AFRICAN ADVENTURE 2018 - Chapter 11 - Okavango Delta, Stanleys Camp
29th September 2018.
We arrived by a small Mackair plane yesterday at around noon, and with a quick exit from the plane, whose engines didn’t even stop, were met by TT, our guide for the next few days. He drove us to a sheltered spot five minutes away under a shady Mopani tree, where he had laid a table with a white cloth, a silver bucket, and ice. A board walk, looped with rope, ran behind it to an area where, in the floods, a boat comes to take guests to camp, as it is impassable by road. He popped a small bottle of champagne, and we stood, arms around each other gazing at the horizon, which is very green compared to Sable Alley, from where we have just come.
Back in the landie, it took us just 45 minutes to get to Stanley’s Camp, and en route, our vehicle had to drive through several deep waterways of rust coloured water, swaying with yellow reeds. “Pick up your fit! (feet)” TT calls, and we do, just in time to avoid cascades of water cascading through the floor of the landie. He is a skilled driver, for one moment, we are awash with water, and the next, we are grinding through axle deep fine white dust, our bodies rocking in an African massage at 45 degree angles, back and forth, back and forth, and he shifts gears up and down, up and down, in this powerful 4WD Toyota. Gerald says that after purchase, they are fitted with a completely different suspension and all the electrics are sealed, there are bull bars, custom made hand rails, and seating for about eight, two or three seats alongside each other on three different levels, plus the driver and a passenger in front. The passenger seat is taken up with a large cooler, kitted out with beer, ice, gin and tonic, and snacks.
Our drive to the camp is alive with bird life, lap wing and egrets, reed buck, a troop of baboons, a two week old baby giraffe and its mother, the McDonalds buck, so named for the ‘M’ on their bum, the impala, abound.
We are greeted in the traditional African way, with the beaming staff choir singing a song of welcome, and a lady, with reddish hair, Ollie, who hands us cold, damp hand towels, despite the fact she’s in pain, having had a bad fall and an injury to her foot a few months ago.
As we enter the lodge, a loud American man, wearing a cut off tee shirt over his belly passes us, he is speaking at the top of his voice, which could be heard, I am sure, kilometres away in this peaceful quiet place. I am not angry by nature, those who know me will tell you I am an extremely friendly, inclusive, loving soul by nature. But the hairs on the back of my neck rise, “This Man and His Kind” as I already have branded (perhaps unfairly) every American on safari, angers me. Why, oh WHY, do Americans have to speak so loudly, so disrespectfully, so totally in disregard for their surroundings, their companions, the staff who serve them, to other people - and here in Africa, to THE ANIMALS? I make a mental note to avoid him at all costs.
We eat a five star lunch of three courses: a green pea fritter, a prawn curry, and a banana and honey sorbet - and an ice old beer for my Beloved and an icy gin and tonic for me. One of the managers is Dick, an enthusiastic young man who explains how camp works (up at 5.30 am, breakfast at 6 am, depart on safari at 6.30 am, back around 11.30 am for brunch, siesta until 3.30 pm, when high tea is served, depart on safari around 4-4.30 pm, back at camp around 7.30 pm, time for a shower, and dinner is served at 8 pm. Never walk anywhere unaccompanied at night. Night drives and mokoro (dug out canoe) rides are available, and of course, the incomparable, ‘interaction with the elephants’.
The camp is understated, compared to African chic Sable Alley, with a spectacular view of an African Dambo (a reeded marshy expanse), a comfortable sitting area with books and lamps and a small locked gift shop, an elevated dining area, a boardwalk to a round well equipped bar, and another to a small swimming pool. Our tent is number 9 - “It’s a 17 km walk” says our guide - it’s not - but its a good six minute slog through fine dust in relentless sun. The tent (a euphemism) although it is canvas with sides of mosquito netting, but has a glass front door! It is spacious, elegantly decorated with white drapes on four sides, and a large bed hung with muslin netting, wooden floors, a bar fridge filled with wine, beer, and an impressive array of alcohol, including gin and lots of tonic, tea and coffee making facilities, a desk, and comfortable chairs. Behind the sleeping area is a dressing room and bathroom, with a separate tiled shower, a separate toilet, and hanging space. Laundry is placed in a wicker basket at the end of the day, and its whisked away and returned the next day, washed and ironed.
