Along the Chobe River

 

I  know that nobody will read this epistle. I am posting it for my own fun.

ALONG

THE CHOBE RIVER

and

OTHER STORIES.

ALONG THE CHOBE RIVER

“Sign here, and here” said the Chief of the Chobe Rangers, pushing a two page document across his desk toward us.

John, being a lawyer, studied the paper carefully. Then he and I dutifully signed at the places indicated by the Chief Warden's sturdy finger.

The document, written in Tswana and English very simply stated that we would hold harmless the Country of Botswana, and all persons connected with the duties of the Anti-Poaching Patrol if, during our freely undertaken walk, accompanying two Rangers on their assigned route, any 'misadventure' should occur during which our persons or our belongings were injured, damaged or otherwise were negatively affected.

“You will follow their admonitions and always stay close to them” the Chief Ranger almost growled.

He pointed to the two young rangers and with a wave of his hand he indicated that we were dismissed.

As we left his office, at Ranger Headquarters, John said: “Are we sure that we're doing the right thing?”

“No, I am not sure, but the opportunity to walk with two Anti Poaching Rangers is too inviting. And anyway, it's too late to back out now.” I answered, not at all certain.

“My name Akanyang. I am leader. I say, you do.” Then he added with a smile: “Please”

“I, Baruti,” the other young ranger told us.

We shook hands while we told them our names.

The 'headquarters' was accommodated in a sturdy shack, surrounded by an improvised looking, wooden fence. The two Rangers shouldered their weapons.

John looked at them and commented somewhat dubiously: “These rifles look as if they had seen better times since World War 2.”

It was early morning and the chill of before Sun-up time still lay in the air. A slight breeze moved the branches of a grouping of Umbrella Thorn Trees.

“We now go” Aki said. John and I had shortened his name from 'Akanyang' to the more comfortable Aki.

At a slow pace we started on our planned ten kilometer oval route, which was to return us to headquarters, near which our tent was pitched, somewhere around five o'clock in the early evening.

“Let me help you carrying your gear,” John offered.

“I'd rather carry this stuff myself, but if you want to shoulder the tripod, I would be grateful.”.

Three camera bodies, five lenses, and other miscellaneous junk made for quite a load.

“ The day I can no longer carry my cameras, I'll quit taking pictures.” I said with some bravado.

Along a path, or what passed for a path, the going was easy and, although we walked slowly, we made relatively good time.

A small group of chattering Baboons seemed to accompany us, swinging from branch to branch. When the distance from tree to tree was too large, they slid down one Mopane tree, limped on all fours to the next one and, as John said, like “greased lightening” they were up it, constantly 'talking' to each other and, it seemed, to us.

The going became a little more complicated. The 'stay-a-while' tree with its hooked thorns growing so close to the edge of the narrow path forced us to slow down and to ever greater caution. Even the Baboons skirted this bush carefully.

“Dammit” John cursed under his breath. “got caught by one of those little devils. Can't get it out without tearing my shirt.”

“Take little knife. Cut. Take off shirt. Pull thorn other way. No tear shirt.” Baruti said with a satisfied smile.

“More careful” Aki added.

Baboons silently swung from branch to branch.

The Sun rose throwing long morning shadows.

To our right, from time to time, we could see the Chobe River.

The morning became warmer.

“Won't be long, before I'll take off my shirt” John said.

“No take off shirt” Aki suggested. “Better not, flies like light skin”.

Pointing to himself, he added: “No flies on dark skin.”

Aki, the leader of our quartet stopped. Pointing off to his left, he said: “First Impala”

And there he was. A beautiful male adult. With wide swung horns, he looked back at us over his left shoulder. There seemed to be a challenge in his stance.

Finally the Impala disappeared in a thicket.

“This good country for Impala” said Aki.

“Also many Elephants” Baruti added.

I could feel damp over my left shoulder and shifted my Camera bag to my right.

Slowly we continued our hike.

Our two Rangers, almost in unison, shifted their rifles.

