Sunday Times

It’s Sunday morning. Sunny and bright, with delicious cool air wafting around full of ozone to awaken the senses.  There was a huge herd of impala on the ‘lawn’ this morning. Youngsters skipping and scaring each other; adults munching happily on the assorted herbs that now grow in patches where the lawn used to be.  The golden sunlight shimmering off their glossy hides – honed by a summer feast of grazing and browsing in the reserve. The bare bones and staring eyes of winter long forgotten.

I love Sundays. There is a wonderful feeling of time being my own on a Sunday. It’s a fantasy I know but sometimes it actually works. Who knows maybe my internet connection will actually work today and I can post this note onto the Roof with the Monkeys.

Yesterday the wind was blowing all day. We are not used to wind here – it makes us edgy and want to travel (any excuse). We had visitors. They told us that there is a cyclone somewhere off the coast of Madagascar and that’s why it’s windy here.  

The lions have left us alone for too long now. I am missing them. I should leave some new cushions lying artfully around and hope to tempt them back for another pool party. So there are no new dramas of the leonine kind to report of late.  But we do have spiders. They are early this year, but suddenly there are golden orb spiders everywhere in the bush. There are also tiny web spinners all over the house.  We have grasshoppers too. The ground is exploding with them, ricocheting off the walls, and off your back as you walk.  They keep jumping in the pool and have to be rescued – repeatedly. Every year someone gets a chance to shine. So this is their turn.

For a while there we had stink bugs. Ugh. Tiny black beetles that come in to the light in the evenings. If you move them, or brush them by accident , they release a horrible acrid smell that lingers and clings for far too long. The skunks of the beetle world.  It’s a powerful trick for ones so small, and you DON’T want them to fall in your food.  I wonder if this scent could be bottled and sold as an appetite suppressant? It could work.

With the first sip of winter in the air though, the stink bugs are dwindling and losing enthusiasm for jinxing our mealtimes.

There is Man Flu in the house. I should draw a cross on the door.

and so on with sunday; sunlight and bird calls, and soft clean air. The mountains are purple blue in the distance, under downy pillows of plump white clouds; butterflies are flitting about in the waving grasses. It is peaceful, calm... for now.

ps sorry apparently adding images was too much to ask...maybe later

cool boots

So what happened to January? I havent managed to blog too much, but as always enjoying all the lovely writings out there. So much has been happening, and i have wanted to write but time sped past. I hope this is not an indication for the year!! whoa Time, slooow downnnnn. ok?

Just quickly i thought i would share with you some candid pics of black herons fishing in the northern botswana waterways - and their secret footwear.

heads down everyone - budge up

Normally fishing alone, this fishing party is an unusual sight in itself. These birds stalk the shallows, then when they find a fishy spot they spread their wings forming a shade umbrella to which the fish innocently retreat.

there is some jockeying for position

and there is always one..

and then they all fly off to a new spot showing us their deliciously cool yellow orange feet - feet that were perhaps the inspiration for Billy Connoly's famous banana boots?

cubs and cushions - a pool party

the proud parents

Here we are ankle deep in the new year already. This one is showing all the signs of being the V8 version of the 2009 model – with overdrive. Hopefully the suspension has been improved as well. So far, the aesthetics are very pleasing although it has yet to be tested in heavy rain, and our rainy season is almost through.



This past week has been dominated by lion visits. Heralded by baboon alarm calls from the granite koppies, the pride seems to have taken to whiling away its free time in the area between our water tank and the guest cottage. The cubs are big now, and at that enquiring age. They have been venturing into the thatched lapa next to our pool, finding treasures, and returning triumphantly to the long grass to impress their siblings.

