Mindful in the Botswana Bush

 

While many people took up new hobbies during the pandemic, making bread or knitting, I decided to cultivate my mindfulness and practice meditation. It started with a daily 10-minute meditation with the Calm app and evolved into an 8-week Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) course over the Thanksgiving/Christmas/New Year holidays that met weekly for 2.5 hours, required daily hour-long meditations and culminated in a full day silent guided retreat. While it doesn’t sound that difficult to do a 45-minute body scan, just laying/sitting and “doing nothing” can be tricky. My mind is busy. I think about the past and plan for the future and just being here now can be a real challenge.

 

But on a recent Sunday trip into Moremi Game Reserve, it dawned on me that when we go to the bush we are routinely mindful. We are obviously intentionally looking for animals while driving and Moremi did not disappoint. While it was difficult to navigate the road network, because of the high rains many of the main “roads” (and by that I mean dirt tracks) are flooded, we made our way and saw many animals – zebras, elephants, giraffe, etc.

 

But mindfulness is more than just seeing, it is hearing the sounds of the birds and the wind in the trees as we find a quiet spot to have our lunch.

 

It is feeling the temperature changes over the course of a winter day that starts in the 40s and ends in the 80s, peeling off layers of clothing as the day progresses and adding them back on as evening falls.

 

It’s the full body nature of driving in the bush, feet used for clutch, gas pedal and brakes, arms for navigating your way around bushes and forcing the Land Cruiser into 4x4 when we hit heavy sand. It’s the full body experience of bumping down a calcrete road that has not been maintained due to a lack of tourists (every few months they normally drive a grader down the road to smooth out the corrugation but it seems like it hasn’t been done in a VERY long time). There so much jostling and bumping that my Fitbit insisted I did ~27,000+ steps that day despite the fact that I rarely left the passenger seat.

 

It’s the smells I wish I could replicate – the cat pee smelling wild sage, the sweet smell of elephant dung…

 

We can sit quietly for a very long time and watch ellies (what we call elephants) drinking and enjoying a mud bath. We listen to the sloshing and slurping as they make their way through the flood plain.

 

In addition to large things, like elephants and giraffes, we appreciate the small things like a baby sand grouse the size of a silly putty egg.

 

On the way back to Maun we see a stranded vehicle on the side of the road. The rattling roads have worn a hole in a pipe to the radiator and they cannot start their vehicle. We offer to tow the vehicle, guide and two Swiss tourists to the buffalo fence (a fence that divides the wildlife from the cattle). Here Paul performs his best “MacGyver” act and temporarily repairs the pipe using some glue, a thorn from a tree, an abandoned toilet paper roll and some duct tape. We follow them to make sure they arrive at their destination in one piece.

 

The last sighting of the day before the sun sets is a pack of wild dogs emerging from the bushes just off the side of the road. We are especially grateful for this sighting because we know that if we had just continued home without helping the stranded travelers, we would have never seen them. Thanks for that bonus sighting universe, it was much appreciated. It’s always good to be mindful, and grateful, in the bush.

 The Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

---- Wendell Berry, The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry

PS: I love to read your comments but please be sure to sign your name so I know who the comment is from. Thanks for sharing this journey with me.

 

A long-awaited return, just in the nick of time.

The trip back was less cumbersome than we feared it might be. The information (and misinformation) overload BEFORE we traveled was very stressful and difficult to navigate. We called Embassies, airlines, airports, etc. trying to get clarification and searching for certainty. For example, the Saturday before we flew, we got an email from KLM saying we needed 3 tests to transit through Amsterdam, the first of which had to be FIVE days BEFORE travel (we were at four days before travel when the email arrived). 

In the end, we had THREE PCR tests. One free at the Department of Health in Greenville, SC on Sunday (to make sure it was back in time to board the plane on Tuesday - a challenge was that no one would guarantee a less than 24-hour turnaround time on the PCR test, most stated a 24-48 hour window). We had a second one at a private lab in Greenville, SC ($185 for two tests) on Monday morning at 8 AM (while they would not guarantee a turnaround of less than 24-48 hours, we had heard their turnaround time was quick and had the first appointment of the day). This one had a date, time, lab, result and was in color (we also had a friend notarize it for good measure but I'm not sure that was necessary).  

