Termite Mounds and More

Termite Mounds

I knew the basics of termite mounds before I came to Africa - I minored in Anthropology in college and remembered reading about them as favorite snacks of the pygmies who live in the Ituri rain forest. I knew they shared many similarities with ant hills and bee hives, that they often went as deep into the ground as above, and that termites are among the top 3 species that cause change in the natural landscape (following humans and elephants) but nothing prepared me for the actual sight of the mounds. They come in all shapes and sizes - some are truly large; others barely visible. Some no longer function; others are decades old. It all depends on the age and viability of the queens.

Here is an average size one - maybe 3 feet tall. Notice the gray color. 

This was from our first camp at the Chobe River in Botswana.

This is a really large one - note the trees growing from the top and grasses
 from the base. The plants start as seeds blown onto the mound and,
 if conditions are right, they grow.

Another large one at the Okavanga Delta (Botswana) - note the reddish
 color of the sand. So different from Chobe.

Now, add a guide to show better perspective.  They could get BIG!

Look how many termite mounds are on this part of the 

savanna - they are each 1 - 3 feet tall.

Okay, in case you are thinking about the upcoming football season and need interesting hors d'oeuvres, you know - not the same ol' same ol', here is how you prepare termites:

1. Catch them (not that hard at the right season).
2. Put them in a bit of water to kill them.
3. Let them dry and then drop them into hot oil.
4. Crisp 'em up and they are ready for munching.

Our guides said, "Yum."  I didn't have the opportunity to test it so can't verify!

A Day in the Life of a Zimbabwan Village

One of the things I like best about Overseas Adventure Travel (OAT) is that the organization supports the local communities where groups visit. When we toured Egypt, right before their revolution broke out, we visited an OAT foundation that provided both a school for children and a workshop for women to create crafts for market. We also visited two Egyptian families - one in Luxor, the other (Nubians) outside Aswan. We had to ride camels to get to the second family - ah, a memory I hope NEVER to repeat! That hour long trek across the desert was unnerving as the camel deeply swayed to the left and then to the right and almost tossed me forward over his head whenever he rose up or sat down. Well, that isn't completely true. I was thrilled to have the opportunity to experience a camel trek, but once done, have no need to do it again.

Here in Africa we visited a village near our camp in Zimbabwe.  It was fascinating, heartwarming, encouraging and a bit overwhelming as you inevitably compare conditions with those at home.

Let's start with the work of women - not a lot has changed since I learned about such villages in college anthropology. Women still do the majority of physical labor and much of this revolves around the need to supply water for their family. Many women walk several miles each way to the nearest well where they gather 40 pounds of water in tubs which they balance on their heads for the walk home - and they do this 4-6 times a day. This supplies water for family members, crops and cattle.

All of the following photos are from Anna - thank you!

Here is the pump - I helped pump for about 5 minutes - hard work 

because the handle goes up high. It was often a group effort.

It was a social activity as well as economic - loved, loved, loved interacting

 with all the children who accompanied their mothers.  It seems like every 

child I have met world-wide knows the high-five response. Such fun.

We then visited Ziga elementary school where the children 

greeted us with cheers.

They preformed - charming.

And then they tried to teach us some of their local language - it 

involved clicks right in the middle of the words. Not easy.

And I loved every minute - once a teacher, a teacher forever.

Sally C had exchanged emails with their principal (the tall one!) and we 
brought gifts he suggested - soccer balls, maps, school supplies, etc. 

Once we saw the need, we all wished we had been able to squeeze
 more into our suitcases.

After lunch at school we visited the village headman's family to learn more about traditional ways. His compound looked exactly like drawings and photos in my college anthro books - the same raised grainery, the same round kitchen, the same barriers of branches to keep cows in and intruders out - with one exception - the satellite dish. However, he told us it is not connected - no electricity - but he got a good deal on it and it will be ready when electricity comes. Of course, in many ways village life has changed since my college days: they are aware of modern ways; the kids dress like children the world over; they are in school - but the first impression is that of tradition.

We women were invited to sit on the floor (the male members of our group sat on benches as would males in this village family) while the leader shared how his family lives their lives. All most interesting.

Listening to the village leader - inside his hut.

Women of the village compound.

The women then invited us to a craft fair and this is where my wallet shrank. I knew these families were poor, that schools cost money and that everything has to be paid in American dollars. Why, you ask? Zimbabwe gave up using their own currency several years ago after a period of hyper-inflation (in fact I used to use Zimbabwe as the example of hyper-inflation when I taught Economics). The government needed to restore faith in the economy so they switched to American currency (as do other countries as well). But how do subsistence farmers like the people of this village get dollars when they don't have much to sell? From things like these craft fairs and I, the teacher who values education and believes it IS the ticket out of poverty, wanted to support it. I spent lots of money at the craft fair but I saw each dollar spent as getting another child into school. And now I have lots of small carved animals and bowls and wood necklaces, etc. - far more than needed - but I consider it money well spent.

A fascinating day.

Zimbabwe - Victoria Falls

After 3 days at camp in Zimbabwe, we flew to Victoria Falls. It was hard to leave camp life behind - I have never experienced anything quite like it - and, at first, it felt a tad odd to be back in "civilization." Of course, that in itself, is a bit funny given the small size of the town of Vic Falls (as everyone calls it).

In my wildest dreams I never thought I would see Victoria Falls. I had added it to my quick hand-drawn maps of Africa in my geography classes - along with the Nile and other key geographic features of the continent - but I never thought I would actually stand in front of it and see it with my own eyes. Not surprising, it is wonderful. We saw it in winter when the flow is lowest and it was still spectacular. In some ways we were lucky to see it in winter - the mist is so great in summer that it is harder to see.

