monkeys on the roof

Rain Check

2012-01-26T08:14:00.001+02:00

adventure map full of potential

A week later and our world is drying up fast. The waterfalls around the house finally ceased to flow yesterday. The mud is still saturated and slippery, but the plant life is flourishing and the early sunlight glows through a festival of green.

flooded road to Machampane

Sadly we had to call a rain check on our planned adventure to a remote bush camp in mozambique but in the Kruger Park, repairs are in progress at camps, and roads. Rivers and streams are babbling brooks innocently sparkling in the sunlight as if they would never ever dream of that outrageous behaviour they showed us all last week. The only telling signs are the vegetation detritis hanging high in the branches of bushes on either bank.

bushbuck in Letaba camp

At Letaba camp it is business as usual and the border post to Mozambique is open again. We drove through to Massingir with our friends from NYC - as a compromise and to make up for our mudshyness. Looking at the pools and wetlands on either side of the road confirmed our decision.

women with fish on their heads walking the Massingir Dam wall

The Massingir Dam was full of the brown water that flowed through SA in the past week. As we arrived all the sluice gates were open. We drove around the small township and finally came to rest at a hotel type place with a view of the Dam. The warm aroma of bat guano seems to emanate from every place with a ceiling here but the ambiance was friendly and there were some ice cold beers.

Massingir Dam swollen with floodwaters

tiny fishing rowboat center right, between island and shore

We had booked into some self contained chalets at the Park Entry gates - charming log cabins with thatch roofs and gauze windows. The midday was sweltering hot . We decided to investigate the back roads a bit, and visit the other camp site and lodge. The back road had been little used by anything other than cattle and firewood sleighs since the rains. Some villages had ploughed their new lands over the tracks, and another had sited their football pitch right across what was once the road. So its not suprising really that we missed the turn to the camp site.

the notch on the tusk suggests this elephant uses his right hand tusk for most of the work

Our evening drive became rather longer than planned but we did see one bull elephant and some lovely woodland scenery. The sun was setting and we had forgotten to pack the cool box, so all aboard became a little quiet and focussed until we found the main road back to camp. There was a moment of tension when I thought I had lost the keys, but soon all were smiling again and the night sky was clear and spangled with those glorious stars.

beauty in the eye of the beholder

Rumour has it there is another tropical storm or cyclone off the east coast but so far we are looking at clear blue skies.

Letaba Camp view

flood water fun

2012-01-19T13:18:00.001+02:00

A tropical storm blew in two days ago from mozambique. It rained so much that our world became a moat around the house. The rain guage overflowed so we don't have accurate figures, but we have had more than 200mls rain in 24 hours. At first it was calming, cozy to watch the rain from a dry house - and above all else it was cool after the melting heat.

We slept to rain hammering on our tin roof. In the morning we were surrounded with babbling brooks, waterfalls, and torrents of clear water gushing out of the koppies behind the house. When you live in a seasonal rainfall area, you can never be sure when or if it will rain. Even if you are not a farmer, you keep a wary eye on the landscape and see when it is suffering, parched and dry. There is always rejoicing when rain falls. And when it is heavy enough to make dry rivers fill with flash floods it is exciting to go and see what is happening.

So there we were, driving into Kruger Park with the rain slashing down - into the eye of the storm. Every tiny creek and crease in the landscape was pumping milky brown water under and over the road; sheets of water lay on open plains forming a miniscus at the roadside waiting to tip. In places it had tipped but was shallow enough to drive through. In other places the water had lifted platlets of tar off the road surface as if they were scales. They lay in tumbled jigsaw pieces on the verge.

Waterholes we know that are traditionally serene pools of reflections and hippo heads, were transformed into swollen angry forces, storming over their dam walls, and racing in furious frothy torrents over rocks and between the dark wood trees.

We made it through to Letaba camp. In the restaurant, groups of sodden looking tourists gazed glumly at the torrential scene. We snapped pics and revelled in the excitement of watching the river rise. In 2000, the river flooded right into the restaurant area - for now it was still well under control.

We decided to head home. In that short time, the river had crossed the small bridge on our exit road and was rolling and tumbling through the gorge with great gusto. A tortoise washed up on the edge of the fray. It was being caught by the waves that swirled in from the rocks. I broke the rules and lifted him to higher ground. It was the cleanest tortoise i have ever seen.But we could no longer cross the bridge so we turned back to Letaba camp to wait for the water levels to subside. Sometimes Africa just makes you wait, and it always reminds you who is in ultimate control of the situation. These days its not just Africa that does this.

Back in Letaba the water had flooded into the parking area to the extent that normal sedan cars could not drive through certain areas. Things were changing fast, and still the rain came slashing down. The best thing to do is stop and wait so we did. Strangers started chatting, sharing road reports. We heard that the road south was closed, and the road north was blocked by floodwaters.

After lunch we tried again. Luckily for us the floodwaters had dropped below the bridge and, although the crash barriers were torn and twisted over the road, we were able to drive through.

We made it home through the rain slashed park. But this wasnt enough. We decided to drive to the Olifants River to see the floods there. Rayson came with us this time. I love how, in this area, all the locals turn out to look at a flooded river. Even the police were there taking pictures with their cell phones. The brown swirling waters raced under the road bridge carrying huge tree trunks and debris that now and again thunked into the bridge supports. Rayson is our man about the place. He thought we were mad to stop on the bridge and headed straight for the other side to watch from there. He had a point. Watching the racing flood waters certainly made you feel dizzy and sick. We saw a hippo out of the water on the other side and wondered if the marooned trees were full of snakes.

Back home we decided to quickly check if the lions were still on the open lands. We drove along the fence line and slipped into a mushy hole of mud. We were instantly stuck! Having assessed the situation we decided not to dig due to the waterlogged soil, but rather to walk home and fetch the other vehicle and pull this one out. It was about a two kilometer walk and I tried hard not to think about the two rangy male lions we had seen just that morning. Rayson found a terapin turtle on the road, and there was a giant African land snail moving slowly along. The road was a delta of flowing streams and pools.

We picked up the other vehicle and returned to the fence line. A tow rope was hooked up but the road was way too slippery and the other vehicle was just too stuck . Traction was not happenning.

We reversed to try and approach from the other side and lo, this vehicle also sank into the mud. After numerous attempts to dig and push, and put logs under tyres we decided to walk home again before it got too dark to leave. Now we must wait for the road to dry out even a little, and try again.

Rhinos - in praise of

2012-01-15T12:44:00.001+02:00

I can't tell you where or when these pictures were taken because rhinos as a species have never been more at risk of extinction. We have lost two subspecies already in the past year.

For these gentle jurassic giants, it seems the clock is ticking. When we are lucky enough to see rhino in their natural habitat it is almost with a sense of anticipated loss. How much time will they have? will their bouncy inquisitive young even have a life in our lifetime?

So here are just a few pictures showing rhino doing what they do best - which is eating lots of grass or leaves, and rubbing shoulders with each other. They also love to lie around in sticky mud and leave calling cards at steaming middens.

They are frighteningly easy to kill. They are creatures of habit and territory.

They stand still, like well behaved targets for poachers or hunters bullets, while they try to work out if you are a threat or not.

We all know where the markets are for rhino horn and ivory.

So why can the carnage not be controlled?

Rhino horn is made from the same stuff as human hair and toenails.

The needy could use their own.

They can move suprisingly fast when they get going.

white rhino grazing in golden fields

a young black rhino visiting the pool for a drink

The remains of a young white rhino who died with his back foot caught in a poachers cable snare. It must have taken a few days before he fell headfirst into a donga (ditch) and probably died of stress and thirst. This is the skull and jawbones - all thats left to be seen, after human and wildlife scavengers have taken what they want.

Roof chat

2012-01-13T14:39:00.000+02:00

Having just re read my last post I found a glaring typo. How come this was not visible before? ...all taught muscle... should read 'all taut muscles' hehe sorry! i am the queen of typos. once upon a time long long ago, i did a very amateurish job of a brochure for a certain safari lodge far far away. Somewhere in the text i wrote about the Plaintiff cry of the Jackal. ugh - apart from being overwhelmingly corny it is just a joke. Well i hope it made someone smile, or laugh. And to be fair, Jackals do always look a little bit guilty.

Obviously 2012 looks determined to outpace its predecessor. We are nearly half way through January already. Around here everyone is busy raising young. The impala lambs are big enough to stray from their mothers now. When the herd passes, all we hear are mothers calling their lambs, and lambs bleating looking for mothers. How can something as dainty and graceful as an impala ewe make such unappealing grunts and groans?

Warthogs are busy with piglets, or wartlets, and the cuckoos are busy laying eggs in other peoples nests. The dabchicks at the waterhole, made a perfect nest out of floating vegetation, with one egg sitting in state on the top. It did look vulnerable, and while we were watching a tarapin turtle was showing undue interest. Next time we looked that egg had gone. Then another appeared, and with unfortunate timing the breeding herd of elephants arrived to swim and play and generally lower the waterlevels. This time even the nest disappeared. Obviously the dabchicks must rethink their building plans.

The weather has been relentlessly hot. The air heavy with the promise of storms that never come. The white sun sucks moisture out of every living thing, including us, to replenish its army of clouds. Last night there was a big amber moon in the east, and there are some interesting planets around promising interesting times in this era of change. I hope 2012 is generous, kind and loving to you all.

telling tails

2011-12-31T15:59:00.000+02:00

There is a new monkey on the roof. He came in through the front door. He picked up the last remaining apple on the sideboard and moved into the lounge. I heard a noise. I was home alone. It was a tiny noise, like a button falling. Monkeys can be quiet like this. I went to investigate and there he was perched on the sofa eating an apple. All the doors and windows were closed. I was afraid he would panic and try to jump through a window or something equally dramatic. When this has happened before the culprit often bounces of walls and bookshelves before diving for the closed window. But this is a new guy. He has house cred. He looked at me and continued with the apple.

I opened the door to the stoep and got serious about asking him to leave. He moved under the table and slowed down a bit, waiting to see if that was far enough. It wasnt. Then he was out. Maybe he spent Christmas at a nearby lodge.

Christmas ah, how was yours?

Mozambicans on the Move : Christmas 2011

2011-12-25T11:44:00.000+02:00

We are back from the sparkling seas of Mozambique. Border hassles and potholes notwithstanding, the magic of coastal mozambique soon soothed the senses. The vibrancy of sunlight and colour bounced around us to delight the senses even when the summer heat was beating down.

You just have to love it there. There are state of the art vessels and vehicles on land and sea, but here are some more interesting modes of transport that capture the imagination.

Dhow fisherman on Bengui island pulling in the catch of the day.

sail power beats steam anyday on the coral seas

walking home with a couple of beers under the arm

wedding procession in Maxixe

hang on - nearly there

chinese umbrella

three up in sunday best

standing room only

going visiting

barrow man Chokwe market

running on empty

2011-12-08T09:28:00.001+02:00

I am sure you all thought that Monkeys have been sleeping On the Roof all this time? Well let me assure you it has been a busy few weeks. What with summer arriving with all its promised abundance, and the festive season fast approaching.

The business of life has had to be really demanding to make sure it gets more than its fair share of attention.

But the list is slowly being ticked. Some spaces are incredibly stubborn and just refuse to be ticked, and others require lots of effort, but slowly slowly catch-a-monkey as they say in these parts. A most unfortunate turn of phrase for us on the Roof!

Right now, the winds are in from the Indian Ocean and tomorrow we will hoist our spotted hankerchiefs on their sticks, and start the trek coastward. Logistics have been demanding this time, but it will all be worth it when that silken sea wraps itself around our ankles and the coral sand squeaks underfoot.

Here the impala have all dropped their young. The lambs are so light on their feet its like they hardly touch the ground. The herd moves protectively with them like a troop of ballet dancers - all taught muscle and energy. The mopane trees have made the transition to summer green, and happily provide a dense curtain for vulnerable youngsters to retreat into.

The air is full of bird song - kingfishers, cuckoos, black headed orioles - sounds of summer. At night there are bugs around the light - preying mantis hang ready to pounce praying for a meal; clumsy dung beetles mistake the light for the moon and come droning in, crashing into walls and ceilings. Moths grace the scene with their spectacular presence. And speaking of presents - I am just not ready for christmas yet. Slow down year!

Signed, Hopelessly in love

2011-11-23T00:30:00.000+02:00

Signed, Hopelessly in Love

Young Adult

Publisher: Tafelberg (South Africa)

I

I have just finished reading this wonderful book written by our very own blog pal and successful Botswana based author, Lauri Kubuitsile. Written as young adult fiction the story is about Amo and her friends, as they encounter and struggle with dramas, disasters and delights that entangle teenagers everywhere.

