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.
“I’m Not Japanese Anymore”
she said, and we dissolved into gales of giggles. We struggled to regain control over ourselves. She was the Japanese ambassador’s wife, my dear friend, and we would hide out and have coffee together whenever our busy schedules would allow. We always sought out the quietest time of day, the most remote tables, so we could have complete and utter privacy as we shared our week, our worries about our kids, our lives.
Our topic was a recurring one in our conversations – that once you have left your native country and lived elsewhere, you aren’t the same anymore. Your eyes change, and you see things differently, your taste buds change and the unfamiliar becomes familiar. Unacceptable color combinations become acceptable, the cacaphonous and discordant become music to your ears. Once you have lived in a foreign country, you can never be truly the person you were before you left.
“I’m not so patient with ceremony any more,” she continued, and we dissolved into laugher again, because her life was full of endless ceremonial events. The great blessing in all this for both of us, is that we are both married to men who are at the same time traditional and ceremonial, and secret iconoclasts. Every now and then we could even get together, all four of us, and share an evening of relaxation and laughter, mostly laughing at ourselves and the difference between how others perceived us, and how we really are.
We treasure these friends. They are the kind that could call us late in the day and say “We are unexpectedly free tonight – can you meet us?” and if there was any way we could, we would. They were our playmates; when we were together we were free to be totally ourselves.
Sometimes in life we are handed roles to play, and if we are honorable people, we play them as best we can. The secret is to keep a very clear idea of where the role ends and we begin. We show respect where respect is due, we carry out the rituals that give richness and tradition to our lives, and heritage to our children.
But glory and honors are transient. Roles and job titles come and go. Good friends and those who keep your worst secrets – they are worth more than gold and diamonds.
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 Mermaid of Mangaf
This was just another apartment block going up until they started adding the glass. I was WOWed.
It’s called the Mermaid, and the glass going up has the feeling of ocean waves. It’s so much more interesting than the hideous blocks of concrete with their tiny windows. Waves of glass . . . cool idea.
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.
Kuwait Times: Today’s Hero Nameless
The Kuwait Times for today (Sunday 17 September 2006) reveals “the Interior Ministry has decided to recall one of it’s airplanes security men in Jeddah, to question him regarding a complaint by a Member of Parliament.
“A security source informed Al Rai Al Aam that an MP complained against one member of it’s airplane’s security because he ill-treated his brother while entering the plane in Jeddah and (emphasis mine) DID NOT CARE THAT HIS BROTHER IS AN MP.)”
At issue is whether or not a person is immune from having a bag searched if he/she is related to an MP.
The security source is quoted as saying that “even if the MP is exempt from checks due to immunity, it does not apply to his family and relatives. He added the security man’s request was justified, as doing his duty.”
Wooo Hoooo for people with the guts to do the job they were hired to do. Big WOOO HOOOO to the security man who insisted on inspecting, and his superior who backed him up; today’s Hero(es) of the Day. BOOOOOO to those who think they are too important to follow the rules that are in place to protect us all, not just in Kuwait, or Saudi Arabia, but wherever we are in the world.
AIDS in Kuwait
In yesterday’s Kuwait Times is a letter to the editor from a young medical student who had done training in the Kuwait infectious disease hospital. He writes that the hospital is not to tell ANYONE a patient has HIV, not even the spouse. The spouse is only told when the patient dies. The cause of death on the death certificate is never “AIDS”. When asked, the doctor in charge said “in a Muslim country having AIDS will damage the person’s reputation, and we just can’t have that,” adding that it was a sensitive issue, and the best way to deal with it was denial.
The writer goes on to say that it was not just this doctor’s policy, but the policy of the entire hospital. It goes on to say that legislation was proposed to ensure that before marriage, blood tests would be taken to insure they are clear of infectious diseases, but this legislation was shot down by more fundamentally religious members of Parliament.
My Saudi Arabian women friends once told me that a Muslim could never say a bad thing about another Muslim except in two cases – one case is if you are asked about a person’s suitability for marriage, and the second is about a person’s suitablility for a business partnership, and in these cases you must speak frankly. Isn’t having a family member with an infectious blood disease one of those cases? Or a proposed husband?
Wouldn’t you want to know if your proposed husband had a serious infectious disease? Or your current husband/wife? Aren’t there precautions that need to be taken as far as exposure to blood of HIV/AIDs infected persons? Aren’t family members, firefighters and traffic police running a risk with accident victims?
