a dry spell in the rainy season

Giant Baobab in full bloom at Savute (elephant on the left)

It is interesting to live in a place so driven by the weather. While in the States we might check the weather forecast to see if we need to bring an umbrella or wear a heavier sweater, here how much it has rained, if it has rained; if it’s going to rain, if he hasn’t; when it might rain, if it’s been a long time; and which road to take, if it has rained…these are the dominant conversations around town, especially during a dry spell in the rainy season.

A couple weeks back we headed out to the Chobe National Park for a week of camping so Paul could so some mapping for the Wild Life Department and the Anti-Poaching Unit. Any excuse to get out in the bush works for me! We spent our first couple of nights camping on the Savute channel and were amazed at the number of elephants and diversity of birdlife.

Our campsite on the Savute Channel

Elephants in the Savute Channel

Knobbed Bill Ducks

Paul with Carmine bee eater escorts

Despite the heat of the rainy season, there are things to love about Botswana this time of year. One of my favorites is the influx of migratory birds. Specifically, it is hard to match the joy of a carmine bee eater escort. As one drives through the grassy fields in Savute, stirring up bugs as you go, out of nowhere appears the most colorful bee eaters that swoop and swerve all around the vehicle to catch rustled up bug snacks. Evidence of pure joy spreads across our faces! And just as mysteriously as they appear, they disappear, satisfied with their catch.

A closer view of carmines

 

After Savute we head north toward the Chobe River Front for a few nights stay up that way. Chobe is known for its stunning river front drives, abundance of elephants and diversity of wildlife. Because this rainy season had started out strong (although had recently experienced a two-week dry spell), we suspect that the wildlife may have moved off to graze and drink in other areas. We are shocked by what we find!

Biodiversity on the Chobe River Front

 

Mid-day one afternoon we are overwhelmed by the number of elephants, giraffes and impala we see in the flood plain. The waters have receded to just an outline of the river and the plains are rich with green grasses. Looking out as we come down toward the river front drive we see, literally, thousands of elephants. Apparently the dry spell has caused the herds to come back to the river front to drink and graze and frolic in the mud. The elephants are rolling in it, digging in it, pushing their siblings down into it. While I know one is not supposed to anthropomorphize animals, they certainly look like they are having fun to me! Even a typically stoic Cape buffalo (one of the most dangerous animals in Africa) enjoys a good mud bath. 

A typically stoic Cape buffalo

Must be casual Friday?

Sable on the Chobe flood plains

Patiently waiting vultures

On another afternoon, while in the park we notice an unusual scene. There are several vehicles stopped to investigate what the vultures are waiting for. When an animal has been killed, vultures typically wait their turn perched up in trees until whomever has made the kill is finished. Climbing to the top of our vehicle we see three adult female lions and five cubs. On further investigation we realize that what they've killed is a cow that has crossed over from the Namibian side of the Chobe River. This is a bit of a contested area in that there is wildlife on the Botswana side but cattle on the Namibian side. A cow crossing into the national park is pretty much "dead meat" and the lions have decided, "beef, it's what's for lunch!"

Looking back across the river we notice three Namibians sitting on the banks of the river. We suspect that it was their cow and they are waiting until the tourists leave to cross over and seek revenge. While it might seem risky to kill a lion for killing a cow, Southern Africans LOVE their cows is a way that is hard to explain. A person's wealth is often measured in cows. "Labola" or bride price is often paid in cows. We worry for the lions' safety.

As we are watching, a small family of elephants rush in to push off the lions (perhaps they are concerned for the well-being of their own young; all but one of the adults runs off), the anti-poaching unit outfitted in camouflage and automatic weapons whizzes by. We flag them down and explain the situation. After some cajoling, a couple of them grudgingly agree to see what the Namibians are up to. When they return after speaking with them, they explain that the three are simply "waiting for the lions to cross again" which, of course, is illogical because the lions did not cross the first time (the cows crossed to the Botswana side - there is no way a cow carcass could have been dragged back across the river, up a hill and at least 100 meters toward the treeline). We fear a conflict of interest as these Batswana love their own cows as much as the Namibians do. 