I read this book quite fast and found the story and dialogue to be entirely engrossing. Lauri takes you straight into the story through the gentle and confiding dialogue between Amo as the main character and you the reader. Like a sailing ship that leaves the shore - before you know it you are bobbing along in the story. There is plenty of humour and some anxious moments, as the characters deal with very actual situations - some as timeless as time itself, and some with a more modern twist.

But I shall say no more about the story for now. Monkeys on the Roof is very privelidged to be able to ask Lauri a few questions about "Signed Hopelessly In Love";
If you would like to ask her a question yourself, please leave a comment below. Lauri will be checking in throughout the day.

You can also read more of her writing here

but for now a small chat with Lauri

Please tell us where you found the inspiration for these characters. I know you have lovely young adult children of your own and so I am picturing Amo and Nono as being inspired by lives of young people you know.

No, they’re not really inspired by my kids. I’m not sure where these characters came from to be honest. I knew I wanted a story where a teen girl makes a mistake and thinks the world has ended because of it. Haven’t we all been there? From there I met Amogelang who introduced me to her friend Nono.

It is wonderful to read a work of fiction that takes you specifically into the lives of young people in Botswana. Although you have touched lightly on some of the bigger issues that they may have to deal with in their young lives – the rest presents them more or less as typical teenagers.

Yes, some kids in Botswana have tough lives. Just like some kids in UK and some kids in America. I tire quickly with the much repeated “sad African tale” and I try my best not to perpetrate it. Not that I ignore our problems in Botswana, I know that they’re there and in many places in my books and short stories I address them. But I want truth. I think we need to be careful to show the truth, the complete truth not the CNN/donor NGO truth. In Botswana we have fun, we love each other, we laugh, we watch TV, we eat cake, we dance, we dream of Prince Charmings, we want to fly to the moon- we live full interesting, loving lives like humans everywhere. It is not all AIDS and poverty and problems. In fact that is just a small part of it really.

I also wondered whether you had even been an Aunt Lulu yourself during your journalistic/writing career?

No, I’ve never been an agony aunt but I read the columns. I’m quite a nosy person in general and I love these columns as they really feed my addiction to get the inside info on people.

The agony Aunt pages of popular magazines are always intruiging and informative; and can be a good source of story ideas in themselves, for a budding writer. Were there any Aunt Lulu tales that inspired you in real life?

Nothing I can remember that inspired me specifically. You know you get to learn a few life lessons from the paths others have walked and that is always useful. I’m also a bit surprised how we all sort of worry about the same sorts of things. The human condition I guess.

Do you plan the plot before you start writing, or do the characters take you to a natural conclusion as the story unfolds?

For books I usually have a loose plan before I start. I wrote for television a bit and that taught me how useful it is to have write-ups of characters (character bibles) and a plan for where you’re heading. This also allows you to be sure that you keep suspense throughout the book. But I’m not crazy strict. Often the book that emerges from the other end of the process is quite different from the original plan.

My favourite character is Gran – I love how she can look right into their thoughts with her piercing eyes. How teenagers view elderly relatives must be the same the world over. Children being raised by their grandparents is an entirely normal situation in an African context . The two main characters always treat Gran with great respect suggesting what some cultures would call ‘old fashioned values’ – in your opinion are these alive and well amongst Batswana youth?

Yes, I do think respect for the elderly is still very much a part of Setswana culture and I hope it stays that way, especially that soon I will be described as elderly myself. But seriously, respect for elders is an integral part of Setswana culture and one I admire very much.

Does Nono make it to the moon? And most importantly – will there be a sequel?

Of course, Nono makes it to the moon! Nono is her nickname as you know. Her full name is Nonofo- strength. Nothing will be stopping her! I really am so pleased that people want a sequel. I like the idea of a sequel too.

About Lauri

Lauri Kubuitsile is an award winning, full time writer living in Botswana. Her short stories have been published on four continents and she has 14 published works of fiction, primarily for children. She’s also written six textbooks, two television series and numerous radio scripts. She has twice won first place in Africa’s prize for children’s writing, The Golden Baobab. Most recently she was shortlisted for The Caine Prize.

Email: HYPERLINK "mailto:lakubuitsile@gmail.com" lakubuitsile@gmail.com

Blog: http://thoughtsfrombotswana.blogspot.com

here's where you can buy the book online

Link for Book Depository: HYPERLINK "http://www.bookdepository.com/Signed-Hopelessly-Love-Lauri-Kubuitsile/9780624052883" http://www.bookdepository.com/Signed-Hopelessly-Love-Lauri-Kubuitsile/9780624052883

Amazon.com--http://www.amazon.com/Signed-Hopelessly-Love-Lauri-Kubuitsile/dp/0624052885 (limited availability)

Kalahari.com: HYPERLINK "http://www.kalahari.com/books/Signed-hopelessly-in-love/65197/41480273.aspx" http://www.kalahari.com/books/Signed-hopelessly-in-love/65197/41480273.aspx

Amazon.co.uk: HYPERLINK "http://www.amazon.co.uk/Signed-Hopelessly-Love-Lauri-Kubuitsile/dp/0624052885" http://www.amazon.co.uk/Signed-Hopelessly-Love-Lauri-Kubuitsile/dp/0624052885 (claims not released, preorder)

Loot.co.za: HYPERLINK "http://www.loot.co.za/product/lauri-kubuitsile-signed-hopelessly-in-love/vdxm-1637-g470?referrer=iosa" http://www.loot.co.za/product/lauri-kubuitsile-signed-hopelessly-in-love/vdxm-1637-g470?referrer=iosa

Monkeys on the Roof is proud and delighted to be part of the illustrious Blog Book Tour

previous stops on the tour can be found here

1. October 12: Selma in the City (http://selmainthecity.wordpress.com/)
2. October 19:Bordertown Notes: http://bordertownnotes.blogspot.com/
3. November 2: Myne Whitman Writes (http://www.mynewhitmanwrites.com/)
4. November 16: Straight From Hel (http://straightfromhel.blogspot.com/)

Congratulations Lauri - wishing you every success with this and all your other projects that promote literacy among the young

night and day

2011-11-08T09:19:00.000+02:00

Yesterday evening, the guests had left. We picked up a couple of movies from the store in town. We drove to the river bed to collect the camera trap which we had set up by a small waterhole. There were lots of tracks around including leopard and a big male waterbuck moved in the long green grass to watch us from further away. Its always exciting collecting the camera trap and wondering if we have caught any pictures of night creatures.

On the way back we had to brake several times for tortoises and turtles walking in the track. Local lore has it that tortoises start walking when there is rain coming. We have learned to listen to this prediction and always pay attention - also when snakes start moving. Generally, we only see tortoises during the summer months when it rains.

The new mopane leaves are like festive bunting filling the forest. Flags of orange and green shine and glow all around us proclaiming Summer Is Here. At the dam the other night there was a massive frog party. When you pull in to listen the frogs go quiet for a while. Then the songs begin again, and the noise levels reach a crecendo that fills your whole head. If you listen you can pick out the different songs, but the bull frogs havent even started yet so the deep base notes are missing.

There are lion tracks on the road, and lots of elephant tracks, all heading towards our part of the reserve. We drove slowly home, watching the late afternoon sun turn the world gold.

At home we were settling down to movies when we heard the first sound - a low level soft grunting sound. Lions! We turn the sound off and listen again. Yup they are here. Jumping into the vehicle we drive towards the sound. We dont have to go far. There are two big male lions lying next to the road softly lit by the moon. Without headlights they make two large shadow shapes that an unsuspecting creature could easily walk right into.

They watch us idly, but show much more interest in the herd of impala which has formed a large group in the mopanes fifty meters away. Now and again they give an alarm call. The lions rest their weary heads - they have plenty of time.

start of summer

2011-11-04T09:45:00.001+02:00

A month ago i thought winter here was my favourite time of year. With cool dark nights and bright sun filled days under an impossibly blue dome of sky. Since then the rains have started and immediately the ground lillies immerged from the softened earth.

Now the trees are all coming into leaf - putting on their fresh green dresses of spring. The mopane trees are the most common here. Their new leaves emerge shiny and soft like drops of water. Now they are opening out and the bright sun pics out the colours like slices of amber and jade filling the view.

The other day we found a python. It was about 2m long and was hunting in the rocks. the birds gave him away. A fork tailed drongo was performing avidly in the bushes marking his path. They are such brave birds. Pythons are an unusual sight so we were thrilled to see this one. We watched him watching us for a while before he started moving off. They are fascinating to watch as they move - it looks like there are a million little feet inside a huge sock.

The monkeys left us for a while. We thought they were sulking because we bought a big wooden snake and put it on the stoep - close by the door they usually use for raiding parties into the kitchen. But now they are back and some of the females have given birth - now carrying tiny pink and black newborns clasped to their tummies.

With all the green growth and wild flowers around everyone should thrive. We are waiting now for the impala to drop their young.

I am loving this start of summer.

i think i need a mud bath

2011-10-26T18:48:00.000+02:00

cool quotes

2011-10-17T11:34:00.000+02:00

sausage tree flowers

In the absence of a new blog post here are some lovely quotes that i have stumbled over during the past week. I hope you enjoy them.

It is time to develop a big ‘US’, rather than the old ‘us and them’ that lets us to exploit and bully others on a personal level, and on an international level to wage war. The East must see the West as part of ‘US’ and the North must come to feel that the South is part of ‘US’. We should include the entire world in our concern, wishing all humanity well. If we can do that there will be no room for hatred, thinking of others as enemies. And we will achieve this through education, not through prayer.

Dalai Lama (fb)

Love is the ultimate healer, a force that is stronger than an individual. All the loves in the world are like different rivers flowing into the same lake, where they meet and are transformed into a single love that becomes rain and blesses the earth.

Paolo Coelho (fb)

"That we close down is not a problem. In fact, to become aware of when we do so is an important part of the training. The first step in cultivating loving-kindness is to see when we are erecting barriers between ourselves and others. Unless we understand-in a non-judgmental way-that we are hardening our hearts, there is no possibility of dissolving that armour. Without dissolving the armour, the loving-kindness of bodhicitta is always held back. We are always obstructing our innate capacity to love without an agenda." ~Pema Chodron

When one tugs at a single thing in nature, he finds it attached to the rest of the world. John Muir

Hailstorm

2011-10-03T19:59:00.002+02:00

whiteout

It came out of nowhere. Today started hot and dry like yesterday and the day before. The air was sultry and hot. We had to wade through air just to move.

Around midday we noticed the sky darkening in the south. There was thunder and some lightening, but our rain normally comes from the north so we expected to miss out.

We wondered whether to close the windows on the vehicle. We were still superstitious about chasing the first rain away.

hailstones on the stoep

The dark sky drew ever closer., and soon it started to rain. Hurrah! first rain!!

we thought. Then "oh a hailstone" ; then more hailstones and soon a total whiteout as hailstones, some as big as baby golf balls, splattered down all around; crashing on the tin roof so we could not even shout above the din.

torrents of topsoil

The ground was baked hard by winter sun, so the rainwater ran off the top forming raging foaming torrents that raced past our windows carting icebergs of hailstones.

after the storm

Then it began to slow down. The ground was white with hailstones interlaced with rivers of brown soil. The sun came out. The granite boulders steamed and diamante droplets hung on the bare trees. The air was cold and icy, and a double rainbow was emblazoned across the sky.

Sunday Lunch

2011-10-03T10:19:00.000+02:00

It is a hot sultry sunday. Low clouds have moved in and the heat is building for some promised rain. I am outside pottering around my new planting projects and staring at the bottle mountain for the umpteenth time to see if i can come up with a creative recycling creation before Google Earth calls to investigate. I am not moving fast. Nothing is. Perhaps I will take my book to the pool for an hour.

Next thing, K is calling me from the doorway. It looks urgent. I drop what I am doing and hasten indoors. "There is a lion here!" They were hunting the warthogs that were near the house.

Another lion arrives. They greet and both stare fixedly at us from the edge of the treeline. They settle down and a third lion arrives. This is the dominant male, some people call him Shaka. He eases in to the shade and lets the other two be more watchful.

We stare at each other through glass and across a space of some ten meters - maybe a bit more. One by one they move off, alongside the boardwalk, past the pool and the guest cottage, and on to the waterhole between the koppies.

Sunday quietens down again.

