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In search of hippos on the Okavango |
We spent the afternoon at the camp, where I finally got to spend some time with my fellow travelers. I spoke briefly to Bill, an Aussie who had just been at the Oktoberfest in Germany. I knew that because he was wearing an Oktoberfest hat, an Oktoberfest shirt, and Oktoberfest shorts, which seemed strange things to wear in the middle of Botswana. There was also Niki, a hairdresser from London, who had on full make-up and jewelry; Rachel, a recent graduate from Cambridge Medical School, who was completely hyperactive; and Sara, a six-foot-one kickboxing masseuse from New Zealand.
Steve, a 35-year-old accountant, was the group photo expert. At least he looked the part, complete with tripod, massive zoom lens, and the all-important fishing vest. His wife, Beth, helped carry some of his gear. They kept announcing how much they loved nature, but I couldn't help noticing they were constantly smoking and leaving their cigarette butts everywhere. The irony never occurred to them. It was hard to believe this random assortment of travelers had lived together for the last 10 weeks on an overland truck.
That evening and the following day we went on a walking safari. I never bothered to read all the fine print in my insurance policy but I was pretty sure I wouldn't be covered for leopard, cheetah, or lion attack, especially if I was walking around, by choice, in a national park in Botswana during prime game stalking hours. Amazingly, I was the only one in the group who was armed. I had a military weapon. At least the Swiss consider it a military weapon. I mostly use the little red knife for opening cans of tuna and slicing apples. I figured perhaps I could give the knife to the leopard as a gift.
Actually, there's an unarmed protocol for dealing with all of Africa's creatures. If confronted by a buffalo, for example, you're supposed to climb a tree. If a tree is not nearby, you should run at a speed of at least 25 mph, remembering to make continuous turns until you reach a tree.
Elephants are easily provoked, but they have bad eyesight, so if you stand still they will think you are a tree—or someone trying to act like a tree, thus, too stupid to be a conceivable threat. If you decide to make a vertical getaway, choose your tree carefully. If the trunk is less than two feet in diameter, the elephant will push it down and then stand on your head.
If you are confronted by a lion, the idea is that you should, like a professional boxer, stare the lion down. In theory it will run away. However, it might not.
If confronted by a leopard, the only thing you can do is pray.
As it turned out, we really didn't have to worry about finding game because Taba, who was acting as our guide, was, as far as tracking animals goes, a moron. He was walking down wind most of the time, which means that every animal within a 20-mile radius could smell us coming. Also, everyone was yapping away, so if the animals happened to have nasal congestion, they could at least hear us coming. On the other hand, I was quite happy that we didn't stumble upon any of the animals we were looking for.
On the way out of the delta, a route I was now familiar with, Taba let me try my hand at poling. Almost immediately, I swamped the mokoro, which was quite impressive since I managed it in only eight inches of water. It took me 60 minutes to get the hang of it, and by that time the ride, and the trip, were over.
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