, but I don’t even want to watch with other grown ups, related to me or not. There is a lot of strong stuff, stuff we consider private.
When we had finished watching, we also watched all the extra background information. I’m glad we didn’t view it before we watched the entire series, because Vorenus’ Irish accent really threw me off in the background interviews. Watching the sets being built and the costumes was absolutely fabulous. Pullo turns out to be surprisingly articulate. Hey! These guys are actors.
We can hardly wait for Rome: Season Two which is set to begin airing on HBO in January 2007. Meanwhile, buying the set was worth every penny. We will happily watch it again and again.
The Hemingway Safari: Nxabexa (Part 9)
The next morning we are going on the mokoro ride. The mokoro is a very narrow little canoe, and they are going out into the swamp with men who use poles to take the canoes on a shallow water safari. You don’t want to get into too deep water, as there are hippos, who are very mean and ugly when you get into their territory. They are also very fast for creatures their size, and lethal. There are also mosquitos.
All in all, I just figure I NEED a quiet morning to myself. I love my sweet husband, and from time to time I just NEED some alone time. Coffee and tea, and small cookies are delivered in a wicker basket at 6:30, even small flasks of milk. AH pours me coffee and gets ready to leave. I am looking forward to a leisurely shower, wash my hair – I know there is a hair dryer. So I go to the shower (zip zip zip zip) and then discover there is no conditioner so I have to go back into the cabin, already dripping wet (zip zip zip zip – zip zip zip zip) and I have to laugh; it is a good thing I am not in a hurry!
I spend the morning reading magazines, updating my little notebook, and I can hear voices as they sail off in front of the cabin in their little Mokoros. There are all sorts of odd noises, including a crashing sound on my tent at odd intervals. As it warms up, I sit out on my deck and meet a young monkey friend. We play a game, he bobs his head up and down and I bob back. Who is imitating whom? He scrambles up the tree, drops onto my tent and slides down, grabs another branch and within seconds is back bobbing at me. Now I understand that crashing sound!
One of the nicest things at Nxebega is that throughout the day, you can hear singing coming from various parts of the camp. There is a safe in our cabin, but since we left Victoria Falls, there have been no locks, just tent flaps – zip zip zip zip. After a while, we no longer even thought about it. Nothing is taken. We even have gotten used to the whole tent flap thing – zip down, zip sideways, step in, zip sideways, zip up. At night, you also zip the outer flaps, so then you have four zips to get in and another four to close back up. And you just do it.
At dinner this night there are two tables, as Nxebega has it’s full capacity of guests- 20 people. AH and I and Angela sit with Ashleigh and Steve, and an Italian couple. It is a lovely evening, full of great conversation. Dinner is a roasted tomato soup, a lamb tagine with couscous (which even AH loves, and he doesn’t usually like lamb) and dessert is a brownie with caramel sauce.
We love being at Nxebaga. We love the genuine hospitality and the beauty of the place. At night, you hear a tinkling sound, it is the painted green frog. Each frog has a slightly different pitch, and when they all sing together, it sounds like wind chimes, or some very modern kind of music. I just love the sound.
In the middle of the night, we can hear elephant sounds, loud loud trumpeting, more than one elephant. The next day, Steve tells us that it sounded like a bull elephant in “must”, but that when a lion attacks an elephant baby, and all the elephants wail and wail, it is truly a horrible sound. We hope never to hear such a tragic sound.
The Hemingway Safari: Moremi & Nxabexa (Part 8)
On the next morning’s game run, we see TWO cheetas, and oh my, are they lovely. They pose for us, get up and walk around for us. Well, not really for us, but as if we aren’t there, which is what we really like. We watch as long as we can, and then go watch the hippos.
For lunch, Sky has fixed vegetable crepes. Now is this living, or what? That afternoon, we go to the other side of that rickety bridge to game hunt. As we near the Gametrackers lodge, we see two little boys walking along. They stop Godfrey and ask “have you seen lions?” These guys DON’T want to see lions, they are afraid of the lions. Godfrey assures them we haven’t seen anything between them and the village. They are barefoot, and I hope they can run really fast if they see the lion.
When we return, we have a guest for dinner, Natalie, who is taking over the camp site with her crew on the next day, for another touring group. It is fun having a fresh face, and fresh stories to hear around the dinner table. Sky has fixed roast beef with fried rice, a green salad and pears poached in port!