Swazi Reed Dance

2011-09-27T10:45:00.000+02:00

Swazi princesses lead the parade

The Umhlanga (or Reed Dance) takes place in late August or early September each year. It is a dance which attracts young maidens from every area of the Kingdom and provides the occasion for them to honour and pay homage to the Queen Mother (iNdlovukazi). Most of the participants are teenagers, although some of the girls are younger. Over 20 000 maidens gather reeds from selected areas which they present to the King and the Queen Mother.

The girls wear short beaded skirts with anklets, braclets and jewellery and colourful sashes. The royal princesses wear red feathers in their hair and lead the maidens to perform before Their Majesties. This ceremony can be photographed, provided you have a permit.

Venue: Embangweni Royal Residence (Shiselweni Region)

Date: 17th/18th September 2011

Dress code; NO HATS FOR MAN

LADIES WEAR DRESS / SKIRT AND NO PANTS

(I think they mean trousers)

quoted from

www.welcometoswaziland.com/twpub/pag.cgi?m=umhlanga

This year we finally made it to the Reed Dance in the heart of Swaziland's mountain kingdom. Inspired and motivated by our friends from there, we duly donned the respectful gear mentioned above and joined the river of people flowing up towards the Royal Residence and Arena. It was a beautiful crisp sunny early summer day.

Sunlight bounced in shards on the people and cars around us. Regiments of swazi maidens waited in groups on the grass, guarded by their indunas. Beyond them, the rugged hills of this mountain kingdom.

regiment of maidens waiting their turn

The Reed Dance is a traditional ceremony performed annually by the young maidens of Swaziland for their King and the Queen Mother. It goes on for eight days during which the girls collect reeds to present to the Queen mother. This was the seventh day, when the girls dress in traditional costume, according to their regiment or the area they hail from, and dance infront of the King. Only unmarried and/or childless girls can perform in this event and there is a strong anti HIV slant that encourages young women to respect themselves. Traditionally a Swazi festival, this year there were regiments of girls from other SADAC countries. Botswana, Zambia and Zimbabwe were also represented and apparently a record total of 80,000 girls registered this year.

the parade heading to the arena

In the tide of visitors with us, many wore traditional dress. This is a big day for showing national pride and allegiance to the monarch. Security is tight, and the kings Royal Guard, in their robes and skins, were threaded amongst the crowds clutching their cell phones and radios. We found a place under a shade tree to watch the procession. The girls formed a river of sound, colour and light pulsing past in a seemingly never ending flow. Visitors and Royal Guards stood on the roadside watching, admiring and enjoying the youthful energy. There was discipline to the flow and progress was monitored to allow each group enough time to file past.

The mood was respectful and friendly . We were approached with offers to help us find the best place in the stands .Two young men in traditional gear introduced themselves. They were members of the Royal Guard and had been tasked to make visitors feel welcome. We chatted for a while, and swapped email addresses. They insisted we each have our photos taken with them.

The arena filled up steadily with swathes of colour and song. The atmosphere continued to build in a vivid festival of young female energy. Then the Royal Guard formed up and proceeded into the arena singing a different song and bringing a different energy to the event.

Royal Guard enter the arena

The young men were proud and warlike but not menacing. The regiments of girls made way for them to pass through. Then there were speeches. A red carpet rolled out, but there was speculation whether or not the King would choose a new bride this year. He already has fourteen wives.

future dancer

Finally, with our heads full of bright images and songs, we retreated while the river of people continued to arrive. We had expected tradition, but here we found cultural history celebrated in a modern context. The people we met were dignified and hospitable. As we left the country, the border officials thanked us for attending their Umhlanga.

Island Odyssey

2011-09-23T19:12:00.000+02:00

To get to the island we have to drive across five kilometers of floodplain. Its a beautiful drive past islands of trees, some dense with monkey vines and creepers, others an arrangement of palm trees on raised termite mounds. In between, there are white sand beaches, and acres of glossy green marsh grasses. Sometimes there are elephants, but more often a scattering of free range cattle and donkeys.

Its six months since we have been to the island. Exceptionally high flood waters from the Okavango River have flooded these plains, making it impossible to drive through. We are not sure we will make it this time, but Oneman, who lives on the island feels more confident. He knows this place. they have been returning to the village by makoro (dugout canoe) in recent months due to the floods. Now the water is too shallow for the canoe. With Oneman on board guiding us on a new route we feel more confident. Even so, launching off the dry sand into long waterlogged marshes is a leap of faith.

We cross a small stream, and squeeze our 4x4 vehicle through a tight alley of rigid thorn trees. The unforgiving thorns shriek against our paintwork like nails on blackboards. We hit water almost immediately, but its clear and we can see sand underneath so we press on. Flocks of waterbirds, open billed storks and egrets, take flight sending up showers of bright wet diamonds. We make it through that one. It wasnt deep.

We emerge onto an island and dip into water again on the other side. Its all going well so far and we start to enjoy the view. The air is softly hazy and all around the trees are full of blossom, filling the air with their heady scent. We drive across some dry white sand that squeaks and sings under our tyres. These plains are dry, and we suprise a herd of elephants who emerge from the dark shaded islands - suprised to see a vehicle approaching after all these months. A youngster charges out of the bush trumpeting, the adults make their way deeper into the flood- plains finally vanishing into the haze of water and blossom laden trees.

We have to cross a small gully. The water is tanin stained coasting over white sand. Looking down I see that we have only just skirted the edge of a really big hole. That was lucky. We make it through the next few long water crossings, ploughing steadily through bright water dotted with lillies and birds.

"This might be a little bit deep - lets go this way" Oneman points with authority and we dip around the side of a small island to face the final challenge. It looks innocuous enough but soon our heavy tyres are skidding on shiny marsh grasses, barely finding purchase. Somehow or another we move, oh so slowly, along. Half way we bounce through some holes made by elephants crossing the soft mud. Miraculously we do not get stuck...this time... and just around the corner, the island with its little village of tents, and the Catfish houseboat snuggled into a bay with a lemon tree full of flowers. It feels like we are far far away.

Wedding on The Pans : my version

2011-09-05T21:36:00.000+02:00

Some people choose funny places to tie the knot or make their vows. Some jump out of planes strapped together; find the highest mountain, or deepest lake. Others choose the most romantic church they know, or their favourite spot in the garden with their nearest and dearest gathered around. The possibilities are endless. Recently , our friends Craig and Cheryl , chose the majestic cathedral of the Makgadikgadi Pans in central Botswana to share their celebration.

driving onto The Pans

Familiarly known as 'The Pans' - its real name Makgadikgadi Pans is far more evocative. It bounces around the mouth like the thirst for water in this ultimately arid zone. I have known teenagers try to say Makgadikgadi while burping. Its an enigmatic name for a place of magical mystery that defines the terms 'wide open' and 'curve of the earth'. 16000km2 of bleached white salt pans fringed with spikey marsh grasses. Dryer than bone during the winter months it fills with shallow water from the Nata River during the summer rains and becomes an important breeding site for pelicans and flamingoes on their migratory paths. Strange creatures live here like meerkats and brown hyenas. Bigger ones pass through from time to time, like elephants and lions. It is like a vast empty page on which to conjure up your own creative endeavours. Write your story here.

Which is what Craig and Cheryl decided to do.

Their eclectic group of friends and family members gathered at Gweta Lodge - an oasis in the center of Gweta Village north of The Pans. We, who had the least distance to cover, probably arrived last on the saturday evening. We arrived as the giant red ball of the sun slipped below the earths fringe of mopane trees. The party was in progress as we stepped through the gloaming to the warm welcome of a happy crowd. There were old pals to reunite with, and many new ones to meet. There were parents and cousins, and grandparents, and toddlers. All of whom, apart from the young, seem to have tapped into the elixir of eternal youth. I sipped my delicious glass of red hoping this was it, and tried to meet as many as possible.

being meerkats

Morning dawned bright and clear. A beautiful clear desert day with skies a true blue, and air as fresh as a mountain stream. The camp site was a flurry of activity. Early risers watched the late ones emerge from canvas rubbing their eyes and heading for showers. The Gweta team were busy loading camping gear onto safari vehicles ready to head off and set up camp on site. The catering team were a blur of activity. Its no mean feat to put an event like this together. I set off for Nata to buy fuel as Gweta was out of diesel. It was a 100km trip and once there I met pals from Kasane and Francistown and linked up for the return run. Back in Gweta more guests had gathered and time was running short to get to the venue in time for the ceremony. In haste we flung stuff in to vehicles; made space for lifts, packed more stuff in, started up and waited for the convoy. Then we were off. Its so easy to get lost in The Pans so we all needed to follow someone who knew the way. Those that had them primed their GPS machines. We opened cold beers and tagged on to the dusty tail of the line up. Our way took us through villages and kraals on a spaghetti bolognese of sandy tracks, past stunted trees whose branches whipped our windscreens. Some Kalanga horsemen stopped us to ask for food and drinks. We gave them whatever we had to hand.

Bride To Be on her way, with daughter who later deliverd a great speech
looking fabulous

An hour or so later the landscape opened wide to grasslands peppered with distant cattle herds and kalanga horses. We met up with friends leading another arm of the convoy who had lost a vital member of their tail - the grooms parents. We stopped on the edge of the wide salt pans and climbed on vehicles searching for dust clouds that would suggest a vehicle driving around. We posted sentry on the highest piece of ground and made like meerkats scanning the horizon. Soon the bride's car came past, followed by the VIPs who were to perform the ceremony. 'Well they can't start without the parents eh?" we thought as on they went. We waited and looked and searched, and chatted, and eventually decided to press on and see if they were at the wedding. They were. They had a GPS. We were late and missed the actual ceremony, which was held in a guazy gazebo bedecked with fairy lights on the edge of a grassy island overlooking the vast vastness of shimmering white.

The speeches were tear jerkers. There were giant bonfires to hold back the cold desert night; cool boxes galore and feasty food deluxe. Caig's cousin cranked up the music system and the party on the Pans eased naturally into being.

Being a Harley man, Craig had invited his Harley to the party. It was parked on the edge of proceedings, the chrome gleaming enticingly. The keys were in and it was a small matter of time before the first adventurer fired up the big engine and opened the throttle. The Pans are notorious for an unstable surface however. What looks like endless miles of calcrete - like that place in Australia where they set the land speed records - is however a crust that in places conceals glutinous grey mud. Its always a safe option to follow someone else's tracks - but when you are riding free who cares about the safe option? They went down, one after another. Despite the fact that Craig's brother already had a massive deep burn on his leg from falling with the Harley the day before - there were several attempts. Most of the falls happened within view of the party - some were impressive. Luckily, and by some quirk of fate, there were no more injuries.

so far so good
next...

It grew dark and the fires blazed cheerily. The music was great. I remember thinking it a particularly appropriate place to listen to Dark Side of the Moon. The camp fires created two different atmospheres. The one in the hub was crowded with people sitting, walking around, chatting, laughing. The other fire was a bit further away and here was a more circumspect crowd - or so i thought. but trouble was brewing. Some people wanted to make this fire enormous - piling on huge leadwood boughs without a thought for the environmentalists. In the crowd was one who particularly cared for the disappearance of Africa's hardwoods. He works with wood, and knows how scarce it is. They couldn't agree and it became a game. More wood was piled and then pulled off, and then piled on again. Our pal tried to explain his viewpoint, and eventually, in extreme frustration climbed into his bakkie and drove it right through the fire. Thank heavens he didn't get stuck on the top. I just saw people scattering, grabbing chairs, looking shocked. The people at the other fire, turned. They saw that it had turned out fine and no one was hurt, and they resumed their conversation. 'Is there any more wine?'. The people at the circumspect fire regrouped and the moment was gone.

oh wait, are those headlights in the distance?

There were some in the party that needed to return to Gweta that night, so that they could be at work in Francistown the following morning. Against all advice they set off into the night in completely the wrong direction. It is so easy to get lost here in daylight. Night time is a given. There was half a moon still but that didnt seem to help. For three hours the wedding party watched their headlights driving back and forth in the distance, like some phantom creature or UFO , they drew closer apparently mistaking our lights for Gweta, then took off again reappearing from random directions. Finally they pulled in again to pick up a guide.

One by one, and two by two, people drifted away from the fire to climb into their bedrolls and sleep under the magnificent stars.