“You know” John said, “these 'Anti – Poaching Rangers have 'shoot to kill orders' if they find a poacher with a dead Elephant or Rhino.”

Aki had heard and understood this comment.

“This is so” he said, “last week big fight with two poachers. One dead, one hurt bad.

No more poachers here. That reason you may come with Baruti and me.”

For a while we continued in silence.

“Here” Baruti had stopped and pointed to a scull and two curved horns of a

Sable Antelope. “This Kwalata” he continued, using the Setswana name.

“What might have happened to the rest of the bones?” John mused.

“Meat eaten by Lion, Wild Dogs, Jackal, Vultures, Hyena also eat all bones. Much strong bite” Aki explained.

**********************

Being the oldest member of our Quartet I dared suggest a short break.

The Sun had risen higher and I estimated the temperature to hover around 30 Celsius in the shade.

“soon we rest” Aki said. “half hour more hike. Then rest.”

Our walk took us along a little rise and there a most wonderful sight awaited us.

A small group of female Impala, first peacefully grazing, then, as if on command, all turned their heads and studied an Elephant who had quietly come up from the bushes below.

The Impala seemed to know the Ele well.

He was no danger to them.

All their attention quickly returned to grazing.

************

“If we had had a Hollywood director, he could not have composed a more beautiful scene”

Johns voice showed his emotion.

We lingered there for a while and I took not fewer than 50 images with both cameras.

Hand-held. There was no time to waste setting up the tripod.

Walking slowly through dense bush land, crossing clearings and stepping over fallen trees we made slow progress.

“We seem to be coming close to the Chobe” John said.

“You right” said Aki. “Soon come to first place rest, we visit friend.” he continued.

The sun had risen high.

Noon was coming close and even in the shady places the heat of the day had become oppressive.

Our first resting place cannot come soon enough, I thought.

And, as if on command, there it was.

At the foot of a shade giving Mopani, a fallen tree offered comfortable seating for all four of us.

John took this shot. I'm the one in the middle.

“The first thing I need is a long cool drink” John ventured.

Aki and Baruti unwrapped sandwiches and a large flask of what they called 'strong tea.'

“Here, you try” Aki offered the flask and out of sheer curiosity I took a sip.

I had never before tasted such a bitter liquid and my face seemed to show it.

Aki and Baruti laughed uproariously.

“This tea made from plants grow here” Baruti offered. “Very good. Make you steady go behind bush with spade.”

John and I dug into our provisions, with closest attention to liquid refreshment.

Clean water with a dash of lemon juice. Home-baked black bread and thin slices of meat from a Kudu completed our snack.

“I go, visit friend. Baruti stay with you.” Aki said.

Slightly worried, I asked: “There are no poachers?”

“No” Aki assured us. “Coupla days, one killed, one wounded. Poachers now stay away from us.” he continued with some pride in his voice.

Then, looking at me with some real or faked concern, he continued:

“Your shirt, red. No good camouflage. Better you take my shirt. Green.”

Out of his small back bag he pulled his spare green shirt. I slipped into it, noticing that he was considerably smaller around his chest than I was. But if I buttoned only one button it served its purpose.

“Now, good camouflage. Poachers no see you” Baruti laughed.

“Come” Aki said. “Good photo soon!”

Not a hundred meters from our resting place, the bush stepped back and down the slight embankment, a large field of tall reeds.

In front, almost leaning on a palm tree, a thatch-roofed reed hut with a small encircled ante-room.

Photographer's luck was on my side. Just then, a woman with a child on her back came to this abode.

Aki called to her. Hey! Dumela! Sholana.

She waved at Aki and waited for him in obvious anticipation.

In his back-bag Aki carried some provisions for Sholana and her two children.

“Ev'ry Ranger and folk from her tribe bring provisions. Ever'body love Sholana.”

Back at our resting place, Baruti told us the story of the beautiful Sholana and the dashing Katlego.

A member of the proud tribe of the 'Tswana', Sholana was the undisputed beauty.