Our dirty, dirty vehicle

On our return trip back through Savute we encounter the fall out of a return of the rains. A day or so prior to our return, the area received over 60 mm (~2.5 inches) of rain in one night. What this means for our drive is a long slow mud filled ride up over humps in the sand and splashing plunges into an endless number of mud puddles of varying depths. Fortunately we meet an acquaintance on the road from Maun (headed to Zambia) who advises that we take the road to the left as opposed to the one to the right (where he describes long stretches (over 100 meters) of flooded areas with water up over the bonnet or “hood” in American parlance). The left road proves passable and we race to set up camp before the black skies of an imminent thunderstorm open up to bucket more rain down on us. We are successful and hunker down in the tent with a bottle of red wine, sleeve of crackers and some cheese to enjoy the (mostly) dry inside of the tent (we had a couple leaky corner seams after several hours of rain). When it finally passes we are greeted by a beautiful double rainbow that we will have to remember in our minds since we could not fully capture it in pictures. 

Double rainbow over the Savute Channel

Just a few stories from a (temporary) dry spell in the middle of the rainy season.

Christmas in the Kalahari

Me and the newly painted vehicle

Lest you be left with the impression from the last entry (about the puff adder under the tent) that there’s nothing to enjoy about the Kalahari at Christmas, let me tell you a few more stories about our recent camping trip. Despite the heat (and the fact that our new air conditioner in the vehicle broke on the first day), uninvited snakes and additional pain created by banging around in the bush (I’m really not sure the neurosurgeon who advised that bouncing around in a safari vehicle wouldn’t make things worse has ever really experienced Botswana roads), we enjoyed our time during our Christmas travels.

Kalahari Christmas Tree - loaded with weavers' nests

Storms brewing - CKGR

The Kalahari is stunning in the raining season as the pans that are normally dry and desolate without a stitch of grass during most of the year are bursting with new green grasses and an abundance of veld flowers. Driving along you encounter burst of aromatic scents like cinnamon or nutmeg from fields of flowers which looked to be part of the “forget me not” family. Off in the distance you’d see a flash of red or yellow and walk over to find flame lilies, pin cushion lilies or Chinese lanterns.

 

aromatic flowers of the Kalahari

flame lily

 Many animals have babies at the beginning of the rainy season so as to ensure their greater likelihood of survival and we saw baby wildebeest (see the shaky video of the rambunctious young wildebeest), jackal and bat-eared fox. Adult jackals and bat-eared fox are some of the cutest things you’ll find in the Kalahari and their babies are even cuter! We spent one late afternoon in Qwee pan watching a jackal family of seven frolicking around searching for dinner. Siblings running at full speed to dive bomb each other while parents viewed us cautiously ensuring we were no threat to their offspring.

Curious jackal pup

Baby bat-eared fox

Our first night staying in Deception Pan we are serenaded to sleep by the calls of three male lions. When we woke in the morning we rushed off to see if we could find any of them. But…as per my theory about looking for lions (i.e. I don’t think you ever actually find a lion when you’re looking for one. Only when you’re not looking for one, do you see them.), once we’ve given up all hope of finding a lion, we find one swaggering down the road in the opposite direction of where we thought we heard them the night before. He is a stunner! Full mane. Full belly. In beautiful shape with very few battle scares. I like to think that he might be the grown up version of the very sad young male lion we saw several times in the CKGR a few years back. He had the most pitiful look in his eyes as he waited by the water hole for his dinner to show up (like waiting for pizza delivery). He had several safaris in the Kalahari that year and kept running into him. I’m hoping the lion we saw this trip is him. Well fed. Confident. At peace with getting kicked out of the pride as a mere adolescent.

Our days are hot (Kalahari hot!) and we literally try to lie low during the hottest parts. By late afternoon we are ready to go explore a bit and look for a nice pan area to enjoy the sundown and our traditional African “sun downer” (a beverage of choice to enjoy while the sun is going done). There is nothing quite like an African sunset and I feel “at home” while watching the 360 degree panorama of Technicolor beauty. At night we are visited by all sorts of creatures including the ever terrifying solifugae (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solifugae) – which I will never get a picture of because 1) they move too fast and B) they are really creepy and I usually run in the other direction when I see one. 

