01st
Tippi Degré was born in Namibia in 1990 to wildlife film-maker parents. Already it would seem improbable that she was destined to have a run- of-the-mill childhood. Her first ten years was indeed pretty special as her parent’s work took them travelling throughout southern Africa. Namibia’s game ranches, conservancies and the tribal lands of the Himba and San Bushmen became as familiar to her as the local neighbourhoods of a town-child.
Rather like a modern-day Rudyard Kipling (and his Jungle Book creation, Mowgli), Tippi not only made herself at home in the bush but also befriended its inhabitants, displaying unusual fearlessness to the creatures she encountered. Pictures of Tippi scaling the trunk of an elephant, reclining against the furry flank of a leopard and riding an ostrich depict a very unusual child. How cool that your best mate is a meerkat and that, barely knee-high to a grasshopper, you can tick off a leopard by tapping it on the nose and saying “stop that!”. Her mother, Sylvie Robert, developed the belief that her scruffy little rough diamond of a daughter could communicate with the animals and regarded them as her contemporaries.
Not all children are Tippis but they all certainly have the capacity to be captivated by Africa and its wildlife. How tangible is the excitement of children when they first see the tent they will spend the night in, or the Samburu warrior who shows them how to shoot a bow and arrow, and the antics of geckos catching moths around a light at night! While Nintendo and the TV do provide handy distractions for kids, how can they possibly compete with excavating the tiny funnels of ant lions in the sand, or the excitement of hearing a hyena whooping at night? And, selfishly, how cool to benefit from a second childish euphoria while you watch all this as a grown-up?
Furthermore, and probably stating the obvious here, but if the next generation don’t get to enjoy the barefoot freedom of wild places and develop an understanding of its importance for our future, how on earth can we expect them to take an interest in conserving it?
Find out more about going on safari with your children.
Check out some ideas for child-friendly trips to Africa.
Check out Tippi’s web-site.
24th
We curious humans can’t resist a pull towards out of the way places where the possibility of not seeing another person or car for days is just as enticing as the beauty of the landscape or the local wildlife. The journey, while possibly a tad more challenging, is often part of the adventure and makes it all the more special. From repeated experience, I can testify that a major schlep to reach a place almost always reaps massive returns (and you feel all intrepid and a bit like Ranulph Fiennes for a day or two).
In the late ‘90s I took at trip on a ferry from Nkhata Bay on Lake Malawi to Likoma Island. Having travelled hard for a month through Mozambique, we decided that we’d earned a little luxury and splashed out on a first class ticket (all of about $20), envisaging a cosy bunk and a cabin cooled by the lake breeze. Unfortunately it didn’t quite work out like that and first class turned out to be a hard bench on the open deck. Third class was down in the bilges with a lot of people, assorted livestock, bunches of bananas, pungent dried fish and sacks of rice. Luxury was clearly relative.
The on-board entertainment consisted of watching the dugout canoes of traders pulling alongside as we chugged along. These boats were hewn from a single tree and some were vast – I counted a family of ten plus baggage seated comfortably in one. Sales were made to the passengers after noisy haggling and the dugouts paddled off as the sun went down. We disembarked in the dark at 4am. It was rather like the D-Day landings…lifeboats were lowered with a single kerosene lamp suspended from the prow. Passengers in the bottom of the ship fought with each other for space, behaving as if each boat was the last. Finally aboard our own lifeboat, we huddled in the cool of the early morning and listened to the gentle splash of the oars as we headed for the dark island.
We sat on the beach and watched the sun turn the smooth lake to mercury as the sounds of the day reached us from the villages on Likoma. We spent several idyllic days camped in rustic thatched shacks on an almost impossibly picturesque beach, accessorized with promontories of big round boulders. We snorkelled in the warm clear water where colourful tropical fish swim, rivalling any marine reef (and lacking only the coral and saltiness of the ocean).
This little patch has now evolved into the beautiful island lodge of Kaya Mawa and Likoma is the jumping-off point for the equally special hideaway of Nkwichi (pictured above), on the Mozambique side of the lake. These are not the easiest places to get to but then again, that’s half the appeal. That said, you can still enjoy the solitude and splendid isolation without slumming it on the deck of the ferry. Simple berths are available for the adventurous and there are also charter flights to the island.
