Africa Journal - Sex and the Moremi Game Reserve

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Friday, October 6, 1995

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Sex and the Moremi Wildlife Reserve

Packed and up by 5:15, out at 5:30. Our stuff in a trailer behind the Beast. At the large water hole we find crowds of giraffe, impala, and a large herd of elephant. As the elephants jostle around the water, grey doves rise and fall like a cloud of dust kicked up by their feet. Other elephant herds wait on the periphery. A juvenile sneaks into the waterhole from the outlying herd. Amid much trumpeting it runs from the hole with a large female in hot pursuit. The female catches up and knocks the juvenile on it’s side. The female stands over the juvenile threateningly, then turns back to the waterhole. Edward shakes his head at the scene. He says that it is not natural to see so many different animals, all at the the water hole at the same time.

This is an artificial waterhole. There is not enough water being pumped to support all the animals that are here. At the end of the dry season, this is one of the few places in the Savuti area that has any water at all. He explains that if the waterhole had not been pumped throughout the winter, most of these animals would have migrated to the river. Now it is so late in the dry season that many of the animals would not make it. The dominant elephant herd monopolizes the water and all other animals wait. There does not appear to be enough for even the elephant herd.

Later, we hear from another guide that the hyena is gone from the tree and the leopard has not been seen, so we start the 70 km drive to Moremi. On the way, we spot and and photograph two lionesses, in the distance, under the shade of tree.

The drive follows the dry bed of the Khwai river. As we drive, the Khwai turns muddy, then into a few pools of water, then a large pool with hippo in the middle and a crocodile on the bank. Hot and dusty, we pull into the Moremi wildlife reserve and cross what Edward calls "The International Bridge". Both ends are in Botswana, which prompts the obvious question. "Because you won’t find anything like in anywhere in the world." He grins. I’m just glad we walked across, rather than ride across in the Beast with Edward. You are a braver man than I am, Gunga Din.

Our mobile campsite has been transplanted to the bank of the Khwai river, now a wide, shallow marsh with slow flowing pools. We lunch, and with a wet towel over my head, I sit outside the tent and watch three elephants drinking on the other side of the river. One looks over at us, makes a snuffling noise, shakes his head, then wades across the river directly towards our tent. He comes ashore, and grazes on the tall grass along the back of the camp and moves up the river.

 On the afternoon drive, we see crocodiles and hippos, many herd of Impala, and other grazers and browsers as we drive along the bank. Edward finds some lion spoor, and decides to stay on this track rather than the eastern edge as he had planned. I am enjoying the scenery and the leisurely pace, thinking that the we’ve already had more our share of exciting sights.

I decide to be content with scenery, grazers, and more relaxed viewing. We round a bend and Sigrid calls out "Lions!". A full maned male, the first we’ve seen, and a lioness, both resting on their side not more that 20 meters from where we stopped.

Edward says it is very unusual to see a male and female pair like this. The lioness always travels with other lionesses, unless, he guesses, this is a mating pair. "Lets wait and see what happens." Within minutes, the male rouses himself, sniffs around and mounts the lioness directly in front of us. In the process they move a short way then stop, and rest again.

Edward explains that they will mate about four times an hour for several days. We wait quietly, afraid to make a noise, when Edward suddenly and loudly sneezes. The lions jump up, stare at us a while, then settle back down. A little behind schedule 30 minutes later, they repeat the performance. It starts to get dark, so we head back into camp, giddy with our unbelievable good luck.

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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 - Dog Day Morning

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Thursday, October 5, 1995

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Dog Day Morning

Hyena smell like death. There are three hyena wallowing in the yellow-green water of the pan. We are stopped twenty five meters this side of the pan. Downwind. Two hyena are sitting in the water, drinking, and watching the jackals lurking behind us. One is gnawing on something unrecognizable in the water. The sound of cracking bone punctuates the whistle of the wind. There is a pack of wild dogs resting on the opposite side of the pan, one small pup among them. Edward says there used to be two. The dogs have wet red faces.