*names have been omitted to protect the innocent

Kubu Island

2011-08-15T19:34:00.000+02:00

Its cold and I have a mountain of nasty paperwork on my desk demanding to be dealt with - but I'd rather be chatting to you. Have you ever been to Kubu

Island? It is an island of bleached rocks and giant red boabab trees set in the oceanic vastness of the Makgadikgadi Pans in central Botswana. We were there last weekend. Some friends chose 'the Pans' as a venue for their wedding. People travelled from far and wide to congregate at Gweta - the jumping off point - then raced in convoys of fine white dust into the dazzling whiteness of it all to an appointed place ordained by GPS co-ordinates.

The Makgadikgadi Pans are basically the salty soda ash deposits at the site of what was once an ancient lake bed. Today they cover an area roughly 16000km2 fringed with salt marsh and grasslands. Seasonally filled with water from the Nata River, they become an important breeding site for pelicans and flamingoes. This time of year though they are bone dry - at least on the surface - and you could get arc-eye just by looking there without sunglasses.

Its evocative and eerie, ancient and deceptively calm. A person can get really really lost and disorientated in the extreme emptiness and flatness of the scene; and if your vehicle happens to break through the crusty surface you can get seriously and deeply stuck with no trees to attach a winch to.

Its fun to go to though. In this landlocked country its like going to the sea without getting wet. Miles from anywhere, it has the best night skies - starscapes that drip tantalisingly out of reach untempered by modern light pollution. You can astral travel just by keeping your eyes open at night!

Kubu Island is possibly the jewel in the Makgadikgadi crown - or at least one of the major ones. In this wide angle horizon any kind of feature can attract attention. A tiny rock can look like a big rock far away - and vice versa. Kubu island however has piles of igneous rock boulders that afford an even better vantage point; and a gathering of truly extraordinary giant boabab trees that show a strangely liverish red colour.

Each of these Kubu Island baobabs appear to have a unique personality. They start to look like characters . The biggest has to be a great great grandfather ancestor tree; another looks like a mother figure with branches drooping like hair or fabric; another smaller one looks like a teenager with braces on its teeth. Bear with me - this place can only incite your imagination to mutiny from every concept of fact and fiction.

If I give you the cold facts I cannot possibly do justice to this secret and spiritual place. We arrive at midday. The scene is all about air and dust and light. There is not water here save what we have brought with us. The wide horizon makes me feel like running and spinning, but the heat glues my feet to their dark shadows. I let my imagination take off instead. I walk amongst the rocks and spikey trees feeling transient, my life is like a rain drop compared to everyone here. The trees, the rocks and the Pans -they are longevity personified. Its humbling.

midwinter musings

2011-07-15T09:42:00.000+02:00

Its evening now and the little wooden house is flooded with golden light from the evening sun. I am about to make supper. The candles are lit for when the power goes off and its all looking rather festive.

Earlier this evening we heard the mournful death cries of a large animal - possibly a buffalo - being taken down by a predator. We couldn't see what or where this was happening but the cries carried far and wide across the grassy floodplains. There were some splashing sounds as if this was all taking place at the edge of the water or one of the pools.

I raced to the office to let the game drivers know over the radio. The path to the office is full of tracks. At this time of day there are human tracks interwoven with animal and bird spoor - wild dogs, hyena, elephant, impala, squirrels, partridges. Sometimes i walk along here looking at tracks and forget to look to see if the actual animal is standing there.

We have strung up a cammo net infront of the house to help it disappear into the forest. It looks pretty cool dark and shady inside now, and more like a bedouin tent. Unfortunately when the baboons find it they will probably tear it to shreds just by playing on it but until then it feels even more like a hide as we peep out onto the waterhole at passing herds.

The last two nights we have had hot water for showers. This is such a luxury and really appreciated. The elephants had leant on our hot water system while we were away so we had to do some running repairs - but now - yeehah - boiling hot water out of the tap!! Cold showers on winter days are no fun at all.

Overall though these winter nights have been strangely quiet. I cant think that the animals have found somewhere warm to hide in this desert country of sand and water. However, this morning early we heard lions calling, and elephants screaming in the forest so that feels a bit more normal.

a pinch and a punch

2011-07-02T10:16:00.000+02:00

July 1st

Well i didnt know it until last night but the planets were up to something yesterday. I had to go to the accountants with my computer to upgrade the accountancy programme. For some reason this didnt work - the disc refused to be read or acknowledged. We assumed that my computer was at fault because it was a little dusty. We live in a dusty place.

So we tried to upload another way. This took sometime. We started to discuss some of the 'findings' - I dont pretend to understand their job; accountants are a necessary evil to ensure our tax payments are in line with requirements. We were spoilt with our last CA - he was so calm and kind, and always explained everything in ways i could sort of follow.

Our new lass is a not so kind. Encounters with her are like sticking your hand in a hornets nest. I find myself repeating "which means?" after everything she is telling me. my stress levels rise and i am trying hard not to throw my toys. The meeting is not going well.

I leave, taking faulty, dusty computer to the next town, 80kms away, where I know someone who can fix it. Having phoned first they promise to deal with it today - even though its friday afternoon and month end.

Arriving in Phalaborwa, the town is pumping with people. I struggle to find a parking space to offload - which is very unusual for this little rural town. One of the fashion shops has some speakers outside and blaring thumping music reverberates around the square, pounding through my head.

Having delivered the box to the nice repair man, i take myself off for a lovely delicious capuccino, sipped slowly with a spoon to scoop the cream off the top.

On return, no - the computer is fine, its the disc thats faulty. I sit and wait while a plan is made to download the new programme via a memory stick. At last it works.

The car park is chaos with vehicles reversing and jamming up the exits. Once free I roar out of town. By now the day is gone and a million things that should have been done will have to wait.

At home our guests arrive five minutes after my return. My sweet god daughter and her friend, are on their way home to Botswana for the school holidays. Their Dad a long time friend of ours. They unfold from the car and settle in. We have some catching up to do.

We even manage to watch part of the wimbledon semi finals, but Andrew Murray didnt make it through to the finals. Cmon Andrew - next year right?

The monkeys are all over the roof again now, with the mid winter cold and dryness. We are feeding them crushed maize and lucerne - which they love. But they still need to check inside the kitchen to see what we are eating.

ok planets - whats the plan for today?

its things like that

2011-06-26T21:23:00.000+02:00

Driving to the Mozambique border through Kruger National Park. Having to stop and wait as two massive bull elephants walk towards us down the road in that unbreakable rhythm of long distance travel.

Driving the long road to Sao Sabastiao past lively markets, trucks piled with charcoal or coconuts, potholes and acres of coconut palms that reach to the horizon.

Stopping to buy piri piri (hot chilli sauce) at a roadside stall, only to have it explode like a roman candle when we open it at the table days later, drenching everyone and their food in red liquid spray.

Mozambique and the tropical sea turned to glass. The black silhouetted shapes of fishing dhows crease the mirrored water - their sails sharp like a lions claw or the hooks on a palm frond. Sea and horizon meet at a vaguely discernable point about half way.

Canoeing in mangroves flooded by the solstice high tides. Sneaking up on herons, egrets and plovers that roost on the islands of trees. Slipping over barely submerged aerial roots of mangroves, encrusted with barnacles. Looking down on schools of silver fish that flit through the sunlit water under the canoes.

Watching the dhow fishermen trawl the reefs and floodplains endlessly - hauling in acres of fish nets while sunlight bounces in shards of light all around them.

It is visiting the school at Matsopane Village to deliver letters from America, and a pile of new stationary - kids laughing and playing around you, while others watch with solemn concentration to hear about their new friends in USA.

It is sunsets and moonrise, and starscapes that dazzle the brain. It is time with friends. It is sand between the toes, pansy shells and starfish, and snorkelling on a reef full of wonder.

Mozambique - it is things like that.

elephant games matinee

2011-06-07T13:52:00.000+02:00

There are elephants all around our house this morning, eating our island of trees. Awake before sunrise, i stumble over to the kettle and light the gas. Staring out the window into the middle distance I realise those are not trees I am looking at but elephants legs. There is an elephant standing next to the track feeding on small bunches of leaves and sticks. They are so quiet when they are here.

The sun tips the horizon flooding golden beams through what is left of the island forest. The elephant moves slowly towards the house, munching along the way. We hear - or feel - a deep rumbling sound. A small breeding herd emerges from the forest on the left to join up with the first elephant. Some stay and browse, others move out onto the sunlit floodplain.

The wooden house creaks and pops with the wind that follows the sun. We move around inside from window to window as the elephant feeds directly below us. I can see how neatly her ears fit together on top of her head. Her trunk curls up to strip some leaves near our window. We could reach out and touch her - but then the moment would be gone and so would she.

Clutching cups of coffee to warm our hands we move out onto the deck and watch the herd spread out on the floodplain among the hebaclada bushes. A young calf - maybe two years old - spreads his ears and charges at shadows. He has tufts of hair inside his ears. He comes our way to join with his mother, forcing his way under her chin into that special zone that is his alone, for now. His mother keeps on feeding but the touch is there.

A buffalo wanders in from the west. The elephants turn to face him, ears spread- curious, alert, defensive? The buffalo lumbers along a steady path right through the nest of elephants. They follow him to the water hole. He doesn't look back but quickens his pace a tad. The elephants are on the point of chasing when he turns suddenly and they back off. It looks like a game.

Successive elephants arrive at the waterhole. Each one spreads its ears and faces the buffalo who has turned to stone - sunlight glancing off the tips of his horns. They hurry past. A youngster trumpets loudly and then hurries back to his mothers side.

Golden sunlight floods the scene, and then vanishes behind a cloud leaving the world a sadder place. The ambient temperature drops with the disappearance of the sun. The world has turned grey and cold. Not a moment too soon light bursts through the clouds again dazzling us with its star quality.

A deep sonorous rumble from the matriarch calls the herd, and one by one they join ranks and head back into the distant forest for the day. The buffalo stands alone. Next time i look, he too has gone and there is only the wind through the sunlit grass.

waterworld

2011-06-05T10:03:00.000+02:00

Two days on the road, a late night with an old pal, and an early morning race to the airport. A moments consternation about luggage. "You are overweight - its too much. The plane is full. but wait", phone calls and a mood of co-operation follow. "Well that bag is our food, and its the heaveist. If necessary it could come on a later flight". "Ok, lets see - if we can fit it in the plane its fine." We pass through the finely tuned metal detector and onto the apron. There is bright sunlight as the little baggage vehicle ferries us to our 206 air taxi.There is one passenger missing and with luck all our bags squash neatly into the pod fixed to the underbelly of the plane. We climb in, buckle up and soon swing up into the air looking down on the sprawling safari town of Maun in central Botswana.

Immediately we are transfixed by the spectacle of the meandering blue arms of the delta channels. My heart swells with the beauty of the place. Pristine water - breeding grounds for fish and birds, brings life and abundance to newly filled lagoons. There are islands of green trees and grasses interlaced and connected with the threads of well worn animal paths.

The reflected sun follows us along the water like a lazy hand trailing fingers of light. It shows me that the wild grassy plains are themselves under water reflecting sky and clouds in a giant mirror fringed with green. I watch the tiny shadow of our plane coast over the subtle contours of the land from island to island.

Hippos bask in the wintry sun on islands that no boat or car will ever reach. The deep water channels are tea stained, showing white sand banks and water grass brushed like mermaids hair by the push of water.

The magical mystical waterworld gives way to the dry hinterland between the Delta and the Spillway. The colours now are greys, browns and golds, speckled with sandy waterholes where elephants gather to drink and bathe, or snooze in the shade, on their long trek between waterworlds.

We land on the white sand strip. A spray of floodwater splashes the plane where water has inched under the sandbags. Our friends meet us. The air smells of dust and sage. The view is yellow grass and palm trees touched by a gentle breeze, their broad leaves scraping a distinctive sound. We catch up on news as we negotiate the flooded tracks to camp.

I havent seen this in far too long. If you fly anywhere in your life it should be here, at least once.

far far away

2011-05-28T21:26:00.001+02:00

So how did this start. I think it was an article in a travel magazine read sometime ago. A one page story about how a remote coastal village on the edge of the desert subsists on diamonds and tourism. A cold water bay inhabited by seals and seagulls, where atlantic mists roll in at a moments notice blanketing out the bright sunlight.

Here intrepid deep sea divers hoover gravel off the sea bed with giant suction pipes attached to robust trawlers. The gravel is sifted for diamonds, and these are brought to shore and sold to the concession holders. The trade is strictly controlled.

Diamonds can cause so much trouble. They are glittery and gorgeous, and their main use is to adorn the lobes and limbs of the rich and famous. Somewhere on the path from seabed or diamond pipe, to end user - there can be a wealth of stories involving skullduggery, ingeniousness, and master craftmanship.