It is over a mile wide but, unlike Niagra Falls, you can't see the entire width from one viewpoint because it tumbles into a long, narrow gorge. You can walk along the gorge's rim, across from the Falls, and see it segment by segment, but you can't get a wide overview.  This photo shows just one segment.

Well, there is one way to get a sweeping view and we did it the next morning - by helicopter:

Even this wonderful photo of Anna's doesn't show the whole face of the Falls - there is more extending from the bottom of this photo. But look at how the photo captures the mist that the Falls creates! I hadn't been on a helicopter in a long time and this ride was spectacular. The pilot circled the Falls four times so that people on each side of the helicopter could get great shots. He also flew further up the river so that we could see how tributaries join together to create the huge volume of water.

After the helicopter ride 6 of us took a separate tour of the 100-year old Victoria Falls bridge which crosses the Zambezi river about 1/2 mile below the Falls. You can walk across it in 5 minutes but it took us about 45 minutes to walk along the original catwalk below the bridge - the one the workers used when constructing and maintaining it. We were strapped in so we couldn't fall off into the river below. It was fascinating to see the bridge from underneath as we crawled under and around structural beams. Marsha brought a copy of the Monterey Herald - so, folks back home, watch the newspaper for our photo. We are on the cat walk and you can see the Falls off to the right.

And then, quicker than I thought possible, it was time for our Farewell Dinner.

Four of us flew back to the U.S. the next day while the rest of us flew on to South Africa. I am glad we went to Vic Falls. It was fun and a good transition between safari camp life and what awaited us in Cape Town.

The Perfect Shower

What makes a great shower? Large shower heads spraying warm water all over your body? The spa in which it is located? Lovely soaps and warm fragrant towels?  Perhaps, but other things can take precedence. I thought nothing could beat my two best showers but Africa proved me wrong. My African shower may be the best shower of my life.

Incredible Shower #1 - Maine 1975

Gary and I (four months pregnant with Stephanie) were visiting our friend in Maine whose cabin was quite rustic. Bob had running water in his house but no toilet - there was a "one-holer" in a shed out back - and no shower. Instead there was an outside faucet with a hose attached. This cold water was what I used for this particular shower. I know, how can this create a great shower? Well, it all depends on the circumstances.

Bob liked to clam in the low-tide ocean mud across the road from his cabin and his descriptions of the process (and our desire for the end product) made us decide to join him one afternoon. We carefully bandaged our fingers (so the clam shells wouldn't scrape the skin off) and donned boots. Here was my first challenge - the boots he loaned me were several sizes too big and the mud was particularly thick and sticky. After each step I had to stop to pull my boot up out of the mud, accompanied by a loud SQUELCH. Sometimes I didn't time it right - my foot came out of the boot and I ended up stepping into the mud. Gary and Bob, in boots that fit, moved quickly out into the deeper mud flats, but my muddy progression was much slower. I never got far from the shore. What followed was not pretty.

I tried, I really did, but I just could not get the hang of leaning down, sticking my curled fingers into a hole in the mud (avoiding the bigger holds that could hide eels - oh, dear Lord, spare me!), slipping them around the clam IF I found one and then yanking it up out of the super-sucking mud. I was inevitably unsuccessful - either no clam or I couldn't get it out of the #$%^& mud. What I did get was absolutely filthy hands from my continued attempts. My feet were the first things to get covered in mud from inadvertently stepping out of the boots but other body parts were soon to follow. At first I tried wiping my mud-covered hands on my legs - my feet were already disgusting, why not add a bit more? - but when they got completely covered, I moved on to my shorts. As I kept attempting to pull clams, I continued to deal with muddy hands. When my shorts were covered, I wiped the mud on my bare arms and then moved onto my shirt. When every bit of me below my neck was covered with mud I now had few choices left. Next to go was my face - yes, I wiped mud on my cheeks - and then, finally, all that was left was my hair - and, incredibly, I wiped my hands on that too. When I finally recognizd that this was one of the stupidest things I had EVER done, that I looked like the Mud People I had seen in National Geographic, I decided that no clams were worth this.

I took the boots off (what purpose did they really serve at this point?) and squelched my way back to Bob's house, tearing clothes off as I walked. I am usually a modest person, but not at this point. I didn't care who saw me or how odd I looked, I just wanted to GET THAT MUD OFF. I squelched into the yard, grabbed the hose, turned the cold water on and stood there, naked, in front of all who might drive by. As each body part re-emerged I greeted it with joy, "Hello, arm; hello fingers." It was glorious, standing there in the sun as my body reappeared. I know I have never been as dirty as I was that afternoon - dirty, sticky, with the added odor of the low tide. But that garden hose did the trick. I was human again. 

By the way, Bob and Gary came home with lots of clams. My contribution? Four. However, my four were delicious (and the others shared). Not worth the mud, mind you, but delicious.

Incredible Shower #2 - July 2012

This really refers to the first shower I take every year when I get home from camping at Yosemite. The dust at the Housekeeping Camping units is not to be believed. It works its way into every nook and cranny of both the campsite and one's body. The daily shower or swim in the river helps momentarily but it all comes back way too soon. It is everywhere. My feet get particularly black. This year, as I drove back to my cousin's house (we had a few days to finish packing for Africa) I could feel the grime all over me, could see it under my fingernails, and wondered about how I smelt. But this time I was not showering with cold water from a garden hose, as I had in Maine, but lovely hot water in Pattie's upstairs shower. Glorious. Wonderful. HEAVENLY. It seems almost impossible that such a filthy body can be restored to it's pre-camping condition in just 15 minutes. Each year, when I step out of that first shower, I realize that life, as I knew it, can resume.

Incredible Shower #3 - Hwange Camp, Zimbabwe, Aug 2012.

