I found myself trying to remember the words to Psalm 23 "...The Lord is my shepherd...though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..”
My Granny suggested we read through this Psalm before we went on holiday. We didn't and I could not remember any other lines. Instead I tried to console my thoughts with the phrase from a Simon and Garfunkel song "...the morning is just a few hours away...” I repeated it over and over again in my mind.
Martin (my husband) and I arrived in the Delta on the Wednesday. A three-hour four-wheel drive trip took us from Maun to the southern fringes of the Okavango. The vegetation was not what we had expected. I suppose we wanted to see lush green swampy plants, palms and lilies. Instead we could only see miles and miles of savanna stretching in all directions. Apart from the Tswana driver, we were the only two people on the vehicle - expecting to find more tourists at the "camp" where we were heading.
Our driver pointed out some giraffes, tsetsebes and zebras as he sped along the bad road towards our destiny. We were surrounded by a foreign fragrance (which reminded me somewhat of cat pee - I later found out it is the smell of a bush the locals boil to cure colds and flues). The smell, together with the strange gold and pink colours of the tall grass and the sensation of the wind blowing on the back of the open Land Rover had a peculiar effect upon me. After about two hours of leaving Maun behind I got the strangest sensation that we were leaving reality behind. I was not wrong.
An hour or so later our driver promptly announced "We arrived". A group of local Tswana men appeared from nowhere and started some negotiation process with our driver - all in their local language. Eventually our driver pointed to one of them and said, "This is Cowboy. He will be your guide. Good-bye, I will pick you up Friday." We were motioned towards a shallow river ending with many mkoros (local wooden dugouts used for transport in the swamps.) Cowboy identified one and started loading our rucksacks and gear into it. Eventually we were seated and started our slow journey up the shallow river. It was magic - just the two of us, far from anywhere with this strange tall Tswana guide and the swamp reeds surrounding us. We were quiet in anticipation. Cowboy pointed out the occasional swamp bird as he poled us up the river. After about half an hour we saw two children on the side of the river. Cowboy steered our mkoro towards them and stopped, informing us that there is a village nearby and he must find some equipment for himself as “…everything is at home…” We were left alone in the mkoro next to the children who approached us - curiously. They looked very poor and wild, eating lily roots, their legs and arms white from dry mud. It was evident that they have never been to any school and lead a very primitive lifestyle. There was no way of communicating to them and we waited awkwardly for Cowboy to return.
He arrived a while later without anything mumbling something about "Maybe after six o'clock...” He poled further for a few minutes and then for the second time that day we heard the unexpected announcement "We arrived". There was nothing particularly arrivingly looking. We stopped next to some more tall reeds and Cowboy started unloading our gear. He guided us through a short path towards a clearing amongst some trees. This was it. No other people. No facilities. Nothing - except for a heap of ashes indicating the remains of some fire.
We set up camp while Cowboy started a fire and discussed the itinerary for the next three days. He will take us for walks today – separately, because it is no safe to leave the tent alone – tomorrow morning we will go for walks again and in the afternoon we will go with the mkoro to ‘croc and hippo pool’. It was at roundabout this point that we started wondering if this kind of adventure was a good idea. I briefly thought it might have been nice to have some radio contact with civilization, but immediately realized that civilization does not exist until Friday and Cowboy knows best and we had better go with the flow. So, I was the first to go for a walk. We headed in some direction, cowboy barefoot in front of me. I was feeling slightly nervous after he told me “Yes there are some lions here, there are more on this side of the river, that is why you don’t see so many buck around.” I was thinking, “…clever buck, then what are we doing here? Maybe he’s joking” – until he pointed out some lion tracks “So why are you not carrying a gun or stick?” I asked. No, Cowboy knows the lion; the lion eats at night. We were walking trough tall savanna grass and I was feeling very nervous. Cowboy was eager to show me elephants and so on, and I was eager the get back to the camp. We saw some waterbuck and it was lovely. We arrived back and it was Martin’s turn. I was feeling slightly uneasy on my own and decided to get into a big tree nearby – so that I could have a nice view. It stayed in the tree until they got back. When they saw me up in the tree Cowboy laughed and asked “ So, was the lion or elephant here?”
