First Africa Page

1 April 1998

After arriving in Johannesburg from Mauritius we spent three very hectic days getting organized for our month-long driving tour of South Africa and Namibia. Our hotel is in the suburb of Sandton, which is a district not at all typical of rest of Jo'berg in that it is new and prosperous and clean. But even in this supposedly safe neighborhood exists a pervasive sense of tension, with bars on all the windows and Uzi-packing security forces evident at every turn.

At noon on April Fool's Day we left Jo'berg in our rented Audi station wagon and drove 700 km's west through scrubby arid country to the town of Kuruman. Ten km's outside of town, and well after dark, an armed guard passed us through the gate of the Red Sands Lodge. An eland crossed in front of us as we drove down the 5km track to our bungalow.

2 April 1998

Next morning we went back into town and stopped at the Eye of Kuruman, an artesian spring that gushes 2000 gallons/minute of cold, sweet water out of a rocky outcropping. It is this spring that made possible the initial settlement of an otherwise inhospitable land.

A short way out of town is the preserved mission of Robert and Mary Moffat, who overcame incredible obstacles to establish the first mission and white settlement north of the Orange River. The inspiring story of Mary Moffat is immortalized in the book "Beloved Partner" (Kaaren and Dan both loved it). An almond tree still stands at the mission where a young David Livingstone proposed to the Moffats' daughter.

400 km's west we found a little guesthouse in Uppington. The only other resident was a gentleman from Capetown named Johann Van der Merwe. Like every other Kapstadter we met, Johann is a connoisseur of fine wines. He befriended us and took us out to dinner at a small restaurant named Le Must where we enjoyed the finest gourmet meal we've ever eaten, anytime, anywhere.

3 April 1998

First thing each day for a week now, and each morning for the next two months, we'll begin the day taking a couple of foul-tasting anti-malaria pills with breakfast.

We headed north on a dirt road into the Kalahari Desert. Along the way we came across a bushman family camped by the road, selling necklaces they make from ostrich shell, springbok horn, and porcupine quills.

280 kilometers north of Upington we entered Gemsbok-Kalahari National Park and at the reception center met ranger Belinda Mattee. Our waitress at Le Must the night before (Francesca) is a friend of Belinda's and she said we should look for her. Belinda gave us maps and told us park regulations, including the proscription against getting out of our car for any reason whatsoever for the next 180 kilometers, until we reached the fenced enclosure at Mata Mata.

Bought some ostrich and springbok biltong, gassed up, and headed north, driving right up the bed of the Aoub River. This normally dry land has been wet by intermittent heavy rains in the last couple weeks. For one day last week water flowed in the Aoub River for the first time in twenty years. The water has already disappeared, but the land is bright green with new growth, and is carpeted with brilliant yellow and pink flowers.

Right away we started seeing animals: gemsbok, blue wildebeest, springbok, ground squirrels, meerkats, ostriches. Then, right alongside the road, two cheetahs sauntered by, going nowhere very fast and seemingly oblivious to our presence. It was just past midday with the sun beating down, and after a bit the slinky cats plopped down under an acacia to wait out the heat of the day.

We continued on, stopping every few minutes when Tyler spotted a new bird. So many new and fascinating birds: Bustards, Secretary birds, Lilac-breasted Rollers, Whydas, Drongos, and many new raptors.

Twenty k's before Mata Mata we spotted a pride of six fat lionesses curled up under a tree on the hillside above the riverbed. A herd of springbok grazed unconcerned on the new grass barely a hundred meters away, somehow knowing that the predators were sated and lazy. Seeing wild lions for the first time, we were especially impressed with the awesome size of these big cats. We watched them for a half-hour, but they acted very contented and didn't do anything but occasionally yawn, lick each other and roll over from one side to the other.

We came across a bakkie in which sat a man earnestly photographing something in the branches of a thorn tree overhead. We stopped to ask what he saw and he told us to keep an eye on the sociable weaver nests right above us. Moments later a Cape Cobra slowly slithered out of one hole, searched around a bit, and crawled into another. All the weavers flitted about and scolded at the snake, but they didn't act too upset because it's not the time of year for eggs or fledglings. He wasn't likely to catch one of the adult birds, so it wasn't apparent why the hunter was going to all the trouble.