Find out more about the Lake.
Check out Nkwichi – our featured hideaway.
Find inspiration for other Wild experiences.
28th
Once upon a time, before we got all smart and chose to shape the environment to our needs, we were just another species that had to learn to survive everything that nature threw at us. We were probably less soft, pink and hairless, and had slightly more impressive teeth and claws. The knowledge we inherited from our forbears included fewer instructions about how to work the microwave and one or two more useful tips about how to nail a mammoth. We spent our days beetling about in search of our next meal rather than recumbent in a squishy couch playing X-box. How times have changed.
But some humans have not sloughed off the knack of living by their wits and in depleting numbers, a few races of people still live as nature once intended – rather more at one with the earth. The San people of the Kalahari are one such tribe.
San is the generic term for a collection of kinship groups, sometimes referred to as Bushmen that are found in parts of Botswana, Namibia and Zimbabwe. They trace their ancestry back over 20,000 years and have left their legacy painted in bile and pigment on the rocks of Africa; scenes of hunts, spoor depicted alongside their respective animals for teaching purposes, records of the arrival of white people in pith helmets with ox-wagons.
No one else in their right mind calls the Kalahari home and it is no small feat to subsist in this hostile landscape. As semi-nomads, the San move with the seasons, their destinations determined by the availability of food and water. It’s hard to imagine that there are still people whose street knowledge includes how to concoct lethal poison from bits of a tortoise, which stunted and desiccated shrub will yield a juicy tuber, and remembering where one buried an ostrich egg filled with water a few months ago. It rather puts a trip to Tesco in perspective.
San folk are lively, cheerful and kind and place a high value on family (particularly children), gift-giving and story-telling – told in their largely unwritten “click” language. Their deep understanding of the environment and its inhabitants goes beyond textbook stuff; hunters are so tuned to the psychology of their prey that they can follow animals where the spoor has long since vanished and still come up with the goods. Walking in the footsteps of the San is a unique privilege and puts a completely different slant on Africa and its wildlife.
Look at safari ideas that include time spent among the San.
See camps that work closely with the San.
Look for more information on the Kalahari.
13th
When you planned that safari, you foolishly thought you were going on holiday, didn’t you? 5.30am wake-up calls, out walking hard all morning to find the wildlife and earn your breakfast, (and even then they cook it for you in the bush so you can’t sneak off back to your tent for a shut-eye). Only a few hours downtime and you’re off again in search of big cats until the sun sinks. Returning to camp almost (but not quite) too tired to eat that three course dinner and with only enough energy to sink half a bottle of chardonnay, you collapse under the feather duvet. Another taxing day on safari…
Well, at least when you clamber aboard that little plane and fly out over a turquoise sea, you will feel you’ve earned a bit of respite. Stretching along the coast of Mozambique lie the four islands of the Bazaruto Archipelago. Originally inhabited by a few indigenous villagers, the two larger islands of Bazaruto and Benguerra are now a popular beach destination. A handful of stylish lodges offer relaxation on tap in a variety of guises (be they quiet places to relax with a book, spa treatments or private plunge pools).
Of course, the idea of a beach holiday may not float your boat and if you’re like me (and don’t like the idea of basting yourself with coconut oil and getting sand in uncomfortable places) you still might consider a visit to Bazaruto. Both fly and deep-sea fishing are rewarding pursuits if you know your weights from your lures. For non-fishers, exploring the other uninhabited islands or kitting yourself out in fetching neoprene for a little scuba diving might sound appealing. And if all of that doesn’t blow your hair back, there’s also sea-kayaking, horse-riding and beach walks to choose from. Still not? You may want to consider staying at home and taking up knitting.
The Bazaruto Archipelago is not as remote and logistically challenging as Quirimbas, and since it is easily reached via Johannesburg, it combines really well with safaris throughout southern Africa, including Gorongosa National Park in Mozambique itself.
