Africa Journal - Chobe National Park

---

"We all had the nervous exhilaration, like a laughing drunk, that a sudden over-abundance, idiotic abundance of game makes. It is a feeling that can come from any sort of game or fish that is ordinarily rare and that, suddenly, you find in ridiculously unbelievable abundance."

Ernest Hemingway - Green Hills of Africa

---

Chobe National Park

Tuesday, October 3, 1995

We are awakened at 5:00 AM, in order to be on the road by 5:45 for the morning game drive. Everyone is ready to go by 5:47, but what we did not realize was that Edward’s watch was five minutes faster than ours. Edward is crestfallen when another safari truck drives by our camp at 5:44. The guide driving the first truck down the dusty road has an advantage, as he can easily see the fresh tracks of the animals that crossed the road in the night. That first truck then obliterates the tracks by running over them, making the game spotting task more difficult for the the guides in the trucks that follow.

Edward is trying to find the lions we had seen the night before. He has to get out of the truck to sort out which are the the fresh lion tracks and determine where they are heading. The game viewing along the river is spectacular. As the sun comes up we watch a large herd of impala mixing with an equally large group of baboons, moving out of the bush, across the road, and into the open area between the road and the river. The animals are indifferent to the vehicle, passing quite close as they cross the road.

Small groups of impala suddenly take off running, hopping and leaping high into the air as we watch. We find the seemingly pointless display and of their acrobatic prowess beautiful but inexplicable, within the context of their continuous struggle to find food, water, and avoid predators. Over the next couple of days, we were to understand and appreciate this exuberant and wasteful use of calories as the "It’s Sunrise and I’m not Dead" dance of celebration.

On the day’s two game drives we see giraffe, cape buffalo, a large water monitor, crocodiles, kudu, waterbucks, and elephants everywhere. Memorable elephant sights include watching: elephants eating peacefully a few feet from the truck, two young bull elephants play-fighting by a waterhole, and a mature female mock charge the vehicle, then stand blocking the road and trumpeting, as calves cross the road behind her.

Edward explains that the drought has driven much of the wildlife to the river, creating a higher density of wildlife near the river than normal. This also causes a higher density of tourist-carrying safari trucks along the river, which is why, he reminds us yet again, it is important to get out early.

I am learning to appreciate some of the nuances of Edward’s style as a guide. When he sees something of interest, he lets the truck coast to a stop, points it out immediately, gives a brief explanation, then turns, looks back at us, and smiles. The smile seems to be a question, or maybe a challenge. He is leaving something unsaid, and wondering if you can figure it out. He gives you the data points, then smiles. This morning, a data point: "Here, look at these tracks, there are lion hunting here." At sunset, watching a herd of hundreds of Buffalo cross the road in front of us, behind us, all around us, another data point: "Look at that one limping. Behind the others." Turn. Smile. Connect the dots. It all seems obvious as I write this now, but that Tuesday evening, driving back to camp, I didn’t put it together.

 I was watching the fires burning in the fields, across the river in Namibia.

=================

NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: This is a back-post / cross-post from my first on-line journal/blogging effort - a journal of our Southern Africa Tour in 1995. Originally posted to an abandoned domain (NetSnake.com), the term "blog" had not yet entered the parlance. I am migrating the original posts to this blog. Links to the original journal Date Index or Africa Tour Home Page will likely eventually disappear. The images from the original post were screen caps from video which I am leaving as is for historical integrity. My intent is to also add some of Sigrid's higher quality scanned photos to these blog back-posts.  The difference should be obvious.

Africa Journal - Cave Paintings - Malaki's Law

---

September 30, 1995

Man Astonished at Snake with Impala Head

---

Malaki’s Law

The guidebook says this is the place to see cave paintings, so we opt out of the game drive for a historical tour. Malaki, a local Ndebele, is our guide. He sets the tone immediately by requesting that we not point at any of the hills. Some of the hills are sacred to the Ndebele, and to point shows lack of respect. Malaki impresses us with his depth of knowledge and deep respect for the traditions of the area and his people.

We begin with a short history lesson at a historical marker commemorating an Ndebele victory over a British expedition sent to quell rebellious tribes. We then climb a steep grade, clamoring over rocks, to a cave with a spectacular view of the valley below. 