Blood diamonds are those taken from war zones, and traded for weaponry to continue violent wars that are often about the diamond resource itself. They sparkle just as much as legal diamonds.

We became intruiged. Port Nolloth had to have a few intreresting characters walking about. We hadnt been to the west coast in a number of years but as a destination it was very far away. Then there was a birthday, and that called for something out of the ordinary. 'Lets do it - even if its far?' 'right'.

It was two days solid driving. Firstly circumventing the city sprawl of Gauteng, and then the endless corn fields of the north west province. When we got into the wine growing regions along the orange River the view became a tad more interesting. Its always good to see how much effort goes into growing wines.

From here the towns became progressively smaller and the landscapes grew into vast ancient seabeds where black rock mountains floated like glaciers. We left the other road users behind for a time - there was just us, the giant landscape and the endless blue skies. Desert was all around and we felt ourselves slowly dropping in altitude with each mountain pass.

We fuelled up in the little town of Springbok. It was close to sunset and this was some of the most dramatic scenery of the trip. Rocks and boulders with strange desert plants towered close to the road. This area is famous for wildflowers in the winter but we were three months too early. We wound down through successive mountain passes and then there was sand. And then there was the sea. A small settlement of houses, like coloured boxes nestled behind the dune and the town.

It was quiet here. The sea crashed on rocks beyond the bay, but nearby it was gentle and calm. Strands of kelp lay on the beach or rolled lazily in the waves like seals. We spent two days here in this tiny town where time appears to stand still. Due to recent rains there was no diamond hoovering in progress as the river mouths were too clouded with soil from flash floods; and thus many of the diamond divers had left town. We drove along the coastline to Alexander Bay. A diamond settlement at the mouth of the Orange River border with Namibia. This town used to be high security. All along the way were diamond diggings. This desert landscape of lichen fields and fossils, has been successively poked, proded and excavated in a perpetual search for these earth born treasures.

We chatted to the few locals we found. We went to the little museum and looked at relics from shipwrecks and pioneering mining efforts. We even looked at property for sale. We ran out of time and buckled up for the long road home, promising ourselves a rerun when the whales pass by and the desert sands are speckled with fields of flowers.

changes

2011-05-24T18:44:00.000+02:00

'Dreaming while dawns left hand is in the sky'

from the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam

Those words have been nudging at my brain these past days. They had to nudge hard because the old grey matter has been clogged with flu, but is fighting back hard and emerging triumphant.

This little book lives by my bedside now. It belonged to my father. The small leather bound, travel worn, edition was a gift from my mother to him in 1943. It never left his side through all his journeys. I love the words.

1943 - what huge changes and perils people were living through then - hardly daring to hope for a shining future, but pressing on anyhow. And here we are in a tumultuous time of change again - with the added drama of climate change and prophecies of the Ends of Days. Change is in the air - its the only certainty.

On a smaller scale, news from here is that a swarm of bees has moved into one of the old leadwood fencing posts in our driveway. I have been leaving them dishes of sugar water to make them feel welcome. The lions have been back, keeping us awake in the dead of night with their deeply reverberating calls. It really makes you appreciate being tucked up in bed within a bricks and mortar dwelling.

The grass is drying out fast now, and the green is turning yellow. We have one guinea fowl left now in our domestic flock and he is looking quite traumatised. For the first few days after his pal was taken by an eagle, he just ran around calling madly. Now he has settled down a bit. Anyone have some guinea fowl for sale?

As winter takes hold on the southern continent, the Okavango River continues to rise with water pushing further into the Kalahari Basin and the ancient lake beds.

Perhaps we will see the return of a waterworld here in the desert.

I like to think that Dawns Left Hand is in the sky and to remember that our time is finite and precious anyhow.

dreaming

2011-05-04T19:18:00.001+02:00

twin calderas mark the view

This morning I woke up from an incredible dream. I dreamt I ran away from the troubles of the world. I packed a small bag with a change of clothes and a toothbrush (and a few things besides). The bag was so small there was no room for a book - or even an extra mosquito.

Then I climbed into a metal bird, and flew high into the hazy blue sky, looking down on some of Africa's best places as we flew by. Big powerful rivers like the Limpopo and Zambezi meandered off into the distant haze; lake malawi shone with cloud reflections; mountains, plains, salt lakes, craters, all finally obscured by giant billowing clouds.

We climbed down from our metal bird in a smoky city filled with the noise of industrialisation. We pushed through some crowds of people; passed through a couple of check points and then climbed into a smaller metal bird escaping once more to look down on the world man has made.

We landed at last in a sea of yellow grasslands where the light was so bright and crisp it pinched the eyes. 360 degrees of wide open horizon brimming with possibilities and discoveries all presided over by a giant mountain capped with snow.

I rode on a white horse whose name was 'elephant' - and whose ancestors had been knights chargers in the times of the crusades. Giraffe stopped browsing to watch us pass and strange stunted thorn trees tugged at our clothing, but the singing sunwashed grasslands would not be denied and we rode out into the endless plains kicking up puffs of volcanic dust.

The Chyulu hills were our home for this dream time. By day we climbed up to the crumbling edges of ancient volcanic craters, and explored mystical caves formed by tendrills of lava flows. Here the molten lava had turned to stone forming ceramic walls moulding shapes of faces and fantastic creatures, all overgrown with creepers and lichens. The lava tube flowed downhill like a waterfall of caves sliding in and out of bright sunlight and cool damp darkness crunching dust and bones underfoot.

At night the star scapes obliterated the daytime scenes of wonder. Sunrise and the big mountain taught us humility and awe - putting us firmly back in our tiny place on the planet. A giant landscape that felt somehow strangely familiar - as if I had always known it.

All too soon the iron bird droned into view. It lifted us up and away from the kind faces and new friends, the singing grass and the purple hills. We landed home with a bump last night. Today I am picking up the pieces as reality nudges its way back in, but I am hanging onto my dream pictures and tonight i will ride away on my white horse again.

It just is

2011-04-25T12:38:00.001+02:00

waterlilies at sunrise

The last few days have been grey, overcast with soft drizzle and rain - and its been cold. This is unusual weather for here and we have had logs burning in the fireplace non stop to chase away the winter chill. Thank goodness for the fireplace. The weather somehow has matched my mood - or my mood had come into line with the weather. Perhaps it was the global consciousness of so many riotous and tragic occurrences spread about our beautiful world. Or perhaps it was because of those mighty planets whirling about unseen over our heads pulling on our tides and exerting their influences on our microscopic lives. Or maybe its something else altogether.

Definitely it had to do, in part, with the rhino poaching war reaching our doorstep. Its is heartbreaking to see one of these massive yet vulnerable and shy creatures that has been caught in a snare on its back foot for days. The bush all around the anchor tree has been flattened in attempts to escape. Finally falling into a donga (ditch) headfirst to die slowly of thirst and fear - all for the sake of two tiny growths on its young head.

Rhinos are dropping like flies these days. They are so easy to catch and find and kill. But it's not only rhinos - suddenly the whole war on wildlife for human greed just became too big for my brain. I am better now but sometimes it just gets too much. Getting sad doesn't help however - we have to keep thinking.

So anyway, We have been experiencing late rains here - which is really a happy event as it fills the waterholes just before the dry season. There have been huge rains in the Angolan highlands apparently and the Okavango River in Botswana is in flood already. We went to have a look and to try and reach the island where our boat lives. We were hoping to hire a river taxi from Sepupa to get there, but the jump off point was unreachable. The river itself was a huge swirling eddying surge of water pushing into riverine forests and ancient water courses. It was so huge and mighty it looked as if it had a meniscus like a glass of water filled to ultimate capacity - a sort of bulge barely contained within its floodplain and papyrus bed banks.

Botswana is filling up with water again these days. After a few excellent rainy seasons the floodwaters of the inland delta have been reaching into forgotten corners bringing them back to life. Massive flocks of birds follow the headwaters, and fields of water lilies adorn newly drenched flood plains. It makes our primate hearts happy and calm to see sparkling water coasting by.

Today the sun came out. The monkeys are here again visiting, eating the corn we put out for the birds, playing around the windows and thundering on the tin roof again.

It's continuity. It's 'this too shall pass'. It just is.

white rhino group

taking it to the streets

2011-03-24T17:18:00.001+02:00

Drive by pictures of street vendors and market scenes along the way in Mozambique

chokwe market

mangoes and bananas

and a place to watch the world go by

off to market

hawking to bus passengers

shade tree boutique

stop me and buy one - but dont wake the baby

fashion and plastic

bit fuzzy but nice baskets

hot stuff

piri piri (chilli sauce) vendors

markets are noisy and colourful places

the music was really pumping!

Mozambique Idyll

2011-03-21T17:37:00.001+02:00

These monkeys ducked to Mozambique for a few days. We had to visit the school and see the progress of the new building - it was a year since our last visit and i was craving some Mozambique time.

wall art

The weather report showed us a possible cyclone developing right over Vilanculos. Oh boy. But it was too late to change the plan and we packed our rain gear just in case. On the way, as we were negotiating 100kms of badly potholed tar between Massingir and Chokwe, a phone call came in. "Did you hear the news?" No. "Do you have a radio in your car?" No. "Well then I will tell you anyway - there has been a massive earthquake and tsunami in Japan - the biggest ever. Its breaking news!" from then on we checked the headlines wherever and whenever we could. The news sounded unreal and ontop of the already disturbing developments in Libya, cast a shadow over every thought.

market scene, Chokwe

At sunset the following day we arrived in camp. The evening sun casting the serene waters into shades of gold and turquiose made world events seem even more remote and impossible but the news was insistent. The neap tides were almost imperceptible as if the sea was holding its breath or had used all its energy in Tsunamis. So we canoed on glassy waters looking at fish looking at us - jumping when they shot out of the water like silver bullets. ha you guys are not getting my sunglasses this time - no way man!

It was hot - melting hot. At night the mosquitoes tried to carry us away. The dolphins came by - fishing in the deep channel and leaping clear of the dark waters. I canoed out to them. Dophins - they tingle the emotions somehow. Even the hardiest among us is not unaffected. They came to visit me, diving under the canoe and surfacing to suck air - a sound like blowing a kiss.

I read Treasure Island for the first time. It was a book that came from my father's house. The handwritten date inside says 1910; its dark red leather embossed cover shows signs of wear and tear, but the story stands the test of time. Yohoho and a bottle of rum! Blind Pew and Billy Bones, Long John Silver and Captain Flint the parrot. They were so real.

dolphins

Two days before full moon the tides woke up and made their climb up the silvery beach, stretching out among the barnacled roots of the mangroves. We had to leave. It was far too soon. I took a last walk down the boardwalk. The weathered planks moved under my feet like a bleached out xylophone. The sand is soft, cool, luxurious. The canoe slipped out onto the glassy water enticing me to stay. But I was on borrowed time, and we had miles to go before we slept that day.

The cyclone never showed. We were lucky.

separation anxiety

2011-02-21T15:04:00.000+02:00

It is a cool overcast monday morning after a steaming hot few days. An elephant slooshes and wallows in the reedbed out of sight, but filling the view with his sounds. Its time for us to move again. Tomorrow or the next day - whenever there are seats available on an outgoing plane - we will lift off from the dusty strip, soaring over the palm trees and wild sage grasslands. We will hum steadily, high above the meandering arms of the Okavango Delta, interlaced with hard etched elephant paths linking muddy waterholes.

Then we will land in Maun. The sprawling metropolis of safari town yielding a cacophony of traffic noises and charter aircraft arriving and leaving in a wheel of never ending transit traffic . Maun is the safari spring board of northern Botswana.

Just opposite the airport is a cafe bistro where tourists, safari operators and pilots meet and linger - filling time between ETA's and ETDs - or just linking with friends passing through. It is rich in people watching opportunities against the backdrop of the river of traffic.

But for now the rhythmic heart beat of a turtle dove calling overlays the orchestral symphony of bird calls from water and woodland. These sounds soothe the soul and lighten the heart strings.

The grasses here smell of wild herbs and water - sage, thyme, basil. I wish i could bottle it and take it with me. My body loves to breathe it in. And each time we return I am overwhelmed by the fragrances and sounds that contrast so absolutely from the sounds of our man made world.

(sorry no pics this time - internet too slow)

a lovely thing

2011-01-28T15:44:00.000+02:00

K and I are both orphans at this stage in our lives. K's mum was the last parent to slip through the portal.
She was a tiny feisty woman with the daintiest hands and feet i have ever ever seen. She always walked tall and was always elegant and beautifully presented. Apart from her sons, she loved nothing more than to drive endlessly through elephant country viewing these mighty creatures in their home fields. She loved to talk and socialise, but she was always silent in the elephant fields drinking it all in.