Shortly after five we pulled through the gate at Mata Mata and moved into our bungalow. If not inside the camp before the gate is locked at 1830, you're automatically assigned a very heavy fine. No one will be allowed outside until 0700 tomorrow morning. We built a camelthorn fire in the braai out back and barbecued lambchops.

4 April 1998

We were ready to leave the camp when the gates were opened shortly before 0700. We drove south for a ways, then turned west to cross the dune country between the valleys of the Aoub and Nossob Rivers. It is hot, dry terrain with sparse vegetation, and besides birds and lizards all we saw were ostriches, wildebeest, springbok and gemsbok. The gemsbok are our favorite. They are big, silvery-grey antelope with beautiful black and white markings. Their long, spear-like horns make them look like they'd be a formidable prey for anything other than a concerted attack from several directions at once.

Every few kilometers back in the brush were small concrete monuments marking the frontier between Botswana and the ZAR. Contrary to the rules, we all jumped out of the car, first looking around for lions, and scampered across the sand to run around one of these monuments . . . just to say we'd been to Botswana.

We checked into the camp at Nossob, and then drove back out and headed north to explore along the riverbed. Not much new until a few kilometers from camp we drove to the top of a rise and on a far hillside Kaaren noticed a beautiful, tawny-red caracal sneaking through the bushes. It is the largest of the African small cats, weighing up to 20 kg.

Then Tyler spotted some jackals worrying the bony remains of a gemsbok which lions had killed that morning. As we watched, one-by-one, a pride of two females and two males walked out of the bush in front of us. Their bellies were so engorged that they could barely walk. It dawned on us for the first time what a tremendous effort these predators must put into not only making a kill, but in forcing down as much meat as they can possibly hold. They looked very uncomfortable, and covered only a few hundred meters before they again plopped down in the brush to rest.

05 April 1998

We woke an hour before dawn to the awesome and spine-tingling sound of lions roaring outside the camp fence. We ran down to the hide above the waterhole just in time to see the same pride of lions we'd seen leaving their kill the evening before come filing up one by one for their first drink since gorging on the gemsbok. Their bellies were still swollen and it had taken them all night to travel the six k's from their kill to the waterhole at Nossob. After drinking they plopped down on a little dune for lots of licking and grooming and then went to sleep.

From Nossob we started the 160 k drive south down the dry bed of the Nossob River, back to Twee Rivieren. Many stops along the way for viewing birds and animals. Kaaren spotted a Giant Eagle Owl in a tree alongside the road; it looks much like a horned owl, but the size of a bald eagle. At one point a beautiful two meter-long, golden-colored Cape Cobra crossed the road right in front of us. T. and D. jumped out of the car to give chase, but it slithered down a squirrel hole.

Upon arrival back at Twee Rivieren we checked in with Belinda, and as promised us several days before, she'd made arrangements for us to visit the San village of Dawid Kuiper (he played the lead role in 'The Gods Must Be Crazy'). After her shift ended at 1900 she and a co-worker named Erika climbed into our car we and headed out to the Bushman encampment.

At the camp we met Dawid and his extended family. There is little romantic to observe about the present lifestyle of this pathetic bunch who not very long ago survived so elegantly in the harsh desert environment. We sat around the cooking fire with Dawid's family while he described to us (with Belinda translating) the plight of his people . . . how they'd been denied access to the wild Kalahari when it became a national park. They wandered aimlessly, constantly harassed and jailed by the white farmers every time they unknowingly crossed onto private holdings. Finally a sympathetic landholder let them build some mud and tin shanties on his land, where they've lived since, surviving on income from beads and trinkets they sell to tourists alongside the road. Belinda has selflessly become their leading advocate in an attempt to find some remote piece of desert where they might rejuvenate their traditional lifestyle.

But still they laugh. They are gentle and friendly, welcoming and gently taking your hand in both of theirs when you first meet them. The youngsters were fascinated with Tyler, shyly touching his skin and hair. Since we left home he'd been hauling around a collection of glow-in-the-dark plastic bugs for such an occasion, and the littlest ones were ecstatic as he handed them out one-by-one. Dawid's wife, Khasa, seemed very pleased with the bag of bread, sausages and canned fruit we'd brought along for her.