We arrived moments before. The action had taken place a short time before that. The story is clearly written all over the scene. The dogs made the kill, and ate their fill. The hyena took it away and dragged it into the water to drown the scent. The jackals were waiting for an opportunity to grab scraps for themselves. The only unknown was the dead animal. One hyena sticks his head in the water and emerges with the head of an impala in his mouth. He drops it on the bank, and starts to gnaw. Sigrid has to turn away.

Yesterday’s cheetah kill was visual excitement. Same dead animal today, but today is an assault on the senses. The stench. The sound of the cracking skull. The building heat. The pieces of impala hide stretching to the hyena’s mouth. I have to fight down a gag reflex myself. Too much reality.

Two hyena fight over the hide. Jackals get some scraps. The dogs come down to the water to drink, and chase a hyena away from the pup.

We are a subdued group driving back to camp. On the way, we see the carcass of a dead hyena wedged high in a tree. This is a surprise. Hyena are not often a meal for leopard.

On the afternoon drive, we go first to the large water hole, then back to the hyena tree. At a distance, Edward spots the leopard at the base of the tree. As we roll to a stop, the leopard walks into the bush and disappears. Nineteen days in Africa, and I complete the big five.

Back to the small water pan. The dogs and jackals are gone. The three hyena are still there. Two walk away. The third is lying on its side and appears too sick or injured too move. I don't know its history, but I can tell its future.

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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 - View to a Kill

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Wednesday, October 4, 1995

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Edward Gets There First / View to a Kill

We learned our lesson. Everyone is ready to go by 5:30, and we are rolling by 5:35. Edward quickly finds lion tracks crossing the road. We drive again through the same giant herd of Buffalo, the dust from their passing a cloud of fiery red smoke in the sunrise.

We see several hyena between us and the river. Then, on this side of the road, a lion. A young male, the beginning of his mane just visible, lying on his side, belly full and distended, keeping a wary eye on the hyenas. More lion barely visible in the bush behind the male. Also visible, the bloody ribs of a cape buffalo. We have the scene to ourselves for about fifteen minutes to photo and video before another safari truck happens by. It pulls off the road closer to the kill, a violation of park rules. In a few minutes, other trucks show up.

Most trucks have shortwave radio, and when lion are found, the word goes out and the site is soon crowded with four to six vehicles. The other guides used to get irritated with "Eddy" (as they call him), because he did not always broadcast his spots. Edward solved that problem, he no longer has a radio in the Beast. We move on.

Edward puts up the canvas top, and the morning game drive extends into a four hour journey inland across Chobe National Park to our next camp. Edward warns us that the drive would be very hot, very dusty, and the roads were very bad. Edward, it turns out, is an optimist. Along the way we see zebra, sable, wildebeest, and more elephant. We stop to observe a breeding herd close to the road. The tuskless female matriarch takes a dislike to the vehicle and mock charges. We don’t move, we don’t make a sound (as instructed by Edward) and she turns and goes back to eating. When Edward turns on the engine and starts to move, she trumpets, and chases us 60 meters down the road.

While moving quickly along one stretch of good road, Wayne sees a small cat stick up his head along the shoulder as we roll past. He describes the cat in detail to Edward, who says that it was a Caracal, a very rare sighting. No one else saw the Caracal, and Wayne didn’t say anything until we had sailed past. After some discussion among the group, we decide to place an asterisk next to Wayne’s spot. Wayne defends it staunchly, but the asterisk stays.

We pull into Savuti South, an Orient Express lodge, in time for a late lunch. We will be staying here two nights. The permanent tents overlook the riverbed of the Savuti river, which dried up mysteriously a few years ago. Private bathrooms for each tent are in a concrete structure 50 meters from the tent, but because of the amount of wildlife walking through the camp, we are instructed to use a bedpan in the tent at night. We relax in the tents to escape the heat of the day, then head out for the late afternoon game drive.

