Reclaiming My Voice

So, as expected, no internet at Jao Camp. Thank God. We awoke at 5:30 every day to begin our game drives, and our night game drive, which was followed by supper and drinks around the campfire, didn’t end until 8 or 9pm – so sleep has been at a premium. I did, however, get just enough rest to reclaim my voice, which was missing for nearly 5 full days.

That said – what a beautiful place. If Cape Town smelled of the warm sea, and Zambia smelled of clean, pure air, Jao smelled like earth – in some places mud, and in others hot, dry sand.

The architecture of the camp was beautiful, the Okavango Delta was pristine, though dry for this time of the year. And the animals were incredible. I’ll give you a full inventory later, but suffice it to say that we saw over 70 species there, thanks in full to our insane guide, David. It was like being with Mowgli out of the Jungle Book or something. Every track, every scent, every bird’s call, every signal, every plant, every tree, every termite mound – you get the point – he knew it all as if he was one of the animals that lived in this majestic place and was the translator for them all. Simply fascinating. (One interesting fact: If antelope know a predator is nearby, they’ll stick up their tails to show the white underneath, which silently warns other animals nearby that there’s danger afoot. It also showed David where to look for the lions.)

In one instance, he saw three sets of leopard tracks pointing in opposite directions, and knew immediately (and, it turns out, correctly) that a female leopard (nicknamed Beauty) had hidden her kill in one thicket, and had left it there while she went to fetch water from a nearby watering hole. He drove our Land Rover straight to the cat – and we then followed her back to the thicket he had predicted where she feasted on an antelope she’d hunted two nights before. The thicket was abuzz with the sound of swarming flies and crunching antelope bones and smelled strongly of rotting flesh. Nasty – but very interesting, nonetheless.

Though I don’t believe we forged any lasting relationships at the camp other than David, we did meet the managers – two white South African couples – Chris & Tara and Freddy & Marianne. Marianne’s family was also there. Her parents were chicken farmers from Cape Town, and her 33-year-old brother, Francois, was there as well. While I’m not certain what he does for a living, I do know that he was scrumptious, had a beautiful accent, and could identify the stars and constellations and, from those, could point to true north. (For those of you men reading along, that last quality is very masculine and incredibly sexy . . . ) Also at the camp were a group of half a dozen Germans who never spoke to us, and two other American couples – one set honeymooners from Manhattan, and the others, Pam and Bernard, were from San Francisco (literally about ½ a mile from Sanjay).

At camp, we were fed incessantly. There was breakfast at 6, tea around 9, brunch at 10:30, high tea at 4, sundowners at 6:30 and dinner at 8ish. For as much as they fed us, there was nothing very good, nor very local in flavor. We did have cake at 4pm everyday with tea, so I suppose I can’t complain too much. On our last evening, we did have one pretty yummy local dish – seswaa & pap – which is a chopped marinated beef with a tomato onion relish served with a thick maize porridge that’s traditionally used as a hand-held pocket with which to eat the meat. Sanjay’s favorite was the dessert at last night’s meal, a date bread pudding, which was pretty nice. While we ate outside under a sky full of more stars than I believed possible, the staff serenaded us with local music and dance. That, I did love.

One thing bothered me about this particular camp. The managers, as I said, were whites from South Africa, while the staff were blacks from Botswana. Again, segregation. David, who I introduced before as our guide, works at the camp for three months at a time, then returns to his family of 4 children for 21 days. It is, for him, quite a sacrifice to provide a better life for them. He is looking for a small business loan so that he can start up his own business in transportation or tourism – but he has no collateral.

Which brings me to something that has been stuck in my brain since I arrived: how can I – or anyone – really help? So far, it seems like the most common American responses in places like Africa have been imperialism and/or proselytism. Make them American or make them Christians – much as we did with our own Native Americans. It seems simplistic, shortsighted and incredibly arrogant. What seems preferable are programs that educate and empower the people of Africa to build upon their own heritage and define their own destiny. For instance, loans for local entrepreneurs to build businesses in their own communities. And schools that educate people on all of the options – political, social, cultural, religious, etc. – as well as creative thinking skills so that Africans can thoughtfully decide what they want to become.

It’s interesting. One night at the dinner table, we were discussing Oprah’s school for girls in Johannesburg. (This keeps coming up . . . ) In any case, many local people seem upset that she spent, I believe, $40 million, to educate 152 girls; the argument is that she could have spent less per student and provided schooling for many times that number of children. The world really does suffer from an epidemic of small thinking. I applaud Winfrey’s choice. In order to build a future for this continent, Africa’s children must be exposed to every potential idea. Their educations cannot be limited – they must be broad and intense. It will take exposure to every possibility, and the ability to imagine the impossible – to build the Africa in which these girls will want to raise their own children.