This shower did not include removing filth from my body. It was not a spa setting. The shower head was almost primitive. The water temperature was not ideal - it was a solar system that vacillated among hot, tepid and cold - and used its own discretion to decide which. Seemingly not ideal conditions so what made it special? Ambience.

To begin with, it was outdoors (there was an indoor one as well but, once I took a shower outside, there was no going back). It was discreetly placed next to the small patio off one side of our cabin. Its wood steps wound around a termite mound - yep, a termite mound - and the whole thing was tucked under a tree.

This is the front side of our tent cabin - the shower was on the opposite side. 

Here is the shower.

I know this photo is hard to "read" - the thatch on the right is the edge of the roof over the small patio off the back of our cabin. You can see the top two wood steps going up to the shower. The termite mound is the gray "hill" that wraps around the tree trunk. The shower is the green wall, you can't see the shower head - it was in the corner where the green walls met. 

Okay, what is interesting about this primitive shower other than the complete oddity of showering next to a termite mound?  It was the view from the shower that was extraordinary. 

Anna's photo (of course!)

Elephants and zebras greeted me whenever I used the outdoor shower. Sometimes they were 50 yards away, other times, much closer. One afternoon, when Pattie got ready to take her shower, she opened and then quickly shut the door - elephants were right next to our little patio. One of them used his trunk to suck up the water in the little bird bath on the patio - about 5 feet from where she stood in the doorway.  Close!

But when they were at 50 - 100 yards it was amazing to scrub away while watching them, especially near sunset. I don't think you can beat the big, fat, orange African sun setting on a savanna filled with elephants and zebras. Truly a remarkable, wondrous shower and one, I suspect, will not be topped in my lifetime.

By the way, the zebras suggested that I get back on Weight Watchers; the elephants disagreed. They said, "Take a break, enjoy Africa." I listened to the elephants.

Donna as Co-Pilot

His instructions were clear, "Touch nothing. NOTHING! Especially the two pedals on the floor in front of you." I got the message. I held my arms close to my side, moved my feet as far as possible from the pedals - and then we took off. It was a magnificent flight.

In our 3 weeks in Africa we took 16 flights - 7 to get over and back, the other 9 between the various safari camps. I think we were in the Victoria Falls airport in Zimbabwe 3 times - it was centrally located. The planes varied in size - huge planes to and from Johannesburg and Washington, D.C., 6-across planes on several flights from larger airports in Africa and then bush planes for flights in and out of isolated camps. It was the bush planes I found most interesting. One held 12 passengers, one 5, and one 3. Once we had to use all three (given other passengers who had to be transported) and once we took the 12-seater twice - it flew out with 12 of us, landed, flew back to pick up the remaining few and flew out again. I was "co-pilot" in one of the 5-seater fights.

How did it happen? All of us wanted to ride in the small planes (the 12-seater seemed huge when compared to the 5 and 3-seaters) so we took turns. When flying out of the Kafue camp (on the Lufupa River in Zambia) it was my turn. When no one else jumped to take the co-pilot seat I quickly volunteered. While the others climbed up the outside of the small plane (you stand on the wheel, then on a small step and then enter the plane behind the pilot's seat) I moved to the opposite side and climbed into the front, next to the pilot. He strapped me in (bush planes have both a shoulder and lap strap that are connected and are a little tricky when you first use them) and then gave me that warning, "Touch NOTHING." I grinned at him and said, "Aye, aye, sir!"

There is something about pilots. At home, in large airports, they walk firmly, eyes ahead, pulling their carry-ons smartly behind them. They have presence - you know they are in charge. Bush pilots are something else. They swagger. You can recognize them instantly by that walk. They KNOW they have the coolest job around. Their uniforms? Shorts, shirts, sneakers and smokin' sunglasses.

I was lucky in that my pilot was chatty; others on previous flights were not. He was clear, "Ask me anything, unless I am speaking on the radio." I was offered an opportunity and I took it. I asked him about the challenges of take-offs and landings at isolated landing strips, the purpose of all the knobs and dials and those pedals in front of me, then asked him which gauge he wanted me to be responsible for? He was amused - he said I could take care of the one that measures altitude. We flew at 10,000 feet (well, 9,900 to be exact - I know, I watched that dial) but the land below was at 3,500 feet so we were only about 6,500 feet above the ground.

I got great views from my front seat - well, with one noted exception. Who knew that much of the vision straight ahead would be blocked by the control panel? It is somewhat amazing that they are able to land with so much of their vision blocked. But the view to the side was spectacular. I loved teaching geography and got to see this geography up close. At the lower elevations I could spot elephants and giraffes on the ground. From higher up, I had sweeping views of the savanna. Also, for the first time, I saw African farmland. It wasn't green as it often is at home - this was winter, after all, the dry season in southern Africa - the fields were brown. The fields were also uneven - not perfect squares or rectangles - but still recognizable as farmland. We flew over small villages (we would later visit one in Zimbabwe) but no towns of any size. We were deep over rural Zambia.

I think the flight was an hour. About 40 minutes in I asked, "I know you have the coolest job in the world, but does it ever get boring?" He turned to me, paused, grinned and then said, "Yep, but that's not for publication - we have to keep up our image!" He said the geography is similar wherever he flies and it does get boring so he enjoys interacting with passengers when he is able. I promised to keep his secret - well, just broke that one but if it is for the purpose of educating readers, surely that makes it okay, yes? Oh the power of rationalization.

The landing strips themselves are another story. They are out in the middle of nowhere, just a long, narrow runway with identifying numbers formed in rocks, painted white, on one side of the strip. That was it - oh and a wind sock. No control tower, no terminal, no baggage carousel - nothing. Well, that's not true. At our last landing strip there was a little shack on the side and I was most surprised to discover that it was a bathroom. Sitting out there in the middle of the bush. And it flushed. What made it amusing was that it also had a wide open view when sitting on the toilet - the window was open air, at knee height, across most of the small structure. At least it faced away from the landing strip so you didn't get an interesting view when landing or taking off.