Each male Tswana desired her, because she was not only beautiful, but diligent and in the art of cooking, an absolute 'past master'. Her dexterous fingers produced the most beautiful ornaments for both, men and women of the tribe.

Wherever she went, although modest in demeanor and appearance, Sholana was the center of attention.

After her father had died in a hunting accident, he was shot by a 'white hunter' who claimed to have mistaken him for an Impala, her mother said: “It is time for you to find a man, a husband who will look after you and me.” She smiled a little.

“You are most popular”, she continued, “You can choose whomever you like.”

“This is the problem” Sholana said. “I like them all, but I love none.”

“Oh, what is love” her mother said. “Love comes and 'Love' goes, but 'Like' stays.

But Sholana remained steadfast. “I will wait” she insisted.

April came and with it the hotly anticipated two day 'Maun Festival'. Although Maun was about two hiking days from Sholana's Village, she and about a dozen young men and women set off for this year's high-lite.

It happened in Maun.

Sholana found her love.

Katlego was tall, slim, strong and in his eyes a light shone, which seemed to shine for Sholana only.

For two days they were inseparable. They listened to music together, they went to see dancing contests and they danced together.

“It is, as if we had danced together always” Sholana said.

“And so it shall be. We shall always be together! And not only on the dusty dancing area.”

On the third day they had to part.

“I will finish my work and then I come and we will be together for always.” Katlego said.

Sholana felt a hot wave rising from her loins to her cheeks.”

“For always?” she asked.

“Yes, for always!” he replied.

Much teasing and bantering Sholana had to take from her friends during the hike home, to their native Village. She enjoyed the teasing and the barely veiled innuendos.

No sooner had the group reached home, than Sholana selected a small plot of land, close to a field of reeds and right next to a palm tree..

Then she started to build.

There was enough building material.

Reeds and hard packed earth and sturdy branches from the nearby Mopane stand, for corner posts and roof supports.

While the building was going on, Sholana's mother spoke to their 'Kgosi' for approval of the marriage. A poor woman, she paid the required fee to the Tribe Elder.

Many of Sholana's friends contributed and so the wedding took place.

Although, by tradition only married persons are permitted to attend at a wedding,

Sholana achieved an exception to this ancient custom.

Katlego had arrived and nothing stood in the way of the marriage ceremony taking place.

“Where shall we live?” he asked.

Sholana took him by the hand and led him to the reed house.

“This is where we shall live.” she said.

After some time, Katlego was accepted to the post of an Anti Poaching Ranger.

He was also an accomplished fisher man.

Sholana's handy work, producing body decoration became popular throughout her tribe and beyond. Her ideas were attractive, her workmanship was good and her prices reasonable. People said that Sholana and Katlego were the handsomest and happiest couple of the whole Village.

As the years went by, two children were borne and happiness knew no bounds.

Until, one day, Katlego did not return from one of his fishing trips in his hand-made canoe-like single boat.

Sholana waited until the morning. Then she made her way to the Kgosi and asked for help.

At Sunrise every able bodied male moved out on the search, organized by the Kgosi.

They searched on land and in twelve single boats they searched on the water.

They found him. His boat overturned and destroyed by what could only have been a Hippo and his body torn by the sudden, powerful body revolutions of a mighty Croc.

The women of the village took Sholana into their care.

The Men sewed the remains of Katlego's body into the skin of a black Bull and the tribe commemorated one of their finest friends in solemn burial ritual.

Sholana never saw the destroyed body of her beloved and therefore she always remembered the tall, strong, gentle man who was the love of her life.

When Baruti had finished the story of these two passionate lovers in his fragmented English, tears ran down his cheeks and, for a while, John and I could not speak through our closed throats.

Akanyang had delivered the weekly supply of things needed by Sholana.

He returned to us.

Our 'Anti Poaching Ranger' hike continued in silence.

At the moment I took this image, I knew nothing of this tragic tale.

**************

Sholana's reed hut, hugging a Wild Date Palm tree.

 A VERY CLOSE CALL:

Sometimes our trek took us close to the river, only to veer again more and more toward inland regions.