After one of her last visits, she left a beautiful card thanking us and enclosing an amount of Rands to spend on something we would both enjoy. We found it after she was on the plane back home.

Years have passed but the card and its enclosed gift had been kept safely for some special event - a dinner or trip or something. I moved it from place to place to keep it safe, and now and again it would resurface reminding me.

This week we took the card and booked into Shingwedzi camp in Kruger National Park for the night. We drove slowly through the elephant fields and spent time with giant bull elephants as they rested, or fed, or travelled, or jostled with their mates. We had dinner in the restaurant and breakfast the next day at Mopani camp overlooking a huge rainfilled dam. We felt her presence with us all the way and it was a day she would have loved.

I keep thinking, how wonderful to leave a small something, that can be treasured and enjoyed long after you have shuffled off the mortal scene. Something that is not a Will or a legacy - a simple gift that says so much and keeps the connection alive and real.

Thank you Dot - and yes I will refresh the card for another date

xxx

Soul food

2011-01-24T17:19:00.002+02:00

It was a hot summer day. The kind that makes you want to run for shade. Sunlight shimmered off emerald green grass. Distant hills in razor sharp detail etched a line between the endless green and the deep blue skies where lumpy white clouds massed and gathered. A big bull elephant moved slowly through the lush grasses pulling up bunches of green as he walked, and waving them high before cramming them into his leathery mouth.

His one ear hung tattered and torn, flapping loosely in time to the rhythmic waving of his other perfect ear. It told of battles won and lost along the ancient pathways of the elephant fields. He moved steadily straight towards us filling my lens with his giant shape. He was caked with mud, clods of which sat in a ridge down his spine, andclung to the deep wrinkles of his skin- like a mountain of earth come to life. Liquid golden eyes looked down at me, focussing sharply - waiting for me to move out his way. He drew himself up to enormous height. My camera pointed directly up now, and we stared - golden eye to electronic eye. There was a moment hung in time. Steadily the earth mountain creature swung his great head away and he moved off into the track behind us continuing on his way. I breathed deeply. Wow.

All across the curve of the earth within our lowly view, elephant bulls fed, grazed, slept, drank from pools, splashed in mud wallows; they greeted long lost pals, and moved away ahead of old adversaries. Summer is their time. Elephants prefer grass, and for now, there is an over abundance of sweet long waving grasses. The tensions of late winter months are gone.

We had gone to this elephant country to escape from our world for a day - to clear the clutter in our minds and feed our souls on the natural world.

Further down the road another bull elephant stood splashing mud over his body from a pool next to the road. He cared little about us, but continued splashing each and every part of his body, swooshing his trunk over his face and eyes. Another bull arrived. They were clearly pals and greeted each other with gentle trunk waving, inserting the tip of the trunk into each others mouths. The second bull began the same procedure. As they parted ways again - one to the shade, the other on another path - there was an interlude of parting gestures - gentle trunk caressing of ivory.

I love to watch elephants walking along a well trodden path. The rhythm of their gait, and ears flapping like sails catching the wind, remind me of giant galleons on a course at sea.

Further on, another elephant in the shade used the rough bark of a tall acacia tree to scratch every part of his mud caked body. He manouvered around slowly, enjoying the feeling, and leaving a fresh coat of mud on the trunk of the tree. He had all the time in the world - there was no need to rush.

guess who's coming to dinner

2010-12-31T05:45:00.000+02:00

On the menu - the Christmas left overs

and then lunch

I hope 2011 will be a sumptious feast of delicious dreams come true for each and everyone of you.

Live it and love it

and

blog on!

and how was your day?

2010-12-27T15:47:00.000+02:00

Lillie House overgrown with green

Well I dont know about you guys, but I had a fabulous day. I hope you did too?

Here are some pictures from Christmas day in my world.

a long walk in the jungle green

finding weird shaped rocks and mysterious things

chinese lantern flowers on the sickle bushes

tortoises are walking - which tells us rain is on the way

if only they would keep out of the tracks

mopane worms have started - filling the air with the sound of their munching

on new green leaves. its a prickly sound like first rain drops

rock splitter fig tree

whats that under that bush?

storm clouds gathering at end of day

Festive Fever

2010-12-24T15:43:00.000+02:00

Summer is sparkling green – a world of butterflies and birds bringing the landscape to life with their fluttery business. Grass grows before our eyes forming lush dark jungles that the guinea fowls can hide in. The trees are resplendent in their summer dresses, and creepers grown on creepers, that grow on creepers. Leaf shapes fill every niche in the hunt for chlorophyll. The day is shiny bright so you have to squint, and the suns embrace can squeeze you dry. It's not intentional just over zealous.

It is Christmas Day tomorrow. We have some fairy lights blinking on our candle tree – a metal sculpture of a baobab tree. There are some presents at the base wrapped in fabric and tinsel – recyclable. The idea pinched from Lori’s blog. Thanks Lori. Tomorrow we will be home alone – dinner a deux. I will roast a small turkey and we will have a jolly table in the cool of evening. It feels luxurious not to be racing in traffic to some coastal destination that will be crowded with people and motorized toys. But I will be thinking of absent friends and family – all far away. Some knee deep in snow.

Our Christmas shopping this week consisted of a drum of molasses for the elephants, and a new rain guage for the lions to play with next time they come through our garden. It has been a while since the elephants were in this part of the reserve, so we are really enjoying their return. They love molasses too, and if they catch a whiff of the molasses drum on the back of our vehicle, it gives rise to much trunk waving as their amazing olfactory equipment picks up the slightest hint of fragrance on the warm air.

Christmas promises so much gaiety, festiveness, joy and reunion – though for some it is a difficult time. Maybe too many memories resurface, or they are alone in a world of frantic connecting. We are social animals after all.

Once we adopted a suricat. It was someone else’s problem child. They had loved it as a needy young thing, but when it hit puberty and began to assert itself, the biting got out of control and he was dropped at our door. You see these enigmatic creatures on Nat Geo – they live in communities in the Kalahari and are entirely engaging. They are social animals too and we love to watch them integrate with each other. They are not meant to be alone. They get miserable and it stresses their hearts. But someone is breeding them and selling the babies as pets.

We called our guy Mafuta meaning Fat one. He settled in here, bonded with me which was lovely, didn’t bite K much, or Rayson. He had the entire garden to forage in and all the juicy crickets and scorpions he found there were his! So he began to grow in size, in the manner of many of our politicians.

Initially he slept in my bed. It was endearing the way he clung onto my ankle deep under the duvet and slept there. But as it became his territory, he began to urinate in the bed at night leaving a particularly strong musky smell. Finally we had to draw the line. Hugging during the day was fine, but at night he had to stay in the kitchen. It was a heartbreaker. He would come throughout the night and scratch at our door, then go back to sleep alone in the back of the fridge (there is a cosy space there).

I could talk about Mafuta all day – the fun stories and times we had with him. How much he taught us. But what I mean to say is that a suricat is not meant to live alone, they need community and contact. People are the same. So no matter how much you ‘bah humbug’ about the festive season it can heighten a sense of loneliness – which is part of the human condition.

One thing I love about this season, is hearing from friends and distant relations, that I would surely have lost contact with in the mists of time were it not for this annual

event.

There is an energy about this solstice time, winter or summer, which cannot be ignored – it fascinates me in a way. With this condition in mind, you may as well focus on the inner child and allow the magic of giving and receiving, reconnecting with long lost friends, and strengthening those family ties, to distract you. So in other words – go tinsel crazy and have as much harmless fun as you can think of with your nearest and dearest. That way you will know what your New Year’s resolutions will be.

Christmas in the sun

2010-12-18T18:03:00.002+02:00

I was born in snow country, raised in the rain belt, and have spent my adult life in the drought prone regions of southern central Africa. My childhood Christmases were cold. We prayed and hoped and wished for snow, but mostly it eluded us. Instead we sometimes had frost, and crisp cold days where the mud in the tracks was frozen solid into ridges that could twist your ankle. Autumn’s leaves lay on the ground morphing into the mud. Everywhere we looked lines were etched with microscopic crystals of ice. Trees were black lace against a winter sky.

To avoid the depression at the onset of long winter months we had Christmas. As soon as the days grew shorter, bright festive lights and glitter appeared in every shop window; arcing across the streets, bouncing back from the puddles of rainwater in our paths.

There was magic in the air. We were promised joy, happiness, feasts, family unity, gifts

And a chance to sing our hearts out at carol concerts.

fig tree fruits version of christmas baubles?

Here, now, we have summer in all its glorious fruitful emerald green abundance. Christmas creeps up on me with only a polite occasional cough to announce its arrival. You would think I would be used to it by now, but I miss the magic like a miss my childhood seen through rose tinted sunglasses.

Christmas madness here starts with the roads. It is summer holidays for the schools and universities – the long long vacation. On 15^th December the country shuts down for a month. Literally. OK retailers continue to stock their shelves to the tune of piped carols but the lights and tinsel are outshone by the sun. The roads are mayhem. Everyone needs to be somewhere else. There are road blocks and accident scenes, delays and breakdowns.

apparently not the place to do your christmas shopping

or any shopping

The weather alternates between cool cloudy rainy days, and blistering sunshine when the humidity levels soar. So we will stay home for once, and enjoy watching the jungle of leaves and creepers, trees and lush grasses which seems to grow before our eyes. The impala herd has doubled in size thanks to all the new fawns that skitter and dance around the periphery on that great adventure of discovery called life.

This morning we stopped for a chameleon crossing the track. You cannot be in a hurry if you wait for him to cross. His stop-start pace is the stuff of legends and lore. There are tortoises on the move too. We haven’t seen them all winter, but now must beware that we don’t drive over them. The air is an orchestra of bird song – at night the frogs bring in the base rhythms and trills; lions call a wave of sound traveling across the night; and elephants use the curtain of green to move their youngsters around the reserve to party at the waterholes.

So we will cook a turkey and some of the trimmings; raise our glasses to absent friends and family, read books at the pool, and generally take the day off. Time to think and appreciate. Rayson will go home to his family for two weeks so we will be home alone. Who knows I may even get some of those jobs done I have been procrastinating about all year.

Have fun everyone – and celebrate the season of joy as you mean to go on!

mozambique meanders

2010-12-03T19:23:00.000+02:00

Spiders and snakes, tortoises, scorpions hunting under the lights, preying mantises

that defy the imagination, big fluttery moths, and small scratchy scurrying beetles. Al the small folks are out now released by the flush of first proper rains. Driving through the mopane forests we pass through zones of screaming cicadas. Golden brown impalas flit across the track followed closely by their newborn fawns – tiny scraps of life - and disappear just as quickly behind the curtain of dayglo green leaves. Summer is here in all her lush green glory.

We have been traveling, between Botswana and Mozambique, in the race to be everywhere at once before the big rains close down the more remote areas for the season. Our last trip was into the LimpopoTransfrontier Park in mozambique where the Shingwedzi River crosses in from Kruger Park, South Africa. It is wild wild country with horizons so wide you can see the curve of the earth for sure!

a fork in the road

summer heat hammers down on a quiet village

sleigh ride mozambique style

a river bed that waits for the rain

elephants look so tiny from up here

patterns on a fever tree

early travellers thought this was where malaria came from

our camp fire on the edge of the river

birds eye view

2010-11-15T15:24:00.001+02:00

We have been doing a lot of travelling this past month. Apart from the usual road hours - sometimes 11 hours at a stretch - we have been extremely fortunate to take some aerial journeys accross some of the most pristine wild country in southern Africa.

Firstly, leaving camp in Selinda, we flew in the empty supply plane back to Maun. This flight over part of the Okavango Delta must be one of the most beautiful scenic flights in the world. It is mesmerising to watch the meandering arms of the delta waters bringing life to the desert heartland. The patterns it weaves are interlaced with paths made by wildlife trekking from feeding grounds to water. The way the paths converge on a waterhole, or favoured drinking spot, create further natural abstract designs. It is landscape as it meant itself to be.