The Hemingway Safari: Entering Botswana (Part Three)
Leaving the Victoria Falls Hotel, we did an official tour of the Falls, with an Afro Ventures guide, Aaron. We got him to tell stories about nightmare trips he had been on, with nightmare tourists. The worst, funniest, was a man who was truly not fit to be on safari, had some serious health challenges, and made the group stop all the time to accomodate his needs. Then, after searching and searching for leopard, the group found one and sat enthralled, watching. At which point the very difficult man said loudly “aach, it’s just a leopard, you can see them in the zoo” and slammed a door and the leopard ran away
After the tour of the Falls, Aaron drives us in a van toward Kasane, where we will pick up our official vehicle – we are leaving Zimbabwe and going into Botswana. The highway is two lane, and paved, and we asked Godfrey if we would ever see a road like this again, and he laughed and said yes, that we would have a few miles of good road at one point in Botswana, but only maybe ten miles in the next 14 days.
Not an hour out of Victoria Falls, the van slows and we take we sight a small aircraft crashed by the side of the road. Godfrey tells us it happens all the time, the private plane operators don’t allow themselves enough fuel and then have to try to land on the highways. This one had two survivors, but there are armed guards on the plane to protect it from human scavengers.
The border crossing is a piece of cake. We walk in, Godfrey takes us to a lady he knows who stamps our passports and wishes us a great trip. Meanwhile, we recognize another group from Vic Falls, still in line. Travelling with Godfrey is a lot like travelling in the Arab world, he stops and visits with people, brings them little things, gives them a coca cola, etc. It seems to take a little more time. . . until we zip right through customs while others stand and wait.
The first thing I notice in Botswana is the womens’ hair. From the woman at the custom’s office straight through Botswana, and later South Africa, you see the most beautiful, elaborate tiny braids. These rows aren’t like the ones that were the rage in the U.S., these are tiny, tiny, and close to the head, and in lovely patterns. And people are so friendly, so polite. People are genuinely cordial.
Just across the border, near Kazungula, we have to stop and go through a shoe bath to prevent the spread of hoof and mouth disease. As we talk with Godfrey, we discover he was in the US in the snow storm, and when he saw a woman in trouble, he told her to get out of the car that he would help her, and she thought at first he was trying to carjack her car. As he got the car out of the drift, she said “where are you from???” and he told her. Well, how many people know where Botswana is? She thanked him, and then told him he had to be careful about being helpful in the United States.
Godfrey is exotic. Different. It takes a while for our ears to adjust to his speech, because while he is speaking English, some of it is British English and some of it just lilts differently than our ears are used to. Godfrey is very very tall and thin, and has eyelashes that you might think were artificial, they are so long and curly. He points out a bird, one we have noticed many times, and he calls it the Lilac buubuu rolla. Later we find it in a guide book, and it is the Lilac Breasted Roller.
We stop in Kasane, where Godfrey tells us we can exchange money, and we decide to just change $100, and change more when we need it. Big mistake, or potentially so . . . we never had another opportunity to change money! Fortunately, all currencies are acceptable as tips, so we ended up just tipping in dollars. Kasane is a one main street town, but full of activity, little shacks as markets, some stores. Even an internet cafe, but it was the only time I saw one. We didn’t know that Kasane was the last “major” town we would see.
We drive on to Mowana, the lodge where former President and Hilary Clinton stayed when they were in Botswana, where we say goodbye to Aaron, who is heading back to Vic Falls, and we pick up our own vehicle. AfroVentures designed this themselves; it is on the bed of a large Toyota 4-wheel drive truck, they rebuilt and redesigned it so it has good, comfy seats with good springs (this becomes very important once we hit the single lane roads of clay, dirt and/or sand) and a frame around it so that you can leave it open totally, or put on a canvas fitted top and canvas sides. It also had a good sized drinks refrigerator that worked so well that sometimes our water froze.
Attached in the back was a luggage carrier trailer, but since it was just the three of us there were times we said “forget the carrier” and we just took our luggage in the truck with us. At Mowana we had lunch sitting on the deck around the pool, and listned to the Simpson Brothers play on wooden xylophones, a very Caribbean sound. Lunch at this very elegant lodge was again a buffet, and again, the buffet included fish curry! All food and drinks on this tour are covered, so we know we could look like elephants by the end of the trip if we gorge.
Godfrey tells us how when the Clintons were there, in 1998, the whole lodge was empty except for them and their security people. They even used their own guides. What astonishes us, as we are eating and looking around the lodge, is the huge number of Americans we are seeing. Normally when we travel, we see a lot of Europeans, but in Victoria Falls and in Botswana, we are seeing almost exclusively Americans.
There is a good looking big boat down at the pier and we head for that, but then Godfrey takes us to a side pier and our boat, a boat just for us! There is a guide on board, and Godfrey will go ahead and drive to our camp site, while we go by boat. This boat is like the jet boat of the other night, except that instead of seats in the boat, it has a flat deck with a table and four chairs at the table. And that is how we travel on the Chobe river, my friends, floating down the river.