The local guides are proud of their brand new Toyota Landcruisers and give Edward a hard time about the Beast. Edward looks over the Landcruisers, and proclaims the Beast to be a far superior vehicle. Out of loyalty to Edward, we express our vocal support for The Beast. Privately, we have doubts.

I am standing in the Beast, immediately behind the cab, looking over the top of the cab, eating dust and scanning the country as we bounce along. I spot a jackal, one of my embarrassingly few spots despite my premier spotting location. Before I have time to line up the video, I hear Edward’s voice, "Cheetah." The Beast coasts to a stop at the closest point on the road to the Cheetahs. No one can believe he found them. We are 150 meters away, and all you can see is an occasional tail flick above the grass in the shadow of a tree. Through the glass we can see a mother cheetah with four cubs, each almost as big as she. Edward tells us it is rare for a mother to get four cubs to this size. "She must be a very good provider." He says. "Now we should wait and see what happens."

We wait. We watch. The same flies that are harassing the cheetahs, prompting the tail flicks, descend on us. Mama cheetah gets up, walks to the other side of the tree, and flops back down. One cub rolls over. Another sits up, watches us for a while, then lies back down. Mama gets back up, walks back to her original spot, and lies down again. The sun is like a blowtorch. The flies are driving us crazy. We are all watching the cheetah through binoculars and long lenses. All except Edward. I look at Edward, now standing on the cab, looking through binoculars in the opposite direction. He sees me looking at him. He says "Impala." Smile. Connect the dots. Even I can figure this one out.
Soon there are two Impala walking in front of the vehicle toward the cheetah. They are so cute and adorable I decide to give them names. The one closest to the vehicle I name "Lucky." The other one, pictured below, I name "Lunchmeat."

Lunchmeat watches the Cheetahs

I don’t understand Impala. They must have seen the cheetah. They stopped and stared directly at them for a long time. All the cheetah were sitting up and staring at the Impala. Eventually the Impala decide it’s okay to continue grazing. Big mistake.

Mama Slinks Around the Bush.

The Kids Watch Mama to See How it’s Done.

Mama Takes Off

 There is a furious chase, a cloud of dust, Lunchmeat and Mama disappear behind a bush, the kids take off following Mama. Edward drops down the hatch and we are rolling in the Beast. Around a corner we find them, now only 75 meters from the road.

Mom and the Kids have Lunchmeat for Dinner

Edward says we were very lucky to see this. We figure we are pretty lucky to have Edward as a guide.

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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 - Chobe National Park

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"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

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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.

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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.

African Journal - Elephants Weigh In on Namibia Border Dispute

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Monday, October 2, 1995

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Elephants Weigh In on Namibia Border Dispute

Outside the hotel, Edward pulls up in a White Land-Rover truck manufactured by Leyland in South Africa. It looks like a converted troop carrier complete with porthole hatch in the cab above the passenger seat. I ask Edward abot the hatch and he says it is for the machine gun. The trailer has been converted for our use with six cushioned bucket seats and a large cooler. The green canvas top protects us from the sun, and can be retracted for game viewing. Sigrid promptly names the vehicle "The Beast", much to Edwards delight, and we climb in.

First stop is Victoria Falls, where we again tour the Zimbabwe side. Edward is not allowed inside with us, as he is not a licensed guide in Zimbabwe. Then on to the border and into Botswana. We arrive at the luxurious Mawana Lodge for lunch. I negotiate phone rates with the front desk manager, and he escorts me into their business office to try and get connected. I am hopeful, as there is a computer and a fax machine, but the physical connectors do not match, I don’t have the right adapters, and again I am foiled. This was the last phone until the end of the Botswana tour, so the web page will remain in it’s infant state until at least Maun. A disappointment, but I am running well behind on the journal anyway.