We shower and I have a short nap, and then its the 17 km trek back to the lodge. We meet a tall, impressive man who introduces himself as “The Professor”, he’s a guide who studied botany and zoology, and is indeed a professor, he proudly tells us, and that it took him six years. We meet TT, who takes just us two out at 4.30 pm on our first safari drive. We slosh through several waterways, past sausage trees and dead marula trees, and we are privileged to see two herds of buffalo, many violet crested rollers, the African open billed stork, secretary birds, yellow billed egrets, water starlings, Sable billed storks, giraffes, antelope, a small herd of galloping zebra, with a mother protectively shielding her baby. There are ‘miggies’ galore (insects) - TT says they can smell the rain which should come, and indeed, the sky is cloudy, and we too get a whiff of rain, reminiscent of our childhood. At sunset, around 6.15 pm he parks the landie under a magnificent old tree - what life has this tree seen, I wonder! - and sets up a table for sundowners; more gin and tonic, beer, biltong and nuts. I look at my Beloved and we grin at each other; here we are, back in Africa, and its glorious.
We drive back to camp in the dark, our flashlight doesn’t work, so we cannot see the ‘eyes’ in the dark, but we do see a hyena, which the vehicle ahead radios us to look for. We slosh through deep water, the headlights way below water level, glowing like fire in the water. We are at camp by 7.30 pm, dusty, dishevelled, sweaty and extremely happy, we sit in circle of the boma by the large fire. A handsome young man, wearing a circular linen hat brings our drinks, his name is Shaka Zulu - yes, the great warrior, Shaka Zulu! There may be rules at the camp that the guests should not feel ‘isolated’ - a term another staff member used today, as we were sitting on our own - We do not want you to be isolated!” - as he sits down with us, and shares his life. He grew up not far from here, where his parents still live, he has four brothers and sisters, he initially started out learning to be a pastry chef, and then graduated to cooking ‘many things’ - but his heart was not in it, he wanted to be with people, and as a chef, only on occasion did you get to meet a guest who complimented his cooking, and then he was back in the kitchen. He’s articulate, friendly, and handsome, and very good company.
We slept little last night in our SkyBeds, and we are tired, so we take a seat in the empty dining room which overlooks the very busy bar. There is a large group - perhaps sixteen? -of Americans - gulp - the women are expensively dressed in ‘cocktail hour’ clothing, they seem to know each other well, and are clearly having a wonderful time. We decide to eat fast, and get back to the tent as quickly as possible to avoid sharing the dining room with them. We’ve just begun to eat - beef fillet for Gerald and pork for me - when the Loud American from earlier today arrives with his party and dominates the dining room As soon as we are finished, we depart for our tent with a guide lighting our way, he sweeps the flashlight in a 360 degree motion on our 17 km walk to Tent 9.
It’s been a wonderful day.
At Stanleys Camp we are looked after by 3 wonderful local hosts : Fortunate, Precious and Clever.
Day 13 - 30th September 2018. It’s Botswana’s Independence Day today - 52 years!
The wind has howled all night long, blowing the curtains and shaking the tent.
Today is a day I will remember for the rest of my life. Today, my Beloved and I WALKED WITH THE ELEPHANTS.
May I tell you?