Joining us for sundowners

 

Kalahari Sunset

 On Christmas day we find a coolish place to stop under a tree for lunch. As we’re setting up, a huge truck full of people pulls up (literally a truck you’d load large cargo in the back that is filled with people). The three men in the front jump out and explain that they are showing a group of deaf people from all over Botswana the Kalahari. Interested in who Paul is and his work with the bushmen in the 1970s one of them signs to the group about who we are and specifically Paul’s work in the Kalahari. As we’re leaving, I ask how to wish them a Merry Christmas and their translator shows us. I then proceed to spell out Merry Christmas using the sign language alphabet, which I think I learned in 7^th grade. They are very impressed and wave their hands in the air to express their joy. They then ask our names and I spell them out for them. Who knew my minimal signing skills would come in handy in the Central Kalahari??

My nemesis - the tent chewing tree mouse

One night I am thoroughly tormented by a tree mouse (who’s actually kind of cute if you can get past the annoying; I swear he sounded much bigger than he looked). I woke from my drug induced slumber (the nerve pain meds I’m on usually knock me on my butt) to the scurrying of little feeties on the tent. I look out the front screened door and see what looks like a body with a tail. Am I losing my mind? Perhaps hallucinating? And then it moves (maybe that’s who the puff adder in the previous entry was looking for). All night long he scurries and nibbles and scratches. Really? How can something that small make that much noise? Paul, of course, has blissfully slept through all of it. Despite my waking him to ask what to do if it chewed through the tent and fell on us. In the morning, as we’re taking down the tent, we find him on top of the tent under the rain cover. My nemesis. The creature that will add to my crankiness all day (on top of the heat and the pain, now we have lack of sleep – kind of a bad combination!).

perhaps moving a bit slower these days, but moving...

Many of you have asked about my neck since I’ve return to Africa. For those of you who don’t know, about three days before I was to fly back to Botswana I was diagnosed with degenerative disk disease. Four of seven bulging disks, spinal stenosis (or narrowing of spinal column), osteophytes (or bone spurs), radiculopathy (or damage or disturbance to the nerve roots that causes pain) and while the neurosurgeon announced that it wasn’t the “worst neck he’d ever seen”…he said it was pretty bad. We debated a bit about what this meant for my travel plans and ultimately decided that, if I thought I could manage the pain, I could travel. So here I am…traveling.

I’m doing a lot of stretching and trying to correctly sit, lie and stand to try to alleviate the pain along with taking lots of meds. Nothing really seems to help much or make it hurt worse. What does seem to alleviate some of the pain is traction and while the over the door traction contraption I came with doesn’t really do the trick, Paul is pretty good at pulling my head with a towel as I lie on the bed. Lying flat also helps which I’ve been doing a lot of lately but I’m not sure quite how that will work on study away. I’ve also recently found a physiotherapist (what they call physical therapists here) and she has been doing massage, ultrasound, traction, etc. and I’m hoping that will help. Paul suggested a new line of work of “mattress tester” (he thought that was quite funny) but I think I’ll stick to what I’m doing for now.

In the long run there will probably be surgeries (yes, with an ‘s’). But for now…I’m managing (although I did upgrade myself to “economy comfort” for the return flight back in April – the flight over was excruciating and I’m hoping a bit more of a seat incline will help and perhaps far more pain meds than I took on the flight over). As many of you well know, you’ve got to do the best you can with the hand you’ve been dealt.

PS: I failed to mention we also saw three cheetahs in the CKGR. One sitting near a watering hole then wandering off crying for his/her friends (see the shaky video below - kind of sounded like a house cat!). A short drive later we saw two more. Hope they found each other. 

"BIG ASS SNAKE! Move Paul! He's Coming Your Way"

Our once peaceful campsite in Qwee Pan

We are sitting peacefully in a very remote section of the Central Kalahari Game Reserve where we spent a week over the Christmas break when, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the biggest puff adder I’ve ever seen (~4 feet long!). I sprint from my chair leaving one of my sandals behind as Paul leaps from his picking up his sandals to catapult at the creature as it makes its way…under our tent!