“We've seen many Impala, Waterbucks, Kudu, I think there was a Cheetah. But all of them from quite a distance.” I said to no-one in particular.

Baruti had heard my remark and said:

“When walk, animal smell man and run away. All wild animal fear man. When on truck, animal only smell stink from engine. Cannot smell man. Animal no fear truck smell, no run away.”

“I could not have explained it better” John said.

In spite of this limitation, the walk was wonderful and exciting.

For some reason, John and I became somewhat pensive. We walked in silence.

Aki in front, then John and I, while Baruti brought up the rear.

“Walking simply gets you closer to Nature. Closer to the smells and sounds and you can actually feel life around you.” John continued.

Soon we entered a stand of Mopani trees. John commented that, widely spaced from each other, they made for easy walking.

“They far apart. They no like each other” Aki smiled.

A small herd of Cape-Buffalo were staring at us from the end of this Mopani stand.

“We now stop and not make angry Buffalo.” Aki said. “Wait till Buffalo move off”

After a while, as if he had seen enough, the dangerously horned animal turned and moved off at a slow pace.

From previous Safaris and from other guides I knew the danger of an irritated Buffalo. Known for being unpredictable it is best to avoid too close a meeting with them.

***************

The Sun had long ago crossed its Zenith, and a certain tiredness had crept into my legs.

I do not mind Aki's signal to stop and to remain totally quiet.

“I think I hear something” he says.

Baruti, who had come up from his last position, also stopped and seemed to listen intently.

“Is Lion growling” he says.

Aki whispers: “stay very quiet. I go, climb tree and see what beyond bushes.”

He climbs the Mopani, which stands near, having grown, for some reason, at a sixty degree angle.

I can hear the wind brushing through the fronds of the palm tree and the leaves of the Mopani.

The sound of a dry branch breaking as Aki makes his way up to see, as he says, “what beyond”.

John stands beside me. Watching.

I check my camera. All settings A-Okay.... Lighting slightly behind me …

I take a shot, or two, of Aki up the Mopani.

I remember thinking:

“This is Africa! Palm trees, Mopani trees, Heat, Baboons, Impala, Scintillating sense of anticipation.

The Baboons have fallen back and the Impala have moved off in the opposite direction.

Aki on his observation post, to “see what beyond”

(left upper corner)

Baruti has disappeared. He takes a wide circle to come to the end of the clearing from the other side.

I look straight ahead.

There are dense bushes. Visually almost impenetrable.

Among the dark green foliage I see something light brown.

I focus on it.

It is the unmistakable head of a male Lion.

I take a quick, poorly focused picture..

The branches confuse the automatic focus selection.

The Lion head moves a bit from side to side.

I have just time for one more shot.

The Lion breaks through the bush.

I hear branches breaking.

The Lion is now tearing up the earth beneath him.

He is thundering at us with astonishing top speed.

I remember thinking:”The tripod will give me no cover.”

John stands beside me.

Like myself, he is motionless.

Mesmerized.

The Lion is, I think, within five meters of us.

Actually, one does not 'think'.

I do not 'think.'

Am I afraid for my life?

Probably.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Aki.

He almost flings himself from the tree.

Half way down he jumps.

Rifle in outstretched hand he performs a roll.

Lightening fast, the Lion, mane flying, eyes glowing

makes an incredible ninety degrees turn

Dust, dry leaves, branches swirl around us.

For a moment I lose sight of the Lion.

Then the world seems to turn silent.

He is gone.

Beside us and slightly behind stands Aki.

He had practically tumbled down his observation tree.

Have you ever seen a Black Man turn pale?

His face was 'single color gray'.

Aki is shaking.

Baruti just leans, head down, on his rifle.

Aki places his right hand on my shoulder.

With his left, he hugs John.

“Lion havin' late Lunch.” he says. “Lion afraid you take his Lunch.”

“Lion wants eat Impala”

“Lion no want eat nice Canadian men.”

John and I manage a pained laugh.

Although the danger is over, all four of us want to return to the Ranger station,

and John and I to our camp.