Botswana Part 3
Before I leave this story about our time in Botswana, I have to recount one more little adventure, well in this case more of a mishap. Out in the bush at Jwala there is a campsite, the place is called Lenketa, here there is a prepared concrete base and a sizable tent. There is also a permanent structure with a storeroom, basic kitchen, a small bar. The place has a large covered eating area that, other than a low wall, is open on the sides. Opposite the eating area is a circular stone base for a raised cooking fire next to a shade tree. This is the focal point of a substantial, semicircular stone bench that can accommodate a large group.
It is a more spartan place than Jwala Lodge, but it does have the luxury of telephone-box sized outside loo a discrete distance into the bush, a place you would never tempt me to use on a dark night in Africa, any night in Africa.
One afternoon we prepared a large pot of curry to take out for an evening meal at Lenketa. We arrived before sunset, and from the storeroom, we set out the large dining table and chairs beneath the covered eating area. By nightfall the pot was on the fire, the aroma of curry filled the air, and the place was lit by the soft light of six hurricane lamps and numerous candles in glass jars. Just before we sat to eat the heavens opened with a deluge of rain. No matter, luckily by then we were dry undercover, and we enjoyed our meal. It was so pleasant there in our isolation after the rain that we lingered until late with drinks and genial conversation. Late in the evening, we washed up and packed everything away into the storeroom. With an overcast, moonless sky, we set off into the dark night to return to Jwala. We happily bumped along the track in the blackness enjoying the fresh damp atmosphere and the smell of the wet earth. Suddenly, with a stomach-wrenching drop, the vehicle squelched to a stop and stalled in a mudhole that lay camouflaged like a predator on the track. Toyota four-wheel drive or not, the wheels spun throwing up thick mud. We were well and truly stuck in a glutinous mire. We first collected branches to put under the wheels, but to no avail. A Toyota long wheel, base eleven-seater is a heavy beast, the wheels continued to spin and it sunk further into the mud. It would take more than a few twigs to get it free from the hole. In torchlight, we scavenged the surrounding area for materials. Picking up rocks and dragging away logs without first seeing what’s underneath them is a perilous business in Africa, but we had little choice. Six of us including, to their credit, the two ladies set to work in the dark. On our second attempt with more robust infill, we rocked the vehicle back and forth, the wheels spun showering everyone with thick red congealed mud. At one point, a spinning rear wheel caught on a log, rode over it, and threw it out the back with such force that it would have seriously injured one or more of our party if it had hit them. We could have left the vehicle, made our way home in the dark, and returned for it in the morning, but there were two issues against this approach. One: lumbering around in the African night, you never know what you might bump into on a nocturnal hunt. Two: it was a matter of pride that the staff at Jwala didn’t get to see us abandon the vehicle, and return on foot like a band of guileless novices defeated by a little rain. We persisted, collecting debris, heaving and groaning until exhausted and caked in mud we eventually got the vehicle free. Warily, we made our way back to Jwala along the treacherous track, tired but elated with our efforts.
And so after ten days, our Botswana adventure came to an end. On the morning we departed, the managers Keith and Angie, the four African maids, the two gardeners, and David, whose brother is also called David because his mother likes the name, came out to say goodbye. It was an emotional farewell for us because there was something extraordinarily special about what we had experienced.
Peter had been our great guide, and with no apparent need of guns for protection, we had been as close to nature as it was possible to get.
Looking back on the short time we spent in the African bush, I ponder how the experience can get so deep into a person’s psyche that it penetrates their soul. That may sound an over romanticisation, and maybe it is, it’s not an easy thing to understand unless you’ve experienced it.
When you sit under a star-filled sky so close to primordial nature, you realise how alone you are, and simply just another link in the food chain. It’s disconcerting and at the same time inspiring. I often wondered why Africa was so tribal, being out in the bush answered that question. In Africa, without your tribe, you are nothing. Even in our little group, we had a sense of security, real or imagined. In reality, wild animals have little regard for the Health and Safety Executive. I doubt I would have been as relaxed being so close to a lioness in the morning if I had been cast out of my group and left to wander the bush alone. As Keith put it when I asked him for survival advise if confronted by a pack of hyenas. “You’re alone and confronted by five hyenas. Then, I guess your time is up.”
Chastened by our encounter with the mud hole, we took a short cut across country to the paved Tuli Transit Road for our return to Pont Drift and South Africa. But, unknown to us Botswana had another surprise encounter in store. A short while after getting onto the transit road, we came upon an impressive sight. Ahead of us, two mature bull elephants stood head to head on either side of the road. Almost identical, each was about twelve foot tall at the shoulder with long tusks reaching almost to the ground. Not showing any aggression between themselves, they stood like two sentinels blocking our passage along the road. With a combined weight of probably more than fourteen tons, we were not inclined to force our way between these two oversized book end sentries. Surrounded by bush with no alternative tracks, we turned off the engine and waited. After about thirty minutes, for no apparent reason, the elephant on the right moved across the road to the left, and the two animals ambled off into the undergrowth. We gave them a respectable time to disappear, started the engine and proceeded on our way. A short distance down the road on our left, a great herd of elephant males, females and calves of all ages were moving through the bush, the two traffic cops having seen them safely across the road. After trying to find these elusive animals for the last week or so with only minor success, there unexpectedly were hundreds of them in plain sight. More than I am ever likely to see again in my lifetime. That is Africa for you, you just never know what you are going to encounter next.
We cleared Botswana passport control and crossed the still dry Limpopo into South Africa. After a few formalities at entry control, we were on our way to Johannesburg where again in civilisation we would wind up the windows and keep the car doors locked.
Sandy and I will be forever grateful to our friend Peter for the good fortune and privilege of being invited to stay at such a beautiful setting in Botswana.
But our African adventure was not over, we still had our friend Ian to meet. Lesotho, the highest pub in Africa, the Sani Pass, the Drakensberg mountains, an introduction to the ghosts of the San people and more was yet to come.