And, by the way, whenever we left a camp, we had to get to the landing strip 30 minutes before the planes were expected. Why, you ask? Well duh, the guides had to be ready to drive animals off the strip when they heard the planes descending. Who knew?

And that brings me to the last interesting bit about my turn as co-pilot. My bright yellow jacket. This trip was expensive, the most expensive trip I have ever taken. It wasn't just the trip itself, it was sending my passport back to get additional pages for the African visas (I had run out of pages), the yellow fever shots, the malaria pills, the safari-colored clothes (beige and brown and then more beige and brown), etc so, a few days before I left, when I realized I still needed to get a light jacket, I balked and headed for the Columbia outlet - half price. There was a problem however - I found the right jacket but it only came in 4 color combinations - black/gray, blue /gray, red/gray, and neon yellow/gray. I don't like yellow, doesn't look good on me, but the others were unacceptable. Why? Black and blue attract tsetse flies - there went the first two; the ones I preferred. Red is not a safari color, there went the third. Left looking back at me from the racks was the ugly neon yellow thing. But it was half price, it fit, it had a hoodie - I could wear it in Portland afterwards - but oh that color.

Look at this photo - what stands out?

Okay, the life jackets stand out - but that's because there are so many. What other color is even brighter? Yep, there it is, my jacket.  We were supposed to blend into the environment and my jacket did not.

I tried to convince the others on the mokoro trip that my jacket matched the reeds in the Delta. Well, in a certain light, I said. I tried to be convincing. The others nodded politely; my cousin rolled her eyes.

But when I was co-pilot, I found my other possible career field - look, I matched him!

I could be a pilot. Or airport security - I matched everybody who was anybody in security at the airports we visited. I even matched the police at Cape Town. Ah, the job possibilities. And here I thought the color might be a liability.

All in all, it was a thoroughly amazing experience wrapped in bright neon yellow.

Putting the ADVENTURE in Overseas Adventure Travel

Okay, let's start by stating the basic facts - members of our group almost lost their lives 3 times on this trip. Incredibly all 3 events happened at the same camp and to the same half of the larger group of 15. I suspect our guides were most happy to see the 8 of us leave the Okavanga Delta camp in Botswana alive and well at the end of our 3-day stay there.

Here we are - the "Lucky 8" and Godfrey. Anna is the woman with the light pink 

jacket on the left. All the great photos in these entries are from her.

Incident #1 - The Elephant Attack

Soon after arriving at camp we left for the usual sundowner animal viewing trip. 8 of us piled into one of the Land Rovers around 4 p.m. and met our new guide, Godfrey, a wonderful, knowledgable, engaging man with a wide grin and a hoot in his laugh that drew all to him. We were soon bouncing over the savanna learning about the animals of the Delta and how this environment differed from the camp we had just left on the Chobe River. We saw antelopes, kudu, elephants, giraffes, wart hogs, guinea hens - the usual denizens of the savanna. Godfrey spent much of this first trip telling us about elephants. We soon passed an open space that had been trampled by elephants - it was thick with their tracks. This was the place, Godfrey said, where an old elephant had recently died. As is the case with elephants, when one dies the others come back to the place of its death to "pay their respects." I put "pay their respects" in quotation marks because I know it anthropomorphizes the animals and yet it seems an appropriate phrase to describe the action of purposely coming to a place of death. And this is done for the death of any elephant, of any age, according to Godfrey. As we have been told since our youth, the memory of elephants is prodigious; they never forget. Here was one more example.

He then described differences among groupings of elephants - the bachelor herds (lots of young males, acting out but with little follow-through), the breeding herds (mainly mothers and young although males may accompany them - take care, they are protective) and the solitary elephants who roam the savanna. It was fascinating, especially as it was accompanied by close-up views of these majestic animals. There is nothing like making eye contact with a huge African elephant as it slowly passes you by. It most definitely feels like the elephant is sizing you up.

A bit before sunset we found ourselves on a road in a scrub forest with a group of elephants directly in front of us.  Godfrey identified it as a bachelor herd.

This is one of my photos - note the ears flopping toward us - not a good sign.  He is not happy with our presence but we thought we were safe - it was just the bachelors.

Godfrey stopped the car while we watched the animals. We heard calling among them and began to see movement - animals crossing the road in front of us. At first it was one or two, then a few more and then we realized quite a few elephants were starting to assemble about 50 feet to the left of our car. We continued to believe these were the silly doofus bachelors who were no threat to anyone when we heard Godfrey say, "Oh boy" and looked up to see 2 big females with babies start toward us. This was NOT a bachelor herd but a breeding herd - a whole new ball game. A new set of rules. Be wary.

I look back on the whole thing and realize how calm Godfrey remained - we had no idea of the danger we were in until the incident was almost over. Afterwards he explained that the sounds we had heard were the matriarch calling elephants and that they were now encircling our van. At her command they began to move toward us. We were trapped with scrub forest and elephants to the front and on either side - there was nowhere to go except forward into the herd or backward away from them.

Anna caught the beginning of the stampede with her camera - they were coming 

right toward us. She stopped photographing after this shot!

At this point I think we all realized we were not in a good position. Godfrey then did what a clear-thinking guide should do - he reached over, turned on the Land Rover, revved the engine as loudly as possible and DROVE STRAIGHT INTO THE ELEPHANTS. Yes, straight into them. The noise scared the elephants and they began to scatter. I must admit that the 8 seconds it took to get through the herd, watching elephant bodies scatter to the right and left, so close I could almost reach out and touch them, shook me to my core. We all were breathless when we looked back at the scattered herd behind us.

