Summer Swelter

Lying in bed I feel  like my internal radiator is overheating. There is not a breath of wind and the hot air sits heavy on me like a large invisible elephant.  I get up and take a cold shower allowing the air to partially dry me before trying to sleep again. Mercifully before dawn there is a convection wind that sends dry leaves raining down on our tin roof. Breathe deeply - cool air - not cold but cooler.

We take an early morning drive out as the sun inches higher behind the tree line -  breathing cool dust laden air . The wind dries my eyeballs, reminding me of a Rolling Stones song from way back when. The song runs around my brain repeating half remembered words.  A hyena comes running in to the waterhole flicking his tail. He lies down quickly in the muddy water, drinking it in and lying in it at the same time.

Baboons arrive. The whole troop walks purposefully in. They are earlier today than usual. The hyena is lying down in the water blinking slow blinks - keeping an eye on the comings and goings from the water.  Baboons watch him warily and settle on the opposite side of the water, leaning forward to drink - rear ends in the air - tails hanging in a row.  Having drunk their fill they file off to the shade of a small hebaclada thorn bush resplendent with yellow pompom flowers. They rest in the shade - mothers feeding small babies, bigger babies hanging on the branches.

The hyena lies flat all day. We start to wonder if he is sick or injured in some way.

There has been an elephant in camp all day. He has been keeping a low profile whenever we walk or drive past.  He has been peacefully feeding- leaving large brown droppings along the pathways like giant bran muffins gently steaming. He is hardly visible amongst the greying leaves and tree trunks.  Sometime after midday we see him hurrying to the waterhole. The hyena is forced to move away from the waters edge.

Clearly the elephant's  radiator is close to boiling as he spends a good half an hour sluicing water onto his parched feet, and throwing water over his back and ears, fanning his ears constantly. Finally he starts to relax and after a long drink he slowly walks off into the grasslands for a change of diet.

The sky is no longer blue, but a soft dust grey.

Evening, and the convection happens in reverse. A welcome breeze cools the sweat running on our bodies and faces.  The yellow grasses glow brighter in the late afternoon sun - outshining the sky.

The sun sinks - a giant dayglo beachball in the sky. It descends slowly through the layers of dust fading inch by inch. Francolins proclaim the end of day loudly calling from their vantage points. Daylight ebbs away and the sky belongs to the stars again.

airstrip

We drove to the airstrip yesterday afternoon. We left early and followed the edge of the water, breathing heady scents of new blossoms on the acacia trees and enjoying the active bird life on the flooded grasslands.  We were early at the airstrip so we parked in the shade on a small rise and stood on a fallen tree.

All around us were golden grasslands and tree islands of acacias, sausage trees and llala palms.  The horizon a tree line in shades of hazy blue.  The airstrip is a cleared strip of land in this sea of golden grass.  The first impression of people who arrive here by plane is the warmth of the sun, and the scent of wild sage.

Elephants move slowly between tree islands reminding me of distant sailing ships. Their ears the billowing sails. Their course set along well used paths.  Some more are wallowing in mud pools, sloshing and splashing the cool mud over their warm backs. Still more have crossed the water and are grazing on lush green grasses on the other side.  Further across a herd of buffalo have moved into a palm island. Their presence heralds lion activity, as the lions follow the buffalo herds and prey on them nightly.

We wait and listen for the small plane, turning and turning on our lookout log, taking in the view. Each time we turn something has changed, emerged, vanished. We know there are lions there somewhere but they are hidden from our view - probably lying flat in island shade, or deep in the yellow grass.

This is how the world made itself - meant itself to be - without all the rattle and clatter of cities and traffic.  Bird calls fill the air. The anthill we stand on is a living thing - a hive of industry. Everything in its niche fulfilling its role which we humans have vigorously tried to separated ourselves from.

We strain our ears for the sound of the plane. It comes into view, glinting in the late afternoon sun like an evening star.  It looks so small and vulnerable as it circles overhead turning to land.  A flying machine - always an awesome thought.

They land neatly, and taxi up the strip - the wind whisking their dust far and away.

People unfold and emerge chattering. The pilot opens the luggage pod and bags are pulled out and retrieved by several hands.  We are here to collect a parcel - a food order from town - for ourselves. We are handed the mail bag for Selinda and another parcel for camp.  