Firstly, we didn’t know we were going to walk with the elephants. We were not woken at 5.30 am - as guests are in camp - and I woke myself at 5.45 am, fearful that we’d be late. We scrambled into our clothes without showering and ran the 17 kms to the lodge, there was only one landie parked outside, and our hearts sank, thinking we had missed out on our morning safari with TT. I could hear the Loud American before we entered the building, he was holding court at his table, giving the guide a few tips about African animals. A flurry of misunderstanding ensued: they asked why were we here so early, we said we thought we’d missed our safari, they said you are going on an elephant walk, we said no, we weren’t told that, we parried back and forth, trying to get clarity on what actually was happening. Gerald overheard the Loud American, who had overheard our conversation, asking about the Elephant Walk, and how much was it? US$1200 for his group of four. Really? Forms were brought and he and his party were filling them in. Dear God, no! If we ARE going on an elephant walk, the whole reason we came to this particular camp, please, please please don’t let this man be in our group! I make discreet enquiries, one says yes he is, another says, no he is not. They leave with the guide, on a ‘short’ safari, and I say to Gerald “I am NOT going on an elephant walk with that man, I am JUST NOT!” My Beloved makes soothing sounds and tells me not to allow one human being to wreck my much anticipated experience, and I attempt to ‘let it go’ and ‘go with the flow’. We fill in a ‘no responsibility’ form which includes the following statements:
“I fully understand that the Elephant Experience May involve among other things, being in close proximity with habituated elephants handled by Grey matters (“The Eles”), touching and being touched by the Eles, possibly riding on the backs of Eles, being in and walking through the areas used by the Eles, wild elephants and other wild animals, and witnessing and participating in various activities involving interactions between myself, other humans and the Eles.”
And
“I fully understand that during the Elephant Experience I may be exposing myself and/or my property to risk and possibility of danger, harm or damage from naturally occurring hazards, from wild animals and creatures of diverse sorts, and from the Eles to be used during the Elephant Experience, which by virtue of their size and nature, can be dangerous and can cause damage.”
BRING IT ON!
We’re way too early for the Elephant Walk, which only starts at 8 am, so we head return to our tent for a shower. Now I know we are definitely going on an Elephant Walk, my excitement is mounting and I decide that even the Loud American won’t spoil my day. I’m wearing the ivory ear rings I’ve had for 45 years, it seemed fitting to bring them back to Africa, but I remove them and replace them with a set of plastic leopard print drops.
Our guides KD and a beautiful woman, Grace, drive us to the meeting point, and troops of monkies scamper alongside the landie on the journey; there are guests coming from Barnes Camp, a sister camp, not faraway. We are joined by a French couple, a South African couple, and an English couple, who arrive in a landie with The Loud American. I cannot tell you how happy I am when they do not alight the vehicle, but after dropping the Poms, the Americans drive away. There IS a God, thank you!
AD has an impressive looking ????????? Gun, which I hope he does not have to use. I think I’d rather see the Loud American shot than an elephant. In the distance, I can see two elephants walking towards us, accompanied by a man. I am to discover he is one half of the couple Doug and Sandy ???? Who are the ‘parents’/‘owners’ of Jabu (41 years old and the male) and Marula (32 years old and the female) elephants we are to meet today.
Gerald’s camera dies, with no explanation. What???? NOW? After trying several things with no result, Grace offers to drive the landie back to camp and to our tent, where on the desk is a blue zippered bag, which contains a second ‘chip’ for his camera. Bless this woman, for she returns before we start ‘interacting’ - and we are so grateful.
Sandy introduces herself. She is tiny, shorter than I am, a woman comfortable in her skin, perhaps late forties? - she wears Crocs and sensible muted clothing, her hair is twisted in a knot under a sensible sun proof hat, her face is peaceful, she takes things in her stride, their is a strength and an assuredness about her. She has lived in Botswana for 25 years, she and Doug (who is American - (I take it all back, I take it all back ...) met when he came to Knysna in South Africa to participate on a wild life documentary, and she was studying zooolgy and biology, and went to do some practical work in the same camp. He was at that time ‘bringing up’ three orphaned baby elephants, Jabu, Marula, and Timbie. I shall find out the exact details, but two of them were saved from a ‘cull’ of elephants in Zimbabwe, and were traumatised and terribly distressed (elephants are notorious for their memories, and these elephants had seen wide scale decimation of their families). Marula (for why?) was unable to connect ever again with a herd, and Sandy and Doug formed a lasting, loving relationship with each other, and together with the elephants.