The Beast

Edward takes The Beast ahead to set up camp, and we take a leisurely boat tour down the Chobe River. Wilson pilots the boat, which is little more than six lawn chairs and a picnic table, on a flat aluminum platform supported by two pontoons, all under a blue and white canopy.

We float through a herd of over 50 elephants crossing the river. Elephants on both banks, in front of us, behind us, and next to us. They are crossing to an island with an observation deck flying a Botswana flag. Wilson cautions us not to take pictures. This is Sedudu Island, home to a Botswanan military camp, and the object of a border dispute with Namibia. And therein lies a story.

Border Dispute

Botswana was a protectorate of Britain until granted independence in 1966. The British, after skillfully drawing the borders of the countries of the Middle East, thereby contributing to the enduring peace and stability of the region, turned their attention to Southern Africa and brought equal skill and foresight into defining the borders of Botswana. One of the interesting artifacts of that exercise, is something called the Caprivi Strip.

The Caprivi Strip is long, narrow protrusion of Namibian land extending east from Namibia and sandwiched between Botswana and Angola. Here, the Chobe river is the border. On the Botswana side you have a National Game Park. Hunting is structly prohibited, tourists may view the wildlife only from vehicles, and vehicles must stay on the roads. Wildlife abounds as we were already experiencing. On the Namibia side of the Chobe, there are subsistence farmers and no restriciton on subsistence hunting by the native residents. Any wildlife finding its way across the river is immediately shot. There is little or no game living on the Namibia side of the river. With the continuing drought, the river is running low, and several of the islands in the river have become easily reachable and significant feeding grounds for the wildlife.

A few years ago, Namibia sent a small force onto the uninhabited island of Sedudu and claimed it as Namibian land. Botswana immediately retook the island, and now maintains a military presence there. The border between Namibia and Botswana is defined as the deepest part of the Chobe River. On the Botswana side, the massive elephant herd is continually breaking down the the banks of the river as they come down to drink and bathe. As a result, the Botswana side of the river is wider and shallower than the Namibia side of the river, where no comparable elephant herd exists. Since the deepest part of the Chobe river now runs completely through the Namibia side of Sidudu island, the island belongs to Botswana. So we were watching the elephants freely wade over to Sidudu, where they feed, and drink, and bathe, protected against poachers by Botswana guns, a safe haven within the border that the animals themselves created.

As the boat tour continues, we see hippos, cape buffalo, crocs, and a houseboat listing from the tourists standing and staring off one side of the boat. Cathy spots the object of their attention, a leopard, which immediately runs up the bank and disappears. I missed it, but Sigrid claims to have seen it’s tail. I am not acknowledging this tail flick as a verified Big Five sighting. Sigrid disputes my ruling.

 Edward picks us up, and takes us for short game drive on our way to the camp. We see more cape buffalo, more elephants, and our first sighting of lion (Number Four of the Big Five). As the sun sets we watch a pride of six lionesses walking up from the river, across the road, through a guantlet of five safari trucks, and into the bush.

The Tent and Toilet

Then, the first sight of our new home, the mobile camp. Three sleeping tents, one for each couple, a dining room tent, and a bar tent. Each sleeping tent has a private shower (canvas bucket feeding a shower head suspended over a one meter square tent) and a private toilet tent (also about a meter square) complete with flush toilet. Real camping. Except, of course, there is a staff of seven who set up and maintain the camp, and do all the work, including the cooking and cleaning, and serving drinks. Serving drinks. That would be Paul, serving drinks that is. . . I wander over to make his acquaintance.

Paul's Bar

Afro-Ventures promotes this tour as Botswana a la Hemingway . Paul’s Bar has a small paperback library of Hemingway books. I think the only thing I have ever read of Hemingway’s is "The Old Man and The Sea", which was an assignment in Mrs. Bobera’s seventh grade English class. This seems a good time to correct this literary gap in my education. I also hope to find some quotes to sprinkle through the journal to provide a thin veneer of literary quality, and, as a side benefit, to irritate Harlan, who hates Hemingway. While sipping a Red Label over ice, I select "The Green Hills of Africa" as my reading material.