When I told him I was surprised he chose to drive into the herd rather than in reverse he explained why that would have been unwise. He could not see the road - our raised seats blocked his view. He would not be able to avoid scrub growth or depressions in the road. What would most likely happen is that he would hit something and come to a dead stop - not good with elephants coming at you. He did what was best and it ended up being the right decision.

Way too close for comfort.

Incident #2 - Cape Buffalos vs the Mokoros

The next morning Godfrey drove us to the bank of one of the Delta waterways where 5 mokoros awaited us. Mokoros are traditional canoes that ride low in the water and are navigated by guides standing at the back with long poles. Think gondolas in Venice but instead of gorgeous old buildings we traveled through gorgeous passageways in the largest inland delta in the world.

Here we are:  Anna and Kan in the first canoe, Barbara and Sally L. in the second, 
Sally C. and Marsha in the third, and Pattie and I in the fourth. 
Our intrepid guides stand behind us.
Godfrey (not pictured - he took the photo for Anna) poled the fifth canoe with the cooler 

(with supplies for our morning break). 

That canoe would become important after the attack.

The delta is composed of small channels and larger byways of reed-filled water. There are water lilies, flowers and many gorgeous birds. This is, in fact, a paradise for Birders.

Because we were so low in the water we could not see over the reeds although our standing guides could. It was enchanting to be slowly poled through the delta. We called to each other as our canoes silently slid through the water. One canoe would move ahead and then another would pass it by. The guides laughed with each other and us as they shared stories about the delta, pointing out birds and plants and even interesting bugs. All was peaceful and beautiful and right with the world.

Pattie and I in the Delta - Anna's photo, of course.

The first two canoes had moved out of a narrow channel into what was called the "Hippo Highway" - a much wider expanse of water. Anna and Kan, in the third canoe, were just ahead of us in the inlet, ready to move into the Hippo Highway when, in an instant, everything changed. Suddenly we heard a tremendous noise - surging water, calling birds, large animal movements - beyond the reeds over which we could not see. What I remember most is the face of Anna and Kan's guide turning back to our guide saying urgently, "Go back! Go back!" I had no idea what was happening but, from the look on his face, knew it was not good - and we had so little room to maneuver the mokoro in the narrow channel.

It was chaotic for the next 20 seconds (which seemed an eternity) - we heard loud splashing, raised voices, animals rushing and then quiet. The news came back in staccato statements. "Animals", One of the boats!", "They're in the water", "I can't see anything", "Get your boat to the island". I was completely unnerved wondering who had been attacked and by what. I knew it wasn't Anna and Kan -  they were in front of us. As we eventually moved into the Hippo Highway I looked frantically for the others. I spotted Barb and Sally L. and then knew it had to be Sally C. and Marsha. Where were they?

Within seconds I spotted them standing, sopping wet, on a small island where we were soon to dock. We then heard the story. It was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and, as our guides told us, had never happened before. Never at this camp or at any other camp they knew about.

It seems that two cape buffalos had come running toward the water and, just as they were ready to enter, reacted to what was different in front of them - Sally and Marsha and their guide in a mokoro. The quick-thinking guide jumped out of the boat and turned it toward the shore so that both women went headfirst into the water. The canoe was then between the women and the animals. The two buffalo ran by, gored the boat, brushed the women underwater and moved on. Godrey and the guide pulled the two women out of the water and deposited Marsha in one of the other mokoros and Sally on the island.

We all soon gathered on the island, shaken. There was the mokoro, pulled up on the shore, with a 3-inch hole gouged in its side. The same horn that made the hole also split one of the two seats down the middle. It is sobering to think about what might have happened if Sally or Marsha had been sitting in that seat or if it had been hippos rather than cape buffalo that attacked. This part of the Delta was full of hippos.

The guides were amazing in how quickly they took charge. They fixed us tea, although I think only Sally and Marsha drank it - it was pushed on them. The two wet women stripped off top layers of clothes while the rest of us peeled off sweaters and jackets to pass over to them. The guides gamely asked us if we wanted to go on but we all agreed that the trip was over, we just wanted to get back to camp. Godfrey took Marsha and Sally back in the canoe with the cooler, the guides would return that afternoon to retrieve the damaged mokoro.

I found myself watching every which way as we were poled back through the delta to where our Land Rover stood. I kept waiting for another animal attack. I think that is why I so carefully watched the hippos while we fished in the Lufupa. I had experienced what animals can do.

By the way, the next morning the other half of the group took the same trip and the story-telling had already begun. They were shown where the cape buffalos entered the water, where the boat was overturned by the guide, the island where we all moved to safety, and given an in-depth description of the destruction of the mokoro. I wonder how soon the story will spread to other camps?

Incident #3 - Lost on the Savanna

The last incident happened the following afternoon, our last day at the Delta camp, when we were off-road, following lion tracks. And this time it wasn't dramatic - no animals, no immediate danger. Instead, it was simple - the Land Rover broke down. Cowboy, our new guide, tried and tried but the engine wouldn't turn over. He radioed camp to speak with the mechanics, tried their ideas and still nothing worked. It would normally not be a big deal but in this case, it was. Sunset was fast approaching. It's not good to be on your own on the savanna after dark - the cats are out hunting. Yes, we were in the vehicle, but it is not the same when the vehicle is broken down. We were fair game. In addition, we were far off- road. We had left the road an hour before the breakdown occurred. I listened to Cowboy call in our location and wondered how they would find us. We were in the middle of scrub forest near nothing that looked like landmarks. He kept referring to the "ridge line" and I looked around wondering to what he referred. Ridge line? Where?

Okay, it's one of my crappy photos, this time of wart hogs - but this is what the area looked like where the van was stuck - nothing significant around us, just scrub forest.