That night, after a simple meal of chicken legs and salt tablets (we forgot to pack spices) Cowboy told us the stories of the region. He used to be a hunter until the government made it illegal. He used to be a very good hunter and that is how he acquired his name. Now he is “like a woman” – he cannot hunt anymore and becoming a guide was his only option. As the sun disappeared in the west the night became alive and we were surrounded by African sounds. As we lay in our tent that night we could hear baboons babooning close by. We could hear elephants in the distance and some other unidentifiable sounds. Our only consolation was the glow of the fire and hearing Cowboy add the occasional log.
Morning came not a moment too soon. Cowboy had coffee ready and afterwards set off into the grass with Martin. I offered to stay, to allow me some time to wake up properly. So, I brushed my teeth, washed my hands in the river and decided to find out more about the area from the Rough Guide to Zimbabwe and Botswana. I sat next to the smoldering fire – as I thought “…okay this is Africa and yesterday they laughed at me in the tree…” and so on. So I picked up a large stick and turned to page 101 “Safety Considerations”. It said: “Keep a safe distance from large animals… (Pretty sensible I thought) …Don’t run if you come across a lion: stand still, keep quiet, then back off slowly. Running triggers their impulse to chase…don’t enter thick bush or grass… leave white clothes at home… fresh fruit, especially oranges, courts disaster as elephants have a remarkable sense of smell.”
I was wondering to myself, so why did we not read this before our excursion? I was wearing a white T-shirt, we had been walking through thick savanna grass and we had quite a few oranges on us. The book further went on relating some ‘fictional’ horror stories from Mana Pool in Zimbabwe. So these things don’t’ really happen to people – that is a relief…
Right then I heard or sensed a soft movement to my left and looked up. It took a while for my brain to register what my eyes were seeing. A leopard. It was beautiful – but it was right there. About three, four meters away from me – on it’s way to the river was a leopard. My brain was now registering and my head caught fire. It looked at me; I looked at it and got up. Slowly, doing what the book suggested I should do when coming across a lion. I also picked up my stick. Just in case. I backed off slowly, slowly towards the tree I sat in the previous day. I was thinking a million things at once, such as: I hope when it comes for me it kills instantaneously. This is amazing – what a beautiful animal. Somehow it would be okay to die like this -Very natural cause of death. I hope Martin does not feel too guilty when he gets back and finds his wife being eaten. If I don’t die, this would be the most incredible experience of my life. I wonder if anyone will ever believe me. Why don’t you have a camera on you when you really need one?
The leopard disappeared into the reeds close by. I eventually, after what seemed like an eternity got to my tree. My heart was beating at a thousand miles an hour. I was wondering, is the leopard planning it’s attack on me from the reeds? I tried to spot it, hoping to see it cross the river, but to no avail. So I stayed in the tree, shivering, praying and swearing at the same time. I started wondering if I really saw this or if it might have been a hallucination – but my fear was real, so I decided to wait in the tree until Martin and Cowboy returned. Eventually they did. I jumped out the tree, relieved to be able to move my muscles. I had been standing upright for at least an hour and I think my muscles had an overdose of adrenaline. They seemed quite impressed with my story. All Cowboy said was “Yo” when I explained to him where I was sitting and where the leopard was standing.
That afternoon after I had taken another walk with Cowboy, now even more anxious than yesterday, he deserted us to go and find sugar at the native village. We were both pretty tired from not sleeping well the night before, so Martin decided to take a nap next to the fireplace. I stayed up in the tree. From my post I could see a whole tribe of baboons playing and fighting as they moved their way passed our camp. There was one particularly naughty youngster that was being chased by one of the older ones. The sounds they made were pretty terrifying, but they were only baboons.