Their every day is spent with the elephants. They have no children. Their lives are for and with and about the elephants. In March 2017, Timbie died, unexpectedly, of colic. Unlike horses, for instance, elephants seldom demonstrate pain, and within a few days, she died. Jabu and Marula refused to leave her body for two days. Then Jabu smashed up trees and came back and tried to lift her to her feet before smashing a few more trees - these two were best friends - and Marula’s tear ducts poured copious amounts of ‘tears’ for weeks. I can only imagine the pain of Sandy and Doug, and then shortly after this, Jabu had a bad injury to his foot, caused by an aggressive attack by another elephant. She said she cried so much she did not know if she would ever be able to stop. They are in the process of doing stem cell implantation to help Jabu regain full use of his foot, and also the possibly of orthodox ???? For his foot to help him walk, as his other foot is now turning out to counteract the sway in his walk from the injury.
We were with the elephants for four hours, and so much happened. Gerald’s camera dies within minutes of arrival. God Bless Grace, who returns in the landie to our tent and brings Gerald a new chip for his camera.
In the first hour, this slight woman stood in front of us, alongside this giant and glorious female, just talking. From a pouch on her back, she fed Marula elephant ‘pellets’, as they graze for 18 hours plus a day. I know that we in the West are accustomed to seeing Asian elephants ridden, patted, stroked, washed, and perform tricks - but never, never an African elephant. Sandy never raised her voice, she never even emphasised a word, as I might, with Cino, when I say “Sit!” She murmured constantly to her, and Marula responded. Sandy placed her hand INSIDE THE MOUTH of Marula, to give her pellets, she stood between her legs, she caressed her trunk, her legs, her face, she called her ‘darling’. The love between these two beings was undeniable, the respect and understanding was a palpable current, all I could do, was observe in absolute wonder.
Marula understands English: at certain words she does certain things. They respond to certain words: walk, go, snack, darling, sleep, kiss, love, ears, wave, sleep, and a host of others. At night, they go ‘to bed’ (she sleeps for 5 hours from 2 am onwards - and when they lie down to sleep, their heart rate increases, as they compress one lung, so they can only lie down for short periods!). They wake in the night, and demand food, and short circuit the 1.5 acre ‘bedroom’ they have, so Doug has to go and repair it and give them ‘snacks’. These animals would be dead without the love and care of Sandy and Doug, and the interactive experience they provide and the learning and understanding this offers is an absolute privilege and such an incredible learning.
Today we get the rare privilege of standing close enough to count the eyelashes of these amazing animals. We hear them communicate to each other and to Sandy and Doug. I look straight into her mouth and her long, whitey/pink tongue, I see inside her hairy ears, the protective mucus in her eyes, the length and thickness of her eyelashes, the shine of her toenails. We stand motionless, and Marula reaches out her trunk and rests it on our shoulders. I watch as Marula moves down the line of people, gently touching each on the shoulder - she seems to like the English lady a lot as she keeps returning to her. She gazes into my eyes and my soul shatters with joy. She snuffles my face and breathes warm air into my ear,her wiry ‘hair’ scratching my face and arm. I have no words, and I am not able to describe this so that you fully understand, but I am trying.
Sandy shares her knowledge, her love, her passion of these elephants with us with such generosity, she and Marula know each other well - 28 years! - and can communicate as easily with words, as without words.
Sandy asks, who would like to walk with Marula. I step forward instantly. Marula reaches her trunk into my hand, and holding hands, we walk through long grass towards a dusty track. Gerald has hastily taken my IPhone and is walking backwards taking pictures, but Marula’s strides are long, and he has trouble keeping up. I feel my face split into a huge smile as I stride along trying to keep up with Marula, her trunk is hairy and wiry, her nostrils moist and warm, and I feel as if I am walking with a favoured relative, I feel so privileged, so blessed, to be doing this. It’s Gerald’s turn to accompany this Lovely Lady, and I race to take a video. My Beloved is weeping, tears are rolling down his cheeks, yet he smiles a look of such happiness.
The other guests share their moments with Marula; she is a very sociable lady who clearly enjoys the presence of people. Doug tells us that in the off season, when there are no visitors, Jabu and Marula get a little lonely, and when the guests start to arrive again, are clearly happy to interact. There are so many similarities between elephants an humans, memory and family, tradition and social habits, intense mothering and communication, just some of the qualities we share.