He was also in touch with Godfrey's van. They stopped their animal tracking to track us. So for the next hour we were the target of 2 searches - by the mechanics and Godfrey. None of us in our van talked about the sun as it continued its unrelenting march toward the horizon but I know we were all thinking about it. How much time did we have? What should we do when the sun sets? How do we protect ourselves?

Just as the sun was setting Cowboy straightened up and said, "I hear something." His ears were good - we heard nothing for a few minutes and then, oh so faintly, we heard the sound of an approaching motor. It was the mechanics. The cavalry had arrived with 2 guns attached to the sides of their Land Rover. Phew.

The problem ended up being easy to fix - it was just a fuse - and we were soon on our way. 15 minutes later, however, one of our tires blew - and we had to get out of the van (remember Basic Rule #2 - stay within the outline of the Land Rover?). By that time it was pitch black but Godfrey's van had showed up and we were able to congregate between the two vans while the tire was changed. The 7 group members in Godfrey's Land Rover told us that their hunt for us was the most exciting event they had had at this camp - what a different experience than the one the 8 of us had!

Would I exchange stampeding elephants, marauding cape buffalo, and lost in the savanna for the security of their experience? No, I think not - but, let me add, that's because no one was physically hurt. It could have been oh so very different. What I also appreciated was the response of our group. We know each other, we have travelled together in the past, when one is in danger, we all share it. We want the best for each of us. My kind of travel companions.

Something a Bit Lighter - Fishing on the Lufupa River

While staying at the third camp, in Kafue National Park in Zambia, on the Lufupa River, we were given an option for one of our morning outings - some of us could go fishing while the others went out on a river boat to look at hippos, crocodiles and birds. The river boat only held 12 and our group was 15 so at least 3 needed to fish. Originally I had decided on the river boat but when Wilson asked 3 of us to join him on the smaller fishing boat, I changed my mind and am so glad that I did. The last time I had gone fishing was in college. My boy friend at the time took me trout fishing in the foothills of the Sierra. It was not a successful venture - I was there to learn but I caught 4 and he caught none. He was thrilled with my first catch, happy with my second, annoyed with my third and we left after my fourth. Good I didn't marry him.

I occasionally fished when I was younger with my Dad off the pier of the cement boat near Santa Cruz. Oh how patient he was as he attached bait and untangled lines of the fishing poles held in the hands of his 5 children. My maternal grandfather also loved to fish. He would go out on party boats on the ocean off Mendocino with fishermen friends and would occasionally take one or two grandchildren along. All I remember is getting sick. At least I didn't throw up in the captain's tackle box as my older sister, Candy, did!

So I do have a slight history of fishing and figured it was probably like bicycle riding, you don't forget the basics, but when I learned our guide would show us the ropes, I felt more confident. A little instruction is always valuable. And, although Wilson likes to fish, Pattie, Marsha and I were all relative novices.

What fun it was. Our guide was endlessly patient as he showed us how to hold the pole, cast off the side of the boat and reel 'er in. I don't know if "cast" is the right word, I think that is what you do standing in a stream, but you know what I mean.

Look at the size of this boat - it would not take much for a hippo to upend it.

What made the experience more interesting was keeping an eye out for the hippos that call the Lufupa home. Here is a raft of them. I am proud of this photo - at least you know what animals they are. Well, maybe not. Could they be a pod of whales?

But again, let's compare with Anna's eye and camera (she was on the same river but on the larger boat):

Ah, much more interesting!

I would cast, reel in, cast, reel in, cast, reel in and then check for hippos and crocs. Now, I knew crocs were less likely - but indeed we did see some and they were BIG - sunning on the banks then slipping down into the water. The hippos, on the other hand, were frequently close by. So close that I found myself gauging how near they would have to be before I should be concerned about their ability to sink under the water, swim over and topple our boat. Thankfully, our guide was quite capable and moved us whenever he thought they were too close. I gave up worrying and just enjoyed the outing and it was indeed glorious. The sun shone, the hippos roared - or at least yawned to show their scorn of us - and the fish stayed away. For the first hour we caught nothing. However, none of us seemed to mind, it was just so wonderful to be out on the river, casting, reeling in and watching hippos perform.

Wilson finally caught a fish and you would think it was a joint effort, we were all so excited. He tossed it back, at which point our guide said, "Hmmm, that fish is now telling all the others to avoid shiny lures . . . we best move on," and suggested we keep the next fish to use as bait. About 10 minutes later, after moving a bit south, Pattie caught a fish and indeed we did just that with her catch. The new bait worked wonderfully for Wilson - he caught so many fish I lost count at 10. It seemed that as soon as he cast out he reeled in a fish.

And how did I do? I finally caught a fish and was most proud but must also admit that I caught other things as well - my hat and the side of the boat. Pattie caught a second fish and Marsha - well, she caught a rock. All in all, a most successful outing.

Me and my hat - what a catch!

I cherish my memory of fishing on the Lufupa among the hippos. It was an amazing experience and one I suspect I will never have the opportunity to repeat.

Tracking Animals

The first thing our guide would say as we took off from camp early each morning was something like, "Time to read the newspaper" and, with that, he would lean out the door of the van to see what new prints were in the sand. Which animals had recently passed by? Once he had the latest "news" off we went to track these animals. It was always an adventure and, in most cases, the animals we saw were quite alive, but sometimes they weren't. Sometimes we came upon a kill. Members of our group expressed a range of opinions about kills. Some were enthusiastic - it's part of nature and they wanted to capture it on film. Some were less interested - yes, it's part of nature but we don't necessarily want to see it. I fell into the latter camp. I am a bit squeamish.  We witnessed three such events during our weeks on safari.

