“Welcome to Maun. Where people are people and people love people.” –lady at the bar
For mid summer retreat our Bots team ventured to the Okavango Delta in Maun to reflect on our experiences thus far, prepare for the challenges ahead and enjoy the company of the amazing individuals I am proud to call my friends. If you haven’t seen it already, I would highly encourage you to watch the Great Plains episode of Planet Earth, or search “Okavango Delta” on YouTube.
We woke up to be at the rank for 5:00am to catch a bus to Nata, from there continuing our journey onwards to Maun. The bus was not the usual Chobe Express, but as Thomas (who was up visiting us in Kasane during the week) pointed out her Ugly Step Sister, another similar version with a different driver, seats arrangement slightly changed but no more comfortable. A few hours outside Kasane we pulled over on the side of the highway. Squeaking sounds, burnt rubber drifting through our noses and settling on our taste buds. Engine hood up. Murmmers in Setswana. Thomas asked the traditionally conservatively dressed elder lady next to us – wait no, more then next to us, squished against us. Shoulders sticking, laps leggoed over one another, that kind of next to us. “What was going on?” We got the best most direct translation yet, “The bus is fucked.”
A wait later and we were on our way again, though Nata, road snacks, another wait, then onto Maun. At one of the health checkpoints when my bag was being searched the police officer asked me where I was from. I responded confidently “Kasane” smiling and joining the next line. Only a few minutes later did it dawn on me that was not the response he was expecting. I feel as if I have really adapted, this place is no longer new, it is my home.
Arriving at Old Bridge Backpackers where we were to be camping for the next four nights, a place far more luxurious then a patch of ground and far less private. The riverside bar, tables and fire pit, when compared to our previous accommodations made the place look like a six star suite. It was quite the happening place. We all talked about how weird it was seeing other travelers our same age and how we didn’t know how to behave, as all social skills have been lost over the past month. At other places we were only surrounded by elder couples decked to the nines in safari gear or families with young kids from South Africa on break from school. Thomas did a hilarious impression of how awkward he would be introducing himself to an attractive girl… talking in slow broken English (as we have become accustomed to) repeating everything three or more times and running out of conversation after the typical “Dumella. Hi… I’m Thomas…Taaooommass…Thomas. Yes. I’m from Canada… Canada. Yes it is realllly cold there… yes not like here.” Hand signals included.
We did manage to meet some cool people as our social skills slowly bubbled to the surface. A group of six or so Peace Cores all stationed in various regions/small towns were together for a reunion. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be to be placed here for two years in a location by yourself! We also met two attractive guys from Canada who just graduated from Concordia. They had bought a land cruiser and equipped it into a badass safari car with a few editions to which Is and I were left drooling over.
On Saturday, with the company of Koo (a friend we met from Korea) we went on a traditional canoe trip. Isabelle described it far better then I could:
“We got to Boro where there is a community trust project that runs mokoro trips. QPID actually even talked with the trust when doing Project Identification here in Botswana last summer. A mokoro (also spelled makoro or mekoro) is a dugout canoe that is flat bottomed and rides really low in the water. Traditionally they are made out of sycamore fig trees but now a lot of people use fiberglass because sycamore fig trees take a 100 years to mature so aren't really sustainable. And instead of using paddles you stand at the back and pole yourself along, with any passengers sitting spaced throughout. There are 75 guides in Boro, all of whom were born in the village and rotate through guiding trips. Mokoros are basically the main form of transport through the delta, since motorboats can only use the deep passages and a lot of the Delta is really shallow channels or just shallow water in reeds.
We were doing a whole day trip, from 8 to about 4, so we were able to spend a good amount of time in the water. I was so happy to just sit in the mokoro and relax and think. I was in the front of ours and the only thing I had to focus on was not swallowing too many bugs, since we were carving a path right through the reeds and I was practically a windshield. We saw a lot of bird life, and a herd of zebras, but no crocs. And we did have a hippo encounter…
Photo: Isabelle Jones
Staring contest with a hippo right in front of us!
We heard this HUGE snort right beside us and our guide started pulling us backwards so fast. So we waited for a bit and then slowly started moving forward again until we were at the edge of the pool. There were four hippos that we could see, but they kept submerging and then resurfacing. The tensest was when they went under water since we had no idea where they would pop up again. They just kept getting closer and closer and then all of a sudden one popped up 15 feet in front of us. That's when the hippo safety lesson started! Our guides started telling us what to do in case the hippo was to attack. First of all, if the hippo starts swimming for the boat you are supposed to stay inside of it, not jump out into the water. This is because the boat gives you a modicum of safety. If the hippo actually does attack the boat and the boat tips, you are supposed to swim away from the boat as far as you can underwater. You should not surface because then the hippo will attack you right away. He didn't give any tips on what to do if the hippo actually catches up with you. I wonder why? ”
It was odd that I was never really frightened the entire time, actually really relaxed. Which I cant determine if it’s a good thing that I’m calm under pressure or crossing the line to recklessly stupid. Thomas was defiantly freaking out more then the rest of us, grabbing the side of Lyndsay and my boat and refusing to let his guide go any closer. Out of character, as he is usually the one to coolly take control of the situation.