Enough of my musings, though I’m sure much more is to come once I reach Arusha . . .

Other than the staff, at Jao we had no interaction with the local people, flavors or culture – only the animals and their habitats which did, in fact, make for a fascinating 4 days in and of themselves. Want to know what species we saw? Let’s do a quick run-through:

Mammals: Bushbuck, Giraffe, Impala, Kudu, Red Lechwe, Reedbuck, Steenbok, Tsessebe, Honey Badger, Wildebeest, Zebra, Cape Buffalo, Elephants (we saw one taking a mud bath, one at sunset, and a breeding herd with tiny babies!), Hippos, Banded Mongoose, Slender Mongoose, Chacma Baboons, Vervet Monkies, Warthogs (My favorite after the elephants and hippos), Side-Striped Jackals, a Leopard, and a pride of Lions that included two females, two males and two tiny cubs.

We evem saw the hippos, elephants and buffalo about 5 feet off our balcony. We’re glad we didn’t see a mole rat, because the custom is that if you see one outside, someone you love will die; they’re normally underground in their burrows.

Birds: Reed Cormorant, Great Egret, Little Egret, Slaty Egret, Squacco Heron, Hamerkop, African Openbill, Saddle-Billed Stork, Marabou Stork, White-Faced Duck, Egyptian Goose, African Pygmy-goose (very cute tiny geese), Spur-Winged Goose, Martial Eagle, African Fish-Eagle, Dickenson’s Kestrel, Red-Billed Francolin (these were little roadrunners that ran in front of our jeep wherever we went), Wattled Crane (an endangered species), African Jacana, Southern Black Korhaan, Cape Turtle Dove, Meyer’s Parrot (I thought our driver said “Maya’s Pirates” because these look like little Mexican pirate birds), Grey Go-Away Bird (his call sounds like “go-away, go-away”), Coppery-Tailed Coucal, Black Coucal, Giant Eagle-Owl, Pied Kingfisher, Little Bee-Eater (a very cute little green guy), Lilac-Breasted Roller (I thought this was the most beautiful), Red-billed Wood-Hoopoe, Red-Billed Hornbill, Ground Hornbill, Crested Barbet, Pearl-Breasted Swallow, Marico Flycatcher, Grey Shrike, Burchell’s Starling

I actually LOVED the birds – even though they probably seem lame compared to the lions and stuff, they were BEAUTIFUL.

Reptiles: Spotted Bush Snake, Nile Crocodile, Rock Monitor, Water Monitor, Leopard Tortoise

I have to say, that I have been thoroughly Disneyfied. In the warthog, I saw Puumba, in the lions, Simba; the elephants were Dumbo and the steenbok Bambi. Kind of sad, I suppose . . .

We actually saw a few cool plants, too. The roots of wild cotton can be used as a cold remedy, though the buds are poisonous. Wild sage can be used as a mosquito repellant and, in conjunction with camel thorn, can cure gonorrhea. The local people use elephant dung in place of any plant ingredient in a remedy because elephants eat everything, so some of every plant is thought to be in the dung. Dried elephant dung is also used as a mosquito repellant and to ward off evil spirits.

There was a “Sausage Tree” that appeared to have salamis hanging from it.

We viewed the animals and plants on foot, from our Land Rover, and on a dugout canoe called a “makoro” which was paddled by a poleman in waters that were, in some places, only 6 inches deep. On our boat ride, in particular, the poleman made me a necklace and a hat from water lilies. In his culture, if a man is in love with a woman, he’d make her a necklace from a water lily – if she loved him in return, she’d make him a lily-hat. (As an aside, to let us taste some traditional staples of his people’s diet, our poleman also dug up a water lily root for us to eat, which tasted of potato, and he plucked and peeled a papyrus reed which tasted sweet and subtly of cantaloupe. The reed can be chewed as chewing gum. )

In general, each moment here so far has been so surreal that I feel that, as of yet, I haven’t fully connected. From the majesty of one of the world’s seven natural wonders, to an elephant standing 5 feet in front of me, to the small boy with scabs covering his head standing directly in front of me as I crossed the border from Zambia to Botswana, to the hundreds of trucks in line for 4 days to cross that same border via a single ferry that carries them each inefficiently one by one, to 112 orphans fed by their neighbors who have nothing for themselves in a village made of mud huts – I don’t have a place in my brain to process all of the sounds, flavors, smells and sights that my senses are imbibing. I’m drinking, but I’m not getting drunk. I’m seeing, but not feeling. I’m hoping that the shock wears off soon . . . I want this to be real.

I miss pizza. And Millie. Mom – Is she okay???

Oh, and sorry for the dirth of photos - Sanjay is experiencing significant, and quite frustrating, technical difficulties. Hopefully, they'll be resolved soon.