#1  The cape buffalo at Okavanga Delta in Botswana
The first kill was that of a female cape buffalo (you know - the animal with horns that look like a 1960s flip sweeping over it's forehead and down the side of its head?). When our guide, Godfrey (you will hear more about him in a later entry about our most harrowing experiences) spotted the kill site he stopped the Land Rover and talked about what we were seeing. He used the site to teach us how to look at prints and examine a site - as an archaeologist or detective might. What had happened here? What evidence did we have to support our suppositions? In front of us was a fetus of an animal (seemed close to full term) that had not been touched and bits of its mother's body parts.

At one point Godfrey said, "Something isn't right. Let's look a bit more." He drove around the site, moving further out with each sweep. He stopped the Land Rover when he spotted other remains. He was more upset than that usual and I asked why? He shook his head as he answered, "It's not something I like to talk about because I am pretty sure this was not an animal kill but the result of poaching." He then went on to teach us the signs - in an animal kill the chest/ribs would be left and none were at this site, the mother and the baby were too far apart to have been an animal kill, the fetus would have been eaten as well, etc. He was visibly upset. Animal kills are one thing, poaching is another.

At this particular camp we had a local representative, Samilla, who rode with us on each outing. She was there to represent her community and make sure no animals or the environment were jeopardized by our expeditions. Godfrey and Samila talked among themselves and then she called the information in to her superiors. The site was noted. They would investigate.

The reality is that poachers are winning. It is a major problem in Africa's national parks. Some is done to supply food but most is done for the horns of animals or to sell as meat. The parks are huge and the staff is small - some are caught but most are not. At this point, the rhino population is diminishing to such an extent that its future is most precarious. We were all saddened as we drove away.

#2 The Leopard at the Lufupa River in Zambia
At our third camp on the Lufupa River we saw a leopard that had killed a wart hog. Four of us who had been fishing on the river got there later than the others so we did not see the actual kill but saw her eating the remains of the wart hog. She had dragged part of the body up a tree so she could eat it away from other predators.

Of course, this is Anna's photo.  Can you see the wart hog "meat" in the crook of the branches?

Because I couldn't recognize the wart hog (it was just a bloody mess of meat) I found it a bit easier to view. What WAS fascinating was to watch her behavior as 4 Land Rovers moved in to watch (our two plus two others from another camp). Each time a new Land Rover moved in, she would look over, note it, move the meat a bit closer and then ignore us. Eventually she had her fill and moved down the tree, around the base and then moved off into the scrub. The great photo of the leopard from the previous entry (again Anna's) was shot after we had left her to start our ride back to camp and then spotted her again at the side of the road. At that point it was dark. Oh, what the heck, I'll just post it again. That Anna, she's good!

#3 The Leopard at Okavanga Delta in Botswana
This kill was heartbreaking. We spotted the leopard in the early morning (had followed its tracks from the morning "newspaper read") and watched in delight as the leopard mother licked her sweet infant. We must have watched for 10 minutes when suddenly Godfrey cleared his throat and said, "Something isn't right."

Again, from Anna's camera.  Do you see the baby at the bottom?

By this point we had learned to listen closely to what he had to say. He asked us to watch the baby's response. We watched - and saw nothing - a mother licking a baby as we have all seen mother cats do with their kittens. He kept shaking his head. "The baby isn't moving," he said, "Something is wrong. I think the baby is dead." We turned on him as one to counter with, "No, she wouldn't do that." "Yes, she would," he said, "She is hoping to bring it back to life. We need to go look around. See what has happened." And with that we drove off to investigate the immediate environment and found the story in the sands of the savanna. Godfrey pointed out the place where a lion had caught the baby (he showed us the tracks), killed it and left it. The lion didn't want it for food but to kill off future predators, future competition - that is why the body was left whole. The mother had either been hunting herself so wasn't there to protect her infant or was present but couldn't take on the lion. Whichever scenario, after the lion left she dragged the dead body of her infant back to the tree where we saw her - we could follow the drag marks in the sand - and then she tried to revive the baby.

It was too much. Babies are perhaps the sweetest part of life; they are meant to be cherished, nourished, loved. No parent should have to go through this - leopard, human or even nasty lions. I don't care if it is a "jungle out there." It was too much.

I wept - quietly - but I wept.

The Animals of the Savanna

It is really hard to put into words my experiences with the animals of the African savanna. I have always appreciated zoos. I am in year 24 as a volunteer (albeit probably operating from the longest distance) at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. I have always had pets. There is no question that animals play an important role in my life. Having said that, I can also state that nothing prepared me for the sensation of suddenly coming face to face with giraffes sauntering across the road in front of me. Nothing. I was speechless.

My photo - no pink tinge this time - just an odd blue section on the right.  GRRRR.

No, that's wrong. When I actually spotted my very first animal, an elephant, who was happily chomping tree branches by the side of the road on which we were traveling from the airport to our first camp, I was anything but speechless. I jumped up and down on my seat, squealed, "Elephant!" while simultaneously pointing and frantically jabbing my cousin in the seat beside me. As one, the others in the group turned on me and said, in a most disapproving tone, "SSSSHHHHH". * They had spent the previous 5 days at Kruger National Park in South Africa (a pre-trip that my cousin Pattie and I had not taken) and knew the proper safari etiquette. I was CLEARLY a novice and needed to LEARN THE RULES! So, all of you reading this, learn from me. You never know when you might need them.

Rule #1 - Stay quiet around the animals. Duh, the reason is obvious. Sudden noise will make them flee. Or turn on you. Neither is desirable.

Rule #2 - Do not stick any body part outside of the open-sided Land Rover. We were in parks where animals are protected. They are not injured or harmed by these Land Rovers. The animals know this and, as long as you stay inside the shape of the Land Rover (from their perspective), they won't bother you. But if you are foolish enough to stick a hand out, suddenly stand up or put a leg over the edge - all bets are off. You may be attacked.