The inside of the cave is covered with paintings thousands of years old. Malaki lectures with a quiet authority for almost an hour, about the cave, it’s history, the traditions, theories about the paintings and the rituals that surrounded them. By the time we go back down the hill, we are convinced that the failure to respect the traditions and ceremonies of the cave are the reason for the drought.

He takes us to the home of a man who has built a hut using the traditional materials and the ‘old ways’, which rapidly accelerating disappearance he laments. Then into a very small but bustling village where Sigrid takes photographs of the local people and their activities. She always asks permission to take their photos. A few ask for money, so she does not shoot them, but more are simply pleased to be asked, or ask to have a copy of the photos. We agree to send copies back to Malaki to distribute.

Back to the lodge for lunch and shelter from the afternoon sun. We rejoin Malaki’s tour at 3:00, but interrupt the historical narrative for a little rhino hunting. Malaki’s technique is to climb a strategically located hill, scan the valley for the rhinos, then drive/hike to them. Armin and I climb the first hill with Malaki, and search the valley until the car horn below tells us that Sigrid and the LA couple in the land-rover are impatient. The second hill Malaki climbs himself. He appears to run straight up the the side of the hill. A short while later he runs straight back down. From the bottom, it looks like the kind of physics defying maneuver you might see in a cartoon.

Still no rhinos, so we view more cave paintings, then finish the day with a sunset tour of Cecil Rhodes grave at the place Rhodes called World’s View. The spectacular 360 degree view of Zimbabwe is overwhelming. It is clear why a man of Rhodes ambition loved the spot and requested to be buried there. From there he must have felt the master of all he could see. 

Rhodes Grave

That night we dine with Malaki, Armin - a German living in South Africa, a couple comprised of a Brit married to a French woman living in Switzerland, and a couple from southern California. A very enjoyable dinner filled with good wine, good humor and storytelling. During dinner it became clear to me that Japanese tourists are bringing the world closer together. We feel a real sense of camaraderie with all except the California couple, which of course is due to the lack of any commonality of life experience or any other real basis for communication.

Malaki does not drink the wine but a concoction of his own invention: half Castle Beer / half Coca-Cola. Should you ever want to order one of these, you should do so by ordering it under the name given by it’s inventor - The Malaki Special. He deserves it.

Someone asks what I do for a living, and when I say software, the Europeans want to talk about Bill Gates. Well, he is  not my favorite subject, but he is a tremendous American sucess story, and it is important to be sure the Europeans understand just how great his accomplishments really are, so I express my admiration for all he has accomplished despite being only four foot six inches tall. I am astonished to find that they are completely unaware of this fact. The french woman mumbles something in French about Napoleon, and I agree. We all drink a toast to Bill.

We also spend some time discussing the logistics of managing multiple wives, one of the traditional ‘Old Ways’ staunchly defended by Malaki, who has two. He sums it up by proclaiming what will henceforth be known as:
 
Malaki’s Law: 

"One wife - many problems. Two wives - no problems."

=================

NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: This is a back-post / cross-post from my first on-line journal/blogging effort - a journal of our Southern Africa Tour in 1995. Originally posted to an abandoned domain (NetSnake.com), the term "blog" had not yet entered the parlance. I am migrating the original posts to this blog. Links to the original journal Date Index or Africa Tour Home Page will likely eventually disappear. The images from the original post were graphics and screen caps from video which I am leaving in it's low-rez glory for historical integrity. My intent is to also add some of Sigrid's higher quality scanned photos to these blog back-posts.  The difference in images should be obvious.

Africa Journal - Tracking with Iona

---

Monday, September 25, 1995

---

Tracking with Iona
Meet Iona. She will be our guide on the morning game walk and the afternoon game drive. I am grateful for the change, as it was just getting too weird having an LJE lookalike as our nature guide. I was experiencing Oracle flashbacks.