Find out more about holidays in Mozambique.
Image courtesy of Benguerra Lodge
09th
Sliding over the calm, clear shallows of the Okavango Delta with the regular sound of the pole gently splashing and propelling you smoothly forward, the calls of fish eagle, kingfishers and bee-eaters, the warm sun lighting up the reeds and jackal-berry trees, and the deep blue sky overhead… It’s hard to choose words that don’t make this sound like syrupy marketing spin but there’s no avoiding the fact that that travelling through the Okavango in a mokoro is really quite idyllic.
Mokoros are long, sturdy canoes traditionally hewn from hardwood trees such as ebony and bleached a pale grey by the sun and water over time. The “River Bushmen”, amongst other tribes, still use the canoes for transport and fishing. However, with the influx of tourism into the Delta, some of these seasoned fishermen have turned their skills to guiding and what better way to undertake this unique experience than in the capable hands of a local?
The core of the Delta remains water-logged all year round, but the seasonal inundation fills out a vast swathe of channels and lagoons between March and June, swelling the Delta to more than three times its permanent size. The water that rises in Angola gradually creeps down hippo “highways”, creating seasonal islands and enriching reed-beds. Annual migrations bring an influx of elephant, buffalo and antelope into the area along with hundreds of birds as the Kalahari loses its green mantle to winter. For this reason, the period between July and the end of October is the best time of year to visit the Delta for the quantity and variety of wildlife.
Travelling by mokoro allows you access to areas otherwise impossible by motorboat or vehicle and the quiet is very much part of the appeal. It allows you to enjoy the sounds as much as the sights and gives you the opportunity to cruise quietly up to animals without disturbing them with noisy engines. It goes without saying that the view of an elephant is quite different from a few feet off the surface of the water and many animals are surprisingly relaxed in the presence of water-borne humans.
Many camps and lodges in the perennial Delta offer mokoro trips as part of the day’s activities while other camps which benefit from seasonal flood-waters will do so if the water is high enough, so you do need to choose your area carefully depending on the time of year. For those that wish to experience full immersion (not literally) in the Delta, there are safaris solely dedicated to exploring on foot or by mokoro in the old ways of the local people.
Look at ideas for safaris in the Okavango.
What are the main areas to visit in Botswana?
When’s the best time to visit Botswana?
I want to see birds in Botswana!
21st
Just by way of an aside, you may notice that I started this Zambian blog with a reference to the day…but this has since fallen by the way side. This is simply because I no longer know what day, date or time it is anymore…a lovely side-effect of being on safari!
My guide at Nsolo Bushcamp in South Luangwa, Lawrence, is a passionate ecologist. He doesn’t give you a single titbit about the bush without explaining how it relates to the bigger picture. It’s like watching a giant jigsaw puzzle being put together and it gives you a real sense of how critical each piece is to the effective functioning of the whole.
This morning’s walk though the tall elephant grass and back along the banks of the Luwi River, gave me a real insight into the area. Did you know, for example, that baboons often use termitaria (anthills) as lookout posts? Well, while they are doing this, they sometimes leave droppings which contain tamarind fruit from earlier foraging elsewhere. The seeds germinate here because the termite mound is moist and built of soil made fertile by bringing nutrients up to the surface. Rather than killing the invasive tree, the termites foster it because it provides shade which helps maintain a lower temperature in the mound.
Lawrence pointed out a couple of hollows where elephants habitually come for a dust bath. Dust is scooped up with their trunks and thrown over their bodies, helping to protect against parasites. The hollows fill up with water in the rains and provide a drinking place for many different species and sometimes a refuge for hippo.
The elusive aardvark is a very effective digger of holes but they move around and often leave holes abandoned. These cosy homes in turn provide refuge for warthog, snakes and other creatures.
Humans have their place in nature too, at Nsolo Bushcamp, the honey badgers have taken to raiding the camp kitchen at night. They’ve clearly worked out that the camp cook produces a fine menu. Small but vicious and incredibly destructive, they dig under the fence and raid the supplies night after night, much to the consternation of the staff. Further up river, at Luwi Bushcamp, two honey badgers were found on their backs one morning, four paws in the air, apparently dead. Roused with a bit of prod, they blearily made their way out of camp. Further investigation showed that they had broken into the bar and consumed a disproportionate amount of cellar cask wine. Now a honey badger with a hangover is something to take a wide berth around.