Here are some sights that birds see on their migration paths.

the name of this river translates to 'Snake'

meandering arms of delta waters form oxbows and islands in kalahari sand

diminishing waterholes in the dry hinterland threaded with game paths; this one has a yin-yang symbol

delta overview - big country for wildlife

if we ever needed reminding that water is life - here is proof!

palm islands in a sea of swampy watergrass

mosaic in shades of green

approaching Maun - tourist capital of Ngamiland

where we became terrestrial again

queens of darkness

2010-11-03T10:43:00.001+02:00

A hyena lies at the edge of a muddy waterhole. She is grubby looking, her fur filled with ash from the recent grass fire that swept through the savannah woodlands. She raises her head looking left and right, drinking the scents on the wind. Her deep set eyes do not sparkle with life like other creatures, yet they are alive. They look like deep dark holes - an abyss into which you could fall forever. One can only imagine the horror scenes they record at every nocturnal kill. The eyes are portals to store experience in the library of the brain. With each fresh kill more skills are learned, stored, referred back to when needed.

Her fur is matted and short, the spots stubbornly showing through the ash brown mud that clings to her. Around her mouth pieces of last nights meal cling to the fur, all now a uniform unrecognisable brown. I imagine the smell of her breath close to my face as the last thing i might smell in this life.

She is not pretty in our terms. The rules are different here. Hyena pups can be pretty and endearing - they look like fun to hang out with. A mature male or female however, shows no such charm. It is important for them to clan, to find acceptance among each other. Females are generally larger than the males. To add to their strangeness female genitalia closely resembles that of the males. They are not apparently hermaphroditic as has been suggested before, but it does get confusing. Nearby a sister is sleeping, her distended belly resting in the depression made by an elephants foot when the mud was wet. Symbiosis. Elephants are kind to their neighbours.

The alpha females stands and starts to move off into the tree line. She moves with powerful grace; head down shoulders high - her stride surefooted and strong. Hyenas are in their own niche in the world of species. Somewhere between a pit bull terrier and a wolf. They hold the power of the night and every thought that makes you uneasy. Like the executioners in days of old - its just her job.

Legends abound too - in this area, if you see a hyena go past with a man riding on its back, its your time to die. Technically this would probably be quite difficult as their hind legs are somewhat shorter than their forelegs and they are not that tall - he would have to be small. But still - watch out at night and in your dreams.

First rain and an honest scrap award

2010-10-29T13:14:00.001+02:00

Its raining - thunder rocks the house; rain pours in silver torrents off the tin roof. The ground is running with streams and rivulets filling the dry clay waterholes. Trees rejoice - reaching up and shivering in the cool air, filling up the reserves that fuel the new green leaves.

It is dark indoors and grey sheets of rain cloud the distant view. It started with a whiff of magical rain smell. A few scattered drops that hit the tin like stones.

"Shall we close the roof on the car?"

"No not yet - it might chase the rain away"

superstition rules the moment

At this stage the car is more like an aquarium because the rain has thanked us and given generously of itself in return.

Lightening flashes bright and thunder cracks overhead - bringing dramatic crecendoes to the thrumming rain. Damp earth and ash smells waft through the wooden house that so recently was more like a sauna.

Earlier, the fledgling flycatcher who has been entertaining us with his awkward moves and sweet clumsy flights, flew into the house and landed on a beam. "Be Calm" we urged and left him to figure out his new surroundings - hopefully to find a way out again in his own time. He fluttered to the floor - a dark corner which allowed me to approach and pick him up in my hand. He was a ball of feathers around a strongly pulsing heart. He weighed less than a postage stamp (remember those?) I took him to the door and set him on a post. After a couple of seconds he flew into the croton bush.

Perhaps after all he was planning to pass the storm in the shelter of the wooden house?

The multi talented and gorgeous Nicky from Absolute Vanilla blogspot has bestowed upon Monkeys on the Roof an illustrious prize - The Honest Scrap Award. Thank you dear Nicky!

but what is honest scrap i wondered? i start to picture a rag and bone man from days of yore trolling the streets crying 'any old iron?' but then i read on.

The Honest Scrap Award is about bloggers who post from their heart, who oftentimes put their heart on display as they write from the depths of their soul.

The Rules of this Award are to pass it on to 7 bloggers you admire and follow and then to share 10 honest things about yourself.

The hardest part of these awards is choosing only 7 bloggers to pass it on to. Nicky has already chosen several of the first that spring to mind, and some of you

I know do not like to receive blogs - even though this one could be made for you and you alone! but anyhow, i shall persist, and here is my list..

Tanvir from Holy Vision who guides us through her world with strength and fabulous in-your-face humour.

Amanda from Travels with Persephone whose consummate short story skills, vision, sensitivity and warmth are entirely captivating;

Susan from The Mermaid Gallery who lives in a beautiful place, and shares her love of life through her vibrant artworks and anecdotes;

Reya - from The Golden Puppy who perpetually nourishes that questioning part of my brain with her wisdom, intuition and inter dimensional experiences;

The Times of Miranda - always a favourite!

Lori times Five - of course of course (if I can get to her before Geli does :)

Friko's musings - a blog full of life and humour as a German expat living in Wales

The Solitary Walker - whose words and poetry allow us to share the journeys

The Alchemists pillow - who shares wonderful things i never knew about Spain

please follow the links on my sidebar - I am on borrowed internet time at the moment. Thanks!

and now for the even harder part - to find ten honest scraps about ME. Who wants to know this stuff? ten things that you dont already know....crikey...ok

1. i have been an aunty since i was 17 - its been the coolest thing to be

2. I am a believer by the Monkees was the first record i ever bought. I still love it though i dont own it any more.

3. I have some scars - most of them are due to my own clumsiness or acting the clown. When i am even older i will have fun remembering - if i can.

4. i love marmite

5. i can do the charleston a bit

6. happy movies make me cry

7. i get stuck on narrow bridges over great heights, or staircases that you can see through like inside the dome of St Pauls Cathedral in London.......shiver

8. i would love to see northern lights one day

9. i dont let go easily - friends be warned!

10. I used to think the Elgin Marbles were big round things.

there be dragons

2010-10-26T14:54:00.002+02:00

The day was extreme - the heat building for first rains, topped all records. It pressed down like a heavy wool blanket - the old fashioned kind, before down duvets and thermal hiking gear. The breeze skittered and died, shifting from east to west, as though unsure of its own footing.

Sweat coasted down my brow in rivulets, finding the corners of my eyes, burning them awake. Had I sprung a thousand leaks, that the more water i drank, the more poured out of my very skin, soaking my clothes? I sought the breeze but it wasn't always there.

I wanted to lie down and sleep, but everything i touched was too hot - the sofa, the bed, the floor, the chair - I didnt want to touch any of them as they compounded my own body temperature. This is not funny hey? My thermostat is sticking now. The wooden house smells like a nordic sauna.

We jump in the car and drive onto the floodplain. The air is like a hairdryer, or oven door, blasting at us. Nothing moves in the heat. We head for the big sausage tree on the island near the waters edge. There is an elephant heading there too, but we get there first. it is nearest pool of shade and we are happy to share, but he carries on to the next island.

Relief, here at least a breeze off the water catches our sweaty brows and steadily imperceptibly body temperatures start to fall to manageable levels. A purple roller flies out over the water, swoops to drink and returns to a branch over our heads. Red billed wood hoopoe's have a nest in a hole in the sausage tree. The parents return to feed their fledgling young. A racket ensues as the youngster, already in adult plumage, emerges to be fed, The parents are working hard in the soupy air. The youngster retreats back into the nest to await the next treat. No flying lessons today then.

Slowly our shadow pool grows as the sun dips to the west. Dragonflies fill the air around our heads. Lacy winged bi-planes swarm around coming to rest on leaves and twigs. I turn the camera onto them. Their black wings seen from above show gold and bronze, purple and royal blue - who would have known? We find another - rich royal red, with a ginger abdomen, and fine transparent wings; whoa there is another - much more camouflaged in black and yellow, barely discernible in the leaf litter. Then another in royal blue. They hover and land, flying around our heads, nviting us to cross over into a fantasy world of dragonflies and nymphs that the ridiculously hot day has allowed us to see at last. Were they always there?

fire and rain

2010-10-25T11:07:00.001+02:00

the three sisters in evening dress

A grass fire came in from the west, devouring tinder dry yellow grasses. Giant orange flames raced across open plains and along dry riverbeds. They tiptoed through the open woodland where the elephants had trampled the grasses, then raced out into the sunlight again. The wind was their friend, urging them onwards. But the wind is capricious and finally it turned. The flames stumbled and stuttered trying to find a new way forward, but they were stumped and the fire died right there.It has left a desolate landscape where burnt leaves shiver and shift on the ground, crumbling to soot and rising in dusky columns to dance with the dust devils of their old friend the wind.

fire stick man

We drive along the sand track which in places marks the end of the fire. Black as pitch the soot covers the charred view. Elephants have left big round impressions of footprints, where they have crossed out of the fire zone and into the bright blonde grasses again. Here and there a fallen tree continues to burn. At night the coals still glow red but during the day they hide in snow white ash. Trees that burnt where they fell, have left a ghostly impression in ash on the ground. We are driving past funeral pyres for trees - there is an armageddon feel as if we have stumbled onto the battlefield after a ghastly war. The stump of an ancient leadwood tree shines dazzling white against the black. Cascading pure white ash it is a tower of smouldering coals around the baked ceramic core of the termitaria which once shared its niche. Soon all trace of its existence will be blown away in the wind.

leadwood fire stump caldera of snow white ash

We are waiting for rain again. The October heat is reckless, relentless, and ever increasing - building for rain. Yesterday was a full moon. It was a red moon as it rose through the smoke haze mimicking, for a while, the setting sun. The full moon promises to bring a change in the weather. Across the country people are watching the skies. Bets are on for the first big rain. Inland pans are drying up and the elephants, our most water dependent species, are forced to travel long distances through the dry interior to reach the lagoons and spillways of Selinda.

steenbok on fresh neon green grass shoots

Yet here and there already, neon green shoots of grass begin to appear. Tiny green shoots of leaves are poking out of dessicated branches - signalling that hope springs eternal. It has been more than a decade since the last grass fire came through here, and some think it was time.

This morning the horizon is dark grey in the north - whether from fire or rain we cannot yet tell. There is a touch of moisture on the wind although I cannot smell that magical rain smell. But then I am not an elephant. We pass one heading directly towards the dark sky, the rhythm of his steady pace belying his traveling speed. A flock of open bill storks pass overhead in classic V formation heading the same way. Their wings flicker white against the dark clouds.

This heat has to break soon. We are on the cusp I feel certain. Any day now welcome rain must fall.

travelling light

2010-10-22T12:55:00.001+02:00

Well here we are packed and ready to leave on our road trip. Now what have i forgotten......?

maybe i should buy some tomatoes

then look for a safari guide. I think i saw a sign...

Bad boons?

2010-10-11T10:14:00.000+02:00

You can tell when its baboons on the roof at first light - not
monkeys. Baboons are much heavier for a start and they have a sort of
three gaited lope. Whenever the baboons are here, I thank my lucky
stars that it is only rarely and our roof racers are usually only
lightfooted monkeys. I dont think our tin roof would stand up to a
full baboon onslaught.
We have started our winter feeding programme again. We have some
molasses out, and this weekend we put out a bag of antelope cubes.
These are like dog cubes, or pony nuts, but designed for wildlife ie
probably mostly consist of ground up mopane trees for which we pay a
small fortune. As luck would have it the baboons spotted the weekend
feast from the top of one of the koppies and came striding in. They
sit around the feed zone, and keep on piling pellets, one by one, into
their mouths. They never seem to swallow. With each handful, their
quick brown eyes dart around in all directions so its very hard for
anything to sneak up on them, even when they are preoccupied with
feeding.
Baboons can see you through the window from far away - even when the
light is reflecting on the glass. Infact, i am pretty sure they can
feel when they are being looked at. You know that feeling that makes
you look around before you even realise why, and you find someone
staring full bore at your back, or immediately dropping their eyes
after a big staring session? Well there is supposed to be some energy
exchange taking place, that we can tune into, but mostly we are so
unaware that our bodies respond before we acknowledge the event.
Baboons are exceptionally good at this.
They can be sitting on their haunches, arms resting on knees, tummies
hanging round and low, gazing skyward or at the youngsters at play.
You start watching from the dark recesses of the kitchen and - whoa -
they spin around immediately. The mood changes and they start moving
away into the cover of the rocks and trees. Try this with a camera
and they are liable to take off at speed. Its very impressive, this
skill. No doubt it saves their bacon too where other farmers and camp
managers are liable to shoot at, or just shoot, baboons to keep them
away from the damage to property that they always do. Yesterday they
swung on one of the guest tents collapsing the center pole, and they
always swing on the rolled up canvas windows, breaking them, tearing
anything they can; they pulled the pool cushions around and left them
covered in baboon prints too - and they always leave a large ugly
calling card somewhere where you want to walk. So its not without
reason that people do not entirely welcome the baboons in to their
camps.
They will destroy your garden too.
However, living in a game area, it is better if your baboons are
calm. Other animals listen to their alarm calls and respond with
them. If the troop of baboons runs from you because they are afraid
they will get shot, then all the other animals run too. Panic is
catching! So if the baboons are relaxed at the waterhole, you are
more likely to see other more timid species coming to drink and
spending time there too.
Baboons are really fun to watch too. We can relate to them in so many
ways. Its a bit like people watching, but we are allowed to watch
baboons in this way. Just dont make eye contact - this is bad baboon
manners.
So we do like them, and its great to have them around. They make
wonderful silhouettes on the rocks at sunset, and their alarm calls
let us know when the lions or leopard are passing by. However, I am
still glad that they do not live on our roof.

night lions

2010-10-10T08:57:00.001+02:00

We went out looking for the lions yesterday. Recently some zebra and wildebeest were caught in poachers snares in the reserve. It was a remote area and nobody found the carcasses - but the lions did. No doubt they heard the distress cries. Lions and hyenas moved in to claim the kills. Some lions were caught in snares in the process. Being caught in a snare is a slow and painful death. The lion research group, tracked the lions to the scene of carnage. By then most of the animals caught in the snares - including some of the cubs that had visited our house - were dead. One lioness was still alive - she had caught the snare between her jaws and her face was severely wounded as a result. She has been sent to a rehabilitation center where her physical wounds should heal in time. I am sorry if this is shocking, but this is how it is.