Iona is a professional guide. They take this term very seriously in Zimbabwe, where they have the most rigorous guide certification policy in Africa. To become a professional guide requires written tests, a two year apprenticeship to a certified professional guide or hunter, and an invitation to take the final exam. The final exam is a seven day practical in the bush that makes "hell week" at the Citadel look like a stroll in the park. All in all, about a four year process. Last year there were exactly six professional guides certified in all of Zimbabwe. One of them was Iona. She is 22 years old. Now Iona will be the first to tell you that she made some mistakes in the final. As a result, her certification is contingent upon her completing some additional tasks. One of those assigned tasks was to kill an elephant. She has completed that task.

Now Zimbabwe is not generally considered to be at the forefront of feminism. The country stands on the two legs of Shona tribal custom (women walk behind the men and do all the domestic work so the men can hunt and fight wars) and white Rhodesian colonial patriarchy (women are deferential and do all the domestic work so the men can hunt and fight wars). Between them, there is not much room for young female professional guides. Which makes Iona’s accomplishment even more impressive. There is a very good story to be told here, but you will have to come to Zimbabwe and hear it from Iona herself.

Our morning game walk was with a couple from the U.K. who, like us, were celebrating their wedding anniversary. It was their thirtieth and our third. We dubbed the walk the Anniversary walk. Iona loads her rifle (required by law when a Professional Guide takes a client on a walk in the bush), and we are off. We saw antelope, baboons, many birds, and spoor for what Iona called a "damn big leopard". The tracks were from the previous night. She tracks the leopard back through our camp where we find the leopard had walked within two meters of Iona’s door, and seven meters of ours.

As the heat begins to build for the day, Sigrid and I go back to our lodge to wait out the afternoon sun. I go for a dip in the pool, work on the journal and relax. We hear a snorting shuffling noise outside the room. I look out the door and see nothing. Sigrid suggests that it sounds like someone dragging furniture on concrete. I agree and go back inside. These are tracking instincts deeply rooted in city life.

A few minutes later, we hear Iona outside the lodge "Mike, Sigrid, Come quick. There are elephants at the pool." The pool is directly behind our lodge. I grab the camcorder and jump out, but can already hear Ray at the pool shouting and clapping. As I arrive the elephants are disappearing into the bush. There had been six of them. Ray was apologetic, but was not interested in refilling and cleaning the pool, as had happened when one of the elephants decided to take a bath last week.

It is time for the afternoon game drive. It will be only Sigrid and I with Iona. Iona has a glint in her eye. "Would you like to go find those elephants?" she asks. Soon we are off in the Landcruiser, tearing around the dirt roads that circumnavigate the property.

Iona finds spoor where they crossed the road. We jump out. Iona loads the rife, Sigrid loads the Canon, I load the camcorder. We are tracking on foot. We don’t speak. Iona moves quickly and quietly. Sigrid and I move less quickly and less quietly. We are trying to get downwind of the elephant's path. Iona stops and crouches, and motions us to do the same. She listens intently, and points. The only sound is the soft humming of the camcorder. In a few seconds, they are crunching through the woods directly in front of us.

A bachelor herd, six in the group. We are up and moving again, trying to stay downwind. We stop and crouch behind a tree on the bank of a dry river bed. Iona thinks they will come this way. Again we hear them. The lead elephant is just on the other side of the tree. The wind swirls and they stop. They smelled us. We wait. They wait. They know we are around, can’t see us, and don’t like the fact that we are hiding. Iona stands, and motions us back. The elephants start to move. I stop to shoot video. A big bull elephant moves past the tree, turns and looks directly at me. He is maybe 20 meters away, maybe less. There we are, eye to eye - or, more accurately, I’m looking him in the eye, he’s looking me in the camcorder. Iona starts talking softly to the elephant, or maybe she’s talking to me " Easy big guy. Easy".

It is just as he turns and starts walking away that I notice STBY in the corner of the viewfinder. I was not recording. Ok, so I got a great shot of an elephant turning and walking away. In a few steps the herd has moved up the opposite river bed and completely disappeared.

It is like a magic trick. Now you see them. Now you don’t.

 Back in the Landcruiser where we follow a trail that ends at the remains of an elephant killed in a hunt.

Bleached skull and bones, dried skin. Iona is distressed. It was probably a licensed trophy kill, but the hunters did not take everything as they should. Meat was left to rot. It should have been carried out and given to the local people, who are not permitted to hunt elephant.