We had lunch on an island in the delta and then went zebra tracking on our first bush walk, and then getting the chance to pole the Mokoros ourselves. Thinking that it wouldn’t be much more difficult then balancing in a rowing shell I gave it a try. I was wrong it was extremely difficult the guides (and Faisal who is going to be the first Pakistan poler) made it look super easy. I was cherry tomato burnt by the end of the day but had a fantastic time.
Top Chef: Okavango was on. Lyndsay joined team girls and we whipped up massive slabs of steak, eggplant parmesan, grilled zucchini, red pepper, onion, portabella mushroom, baked potatoes with cheese, garlic bread, carrot cake for dessert and rum and hot chocolate to finish the meal and start the night. The theme was to be wine: we cooked almost everything in it. A marinade for the steak…flavor for the veggies…wine in place of water to steam… eggplant looking a little dry?.. add some wine.. and some more. This was easier then walking to the spout to get and then purify water.
After dinner wobbly and warm we started the midsummer retreat discussions administered by Thomas. We talked about the difficulties of being here, what we want to get out of the second half, what we can do to improve our work and overall in better the learning process. There were other discussion topics too, our group LOVES to talk. I remember just staring at their faces in the flickering candlelight feeling peaceful yet passionately engaged and overall just happiness. Sitting on a cushioned bench, coffee table with lanterns in-between us, the sound of the river moving next to us in the star light and the massive branches of the tree hanging over in a blanket of softly illuminated leafs.
Retreat discussion blended into to conversation. Joined by other groups of backpackers and their travels. One guy from Norway was crossing Africa on a shoestring via public transport. So many interesting stories from around the world. Faisal, Thomas and Lyndsay went to bed, as we had to be up at 6am for a 12 hr game drive the next day. Is and I stayed up chatting with Aiden and other Thomas. An intense argument over whether rowing or sailing was better (I think the answer is pretty obvious). More chatter.. laughing… Is and I drifting into the tent. And black. The deepest most comfortable sleep since being here.
We were woken up in the morning to Faisal’s “Is..Chloe.. come on get ready we are leaving NOW!” And we moved out into the murky morning, hustling to grab our stuff, changed right there and hop into the safari truck. I sat in the row next to Thomas who was less then impressed.. with us being late. I prepared myself for a bumpy six-hour drive but surprisingly was feeling quite fresh. I love how sleeping in a tent can do that to you. The open air of the vehicle also probably helped. The morning was aggressively biting, it was FREEZING! Driving along the highway I had brought my sleeping bag and all mummied up fought the cold wind and clouds of dust. After an hour or so we stopped inside the gates of Moremi Game Reserve (a world renound national park) which is partly in the Delta, for breakfast and tea. Is pulled out an Ibuprophine from her pocket and gave it to me. Yes we are classy. Faisal looked so funny, as if he had aged 30 years. His eyebrows and eyelashes were white with dust, hair salt and peppered. A drag queen undertone of powered foundation and bright red lips. My lips were also painfully chapped. I’ve been putting Vaseline on them every ten min and they still aren’t fully healed.
Starting off the drive was rather uneventful. We really didn’t see any wildlife which after Chobe being so heavily concentrated, left the others disappointed, Faisal asking the driver if it was usually this quiet. I was actually very content, warming up now, wind blowing on my face freshness and matted hair. I stared, watching the trees wiz by, body bouncing along. Autumn colors. We shared childhood stories. More staring at the landscape. I could feel the magic. I mentioned how it was like we were traveling through enchanted lands. Something from The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe. Thomas smiled and said he would have to share that with his mom, it’s her favorite book. I’m bursting with smiles. Joy. More and more often I can’t hold them back. Looking over and sharing a smile, the meaning of the moment. A secret acknowledgment that can’t be voiced. An appreciation of both wonder and discovery. Because I fail as a writer to accurately depict it, perhaps it is a secret not to be written. But I want to remember it because its one of those moments that even the thought rekindles the feeling. And everything is good. With as much beauty as the moment we were smiling for.
As we drove into the day excitement was encountered with elephant crossings, zebra spottings. But for the most part the zen state of relaxation, perhaps a potion of no sleep brewed with nature and a hint of hangover. Is and I giddily reflected on the hilarity of the previous night and just laughed as we generally do. Even at something as silly as “there’s a rock in my boot.”