We heard that the lions had moved back into our part of the reserve. There are now only six lions left in this pride - the big male and his two askaris (sons), two females and one young daughter. Three of them are wearing collars which allows the research group to find them and keep track of their lives. We also have a receiver, although ours is a little more antiquated. In this area it can be very confusing as the signal can bounce off the granite koppies and lead you in totally the wrong direction. We found the signal just around sunset. The whole pride were still together, so we drove on a small track around a group of koppies where we thought they were. The pride in its former glory had once spent several weeks based in this koppie when the cubs were too small to travel far.

As darkness fell so softly, and swiftly, the dry yellow grasses and small bushes, all took their turns at becoming monochrome lions. A movement here or there, a sound of twigs cracking, a swirl of yellow grass - pulled our attention in every direction waiting for the gods of the night to enter the scene. We followed tracks and strained our ears for sounds of their calling - but who would they call to now anyhow?

It grew dark. The pool of our headlights took over from the gathering dark. We stopped to listen. Suddenly, morphing out of the grass and trees came two lionesses, the soft sound of their large footpads hitting dust were all that told of their appearance. They strode purposefully - no social graces this time. They looked rangy, feral. They walked straight to the back of our vehicle and in turn, had a look over the side before moving on and fading into the dark again. Were they ghosts? We wondered if they associated the vehicle with identical ones used in the capture and translocation of the snared pride members.

The big male followed on their trail making soft growling-purring noises. He too visited the back of our vehicle and then walked on. Next the two young males and finally, the youngest remaining member of the pride - a female sub adult. She alone stopped at the edge of the clearing and looked at us, stopped a while, and then walked on.

We turned to follow them and there in our lights was the young female, waiting for us - as the whole pride used to do.

weather report and interview

2010-10-06T22:46:00.001+02:00

Today we have had the whiff of rain. Not rain as such - but the whiff
of it. It was delicious and piqued the senses. Like walking past a
bakery and smelling fresh bread. We went to town to buy supplies.
There were giant bull giraffes next to the road feeding on the new,
very new, leaves and blossoms. They didnt mind as long as we slowed
down past them, then they could turn and look down their very regal
noses at us. Like the Emperor they are naked although they dont seem
to know.
The clouds hang low today like ancient dust bunnies - grey and fluffy
and full of portent but revealing nothing. The wind will probably
sweep them away tonight and leave us with a nice clean sky again.
Well thats the weather report for today. What I really came here to
say is that the lovely Bonnie from Original Art Studio has included me
in an illustrious line up for featured interviews on her blog. It
should be up sometime today. I had such fun pondering and answering
her insightful questions, and felt hugely honoured to be included, but
also somewhat unworthy. I mean, my claim to fame is having monkeys on
my roof. Not to mention in my head sometimes. Anyhow I am feeling a
bit bashful now but here is the link.
http://originalartstudio.blogspot.com

saturday snippets

2010-10-02T19:18:00.003+02:00

'it's a hot one – like seven inches from the midday sun' Santana

The words and tune are playing through my head today as the temperature pushes past 40C. Even the birds and monkeys are still, snoozing somewhere in the shady branches of a tree that still has leaves.

Talking of monkeys, they got into the kitchen again yesterday. It was around midday and I was (ahem) reading a book, K was (ahem) watching the news. They came in silently, in whisper mode. We didn't hear them, but when I walked into the kitchen it was clear that some monkey hands had found the rice, and the bag of onions left on the table cunningly concealed by a dishcloth. Onions rolled around aimlessly on the table and floor as if woken from a deep sleep too.

I think our monkeys have been in training, and have become an elite squad of special forces – the SAS of monkeys. They case the joint from all angles – through windows, and from rooftop vantage points. They identify caches of food and plot routes in and out. Soft monkey feet move silently across the cement floor – using their long tails for balance they can leap onto a counter or table top, grab the targeted morsels, and move to the door again in one fluid motion. Ninja monkeys. Thank heavens it is not the baboons.

The heat is bringing the frangipani trees into leaf, and some of the baby baobabs are showing tiny green dots at the end of their branches – like a slow motion conjurers trick. Warthogs are spending more time at the house, and last night a rhino walked by unseen, leaving large scalloped plates of footprints in the sand. Have you heard about all the rhino poaching in southern Africa this year? It has been an onslaught – over two hundred rhinos killed for their horns this year alone. In the past couple of weeks there have been some significant arrests of poachers. Although everyone is out on bail again pending court cases, at least there is some counter-action taking place at last. Perhaps the rhinos have a chance to stay around a while longer.

The sky is dust haze white again, and the mountains have not been seen for days. The mopane trees that still have leaves have turned every shade of gold thru copper and bronze that glow richly in the late afternoon sun. It seems strange that we get our 'fall' colours just as we head into the extreme heat of summer.

The lovely Susan from http://mermaidgallerynelson.blogspot.com very kindly passed on this award to me recently. Thank you Susan! The Mermaid Gallery is a wonderful lively creative venue in beautiful British Columbia Canada. The name comes from that memorable Joni Mitchell classic song. But let Susan tell you about it when you go to her blog. Go and see what she has been up to with her inspirational artworks, and deliciously tempting etsy store.

• To accept this award, you must post the award, thank me, (you're welcome) and post the link back to this site.
Pay it back and pick a few blogs to receive the award and post links for their sites.
notify the winners that you have chosen them to receive the award....

There are so many fabulously inspiring and uplifting and downright fascinating blogs out there that i would like to throw this award out to all you guys.

I would like to send it out to Mandi at Byrds Beautiful World where a group of photographers and lovers of landscapes each post different random photos from their worlds that celebrate the beauty they see around them. It really is a visual journey into the diverse and astounding nature of our beautiful planet. Do go and take a look.

And secondly to my friend Pam at Spiny Marshmallow , who is relatively new to blogworld but who comes armed with humour, creativity, original artworks, quirky photography and great insights in to her life in Zambia.

And also to Rob G of Rob G's World who has recently made the move from Inukshuk Adventures blogspot to start a new blog to showcase his artistic talents. If you didnt already know, do stop by and enjoy the creative process with Rob.

and to all of you...here it comes...you ready?

letter from the roof

2010-09-28T10:21:00.001+02:00

Dear Bloggy Pals

you may have been wondering where i have been this past quiet time? Well, since the night of the wondrous leopard pictures, life has been a race horse on speed.

We jumped on a plane to London for a family event - my

niece's Big White Wedding. We arrived a few days early and tried to

help with the preps, but also spent time exploring the lush green

tunnels of the Meon Valley country lanes. Tiny windy lanes that trickle

between rolling farmland and dark leafy forests, lit by hazy sunlight.

We stumbled onto a fly fishing place at a natural spring where you
can go and have fly fishing lessons, or just stand around making
lovely figures of eight with flying fish line, while the trout stare
unblinking from the crystal depths.

Here and there a cozy pub with wonky tables serving delicious grub.

I met a friend's pet sheep - we bonded.

Friday, the day before the wedding, and the pace intensified. At one point I found myself tying knives and forks together with decorated ribbon for a hundred and fifty place settings.

Its the little personal touches that take so much time but make all the difference.

On the day, the bride looked like a princess and she and the groom grinned happily through the whole event. It filled me up to see them, and share the joy.

We came home to a round of visitors. I love a noisy full dinner table and having everyone around. But soon we will be on our own again- with the monkeys.

Summer has arrived meanwhile and the air is full of dust and smoke haze - hiding the mountains completely from view. Today a cheeky wind promises rain, but the sky is white heat and cloudless.

So much catching up to do but its good to be back.

thanks for hanging in - if you did!

last night

2010-08-23T10:33:00.001+02:00

Yesterday we were driving in the reserve. We found a place where a

leopard had dragged his meal accross the road. We followed the track

and found the remains of a young waterbuck. Most of the body had been

eaten, but there was still quite a lot of meat on the legs. The kill

was very fresh.

The menfolk pulled the remains back along the track and tied it with
a piece of rope to a huge fallen log. They then fixed the camera trap
to a similar log a couple of meters away, and off we went.

Lions were calling in the night. It was so fabulous to hear them and
know they are back in this part of the reserve.

This morning we returned to the camera trap. The massive log that the
water buck was tied to, had been dragged right up into the forest.

and this is what we found on the camera

shining lights

2010-08-17T10:58:00.002+02:00

Last night we met some friends for sundowners at a waterhole in the middle of the reserve. We greeted each other like long distance travelers although in truth we were an hour away from each others camps in either direction. We settled down on a fallen log to chat and listen to the evening. The log was plastered in hard grey mud from the regular back scratching of mud caked warthogs. The sculptural form of our bench allowed for a three way seating position, so gals could chat and sip wine while the soft light fell around us. Pearl spotted owlets called pure rising notes, and the half moon took over the daylight shift with ease.

‘Right lets pack up and head back to camp’. We were the visitors so we let the others set off first in their open land rover, spotlights raking the darkness on either side searching for night creatures. We hung back. We lost them pretty quickly. We stopped to listen but there was only the silence of night – which is not silent but filled with nightjar calls and a sudden snort of a wildebeest standing unseen in the shadows.

So we took a guess, and turned right, then left, then right. The track swung around and tried to disorientate us in unfamiliar country. I watched the stars; the Southern Cross hung low on the horizon so we could see we were heading west towards a big bright planet which I have since found out is Jupiter. We stayed on this bearing, the woodland yielding no secrets on either side of the track. Left, right, right, left, oh err – ok left….Ha! We found the place – clever us. Their power was off so there were no lights to guide us.

We gathered in the cosy kitchen, lit by candlelight, while culinary artists posing as friends whipped up a feast of flavours. Outside the moonlight threw shadows over the silver sands of the river bed. A male waterbuck appeared at the edge of the pool, and then vanished again. The shadows held promises of unseen eyes all around us.

After the heady feastiness of dinner, our lovely hostess (who I thought I knew) brought out a song book and spoke of a song she had found. ‘How come you have a song book in camp? Who does music here?’ I ask clumsily. “Oh we all do” oh! She moved across to the old upright piano which had two candles in its very own brass candle holders. Lifted the lid and began to play. Now there I was thinking it was an artfully placed piece of décor. I never knew this about these friends.

Soon her husband brought out his drum and was beating out a lively rhythm. One by one, everyone gathered in the pool of candle light around the piano – with our hostess’s fingers flitting over the ivories like fairy dancers. Old old lovely songs from the fifties and before. Funny how we even knew some of the words. We sang along drawn into the lively energy of the surprising event. It was a timeless scene and took me back to somewhere lovely in my mind.

It grew late. Reality knocked, and we had to leave. We drove back through the reserve in the fading moonlight. The moon became an amber smile dipping to the tree line, showing its teeth in the still waterholes. We saw two rabbits and a mouse along the way, but plenty of trees pushed over the road by elephants, and fresh rhino middens. Two hours later we were home. The candlelit evening stayed on as a warm place inside.