What ensues over the next 45 minutes is the stuff dreamed up in childhood nightmares as we debate who will go in the tent to try to find him under the flooring and try to push him out and who will stay outside the tent and make sure he goes a far enough distance away. I opt for the inside and, armed with a dust pan and broom, begin to feel around the bottom of the tent for the giant deadly creature. Paul cautions, “Don’t step too hard, you might squish him.” (Really? This is not my primary concern!). It’s like a freakish Halloween party when you’re blindfolded and stick your hands in a bowl of peeled grapes and are told they’re eyeballs.

Feeling…feeling…is that it? Feels like a stick or root until…it wiggles!!! I had no idea snake spines were so...hard. Right underneath my hands is this meaty spiny bulk that slithers its way to the very remote corner of the tent where it balls itself up, wedged against the tent pole. I slam down the dust pan by his side and use it as a barrier so he can’t go any farther into the tent. Now…we’re at a stalemate. Despite my pushing and tapping and trying to lift the tent from the inside, he will NOT budge. We debate our options. This goes on for some time. I’m ready to abandon camp, go home and buy a new tent. He can have this one.

Ultimately we decide the only way to get him out is to have Paul try to lift up the corner pole (which means he has to get pretty close to where the snake is) and I have to push him out. Armed with only a tent pole and shovel Paul tries to lift the corner (which is under a good amount of tension as the four poles of the dome tent rely on tension to keep the dome tent erect). Unable to see from the inside, with the momentary chaos of pushing and lifting we manage to get him out but unfortunately…he doesn’t go far.

Uninvited Puff Adder Guest

He’s tucked himself at the base of a tree about three feet away from the tent. Much too close for comfort. Despite Paul’s efforts to convince him to move, each time he does, the snake tries to come closer to the tent, not farther away. Unfortunately this is a TWO person job and there are only two of us out here (in my mind I cry, “But I have a PhD” which I often cry to myself in these African circumstances just to remind myself how useless that is!!). We’ve taped together the tent poles so they don’t fall apart in our new positions as “bush snake warriors”. Paul hands me the shovel for extra protection and we begin to try to convince him to “bugger off” (as they would say in English influenced African parlance).

Paul, "Bush Snake Warrior"

Paul pokes and I shout in slight hysteria, “He’s coming back this way.” Scooping him up with the tent pole Paul flings him away from the tent one, two, three times only to have him attempt to make a speedy retreat back to the safety of the tent. Finally, we manage to get him a safe distance from the tent where he coils up, breathing heavily wondering what the heck just happened. It's been a stressful day for all involved.

When the excitement dies down, I feel like I’m going to be sick (which is what always happens in circumstances like this for me – as I’ve mentioned before. The good news is…I don’t panic in a crisis). For hours after I suffer from what Latino populations call “susto” – a folk illness said to be caused by a sudden fright. I’m so relieved that I wasn’t lying flat on the ground on a camping mat, which I had been doing at our previous campsites to relieve my neck pain, but here the biting ants were too overwhelming to be that close to the ground.

 

My normal pose for neck pain relief

War Wound

On such an occasion we review our emergency exit strategy. Do I know how to dial the satellite phone? Do I know who I can call? Can I find our location (in degrees, minutes, and seconds) on the new GPS? Can I drive well enough to get us out of here? Puff adders are cytotoxic meaning “cell destroying” so it damages tissue. Basic first aid – pressure bandage but no tourniquet. They are one of the deadliest snakes in Africa.

We watch him carefully for several hours after the incident but when we go off to the pan for sun downers (that night calls for a gin and tonic!), he is gone when we return. For the next 24 hours until we pack up camp, I keep a vigil for P. Diddy*, which I’ve come to call him, but we see no sign of him.

The irony of ironies is that for Christmas this year, I have bought Paul a Gentle Giant Snake Remover. Sadly, we left it at home because, "Who needs a snake remover in the bush?"

More to come on our trip in the next entry.

*While I thought this was quite hysterical to call him, “P. Diddy”, “Puff Daddy” and “Sean John” for those of you who don’t understand the reference, here’s a Wikapedia link for Sean Combs that might help - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sean_Combs. Don’t feel bad, I had to explain it to Paul too.