It began with a large cushion – dragged into a nest of teeth and claws where the victor tried and failed to possess his kill. The cushion, an old friend, provided an hour or two of distraction and entertainment for the young lions. They pulled, and dragged, and shook and squabbled over it until finally it burst sending sprays of disintegrated foam into the air. There was a bout of sneezing whereupon another cub could seize the quarry and race off with its remaining rags.

the cushion finally explodes

They went back for more, finding an empty bottle of hth pool acid. This was carried back like a grand prize, and munched on happily. Prizes had greater value if they were of interest to another. And so it went on, they have now destroyed several of the large cushions, fished another pool thingy out of the water; ravaged the exercise machine and started on the wooden bowls on the table. I took some paparazzi style photos in the early morning light, through long grass, and around corners, to give you some idea of the fun and games.

what??

As they started moving off we went back to the house. The four big cubs followed and watched us through the window for five minutes, before heeding the calls of their elders.

whatever............

It was probably time for new cushions anyhow, and the cubs will grow out of this phase soon enough.

evening elephants

Evening. The sun is sending honey pink streamers across the sky. The impala herd flows in procession from left to right and back again. They are like a school of fish swimming through a jungle of green leaves and grass – filing past windows in the view. The ground birds are calling – proclaiming their territories. The light is soft – diffused.




From the forest the crack of a branch breaking, then another signals elephants. We sit waiting for them to emerge from the forest, watching the curtain of green for glimpses of elephant shapes. The moon is high, waxing gibbious on its way to full moon. A blue moon to mark the start of 2010. Once in a blue moon – perhaps this time the new years resolutions will hold?



The birds settle and the bush goes quiet as the day shift knock off, and the night shift are starting to wake. The elephants wait as light fades, until it is the same colour as their dusty grey hides. Pieces of grey appear amongst the green. A glint of a tusk gleams whitely. It all happens fast now. Elephants are morphing out of the forest right left and centre. Suddenly our view is full of mighty Jurassic creatures.



Matriarchs walk purposefully to the waterhole, tiny calves in tow. The bulls rush to join them in the delicious reed beds, but soon the cows and calves are pushed on as the waterhole fills up with bulls young and old. They fan out. Browsing on new mopane leaves, pulling up tufts of lush green grass, checking everything for palatability – they haven’t been here in a while and the summer growth is enticing.



The small waterhole nearest the house, is a favourite drinking spot of the warthogs who mud bath on the edges. A young elephant discovers this emerald jewel, and is followed by his bigger siblings. They crowd in, and the air is full of munching slurping noises. A push and shove of silent beasts in grey light, their presence told by their noisy eating habits only.



Light fades to monochrome moonlight. Grey shapes and shadows move all around amid the bushes and trees. One elephant lifts its trunk high. The wind is swirling and she has caught out scent. The group pauses for a second or two, and then turn as one, moving steadily away. Withdrawing from the cool water and luscious salad feast. They melt into the twilight – moving fast but not running. Here and there a flash of ivory, giant legs like tree trunks make negative shapes, ears flap dark shadows. The stragglers follow the herd on into the mopane. A bat swoops low overhead and the elephants are gone like a memory of a dream.

the tree outside

the tree outside - its a marula tree

resplendent in summer green with the gift of grass around its base

marula fruits form the base for Amarula

a creamy christmas tipple some of you may be familiar with?

elephants love marula fruits too

this tree is a grand old lady and grants us a delicious pool of shade

shade produced by trees cools the environment to the equivalent of

numerous air conditioning units

we need them

so much

view through the back door

my christmas tree

here it is! a metal baobab sculpture by South African artist Dave Roussoux

it makes the perfect christmas tree

with eight white candles

doesnt drop needles

or require you to cut, transplant or otherwise traumatise a

naturally growing tree

we do displace a few spiders though when we drag it out each year

we will light all the candles on friday

and think about absent friends and family

the candles will probably last about two minutes

in this heat

stop global warming now OK!