Finally, back to the waterhole, where Iona produces a bottle of champagne and glasses. As the sun sets, we all drink a toast to our anniversary with the champagne. All except the elephant at the waterhole, who chose to drink water. I think I love this place.

That night, dinner is served under the stars in the Buma, a circular corral of wood stakes.

 The tables are set up as a concentric circle inside the corral, and a small campfire burns in the middle. Dinner is grilled beef and chicken, with a variety of barbeque sauces, sudza, vegetables, salads and a red South African wine. Everything is delicious.

 Rob Clifford stands to toast the anniversary couples at dinner. They also baked us a cake.

To cap the night, we have Larry, I mean Ray, take us on one last night game drive.

=================

NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: This is a back-post / cross-post from my first on-line journal/blogging effort - a journal of our Southern Africa Tour in 1995. Originally posted to an abandoned domain (NetSnake.com), the term "blog" had not yet entered the parlance. I am migrating the original posts to this blog. Links to the original journal Date Index or Africa Tour Home Page will likely eventually disappear. The images from the original post were graphics and screen caps from video which I am leaving in it's low-rez glory for historical integrity. My intent is to also add some of Sigrid's higher quality scanned photos to these blog back-posts.  The difference in images should be obvious.

Africa Journal - Great Zimbabwe Ruins

---

Wednesday, September 18, 1995

---

The Great Zimbabwe Ruins

Up at 5:00 AM for a day of touring the Great Zimbabwe ruins. The itinerary says Linda Law will meet us at 6:00, but she’s MIA. We leave more messages at the front desk to try and contact her and at 6:15 we take a cab to the airport for the flight to Masvingo. We are beginning to wonder if the itinerary will ever coincide with the trip we are taking.

Rooster
Air Zimbabwe flight 602 to Masvingo is a 5 passenger, twin engine, Beechcraft Baron 55. It is piloted by Annie Collins, also known as "Rooster". I don’t know why and I will not speculate. I am her co-pilot on this flight, but I am not paid for my services.
 

Prospah
Prospah, our guide from the United Touring Company, meets us at the Masvingo airport as the itinerary finally intersects with reality. Our luck continues to improve as two other couples scheduled for the tour are no-shows, so we now have a private guided tour. We climbed the ancient trail to the top and return by the (easier) modern trail.

The ruins are extraordinary. Prospah immeasurably enhances our enjoyment of the experience. His knowledge and love of this place shines through everything he says. We are able to get a glimpse of the ruins as seen through his eyes and the experience of his life.

On the way back down, we encounter two red headed lizards fighting a battle for territory. We are fascinated and watch for about ten minutes as the fight moves from one rock to the next. One lizard has developed a technique of taking the high ground, then knocking the other lizard to the ground with a snap of its tail. Prospah says that he could sit and watch them for hours. I remind him that during the tour he said that for the people who built Great Zimbabwe, every event in nature had meaning. I asked if they would find meaning in watching the lizards fight. He said "Certainly, yes, but the old ways are being forgotten. For the Shona of my generation, the meaning is lost. In my generation, when we saw a lizard, we would kill it."

 

We eat lunch at the Great Zimbabwe Hotel. I have sadza nyama, a maize dumpling with meat and vegetable stew that is a staple in the area. After lunch we video monkeys and pheasants on the property.

Prospah then takes us to see 2000 year old cave paintings, and a beautiful chapel built by Italian POWs in WWII. Finally back to the airport, where Rooster swoops in to pick us up for the flight to Harare.

A great day. All is forgiven Andrea.   

=================

NOTE FROM THE FUTURE: This is a back-post / cross-post from my first on-line journal/blogging effort - a journal of our Southern Africa Tour in 1995. Originally posted to an abandoned domain (NetSnake.com), the term "blog" had not yet entered the parlance. I am migrating the original posts to this blog. Links to the original journal Date Index or Africa Tour Home Page will likely eventually disappear. The images from the original post were graphics and screen caps from video which I am leaving in it's low-rez glory for historical integrity. My intent is to also add some of Sigrid's higher quality scanned photos to these blog back-posts.  The difference in images should be obvious.