We came to see the animals, but we had no idea how thrilling the birds would be. As we depart Mowana, we are accompanied by two swallows who fly around us, dipping and circling, and they stay with us a few kilomenters before turning back. Our guide is pointing out Malachite kingfishers, and Carmine Bee Eaters, and oh my, thousands of the Malachite kingfishers nesting along the shore.
We are shooting film like crazy, even knowing that the magic of this boat ride can’t be captured. Best of all, for me, is the look on my husband’s face. He is SOOO into this, he is having a great time. Truly, this is a dream come true.
The Chobe river is very wide and very flat. It is winter in the southern hemisphere, and just past the rainy season, so the waters are still high. We see lots of elephants wading, feasting on the green grasses, herds of water buffalo, and then, near to the end of our river tour, we are able to sit and watch a herd of elephants crossing from one side to a grassy patch. The elephants go in groups of 10 – 15, while others are waiting on the other side, encouraging, and others are left behind, gathering their courage.
Once they get to where they have to swim, their trunks go up in the air to breathe. Watching elephants swim is a thrill. But there is a baby elephant, struggling hard to keep up, and about half way across, he panics and swims back to shore. On shore, another small elephant is the first to greet him, stroking him with his trunk and standing close. Other elephants gather around, stroking the little one and very visibly comforting him. Shortly thereafter, the last group starts across, including the baby. The matriarch, the oldest (or toughest) female elephant is the last to go, and she gently nudges a few of the more reluctant ones into the water.
We all love being able to stay still, and watch these things happening. Godfrey is waiting on the beach where our boat pulls up, and we tell him about what we have just seen. He tells us that baby elephants are the most vulnerable, and that the elephants treasure them and take good care of them. He said that often the baby elephants don’t make it across, and their carcasses end up providing food for crocodiles, that the lions also prey on the baby elephants, and that recently lions actually brought down a big elephant near Vic Falls. Several lions grabbed the trunk, another chomped the trunk shut and suffocated the elephant. It took about 20 lions to bring the elephant down; something most people hadn’t seen before.
Godfrey takes us on an evening game drive, and as the sun is setting, it sets behind giraffes, looking at us curiously. We love giraffes. They are so graceful, and so elegant, and the look in their eyes is so gentle and curious. We watch them drink. They are wary of us, but not particularly concerned. Once they determine we are not a threat, they mostly ignore us. The young ones are more comical; they show the most interest and curiousity as to who we are and why we are there.
We watch elephants feed, we visit herds of impala, kudu, and see families of baboons. We see lions feasting on a dead water buffalo, and jackals, hyenas and vultures waiting for their turn. Godfrey knows so much. He really loves his job, being able to spend so much time observing the animals, and he loves the beauty of the natural world. He tells us about seeds that need to go THROUGH birds or animals in order for the tough outer seed to be taken off so that the seed can implant in the ground, surrounded by appropriate fertilizer. Some need to go through fires. Lions have very acid digestive systems and can eat bacteria without harm. And this is just the first day.
Finally, we drive back to camp. As we drive in, it is deep dusk, and we can see the tents, with kerosene lanterns in front. It is a beautiful sight. We can see the dining tent, all set up with a book case full of books, with several different games and cards available, and a table set for four. The entire camping staff is there to greet us – seven people to support the needs of three. It’s humbling.
Dorcas, the only woman on the team, holds a basket full of hot washclothes, so we can wash the grit of the game drive off our faces and hands. She also keeps our tents clean and does our laundry. Simaseku is very tall; he is the assistant cook, right now the only cook as the head cook, Sky, is sick in Kasane. Paul is the assistant guide, and our other host in camp. John and John Jr. and Richard keep the fires going, help with meal preparation, tent set up, gather firewood, haul water, etc.
Godfrey gives us a brief introduction to our tents. My friends, there is a LOT of zipping. there are windows, and flaps that attach over the windows inside with velcro, and flaps that cover outside, too, if you wish. There is an entry net and an entry canvas, and when you go to bed at night, it is best if both are securely fastened. At all times, the net entry must be securely zipped to prevent insects and worse – snakes – from entering. As you enter the tent, you see a room about 14′ x 14′; two single beds together, nightstands, lamps all lit, a large chest for luggage, a thermos of ice water, glasses, and our own little flashlights to use to walk around camp after dark.
We are warned to stay inside the perimeter of lights; that mostly the animals won’t come where there are lights at night. In the next room, about 10′ x 14′, there is a toilet, a shower bottom with a gravity shower – a huge canvas bag full of HOT water, enough for AH and I both to shower, and a basin, also full of hot water, on a dressing table with big soft fluffy towels. This is my kind of camping!