Some other loud sounds started drawing my attention. In the distance (about 500 meters from our camp) I spotted some big, gray, slow but sure moving shapes. Elephants. Oh this is nice. Just me and Martin in the middle of Africa, surrounded by elephants. I thought such sightseeing should not be missed and woke him up. I could see two elephants coming towards us and thought “…the damn oranges, I should have buried them…” Martin got in the tree next to me – quite impressed with the sight. The excitement was soon to be replaced with extreme nervousness, as our two friends moved passed rather close by. They entered the river and started drinking water. One made an unearthly sound to which Martin said “Don’t worry that’s only a fart…”
All this time we were wondering “So, where is Cowboy? And what is the best thing to do should the elephants get really close?” Martin started making a fire. I just stayed in the tree feeling fairly safe, until he pointed out to me that the tree that was just pulled over in the distance by the rest of the herd was at least as big as the tree I was sitting in. I suggested that maybe we should move downwind. Martin did not feel like it. Then, Cowboy returned. It was evident that he did not like to see so many elephants close to our camp. “Too much elephants.” He explained. “The government does not want us to hunt anymore, now too much elephants.” It became apparent that they are a real inconvenience to the Water People (local inhabitants of the Okavango). They call an elephant a “Do” – their word for ‘Really big’. He laughed at the fire and explained that there is only one way of chasing elephants away. You have to hit two branches against each other. This will chase the elephants away.
I felt a lot safer with Cowboy back at our camp and even ventured a few meters away from the camp to visit nature’s toilet. I was still sitting there contemplating life when I saw another “Do” getting very close and very interested in the camp and us. I finished my business rapidly and went back. Cowboy was looking concerned and asked us if we might be interested in moving camp. We thought that it sounded like a good idea and very quickly started loading all our gear into the mkoro – the elephant standing about eight meters away from where we were packing up with it’s backside towards us.
Cowboy poled us a couple of hundred meters down the river and we set up a new camp on the other side. We went for a bath in the river and then stood watching on a fallen tree branch as the herd of elephants moved through our old camp. They walked straight passed the tree I was standing in, their heads towering high above my look-out place in the tree.
We settled down for the evening and made a simple (spiceless) pasta with bacon. We could hear the local villagers hitting branches and were aware, somewhat tiresomely now, that the elephants were still in the vicinity. Later, in the gray evening hours, we noticed two large elephant outlines approaching us. This was no longer fun. I think that by then I’ve had enough excitement for one day – even for the delta. Once again Cowboy got very nervous and told us to get up and move away from the fire. We were wearing beach flops and did not really feel equipped for bundu bashing in the dark. However, we got up and stood next to a tree in the darkness, watching one elephant outline passing us really close. It must have been about five meters away from us. Cowboy started explaining to us: “We should run in the short grass towards the river. We needed to run in a zigzag pattern, as this would confuse the elephant.” It was like feeling trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. Towards the river was lots of darkness and God knows what was hiding in there. Cowboy, not having his own torch had borrowed ours. I wanted it back, but he was now very protective over it. We moved back into the darkness, anxiously arguing about the torch and what was to be done next. I felt exhausted and fed-up and thought that maybe I should just lie down in the grass. With a bit of luck the elephant would miss me if it stormed.
The elephant passed our camp slowly and Martin announced that it is safe to get back to the fire. We returned to the camp feeling worn out. It was at this point that Cowboy explained to us what happens when an elephant attacks. “It rises up before its victim, making loud noises before it lifts you into the air with its tusks. It then slams you onto the ground and tramples you with its huge feet. Then no one can recognize you afterwards. They have to come with the airplane and plastic bag to pick you up.” Feeling consoled we crept into our small purple tent to try and sleep and get this night over. It was not easy. The night was very quiet compared to the previous night. Our bodies were tense as we lay there listening to each squeak and whisper in the darkness. The hours dragged on and the fire lost its glow. I was wondering if Cowboy might have deserted us when eventually I heard him add a new log to the fire. We both slept restlessly, waking up every now and then. It was some time toward the early morning hours that I heard what I thought might have been the roar of a lion. At this stage though I just could not care anymore as “…the morning was just a few hours away…”
I woke up with the first sunlight and started scouting our immediate surroundings. Knowing that this was our last morning, and that we would be making some contact with civilization that day, I could really appreciate the environment. The morning was fresh and clear. Savanna grass stretched gold and pink into the distance. A fish eagle was sitting high on its perch waiting for its breakfast. On the opposite river bank a Lewche (local water buck) was cautiously having its first drink for the day. I stood watching for a long, long time - feeling blessed and alive, and fortunate to live on this beautiful continent.
Late that evening we arrived in Francistown, dirty, tired and a little wiser. Already Cowboy and the delta seemed far away.