adventures 204: "creatures great and small"

Day 4 [Tuesday, September 6]

We woke up to the banging of pots and pans. It was early, as always. We yawned as we waited for the sun to come up, but as we had a sort of pre-breakfast of buttermilk rusks, we were calmer, quieter than usual. Today, we wouldn't be hurriedly packing up, wouldn't be traveling anywhere new. Today we were going to get to explore the Delta, beginning with a 3 hour game walk.
Back into the mokoros, we sailed off to a larger island where we split into smaller groups for our walks. The grogginess had yet to wear off, and our first bit in the open plain was silent except for the soft pat of tennis shoes on the dirt of well-worn elephant paths. "Buffalo!" our guide whispered loudly. We all stopped dead in our tracks, straining our eyes across the yellow grass to faintly see 2 large blobs moving like ghosts across the ground. They came from our left, so far in front of us that we couldn't hear the rumbling of their hooves at all. The guide smiled and waved us on. "Seriously? If this whole day is going to be like this, I'd be better in my tent." It was a cranky sort of morning.

But it quickly got better. We approached a huge baobab tree, a rafiki tree if you will. I'm pretty sure that old baboon lived high up there at one point, drawing pictures of small kings and cracking open weird fruits. And as we got closer, we could see where an elephant had just recently been eating off the tree, breaking the splintery bark to snack on the hollow cords within the tree. And then we heard it. A small male elephant was thrashing around right to our left, and as we all turned to shuffle towards it, cameras ready, our guides began rushedly pulling us away. "Go! Go!" they whispered. Apparently an elephant can charge you and turn you from person to pancake in about 4 seconds. We spent the next 10 minutes begging "can't we just get a little closer?" as we tried to circle the elephant so we would be downwind. Finally, our guides told us enough was enough and it was time to go. So we kept walking. And kept walking. The sky was high and blue, and the wind that swept through the tall grass was just cool enough to keep the temperature down. We started to spot packs of baboons, countless flocks of African birds, herds of impalas, and then, right in the middle of the fields, a wildebeest and 3 zebras. Zebras, yall. Real. Live. Zebras. I don't know why an elusive elephant and all the other clearly African animals didn't do it for me, but standing there squinting in that high bright sunshine, staring over khaki dry grass to see those 3 black and white creatures, it hit me again. This. Is. Africa. I'm here. Actually here. Those moments are hard to put into words; they're too surreal. We watched them snack and walk around, no hurry, no agenda, just hanging out with their friend the wildebeest, until our guide told us an elephant was in the trees just on the other side of the clearing. So we quickly and as quietly as we could bear to be jogged off in search of the elephant.

Baboon

Impala

He was standing by a small pond under a palm tree. He was using his long, perfect trunk to scoop water into his mouth and flapping his ears to keep cool. His long grey tail swished back and forth occasionally, and his dry tough skin moved gracefully around his neck and legs with every movement. He was a bull elephant, about 25 years old and a least a few tons, and yet with every small gesture, his grace was so perfect, so majestic that I cried. (Anyone that knows me knows two things: 1. I love elephants. 2. I cry at everything. Don't judge me.) I know, I know. Cried? Seriously? But yes, I did, and I'm owning up to it because to fully understand this moment in time, you have to understand how full this guy made my heart, and when my heart gets full, my eyes usually do too. It just is what it is.

And then, this sweet guy smelled us. The wind had changed slightly, and he shot his curved truck up into the air, turning it back and forth like one of those little periscopes submarines have on movies. Our guides again started pulling us away. He started coming towards us, huge flat feet splashing straight through the pond. "Faster!" our guide said, and we scrambled out of the thick of the small osasis and back towards the open field where the zebras waited. I couldn't make my feet really run though; something in my heart felt like this beautiful animal wouldn't do us any harm. (Don't be fooled--this was a stupid moment and that is totally how people get killed.)

The sun was high overhead by the time we walked back past the zebras towards the bank where the mokoros waited. We climbed in and went back to our campsite where Elroy was waiting with second breakfast. (It was very Tolkien of us.) After a little rest, the heat was just too much, and we got Peter and 2 polers (mokoro drivers) to mokoro us over to a swimming spot they knew. The reeds grew in a circle around this one deep area, and nearby was a small beached area where we could park our small boats while we swam. We waded out until we couldn't touch anymore and then swam in the clear cool water. We fought against the current to play games and race and float on our backs. The polers let us try to steer to mokoros ourselves, which was unsuccessful for almost everyone; it's way harder than it looks. We came back to the small beach, which was not really a beach but more of a spot where dead grass met mud. We laid on towels on the prickly grass, reading and journaling and talking with each other, and then, we mud bathed. We went to the dark oozing mud and began rubbing it all over ourselves, helping each other out with backs and missed spots. We let it dry in the hot sun, and then ran as fast as our stiff legs would carry us back into the water to see how smooth our skin had gotten. The polers laughed and laughed at us, and they showed us how, if you pulled the reeds up from the root, you could actually eat the small white part at the end of the reed. It was kind of stringy and hard at the same time and not terribly flavorful, but the polers were so excited to show it to us and we were so excited to make them smile we probably ate 15 reed roots.

Peter's on the right in our mokoro; under the tree is Ashlee coming in from the swimming hole; back right is Eva trying her hand at poling a mokoro

Clockwise: Ketil, Kylee, a smidge of Ashlee's hair, me, Siri, Colleen

Clockwise: Kylee, Siri, Franzie, me,
Ashlee's hair again, half of Trevor's face, Evan, and Vanessa

When we got back to camp, we had lunch and more downtime, which we of course filled with card games. As the sun started to set again, the polers offered us a sunset cruise. Siri and I hurried over to Peter and the three of us set off into the water. He took us over to an island where, from the water, we watched another bull elephant eat off a palm tree, and then Peter steered us over to another clearing covered with lilipads to watch the sunset. Now, John Mayer has this song where he talks about "no more 3x5s," getting at the idea that people would just have to be there to fully experience things because pictures can't do justice, and I agree wholeheartedly. But, that being said, I have to at least try, and out of the 38 sunset pictures I took from that little wooden mokoro that night, I've narrowed it down to 4.

(Click for larger images.)

It was very Camp Lake Stephens-esc, watching that bright sun sink down over a sea of shining blue water polkadotted with lilipads, and it was another moment of simultaneously missing home and loving where I was. That's been happening a lot these days, and it's a feeling that's kind of growing on me.
When we got back, we ate around our campfire, and Elroy made us popcorn in a huge black pot. We scooped it up and shoveled it in, giggling and whispering in the firelight. Then all the polers danced for us. They danced and sang in Setswana and began acting out skits that we didn't really understand, but we knew when to laugh and when to clap and when to get up and join in. We stayed out there, the 18 of us plus Trevor and Elroy, dancing and laughing with the 12 or 13 polers who brought us out into their Delta. We had grown to love our dear polers, each of us personally connected to our own, and of all the creatures great and small we saw on our fourth day, those dancing polers may have been our favorites.