Special Note to Lee Evans - It's the fifth bottle from the left.

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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 - Back to the Falls

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Sunday, October 1, 1995

Harlan's Extorted Head

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Back to the Falls - New Companions

Out of the Matobo Hill lodge by ten. Our driver takes us through Bulawayo where we take pictures and shop at a handicraft market. Sigrid buys malachite bowls and I get the bust Harlan is extorting (pictured above). We are now over our weight limitation for the Botswana trip. An Air Zimbabwe Fokker 50 takes us back to Victoria Falls.

The Victoria Falls Hotel is the Grande Dame of Zimbabwe hotels, but she is showing her age. The staff tries hard, but all systems appear to be overwhelmed by the tourist crush. Our room is small, no view, twin beds, and the AC and TV are not working. After some gnashing of teeth, Sigrid gets us upgraded into a better room. I spend the afternoon tryng desperately to get caught up on the journal. I close to three days behind, but I find the phones are hardwired into the wall, and I don’t have the tools to try and jury-rig something. In any case I am gun shy about the phone rates and so do not get connected. We are now half way through the trip. This is our last night in Zimbabwe.

For the first half of the trip, we traveled on our own, following the itinerary planned by Sigrid and Andrea. For the next 14 days we will be part of an Afro Ventures group tour through Botswana.
Edward, our Afro Ventures guide, finds us in the lobby.He is very pleasant and speaks excellent english, albeit with a certain benign neglect for prepositions, and a hint of that clenched teeth, upper class accent I associate with Brits named Reggie. He has his hands full rounding us up and dealing with the chaos that is the Victoria Falls Hotel. You get the sense that the sooner he gets us out of Zimbabwe and into Botswana the happier he will be.

Over dinner we meet our traveling companions for the next two weeks. Manfred is a retired German surgical supplies representative living in Milan with his Italian wife Amy. He tells us that he has decided to take up archaeology as his second career. He translates at dinner for Amy, who speaks very little english. Wayne and Cathy from Phoenix complete the group. Wayne works in procurement for an Arizona power utility, and Cathy creates graphics for a Phoenix news station. They had been mistakenly ticketed to arrive in Maun which is the end of tour, and to leave two weeks hence from Vic Falls, which is the beginning of the tour. Neither their travel agent, Afro Ventures, or SAA had noticed the mistake.

The Afro Ventures representatives in Maun were very surprised to see them there, but responded admirably. They scrambled on the short wave to locate a bush pilot, who then ferried Wayne and Cathy on a frenzied multistop flight across Botswana to arrive in Vic Falls just in time to join us for dinner. They were exhausted and had that zoned-out-deer-in-the-headlight-look so familiar to international travelers. Still, they managed to maintain a sense of humor and coherent conversation at dinner. I was very impressed.

Edward lectures at dinner about how to behave around wildlife, and provides some orientation on the mobile camps we will be staying in for half the tour. He cautions that our tents will be set up in the wildlife’s world and it is important to follow certain rules: like not wandering outside of the perimeter of the camp; not going out at night; and not running away from animals (it makes you look like prey).

Manfred is stunned to learn that there is no fence around the camps, that Edward does not carry a gun, and there will be no guns in camp. This surprises me also, as I had become comfortable with the Zimbabwe way of doing things, and spent some wine fueled time at dinner showing off my knowledge of the subject. Edward listens politely, and then begins the process of educating us on the Botswana way. Which is a subject worthy of an essay of its own. I make a mental note to write it someday.

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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 here, the term "blog" had not yet entered the parlance. I am migrating the original posts to this blog. These 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 add some of Sigrid's scanned photos to these blog back-posts.