We flew on Tuesday, May 11 (Greenville to Atlanta to Amsterdam to Johannesburg) - a LONG two days but the plane from Amsterdam was ~20% full so we both got to lie down to sleep for a few hours. It was physically tough to be in a mask for ~30 hours and mentally tough to think about getting back onto another 11-hour flight after getting off a 9-hour one. Ugh! We arrived around 9:30 PM on Tuesday night and overnighted in Johannesburg (we always stay at the Aviator Hotel and we needed to call for the shuttle to come get us because it was not running as it typically does every 30 minutes). On Thursday, we boarded our SAA Airlink flight to Maun (using the now outdated Sunday free PCR test just to see if they would accept it, and they did - the check-in desk clerk even counted to 3 on her fingers, despite the fact we were on day 4, go figure). 

 

Maun was another story. When we got off the plane, we were escorted to an area outside the newly renovated airport and seated in an area where staff took our (very long and completed) health forms and collected our Monday PCR test. While we didn't try to use the one from Sunday, she did look at it thoroughly, so I think the date/time mattered here. We were then ushered to our THIRD and final PCR rapid test where a man, whom I hoped had been properly trained, administered the most painful PCR test to date going WAY too far up my nose until I shouted in pain (which made him stop, my advice...shout sooner!). From here we were moved to another outside, yet not socially distanced, holding area to wait for the results. When our number was called, we were allowed to proceed to passport control/customs with our negative results. All told, that process was ~45 minutes.  

We completed more forms in advance of flying than needed. We filled out one online form for the Atlanta airport in case we needed a rapid test there for Amsterdam. There was an additional health screening before boarding to Amsterdam (maybe they check the online form then??). We also filled out a health from for Amsterdam, but they didn't ask for it at their screening. We submitted an online form for South Africa but then filled out the same paper form on the plane and handed it to officials (thinking it would take longer to look it up online). 

So, the long and the short of it is, it took longer but went smoothly. And it was just in the nick of time. On May 17 the Botswana government announced that the Indian variant has been detected in country and therefore they issued NEW mandatory quarantine for people traveling from high risk areas. That’s right, had we waited four days longer, we would have been quarantined in a government designated facility at our cost for 10 days (or at least that’s what the government document seems to suggest, who knows for sure). 

Fortunately, we have been happily reunited with Spike (the “dog that’s not our dog”) and Lee (the stray that showed up a few years back and now lives here, so is probably “our dog”). Our days begin with the sounds of African birds – grey lorries, mourning doves, horn bills, all beckoning us from outside to start our day. We enjoy our coffee alongside the ostriches which come for breakfast just on the other side of the fence. We’ve been doing twice daily walks around the farm with the dogs on a ~1.5-mile loop kept clear by Joe, the Zimbabwean farm manager who watched over our property in our absence. On these walks we often see impala in bachelor herds (all male groups) or a harem (one male with all his “lady friends”}. We make our way down to the river which is currently full of rain water. Apparently, the flood that comes down from Angola is expected to be small (typically fills the dry river bed in June). Our days are filled with cleaning and organizing our house that has been largely abandoned for the last 14 months. We are grateful to the village of Paul’s friends that have been checking in on things and making sure termites don’t eat the house entirely in our absence.

It is quiet. Few planes fly overhead because few tourists are coming to lodges in the Okavango Delta. The drying leaves on the trees rustle as winter approaches. Occasionally I hear boat traffic on the river. There aren’t as many ringing bells on the necks of cows and donkeys. Did they end up someone’s dinner in the pandemic when resources got tight? A full grown, rather scrawny looking tree squirrel (compared to American grey squirrels), jumps from a tree to our metal roof and scampers into the attic space where I think he and his extended family now live.  A fish eagle calls, a sound that always reminds me of Africa. I catch a glimpse of a gecko sneaking behind a framed picture on the wall out of the corner of my eye. My husband’s soul smiles. It is good to be back after such a long-awaited return, just in the nick of time.

“Beautiful, beautiful. Magnificent desolation.”

Our vehicle at sundown, Deception Pan

This is a quote from NASA astronaut Buzz Aldrin as he followed Neil Armstrong onto the moon’s surface.  The same can be said for the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR), one of our favorite places in Botswana. The views take you as far as your eyes can see in every direction. Sunsets and rainstorms are both equally spectacular. "Beautiful, beautiful. Magnificent desolation."