There is also a laundry bag – and this is what makes it possible to travel on safari for 14 days with only 22 lbs of luggage. Anytime we are in camp for a full day, Dorcas washes our clothes, dries them on a line and irons them using a hot coal iron. They have to heat all the water for washing the clothes over fires. They bake bread and cakes for our meals in a hole in the ground with an iron box which acts as an oven. (The bread is absolutely delicious.) There is no electricity. Everything is either kerosene, fire, or run on batteries, like our bedside lights. Godfrey asks us NOT to leave the lights on all night, as it uses up the batteries too fast, and it attracts the bugs.
I will tell you, that first night, I was a little scared. We could hear . . . things. We could hear elephants trumpeting, and we could hear something crashing in the brush nearby. Best of all, we could hear birds, owls, calling birds, but also . . . other things. Godfrey had told us that if something came, just to stay in the tent. He also said it wouldn’t do any good to call for help, as the African staff was more afraid of the animals than we are!
At dinner, we learn that Godfrey for many years was a soldier in the Botswanan army, working in the anti-poaching unit, and it was at that time that he began to learn so much about nature. He was born in Namibia, before Botswana and Namibia became separate nations, and grew up in a small village not too far from where we were. In the village, people kept cattle, and lions were a constant worry. Lions love cattle, they are all in one place, not hard to catch, and you can eat them for several days. But if a cow isn’t readily available, why a stray child will do. Godfrey says that villagers grow up terrified of being taken by a lion.
Dinner is by candlelight. We have comfy African mahogony deck chairs, and china and crystal glasses – this may be camping, but it is truly elegant. There is a full bar, and all kinds of wine, most of it wasted on us. I am drinking a lot of bottled water, I feel so dry. Dinner this first night is beef stroganoff and rice, crispy green beans with garlic, cooked carrots and cheesecake for dessert. Did you know that at night lions go . . . Hummmpgh. . . huuummph . . .. .huumpf? Trust me. They do. They sound like they are right next to your tent.
Actually, because I was tired, I slept pretty well, when I wasn’t listening to all the sounds. It was cold, and while we were eating dinner, Dorcas and Paul put hot water bottles in our beds. AH is thrilled with this new technology – it is nice and warm!
Mining the Kuwait Times: A Kuwaiti Hero
I confess. I’m a nerd, a geek, an introvert. One of my favorite activities is reading the newspaper.
Today’s Kuwait Times is a gold mine. Two separate organizations are starting up activities to protect and help expat laborers – one, KTUF or Kuwait Trade Union Federation says it will begin receiving the complaints and work with employees and laborors to solve the problems, and gives their phone number: 561-6781.
The second is a paid for add by the Embassies of India, Indonesia, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, the Phillipines, Egypt and the United States, and says Familiarize Yourself with Kuwaiti Society: Useful Information for Foreign Workers and is sponsored by Project FALCon (Fostering Awareness of Labor Conditions.
All the above embassy phone numbers are given. The last line in the Useful Information for Foreign Workers is “Do not enter into an inappropriate personal relationship with your employer.”
(!) Good advice in any country, any nationality!
The Pope, in his visit to Germany, is quoted as saying Western societies had become “hard of hearing” about God, saying “There are too many other frequencies in our ears. What is said about God strikes us as pre-scientific, no longer suited to our age.” He seems to say that instead of sending material aid to Africa and poor Asian countries, we need to be helping them spread the Gospel. Hmmmm.
In Somalia, the new “Taleban-style” regime shut down a radio station yesterday for airing “music and love songs”.
“‘The group closed Radio Jowhar because the programs were un-Islamic,’ Islamic official Mohamed Mohamoud Abdirahman said. It was the only radio station in Jowhar, some 90 kilometres from the capital, Mogadishu. “It is useless to air music and love songs for the people,” Abdirahman said.”
Last, and not least, a big WOOOO HOOOOO for al-Qattan, a real hero who conducts restaurant inspections in Kuwait. Here is what the Kuwait Times says:
Being director of this team causes many inconveniences. “I feel embarrassed, at times when I have to ignore unknown numbers appearing on my cell phone after each inspection. The owners of the violating restaurants start calling their connections ‘Wasta’ to make me cancel their fines. As I like to do my work legally, I don’t deal with them. I can’t put the lives of people at risk as, if anything happens to any consumer due to food poisoning they will definitely question the municipality” Al-Qattan explained.
He gets my vote for Kuwait Hero of the Day.
Recent Comments
intlxpatr on Give to Those Who Ask ExpatAlien on What Country am I Living … intlxpatr on Yellowstone: Old Faithful to C… Michelle on Yellowstone: Old Faithful to C… Cathy on No Grown-Ups in Charge Wikipedia Donate Button
Amazina
Early Voting in Florida
Here There and Everywhere 