Guests for the lodge are settled into their awaiting vehicle. We let them leave first to save them riding in our dust.  They take the floodplain road and we head straight home to watch the big red sun setting in the purple haze; and the amber moon take up its post in the eastern sky.

picture window

We came back to Selinda yesterday. It was a three day drive. I thought you might like some pictures taken through the windscreen as we went along.  Some of the blurs are beetle juice, and others are  chips from flying stones.

Part of the long road we travelled runs to the south and west of the great Makgadikgadi  Pans and east of the Central Kalahari Game Reserve. Round about a town called Rakops the scenery is flatter than a pancake. A bright white moonscape of open salt pans, spikey grasslands, and stunted acacia bushes. Dustdevils travel the open plains freely - coasting about on the horizon and sometimes boiling up in your immediate view and spinning across the mirage laden tar.

People live here. Traditional style villages of mud and thatch dwellings provide scant shelter from such an elemental zone. Donkeys, hobbled in two's and three's still taste the wind and try to run in their tragi-comic shuffle. 

Cattle are rounded up on horseback - cowboy country. Road hazards are mainly livestock - cattle, donkeys, horses, goats. There are no fences and in such a giant landscape, they seem intent for some reason on snoozing on the tar. 

This road takes us to Maun - safari capital of Botswana and the jumping off point to the Okavango Delta. A sprawling dusty town built around supplying the tourism industry. We caught up with some pals, and bought supplies then set off through the Moremi Game Reserve heading west to get north.

Things got interesting after we crossed the bridge at Kwai.  Contractors are building a new calcrete road, there are detours for construction, and detours for new floodwaters and pretty soon you only have the shadows on the sand  to tell you which direction you are heading in.  We found ourselves on a track going west, threading through mopane forests and flooded grasslands. Driving through water then sand for miles and miles. We needed to go north, but kept heading further west until sometime mid afternoon we came to a junction.  You could say we were lost, in that we didnt know for sure where we were. 

So we chose the track that went north, assuming it would eventually connect with a route we knew that would take us to camp. We were lucky the track stayed true north but it rolled and rolled through scrub mopane forest with hardly a break in the scenery for two hours. We tried to keep the courage of our convictions along the way, but couldnt help but wonder. Thoughts wandered to Dr Livingstone, and later Selous, trekking through this endless mopane at a much slower pace, desparate to find water.

The shadows grew longer. I had the sun on my left shoulder and K had the moon on his right. Just as we were beginning to despair we arrived at the crossroads on the TFC (tsetse fly control) road and over the way the last leg of the journey to Selinda.

Floodplains opened up around us and lions were calling as evening fell. Peace descended and all the rattle and clatter of travel and towns eased out of our shoulders. It felt so good.

Oh and for those who were following my previous posts about the Selinda Spillway and water pushing in from the Okavango River after 30 years of dryness. Well the two channels met whilst we were gone. Apparently after constant checking and monitoring, the last few meters went so fast that everyone missed it! there was a celebration gathering to mark the occasion anyhow as new water is Big News in a desert country!

red carpet hour

The hugely talented Nicky, at Absolute Vanilla.blogspot.com, and whose prolific writing and creative imagination have me awestruck – has very kindly listed Monkeys on the Roof on her roll call to receive this illustrious award. Thanks Nicky!




The award is the Kreativ Blogger award and the rules are:



1. Thank the person who nominated you for this award.

2. Copy the logo and place it on your blog.

3. Link to the person who nominated you for this award.

4. Name 7 things about yourself that people might find interesting.

5. Nominate 7 Kreativ Bloggers.

6. Post links to the 7 blogs you nominate.

7. Leave a comment on each of the blogs letting them know they have been nominated.



Ahem so seven things about me that might be interesting….even mildly….thinks…





1. I first popped into the world in Canada – New Westminster, BC. Apparently it is beautiful there though I have yet to return. We left when I was small (was there ever a time?) but I think I get visceral memories when I see north american scenes, lakes and coasts with big pine forests. I own an inch of a totem pole somewhere there, but still haven’t found the certificate to prove it;

2. I did schooling in England and often still miss my English friends and life, but I have an amazing African life – living in wild beautiful places which is full of adventure and wonderment;