Early the next morning, Godfrey hands us vouchers for our flights and for our stay at Nxebega Lodge. We drive over the rickety bridge one last time (I’m praying my way over this bridge every time we cross) and leave Moremi, heading toward an air strip. We get there a few minutes early, and watch our little plane arrive, with Collin, our pilot. First he shows us on a map where we will be flying, and goes over a few safety rules. We stow our bags and climb in – it is a Cessna 210 and only seats four comfortably, although two more could crowd into the very back.
Collin is one of the happiest people I have ever met – he has a sandwich and soda which Godfrey has offered him, and then we take off. This is the part of the trip I have dreaded, the flight in the small plane, but Collin McAlister is very confidence inspiring. He is small and lean, and one of those people we have met, one of many, who loves Africa and loves what he is doing. Mostly, his air service is like a taxi, taking eco-tourists from remote airstrip to remote airstrip. I’m not at all worried about his competence, but I DO find myself feeling a little claustrophobic once we get in the air. I shut my eyes, lean back, pray for a calm spirit, and within minutes, all is well.
I really love taking photos of the changing landscape. In a mere 45 minutes, we see Nxebexa spelled out in sandbags, and we land. Pick up our bags, say goodbye to Collin and meet Tsabo, who is waiting with the jeep to pick us up and take us to the lodge. At the lodge, we are met with hot washcloths, a refreshing big glass of guava juice, and a warm welcome.
Steve, the manager, takes us to our cabins, we drop our bags and come back for lunch, which, once again, has been held late for us. At this point, however, we understand how very gracious this is, as lunch is most often served at 11:30 and tea at 3 or 3:30, so when they hold lunch late for us, it puts the staff behind on setting up for tea.
Lunch includes pizza! It is breakfast food and lunch food, and there is both a buffet AND they are asking us what we would like from the kitchen. There is so much good stuff on the buffet, pizza, good vegetables, salads, etc, and we are just fine without special ordering anything.
Every now and then, you can look at life and see a pivotal moment. Our time at Nxebega was pivotal on our journey. Until now, we are just awed by the total experience. At Nxebega, we begin to understand more clearly that something unusual is happening in our lives. That “x” after the “n” in Nxebega is actually not an “x” as we say it in English, but a glottal stop. Most English speakers actually pronounce it Na’ah-beh-ha.
As AH and I sit down to eat our lunch, Anne comes by to chat with us, hospitably, as is the custom in these very small, intimate lodges. We ask her to join us, and have a 15 minute conversation. We learned a lot in that 15 minutes. Anne had a grant to study the impact of high end/eco tourism on the environment, and has been comparing that impact in Nepal, Antarctica and Botswana. You can see by her interactions with Steve, the manager, and the staff, that she has fallen totally in love with Botswana, and she has misgivings about eco-tourism.
Botswana’s focus on high end tourism, protecting the game to attract tourists and providing luxurious surroundings to cosset them as opposed to the Kenya model, going for the groups and high volume travel, is enlightened, but Anne has some reservations about the impact on the Botswanan people. For example, she says, none of the tourists take the time to learn even a few words in Setswana. They address all the help in English.
Just the night before, AH had asked Godfrey for a few words, and, thank God, wrote them down. He has even used them – saying hello and thank you in Setswana, but now I try really hard to learn them, too, and feel really really really bad that I haven’t. Other places we go, we speak the languages, or at least a few phrases. How could we have been so rude? Listening to Anne is fascinating.
Steve, the manager of the lodge joins us too (this is one of the amazing things about the hospitality in Botswana, this kind of personal time and attention) and we learn SO much that puts our experiences in perspective. One of the neatest things of all is that almost every time we ask the question “How did you get here?” we got an answer that knocked our socks off. When I asked Steve how he got there, he laughed and said “I fought and clawed my way to be here!” Later, when we had another opportunity to chat, we learned that he has worked in many places around the world, born in South Africa, but loves Botswana and wants to be a part of it’s future. And this is what we are beginning to learn, from Godfrey and his family, from Steve, and Ashleigh, and Anne, from the kitchen workers, from the game trackers, from the gate keepers and the soldiers – they love Botswana, and they believe in the future of Botswana, and will fight and work their bottoms off to be a part of what they believe, with all their hearts, will be Botswana’s future success.
What we didn’t know, until just minutes later, was that this was Anne’s last day. As we were exploring Nxebega, we heard singing, and when we found it, at the entrance to the lodge, we found Anne being seranaded by the Nxebega staff, singing they love her and will miss her. Anne was sitting on the jeep waiting to take her to the air strip, and sobbing. As we watched the very heartfelt farewells, we believed with all our hearts that Anne is another one of the true believers, who will be back to do her part to ensure that Botswana has a positive future.