13th
After my micro-light flight of yesterday, I packed a small backpack and crossed the Luangwa River in a large canoe to begin my trek on foot to my next destination. Batwell, the game scout accompanied me to make sure that I didn’t get flattened by any animals and they remained safe from any stupidity on my part. Impressively equipped with some very sturdy boots and a rifle, his calm demeanour and eagle eyes gave me confidence that he would live up to the task.
My guide, Isaac, is a 35 year veteran of the Luangwa Valley and his vintage makes him one of the most experienced here. Our little crocodile-formation was brought up by Justin the tea-bearer (they really are called that!) who was really the most important member of the group.
We set off a little later than usual and so walked through a fairly warm part of the day. Nevertheless, I was surprised and pleased by the amount we saw. Teak and mahogany lined riverbeds gave onto open vleis and thicker bush, the constantly changing habitats always providing something interesting to ponder on. The bush is quiet but never silent and bird calls, the sharp alarm of puku and honk of hippopotamus was audible all around. We picked our way along routes established by elephant and other animals…literally walking in their footsteps.
Walking is just such a pleasure and sights that may be banal from a vehicle take on a new substance when you’re on your own two pegs. Just off the boat, we came across an enormous monitor lizard with fresh injuries caused by a leopard. Later on we startled a small herd of zebra which abruptly fled in panic and suddenly our eyes, ears and noses were filled with pounding hooves, dust and a confusion of stripes as they galloped within a few metres of us. An aroused male puku almost ran us over, so intent was he on the shapely backside of the female he was pursuing, shying wide at the last minute. We had the pleasure of walking quietly onto a young bull elephant drinking in the shade, thrillingly unaware of our presence. Kingfishers, saddle-billed storks, wood-hoopoes, a martial eagle and spoonbills were amongst a true cocktail of birds.
With a stop-off for a welcome cup of tea, our walk to the Chikoko Bushcamp took around four hours. The walking is easy and the pace gentle so you don’t have to be a marathon-runner to enjoy it, just reasonably fit with comfortable shoes and a passion for the outdoors. It is a completely different experience from driving, as I am reminded every time I go bipedal, and the best calories ever spent!
Click here for a little video tour of my room at the Chikoko Bushcamp.
09th
Travelling to a country for the first time is often a bit of a prickly time, regardless of how much of a globe trotter you are. Having negotiated the packing (generally a rather hit and miss affair because I don’t usually have much idea what the weather will be like and choosing three out of twenty pairs of shoes is always irksome), and made it through the ever lengthening airport security rigmarole, time spent flying constitutes a welcome bit of downtime in a usually stressful process.
Upon arrival, getting from the plane to the terminal is a bit like a lucky dip…I never know whether I will have to walk up a tunnel, get onto a bus that resembles the London tube in rush hour or walk across the steamy tarmac apron, sweating and hauling my usually prolific hand-luggage feeling like a bit of a refugee, surrounded by the roar of engines and getting inadvertently high on aviation fuel.
Airport buildings in Africa are not famous for their sophistication or choice shopping. Some time in the latter half of last century, the architecture ceased being charming and stately and commenced being intimidating and dull, adopting a style best described as colonial-gothic. More recently re-vamped airports like Harare and those in South Africa are really quite lovely; calm spaces of tranquillity.
Next there are the innocuous immigration declarations to complete. More often than not, they are written in such small lettering it’s hard to decipher. I have visions of stacks of dusty immigration forms held together by old rubber bands lining some poor clerk’s office from floor to ceiling awaiting processing. Sometimes the officials are a bit bored and disinterested, sometimes pretty cheery…it just depends which side of bed they tumbled out of.