We came across another car, a family that was stuck deep deep in the sand. We pulled over and for the time it took our guide Rex to help pull them out, attaching the cars by a rope, a joint shovel stick operation, we observed and walked around. Into the bush, into the sun, adding to my burn. We spotted a giraffe in the distance. Settled into a few games, or more then a few of ninja or binja as we have newly named it aka “bush ninja.” Binga: stealth as a lion, fierce as a hippo.
And all in tune we were “back on the road again.” Driving along my eyes grew tired, strained in a search of the long grasses and shadowed tree branches. We made it a competition. Because our group excels in states of competition. Everything is a competition. And basically I had to win, so I kept my eyes open, now alert pealed for movement and glued to the passing landscape. Kudu 5 points. Elephant, giraffe, zebra 15 points. Lion or leopard 100 points. Prize: winning.
We stopped for an amazingly delicious lunch of tuna sandwiches. As Is pointed out sometimes it is just the simple things that really do it. We climbed a nearby water tower for a pretty but not overly impressive view of the grasslands, a few scattered trees.
I keep forgetting to write about this but remembered when Rex pointed out the concave forehead of a female elephant. The symmetry or I’m not sure if you could call it that but the commonalities throughout nature and life amaze and inspire me. The golden ratio. The miracle that life is. For example you can tell male or female based on the head shape. Female = concave. Male = convex. Consistency animal to animal, elephants, giraffes, rhinos. Kinda cool I thought.
Photo: Isabelle Jones
We got the chance to see two waddled cranes, which bird man Faisal informed us are crazy rare. Rex was also quite impressed. “They are a special sight.” The way these birds interact what so beautiful. They are monogamous. Together for life. And mate every four years. Looking at these birds and their love as silly as that is and this sounds it is indefinelty what I want. So yes, I am jealous of a bird’s compassion and intimacy.
Photo: Isabelle Jones
Rare as the strength and courage of a crane “Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage” –Lao Tzu
Another interesting sighting was a male zebra courting a few females in the herd. He was shut down, harshly rejected. And a “douche” as Thomas called him. Not really getting the message and trying again and again. His attempts ran off every time… and we drove away.
Though deep sand and rough off road terrain, our car almost got stuck twice but always managed to pull though, greeted by our laughter and cheers. We named him El Heify meaning “The Boss” in Spanish (because none of us knew the Setswana word). Heading out of the park the exit route to our way back was covered. Fully submerged in water that we couldn’t tell the depth. The boss took it on with a revving start, water splashing up into the car, nose diving into a pool about 3-4 feet deep and then somehow coming up on the other side. Even after stopping we were all bouncing in excitement. It was awesome. I will leave it at that.
Dusk settled in comfortably and then just like that a wild dog crossed the road directly in front of us. Then prancing off into the bush for its evening hunt. It was another really rare animal to see. I was excited a little and can appreciate it, but more then anything loved Faisal’s enthusiastic reaction to it. The extent to which it made his evening, easily made mine. He couldn’t keep himself inside the vehicle, climbing on top in hopes to get another glimpse or see another one in the pack. I love how much this trip has inspired Faisal and the keen interest he has taken in animal conservation. Even though he is well into his chem-eng degree, seeing the way he lights up at wildlife, I really hope he has the opportunity to explore that interest some more as well. Either way being around someone that is so passionate made me appreciate the experience so much more.
Dark now and out of the park we drove some more, chilly again and re-mummified in sleeping bags. Thomas and I talked, voices over the wind. Bots, home stay families, family dynamics, relationships, siblings, Queens, religion, life. Resting my head on his shoulder and drifting in and out of the darkness.
Returning to Old Bridge it was the boys turn to show us what they got. They made a jambalaya rice dish with chicken and salad (nothing we haven’t seen before) I’m kidding it was delicious and I will be fair and give them creativity points. The competition was undecided with no team willing to surrender. We need an objective judge (Davina this shall be your duty once were all back). Supper tired from the lack of sleep the previous night we did a few developmental QPID talks and enjoyed the songs of fellow backpackers around the fire then headed for the tent. Oh the tent.. the inside is sand invaded, no matter how many times we shake it out. And as for the outside… we were camped in a beautiful spot right by the river under a massive tree with fruits from Stella Luna. Now knowing why no one else had jumped on such a scenic tent site. Our shoes were filled with bat shit (literally I would empty them in the morning) and our tent was covered and I mean COVERED. We lay there inside packed tightly against one another, spooning not a matter of question but more as the only way we were going to fit. I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Is and I giggling as if teens at a slumber party. Thomas reminding us that “guys its bedtime now.” We decided not to set an alarm and have a sleep in morning as nothing was set in stone for the next day. And fell asleep to the sounds of Faisal snoring and falling bat shit.