Physically, let me tell you what Nxebega looks like. It is stunning. It looks a lot like the Florida Everglades, it is swampy and marshy and full of life. In the middle of a hot and arid country, a river flows great volumes until it just disappears. Most rivers run into the ocean; this river flows into a desert and evaporates.
We were visiting at the end of the rainy season, when it is all greatly green and watery, and it is nothing short of stunningly beautiful. Think palm trees and palmettos, think high grasses and lots and lots of wildlife. Herds of elephants, giraffe, baboons, leopards, cheetahs, lions, and oh, that is just the beginning. The area is really known for it’s beautiful birds!
We have a tent with a wooden floor, covered with coir carpeting. To get into the bath area, which is open to the out of doors, you have to unzip the two zippers of the inner flap and the two zippers of the outer flap. If you don’t keep these zipped, you have flies, or snakes or . . . baboons! You might have something else, thirsty or hungry! So you very conscientiously zip zip zip zip every time you need to go into the toilet/shower/sink/ dressing room area.
They have a generator, like at Savute, it is buried and soundproofed with sandbags, so that you can’t hear it. The generator comes on at 5 in the morning and goes off at 11:00 at night. Your bedside lights are run off batteries, so you CAN use them after 11, but you run down the batteries if you do. Besides, we are so exhausted every day that it is lights out for us by 9:30 or 10:00 every night. We have a terrace on our tent, looking out over the swamp. And a beautiful shower, Nxebega is SO clean. No insects in our tent, not a smudge. Lots of great magazines to read, and materials about Botswana, South Africa and Namibia. There is even a very good gift shop, with lots of fun things.
While we are picking up a few things, we talk more with Steve and Ashleigh about eco-tourism, about the politics in an emerging country, and about the difficulty of maintaining a resource intensive luxurious bush lodge way out in the middle of nowhere. All supplies have to be brought in from Maun, a safari jumping off place. Much of the produce is brought into Maun from South Africa. They never know for sure what they will get or not get, so their menu planning has to be flexible, and they have to be able to fix a lot of things themselves. The employees often come from far away, and they live right at the lodge, and go into Maun, or home only every now and then.
Keeping trained employees is a constant concern. One time, Steve, the manager, was going into Maun, 6 hours away, to pick up supplies and had a breakdown with his truck. As it was just a quick go-into-Maun, pick-things-up-and-come-back kind of trip, he didn’t even grab a water bottle on his way out, and ended up passing out from dehydration along the side of the road. Meanwhile, people in Maun had seen a truck a lot like his, and so everyone thought he really was in Maun. By the time someone passed him on the road and got him to a hospital, he was nearly dead. Now, he never goes anywhere without a water bottle! And a radio!
There is no electric fence around Nxebega to keep the animals out, and we are told that sometimes the game trackers go out looking and looking for leopard, and while they are out, a pair of leopards will walk right through the camp. One day recently, a family of monkeys were playing around the swimming pool and a baby monkey fell in. The monkeys were screeching and screaming and they can’t swim, so the baby was just drowning, and Steve fished it out with the skimmer.
Ashleigh, the assistant manager, says they have to keep the menus flexible. They have a two week revolving menu, but she likes to find new recipes to try so that the staff doesn’t get bored and stale. I have four of her recipes; the food at Nxebega was knock-your-socks off good! We went out for a game drive with our guide, Sami, who looked and sounded like a teacher, if teachers looked like Morgan Freeman (American actor).
We had a great time, At sundown, we stopped for drinks – and to watch the giraffes gracefully crossing the setting sun. Later our guard picks us up for dinner and we gather in the lounge, discussing the day, your game drives, etc. with the other guests.
There is a man from South Africa, with his three very lovely college-age daughters, and a South African couple, us, the Italians . . . and that’s it! Nine people. They make drinks or serve wine, and they have big servers full of hot mixed nuts. Then, dinner is served and all go into the dining room where one long table is set with candles. Dinner the first night was parsnip soup, beef sassouie (sort of stew) polenta, grilled peppers and for dessert, a walnut baklava with ginger ice cream. By the end of the ginger ice cream (total WOW) we just want to fall into our beds.