Okay, I found this one harder to believe. Really? They could smell us but would not attack if we stayed inside the open vehicle in which we were bouncing over the savanna? I mean, look at this photo - we are clearly visible to any animal nearby. Nice morsels. Easy access. Dinner.

Let's look at it from another perspective - here we are looking out from the Land Rover at the elephants - the lines at the top of the photo are the roof struts of the van.  We were VERY close - and the animals left us alone.

So, yes, the rule appears valid. The only three times we were ever in danger was when we did not follow this rule. But more about these particular incidents in another entry. Let me just say they put the word ADVENTURE in our Overseas Adventure Tour.

Rule #3 - If you have to go to the bathroom, wait for guides to check behind the bush that you intend to use. One never knows what might be back there.

Rule #4 - If walking across the savanna, walk in single file.  Walking as a group is potentially intimidating to animals.

Rule #5 - If you are in a hippo area, remember anything you THINK might be a big stone may be a sleeping hippo. Avoid.

Rule #6 - Don't trust baboons or monkeys - they'll be inside your tent in a nanosecond if there is anything of interest. They will destroy your belongings while searching for whatever enticed them in.

Rule #7 - And speaking of baboons, don't step in baboon dung - you can't get the smell out of your shoes. You'll have to throw them away.

Rule # 8 - Don't be on foot after sunset.  Once the sun goes down the hunter may become the hunted. The cats are out and looking for dinner.

Rule #9 - If danger approaches, circle your guide and make sure one of you runs slower than he does.  Ah, a little guide humor thrown in.

Okay, once we understood the rules, we were ready to venture onto the savanna. And it was exquisite. The animals are most active in the early morning and near sunset so that is when our two animal drives were scheduled each day. In the morning we bounced along, wrapped in layers under warm blankets; in the late afternoon we had shed most of the layers but had some ready to put back on as the sun began to set.

The Land Rovers held 10 passengers and 1 driver/guide.  We were a group of 15 - 8 in one Land Rover, 7 in the other. To get in you had to climb up the side of the vehicle to reach the higher seats in the back. You threw one leg up on a ridge over the wheels then worked your way up the side, putting your feet onto little platforms while swinging from the roof struts. You then swung yourself into your seat of choice. I was enchanted - it was just like the monkey bars I loved in Kindergarten.

Once we were all in place, off we went, careening down roads that twisted and turned in the savanna and scrub forest.

It was most interesting when we hit deep sand.

The driver threw the car into 4-wheel drive so that we could swim through the sand. It reminded me of driving over the first snowfall on Connecticut roads BEFORE Gary and I had put on our snow tires.

What was so interesting was that, if you stopped and looked, animals were actually everywhere, even big ones.  Giraffes are huge but their mottling matches the scrub forest. Someone would quietly (see rule #1 above) whisper "Giraffe at 4 o'clock" and sure enough, there was a giraffe, tall as could be, munching away on trees in which he blended. Although, of course with anything like this, once you saw it, how could you NOT see it?

Same with elephants.  I know, impossible, you say but it was true.  It was winter, the trees were bare and many had been damaged by elephants passing by. But, from a distance, a gray elephant could blend in with the sparse trees.

It took my breath away when we turned onto a new path, or the savanna suddenly opened up in front of us, and there they were.

And we got so close:

And not just zebras, but giraffes, elephant, lions leopards, and so on.

This is Anna's photo of the solitary lion.  She is a wonderful photographer.  She may have used her zoom for this particular photo but we got this close to lions on our outings.  See rule #2 above - it DID work.

It was this experience that most stunned me.  I could not believe how close we were to this mother and her cubs.  By the way, let's look at two photographers (and 2 cameras) - the photo above is Anna's. Let's look at my photo of the same scene.

I was using my very limited zoom - we were very close to these animals - but look at the quality of Anna's photo compared to mine. Do you even know what animals are in my photo? There are many reasons why I love Anna - she is a wonderful person to begin with, she takes excellent photos AND she shares them willingly.

We sat in our Land Rovers for 30 minutes watching this group of lions. There were 3 lionesses and 9 cubs. What was so amazing is that the lionesses absolutely ignored us - when we drove up, as we stayed in place, when we revved up our engines to leave whereas whenever we made any noise at all, 9 pairs of cub ears poked up above the grass and 9 pairs of cub eyes stared in wonder. Made me realize the Rule #2 really DOES work. One wonders how soon the cubs will learn to ignore us.

On our late afternoon outings we often visited water holes - great place to see herds of animals gathered together.

Too many to count.

There, now you can see my zoom capacity (or lack thereof). In the photo above this one - no zoom - in fact, note the hat of the person who sat by me in the bottom left corner.  The photo immediately above - same shot but the greatest extent of my zoom.  Not much.

I simply sat in wonder as I watched parades of elephants. They are majestic.

And, of course, the grandmother in me was thrilled whenever we saw babies - and we saw them all - giraffes, zebras, elephants, antelopes, wart hogs, hippos, etc but none got my maternal juices flowing as much as baby elephants.

It is trite to call a lion regal but they ARE as they glide across the savanna. I held my breath - somewhat in fear because we were so very close - but also in awe.  The same is true of leopards.

Another one of Anna's photos

The animals were amazing.

I felt privileged to have a front row seat.

* I deserved to be SSSHHHHHHed and didn't mind it at all, given that it came from members of a simply wonderful group of travelers who I know well. We traveled together in late December 2010 - mid January 2011 in Jordan and Egypt (we left Egypt 10 days before their revolution broke out). Many of the group members have known each other for more than 40 years. My cousin Pattie and I are relative newcomers and consider ourselves lucky to be part of this group. What a simply wonderful time we had bouncing over the savanna.  We travel together to Turkey next year. Can't wait.