Paul's long shadow, CKGR

Herd of springbok with looming storm

Kalahari sunset

Due to the drought that has impacted much of Botswana for the last year, the animal populations were much smaller than we have seen on past trips. Normally when driving down into Deception Valley you come across green grasses similar to a golf course teeming with wildlife. This time we gasped in shock at the dryness. Talk about desolation! Isolated rains graced some areas (Tau Pan, Hoodia Pan) bringing much needed pools of water and green grasses for the animals.

But no matter what the conditions, the CKGR does not disappoint. One evening we are treated to the site of a bat-eared fox family out for their evening dinner on the pan. The little ones ran and frolicked as they search for bugs. 

 

Frolicking bat-eared fox

The entire bat-eared fox family out for dinner

Kori bustards strut their stuff while trying to attract a mate. Like the “cock of the walk” they march with head crest flipped forward, tail feathers raised up like a turkey and throat sack all puffed out. They boom a low guttural moan as they do a dignified high-step. We were lucky enough to see a mating dance between two where they bizarrely thrust their beaks into each other’s beak and circled around in a coordinated “give and take” that resembled a tango. We also saw two puffed up males in a face off, where the dominant one confronted the subordinate fellow pushing him off from the area. The loser sulked off with his crest deflated and tail down in a more typical non-mating posture.

Kori bustard in typical fashion

Strutting male kori bustard trying to attract a mate

We also saw Kalahari classics like gemsbok and wildebeest (and some babies). Giraffe crossing the pan and heading toward the trees at sunset. And my favorite – jackals. One poor little guy was attempting to seek shade in the non-existent shadow of a tiny barren bush. I just love their almond shaped eyes. 

Gemsbok 

Wildebeest

Giraffe (notice how dry the valley is...no grass!)

Jackal seeking non-existent shade

And we got lucky... a group of three male lions as their daytime nap ended and evening prowl began.  

The purpose of our recent trip was, however, a bit weightier than simply hanging HATAB (Hotel and Tourism Association of Botswana) signs and spending a few days in the bush. We traveled with the intent of spreading some of the ashes of two people dear to our hearts, Paul’s brother Tom and my Furman colleague and friend, David Redburn. As we made our way to three of our favorite locations in the CKGR we reflected on their well-lived lives and the lessons we could take from them.

       1. Live your life adventurously. Both Tom and David lived lives of adventure. Tom and his wife Pat even traveled around the world TWICE! Saving up, then quitting their jobs they embarked on two yearlong "around the world" trips. In addition to that they typically took at least one big trip a year often to see their beloved European castles. We have traveled to both France and Greece with them and Paul’s sisters Connie.  Taking public transportation and finding a room with a balcony view are two of my favorite lessons learned from their years of world travel. David and his wife Deb were avid boaters, first sailboats then motorboats they ventured out to the high seas every summer and even sold their house and lived on a boat for the first few years of their retirement. 

2.       Do good work that you’re passionate about. At Furman University, David passionately taught his students with a goal of sharing the sociological imagination, not just for a grade but for a shift in life perspective. He was my closest colleague and friend in the department from the time I came to Furman until his retirement. I often thought of him as my “work husband” and things haven’t been the same since he retired.  Tom worked with troubled youth for years and put the same level of passion into his retirement “job” of running a local tennis center. After he passed, we had the opportunity to meet many of his “tennis buddies” and friends. He touched so many lives with his kind heart, Sheller sense of humor and quick wit. While I know less about his work life, I’m sure he had as much impact in that realm as he did outside of it.

3.       Love your partner well. When Paul and I first met and he asked me to marry him I sarcastically replied, “Why should we marry? Do you know anyone who is married that is truly happy?” To which he replied, “Yes, my brother Tom and his wife Pat.” I came to learn that he was not wrong. Both Tom and David had true partnerships with their spouses. As life carried on bringing with it highs and lows and ultimately sickness, the strength of their partnerships shined through and both Pat and Deb honored who their husbands were and cared for them with great compassion to the end. This could not have been easy and I respect both of these women so much for the grace, dignity and moments of humor that that they brought to this process.

In the end, both Tom and David’s lives were much shorter than anyone who knew and loved them hoped they would be but they were lives truly well-lived. Rest in Peace Tom and David. You will be missed.