We are handed our wool covered hot water bottles on our way out. In the middle of the night, I wake up and I need to use the toilet, but I can’t find my flashlight. I’m not desperate, but I am a little scared, and I know that AH will wake up eventually, which he does, and when he goes into the bathroom (zip zip zip zip), I go too, but when he leaves he takes the light with him! I do NOT want to be alone in the bathroom with no light! It is very very dark, there is no ambient light in the sky. So I make him come back in, I finish and then zip zip zip zip, back to bed.
The Hemingway Safari: Moremi (Part 7)
We are eager, we are awake early, it was barely dawn, so AH and I decided we could walk to breakfast without an escort. Just as we hit the main path to the lodge, we heard “ROOAAAAARR Roooaaaaarrrr, ROOOOOOAAAAARRRR” and I can tell you, it sounded like they were right on our heels. The earth shook! AH laughed as I nearly ran all the way to the lodge, even though Godfrey has told us not to run from lions, but to stop still and look them right in the eye. When lion roars, there is no more frightening sound on the earth. I would like to think I would have the presence of mind to stop and look one calmly in the eye, so he would know I am dominant, but when I hear that roar, my resolve melts away. I don’t think I want to find out if I am that brave.
We depart for Moremi, where we were camping once again. Savute was dry and golden, but driving into Moremi, we are passing branches of a river and ponds, and it is lush and green.
Before we get into Moremi, we have to stop at the North Gate, where two truck loads of French tourists are stopped, and have been stopped for four hours, as an impasse has developed. The entry fee to the park must be paid in Botswanan pula, but all these tourists have is American dollars. The Drifter’s guide and the gate guard have established their positions, and won’t budge. The tourists sit and swelter. Godfrey talks the gate officials into taking a promissary note from the company, saying they can collect from the company in Maun. Godfrey thinks outside the box. He sees solutions and possibilities where others see problems and dead ends.
Once he has resolved the French Tourists problems, we cross the bridge into Moremi. There aren’t a lot of times on this trip when I feared for my life, but this was one of them – and we ended up crossing this bridge several times. It was made of skinny trees, tied together. Some were stuck in the swamp we were crossing, vertically, and then the rest were tied, horizontally, together. You could hear them breaking as we crossed. The bridge was tippy. Our big truck was heavy. Godfrey knew what he was doing, but he told us that last week a rough camping truck had gone off the bridge.
There are hippos is this area, and crocodiles. I DON’T want to go off this bridge, this tippy, creaking, cracking bridge.
Now for all that I loved Savute Elephant Camp, we all agreed that we loved our own little camp as much. AH and our travelling companion are even saying they like our own camp better, and I have to agree, I really like the smallness and intimacy of our own private little camp, too. And, even better, as we drive up, lunch is all set up out under a couple trees. Sky, the cook, has joined the team, and is feeling better, and has fixed a wonderful lunch, including a curried banana salad and a rice salad and cold cuts and cheeses. We have time for lunch, time for a shower and some rest before tea and our afternoon game drive.
As we are resting, however, I can hear crashing around, and I can hear hippos grunting. Hippos have a very low, resonant grunt. Now, granted, when it is cold, sound travels, but this is the heat of the afternoon, and I hear hippos.
Oh yes, Godfrey tells us, we are near the hippo pond. Isn’t this a great camping site, one of his favorites! When we leave for our afternoon game drive, we find that the hippo pond is not 300 meters away from us! But we are in an official camp site, and we just have to trust that our tents are not on a hippo path.
Hippos are not cute. They are huge, and bad tempered, and very territorial. I really really don’t want to run into a hippo, and I don’t want a hippo to run into our tent. I love the sounds they make, though, and grow to love having them as neighbors.
We search and search for leopards and cheetas, to no avail. We see duiker, a tiny little antelope, and more zebras. We see comical Secretary birds, and marabu storks. We see lots of hippos.
Arriving back at our camp is nearly magical, driving in to see all the kerosene lamps lit and our chairs around the fireplace. A little like coming home. There is enought hot water in our shower that AH and I can both take showers, and then dinner – Sky has fixed fish curry! tiny new potatoes! Chinese snow peas! Crispy cooked carrots! And, oh my, creme caramel. Here we are in what AH calls Nowhere squared, and we are eating this incredible meal.
AH and Godfrey decide to solve some of the world’s problems over cognac, and I crawl off to my hot water bottle. We are all tucked in and sound asleep by 9:30 most nights, breathing fresh air, listening to the sounds of our neighboring hippos.
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