Doug has a brilliant smile, he is a man whose heart lives on his sleeve, a man who cuddles people as easily as he cuddles elephants, he is a man committed to educating us about not only elephants, but the planet, and how we interact with each other, and how important we all are to each other. I love him on sight. He spends an hour introducing us to Jabu, a much bigger version of Marula, with long tusks and huge ears. He is a very knowledgeable man, who speaks quietly (see America, you can do it!) and shares so much information it’s hard to remember it all. They have six sets of teeth in life. They gestate for 22 months. They are competitive. They grieve. They need to socialise and belong. They like to eat onions, potatoes, nuts, grains, and marula trees. Neither Jabu nor Marula are parents, they were so traumatised in their early lives, it is difficult for them to relate to other elephants, their memories are so painful. Jabu makes certain elephant communication sounds and Doug says they make a whole bunch more. There is one sound that is not ‘normal’ to elephants, and he says, “We hope it means ‘I love you’”.
Doug asks if we would like to step closer, to see his eyes close up, to touch his tail, his toe nails, his tusks. I step forward, between his tusks and legs, Gerald joins me. I’ve just seen a photo of us looking so joyful and so privileged. People are silent, moved, breathless, clearly aware of the privilege and the incredible gift this is. These people will go away and speak of us, the majesty of these beasts, they will be a ‘stand’ for elephants in the world - the English lady has already told us that her community in the UK fundraiser to rescue an elephant who was being mistreated in a circus, who is now living a happy life in a sanctuary. This will be a mission for us, those privileged to be here today.
Doug walks the elephant away and we head, reluctantly, back to the landie, but just five minutes away, we stop for a picnic lunch, set up amongst two ancient trees. A team of staff have set up tables and a delicious lunch, the bar is open, there is a bush toilet operating, and us elephant walkers, having shared this experience, and taken each other’s photos, are trying to communicate - in French and South African and Australian and English. The elephants have it over us.
We sit eating in the shade, and then we see Jabu bearing Doug, and Marula walking towards us, to join us for lunch. The elephant lunch is laid out on the ground, branches, onions, potatoes, nuts and as they graze and snap twigs we graze on beef kebabs and grilled chicken and salad. I cannot believe it. Just feet - literally FEET! - from where we sit, are these prehistoric animals, sharing their space with us.
Doug and Sandy work in tandem, shifting from one to the other, as parents at a BBQ might do, watching their kids. Marula strolls towards the bar and Sandy calls “Darling! - please come back?” - and amazingly, Marula responds. Jabu comes a tiny bit too close, and Doug says quietly “Jabu, back up?” And he does. I’m gobsmacked. In awe. Without words.
Doug asks if we would like an elephant kiss. We step forward, and Jabu places his hot lips on Gerald’s cheek in a long, wet embrace. I cannot see but my Beloved is laughing. We switch places, and I experience the heat, the wet, the wire, the smell, the slippery suck of an elephant trunk on my left cheek and I hold my face in my hands and weep. We stand, Gerald and I, between his legs and holding the tusks of this giant beast, this gentle creature.
Is this possible? Have we experienced this? What could ever top this?
I acknowledge Doug and Sandy, for their love and passion and 24 hour a day work, what a difference they are making in the world, what dedication and soul and heart they have. I say what a privilege this has been, a day I will never, ever forget. Doug opens his arms and hugs me tight, and we kiss on my elephant saliva-d cheek. I say I would like to write their book. Earlier today, I asked Sandy if she had written a book about their lives, and she said no. I said they absolutely MUST! Their passion and love and knowledge and experience will die with them, and they have so much to teach us about elephants. All I want people to get is the love, she says, then adds she would not know where to start. I offered to ghost write the book, and that all the proceeds go towards the care of the elephants. I would come here to interview them and be with them, and then write. I hope they think about it and say yes.
We drive back to camp through the waterway, speechless, looking at each other and shaking our heads, grinning. I don’t know how - and I know I will discover more about today tomorrow and the next day - but my heart and my life has shifted.
Thank you Sandy and Doug. Thank you Africa. Thank you Jabu and Marula.
Today we WALKED WITH THE ELEPHANTS.