Before we left, Dawid's eldest son, Ricci, dressed in loincloth and ankle rattles, performed a rain dance around the fire. Like the other young people we talked to, he places no value in formal education and says he wants only to know the skills and traditions that Dawid tries to preserve for them. But with no land available for them to wander, the juveniles are directionless and bored, and drug and alcohol abuse is rampant. It was a joyous and enlightening experience to meet these dear people, but we couldn't help feeling depressed at contemplating their apparently bleak future.

06 April 1998

Packed up and said goodbyes to Belinda and Erika. Drove 360 k's west on gravel roads across desert, crossing the border into Namibia at the small town of Rietfontein. After gassing up and lunch in Keetmanshoop we turned north on the main highway and traveled another 260 k's to Hardap Dam, where we found a small bungalow built above the lake. Scampering and chittering among the boulders between us and the lake were families of Rock Dassies, also known as hyrax. These charming, marmot-sized critters are most peculiar in that, though they look kind of ground-hoggy, they're not even remotely related to rodents. Their closest relatives are hippopotami and dugongs!

Dan had an Oryx steak for dinner. Ty had ostrich. Both were lean, tender, and tasty. South Africa and Namibia are good bargains for those with dollars to spend, and excellent meat is especially cheap. Complete dinner of a large beef filet costs only $4-5.

07 April 1998

Hardap Dam to Windhoek.

08 April 1998

A rooster in a tree outside our window woke us up at 0400. D. went outside to ask him to pipe down. Even after pelting him with rocks, he wouldn't shut up. So D. grabbed him by the neck and dragged him out of the tree, waking the whole camp in the process.

On our way out of Windhoek we stopped in town to purchase a camelbone necklace that K. had fallen in love with the day before. Then we headed north toward Etosha Park, passing through the towns of Okahandja and Outjo. Ahead of us we see puffy cumulus clouds rapidly growing vertically and darkening; looks like serious rain. We checked in through the park gates at 1530 and headed on to the main camp at Okaukuejo. Lots of game. At one point we had to stop for a baby Springbok standing in the road that froze and didn't know where to turn when he saw the car . . . lion food for sure. Upon arrival at Okaukuejo we moved into the rondavel we had reserved more than a year previously.

Thursday 09 April 1998

Spent the day cruising Etosha. We'd not seen a soul all morning until we drove down into a sandy wallow and spotted Tim and Laurel Osborne setting up antennae and electronic paraphernalia on top of their bakkie. They are wildlife biologists formerly from Alaska, retired now and working in Etosha studying Kori Bustards.

. . . a fun coincidence, Scott: for twenty years Tim was the game ranger for a large chunk of the Brooks Range that included the drainage of the Koyokuk River (where once upon a time Dan and Scott had their Great Grizzly Bear Hunt).

Friday 10 April 1998

Today we explored the country between Okaukuejo and the camp at Namutoni. Saw male lions at Goas. We still hadn't seen any elephants, though their sign was everywhere . . . ripped-off tree limbs and impressive dung piles in the road.

While taking this poop picture, a big old bull elephant came crashing out of the brush right in front of us. Naive tourists that we are, we thought could just sit and watch and that he'd ignore the presence of our car, as had all the other animals we had so far encountered. The theory is that, in this land of perpetual eat-and-be-eaten, the animals respond only to what they can eat, or might eat them. A t that juncture nobody had told us that solitary elephants and Cape Buffalo bulls were to be treated differently. When he finally deigned to notice us, this old, broken-tusked bull was only a car-length or so away. Suddenly he started trumpeting, ripping trees apart and throwing them around. We got the message and made a hasty exit.

After the elephant, our best animals of the day were little ones: Elephant shrew, Flamingos, Dwarf Mongoose. We stopped to let this beautifully-marked, lazy snake cross the road in front of us and Dan hopped out to take a picture. That evening we looked it up in our reptile book and identified it as a Puffadder, one of Africa's deadliest snakes.

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