To all my bloggy friends and visitors who may be packing cars, or doing last minute shopping

stocking up on bog rolls, light bulbs and last minute gifts

wading thru snow

or still at work while sunshine beckons through the window

thank you for your friendship and all the fun

wishing you and yours the happiest of festive seasons

in every way

xxx

of Schools and Ships and Hermit Crabs

As memories of mozambique time sail into the distance like a brightly coloured ship, I am bobbing on turbulent summer waters in a sea of green, while HMS Christmas Day steams steadily towards me, belching tinsel smoke and trailing streamers. She is on course, and will not be deterred.

But first – Mozambique. Getting there in pouring rain, that turned the national coastal road into a slippery slide of sloshy mud and potholes with drop-offs alongside to give you a full rush of vertigo. A narrow navigable strip in the center that had to be vied for with massive growling juggernauts hurtling confidently towards us. It was slow going, and it got dark, and the adventure would have gripped the imagination of any Play Station addict. But we made it. The rain became drizzle, the mud cleared and the traffic lessened as we drove further north.


Five hours on a bush track, and we were there. The warm sun sweeping away the remaining clouds, and the wide vista of aqua blues poured balm on knotted shoulders and necks. Paradise found.

First things first – down the boardwalk to the soft white sand. Dip toes in gentle silky wavelets. Greet the hermit crabs labouring through sand under water – leaving a tracery of tracks in dappled sunlight. Watch out for the sunglass stealing fish – who are there in gangs and leap from the water at a moments notice. Breathe deeply, and again, slow the pace.

Days of Dhow Jones Cruising lay ahead but first we must deliver the boxes of donated school books, stationary, toys, pencils and crayons – lovingly compiled by Geli of Letters from Usedom, who has been supporting the primary school in Morape village in this way for the past seven years. School had closed for the holidays, but word was sent around and many of the children showed up to meet us at the school.

Thanks Geli!!!

The school is currently a loosely fenced area of sand with a series of classrooms in various states of disrepair. The main school room having been destroyed in the cyclone three years ago. These kids have very little in terms of learning aids, but have no shortage of energy and enthusiasm – especially when it came to the two footballs that tumbled out of one of the boxes! Thanks to the wonderful efforts of our friends in the blogosphere, we will be able to rebuild one of these school rooms in the new year – with a tin roof, cement floor, and real solid walls.

one of the classrooms

this little girl arrived late having run all the way in her best dress

The gesture sounds simple, but it is no small feat organizing logistics, transport of materials by dhow across the bay; getting the approval and co-operation of the Chief, and village elders, and and..but we persevere and at last it looks do-able especially as the fathers of the children now seem willing to participate and assist where they can with labour, moving materials, gathering local materials and so on. It is wonderful to see their enthusiasm and interest.



On the way back from school we stopped to buy coconuts; and Dhow Jones came over the horizon. She has a motor now – an on board that sounds a lot like a tractor but can get you home when the wind drops or blows the wrong way.

She took us to islands of dreams – white sand dunes emerging from turquoise seas; she showed us turtles and dolphins and even a dugong. Gazing down into the giant aquarium seas watching starfish or many colours drift slowly by. When we were cooked, thirsty, tired and salty, she brought us safely back to camp backlit by technicolour sunsets, or later lit by soft moonlight on gentle water.

Time stood still in languid moments, but behind the scenes it was racing, and the week sped away. We drove home in two days, and jumped back in at the deep end. Suddenly everything needs to be done before the country shuts down for the Christmas holidays. We made lists; we are ticking things off – we are getting through it all. I started chipping away at the shopping list. I even stumbled over a CD of Christmas carols by Bob Dylan.

Truly. I will get it all done – I will. Then on that strange day of days, when so many people fight loneliness, I will cook a turkey , and we will pull crackers, read corny jokes, eat and drink, and toast to absent friends and family.



But first back to the list….

P.S - I finished my Nanowrimo challenge - Fifty Thousand Words in one month!! It felt good - a sense of achievement. One of these days I shall look back and read the strange tale of a river, a window in time, and things that can happen there. I had fun with it - though at times words flowed easier than at other times, and maybe the ending was abstract - and certainly the whole script calls for a rewrite, but the journey was all.