Hmmm….luggage carousels. Well, these things in Africa tend to have a life of their own and there are several things that you can never depend on: that the carousel with be working, that your luggage will appear on the designated carousel, or that there will be a carousel at all (it may be evident by the heaps of carousel components at one end of the baggage hall). I just keep an open mind, adjust my expectations accordingly and leave my luggage-related sense of entitlement out of sight.
As I emerge from the airport, with all the above safely packed away in a box marked “experience”, what a pleasure it is to find my very own name on a board with a smiling face hovering above it, offering to take my bag. I now don’t have to fret about how I will get to my hotel, where I can change currency without being fleeced or how I will negotiate a city completely devoid of street signs. It’s just all taken care of…and suddenly I’m on holiday and I can appreciate my new surroundings as if I were a local.
Amanda is currently out and about exploring Zambia for the greater good…keep tabs on her experiences here.
31st
The arid region of northern Kenya experiences frequent drought but even in the “good years” the dry season leads people and animals to go to extraordinary lengths in search of water. The Matthews Range forms a jagged natural amphitheatre, the floor of which is covered with acacia scrub, weathered rock kopjes and sand rivers which seldom flow anymore. In this harsh landscape, the pastoralist Samburu tribe eke out a living herding their cows and goats from one patch of meagre grazing to another. They are semi-nomadic and their simple, smoky shelters of curved saplings plastered with mud and cow dung will be reconstructed in a new spot when the forage becomes too scarce.
This is one of the few places left in Africa where people still coexist alongside abundant wildlife without the artificial boundaries of national parks and reserves. This is not to say that there are not frequent incursions by wildlife into human territory or vice versa but somehow they muddle along. This area is home to elephant, wild dog, leopard and hyena in addition to a variety of other herbivores and small mammals.
A bushwalk from Sarara Camp in the Matthews Range took us up an old riverbed in the height of the dry season. From some distance away, the sounds of livestock could be heard, their bleating and beaten iron bells echoing from the hills. The herds were milling impatiently with their child-shepherds around a narrow metal trough. From a broad shaft dug roughly down into the sand, perhaps 25 feet deep, came the sound of men singing. The voices belonged to a chain of four or five young warani (warriors), red shukas over lean, muscular torsos, elaborately accessorized with strings of multi-coloured beads looping around their necks, across their ochred foreheads and swinging from their ear-lobes. A series of funky vintage vegetable oil tins filled with water were passed up to the top of the shaft where a particularly statuesque young man tossed it expertly into the trough for the thirsty animals. All the while, the singing reverberated from deep within the sand river, the harmony of deep voices carrying across the heads of lowing cattle to the grey hills in the distance.
16th
Carmina Burana under the stars… hi-tech juggling from the States and Capella from the UK…Scandinavian and Chinese circus and flute recitals…Malian, Senagalese and Camaroonian maestros…South African rappers…African-American “steppers”….dance, song and art exhibitions…
Surely this can’t be Zimbabwe?! Well, actually, it is. In ten days, Harare will pretty much grind to a halt as the Harare International Festival of Arts (HIFA) comes to town. Founded in 1999 by artistic director Manuel Bagorro, the festival has ravished Harare for 11 years. Each year there is a theme around which the performances are hinged and this years’ is aptly titled “About Face”.
High profile performers from all over the world are hand-picked by Manuel who tours the international events looking for the best. Over 100 acts create a melting pot of modern and traditional, classical and contemporary, international and local. The festival is a highlight in the calendar. Carmina Burana (from Spain’s La Fura dels Baus theatre company – responsible for the opening ceremony at the Barcelona Olympics) opens the festival on 27th April on the Global Stage in the gardens in the centre of town, under the African sky. Local theatres host other performances and there is a wide choice of free shows that everyone can enjoy. The tickets for the main acts go for no more than $15 making it pretty accessible. So popular is the festival that many tickets are sold out within a day of the box office opening.
Local corporates, NGOs and diplomatic missions sponsor the event which is entirely non-profit.
So…I’m off to fill my diary with opera, Hamlet (abridged and performed in Shona), a puppet show, The Hothouse Flowers and the Shanghai Circus, to name but a few. I’ll let you know how it went.
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