Isabelle and I with the first catch
I woke up with the sun as usual, but then chose to drift in and out of sleep, laying and thinking in the state between dreams and reality. After breakfast I sat in a hammock by the river and wrote. Is and I decided to go fishing off the bridge, which was more of a sand bank crossing the river. Digging in the mud for worms proved fruitless but after a while the owner gave us an old pack of bacon to use as bait. Thomas and Faisal decided to go to a basket-weaving workshop. We thought it pretty funny that the boys spent the day basket weaving while the girls went fishing. We enjoyed the sun and the simplicity of the day for quite a few hours, just hanging out on the bank. Various people passing, stopping for conversations or to casually ask for our hand in marriage. I had no luck with the fish, but Is caught two, both big ones! Literally after the first catch her next cast reeled in the second fish. The guy next to us informed us that they were “Large Mouth Thin Boned fish, a predator and therefore very meaty. He was right they were very delicious. We took them back to camp, gutted, de-scaled and cooked them up. When gutting them, there was even a smaller fish inside one. “Baby fish inside a bigger baby fish.” In the de-scaling process, scales flew everywhere, sticking to our clothing only adding to the discusting slops we had become. By now this was our fifth day without showering, in the same pair of clothes. A combination of mud, dust, dirt, bacon juice, peanut butter, other miscellaneous stains… fish scales added into the mix were no big deal. One of the guys working at the campsite even came up behind Isabelle and picked scales out of her hair later. Basically we are dirty people. We cooked and spiced the fish the traditional way Susan had shown me in Kavimba. A garnish of parsley with a side of peanut butter bread and we had ourselves one economically delicious meal. We cleaned the fish to its skeleton, found Lyndsay and the three of us heading back to the bridge to watch the sunset over the delta and await the return of the basket weavers. More organizational meetings around the campfire, banana burgers (a wonderful combination), beers and bed.
Oh yeah.. during the weekend one of the retreat activities was the Rock game, which started off as bottle caps (rocks are extremely difficult to find here, there is mostly just sand). You give the bottle cap to someone on the team with something nice to say to them and these nice words circulate over the weekend… until someone had gotten and given one to everyone.. and they WIN! Actually Thomas had to explain that there is no end winner. But I was done first so refuse to believe this. Again, everything is better as a competition. As the bottle caps were passed around they become lost and turned into other things continuously. At one point Is and I spent ten minutes looking for a rock on the ground to replace the caps. I lost the rock we found and ended up giving Faisal a leaf…I received an eggshell from Thomas.
Heading home we boarded a large comfy bus with the group and then Lyndsay and I split off at Nata to continue our journey home. Because it was the long weekend all the busses coming from Francistown heading to Kasane were jammed full. At 2pm as the last bus passed though, we were lucky enough to snag two standing spots. I had to keep on reminding myself that we were the lucky ones. A bus that in Botswana is legally allowed to hold 27, that in Canada would hold 12, today was carrying 39. Passing the police checkpoint the conductor instructed people to duck. As uncomfortable as it was I surprised myself at my ability to stay positive. Also I want to take a moment to brag about the pro traveling skills I have developed. I can now sleep standing up on a bumpy bus. Off the highway and on to the pothole patterned dust road, rubbing against the people standing next to me. Bodies, feet, hands everywhere. I would periodically alternate feet standing on one and stretching the ankle of the other. Trying to bend my legs… making up a dance choreographed with miniscule movements. Calf raises…oops, no head hitting the ceiling. To motivate myself I made a little competition in my head of how long I could go without grabbing the seat for support. Competing with the other sardines. How long could I go without shifting positions. Games pretending I was surfing. Lots of thinking and shocking even myself, despite the discomfort was genuinely happy. The weekend was totally worth it. Lyndsay had enough room to sit in the isle and I’m sure wasn’t much more comfy. I’m actually quite proud of her for being able to do it. I’m someone who loves traveling and even so it was difficult so I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her. Anyways we got home safe and sound and that’s all you can really ask for. So many words for one weekend. So much laughter. So much love.
Whoa that was a long one. If you got though this congratulations, you are a great family member/friend! That was 15 pages typed in word, I am blessed that my life has been interesting enough to take up that much space. And I apologize for not being more concise, believe it or not I left a lot out, but fully enjoyed reliving the memories and wish to give you as much detail, for if I can not take you with me physically, I hope that you have been able to share in the experiences though my words.
This weekend should be a quite one in Kasane, getting more integrated and involved with the community. And plenty of time to write…
Bots of Love
Chloe