3. My sister had a horse called Kennedy who had a huge barrel chest and frequently ran away with me like a express train – all well meant of course but I am of the sack of potatoes style of riding. He also used to stumble mid gallop. It’s a wonder I stayed on at all – and I didn’t always. I still love horses but prefer ones that can stop when you want to;

4. Monkeys have been thundering up and down my roof all day.

5. I once did a bike trip through the Kalahari with my friend Pam to prove we could. It was the best fun.

6. I love clear night skies and the change of seasons, my wonderful friends, reading a good book, hearing lions at night, dark chocolate, being in the blogosphere, listening to elephants browsing quietly, the smell of first rain, having water on tap, that first cup of tea, laughter, incense, music, art and the miracle of life; and so many more things..

7. sometimes I wonder…………..



The seven Kreativ Bloggers I nominate – and this is the toughest part – what only seven?? – and trying to avoid those that have been nominated already….



Petie at Verily I go

Bonnie at Original Art Studio

Tam at Fleeing Muses

Pink Dogwood from Wandering Mind

Kathryn from Last visible dog

Chris from Middenshire Chronicles

Lauri from Thoughts from Botswana

Janelle from Ngorobob Hill House
Janet from Under a Blood Red Sky

Dear Lauri from Thoughts from Botswana gave me a beautiful award some time back, and nows the time. It was the Friendship Award

Blogs that receive the Let’s Be Friends Award are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers.

Geli from Letters from Usedom

Rob from Inukshuk Adventures

Kristin from Candy Sandwich

Miranda from The Times of Miranda

Janice from Life in Matthews

Nicky from Absolute Vanilla

Tessa from Aerial Armadillo

Reya from The Gold Puppy

Karen from Border Town Notes

Lori from Lori Times Five

as always if my links dont work please look on my sidebar.

Hurrah! Congrats everyone and Blog On xx

night vision

Evening is falling softly like winter leaves onto the dun landscape. A duiker antelope picks her delicate way across the garden. I use the term 'garden' very loosely here to describe the immediate area around the house. Our lawn has long been excavated by warthogs in last years drought and anything vaguely flower bearing and exotic has been consumed by the ever watchful monkeys.

The light fades to sepia – a stage before the monochrome of starlight.  The light from the TV gains strength in ambient darkness and flickers across our faces. My eye catches a movement outside. Against the corner of the house something moved grabbing my attention. I stare hard out through the big windows that fill the end wall.

A dun shape – quite big – broken by bare trees. Lion! Within touching distance of the glass.  She stares back at me.  The tv is flickering brightly all over my skin and the volume suddenly seems unbearable. Noise for Noise's sake. Shhhhh. I feel floodlit while she rests in camouflaged shades of shadow and vestigial light.

Another lion comes up behind her, and she moves slowly across our view into the 'garden'; a young male lion joins them. Each pauses to stare at us through the glass for long seconds before moving on.  The first female finds a place to sit and observe on the edge of the grass. The young male investigates a garden tap. Please don't bite it we implore speechlessly. 

The surrounding energy levels are fizzing and crackling with tension. The tension of their finely honed bodies and our undiluted attention. Predator easing past prey. Two cubs bound in from the periphery; sub adult size - they leap and play. Lion shapes barely discernable now against the grey rocks and sands. Tips of ears, tails, mouths and eyes still dark enough to contrast.

Then… a big male lion eases past the corner of the house. He stops, nostrils raised. He stares at each of us in turn. Breath becomes shallow – or maybe I wasn't breathing? There is a pane of glass between us. I remember learning that glass isn't solid but is really a mass of moving atoms. Right now it feels like water. We stare back while he decides what to do. The annoying TV light continues to flicker alien messages that ricochet around us. The remote lies beyond reach.

Aeons later, he turns… away from us…. and joins the rest of the pride at the edge of the grass. Their shapes now move like phantoms. We try to keep track. Is the back door closed? The guinea fowl are silent in their hock – most unusual. Surely those cubs would find them impossible to resist.  Some strange noises emanate from the garage. They are all around the house now. Calling to each other. Watching us.

Darkness has fallen and they are beyond our primate vision. The windows are black – impenetrable. What you cant see will not keep you awake ok? Tension disappates. The lions have gone walking – hunting – off into the reserve.

sunday ramblings

Sunday morning - bright sunny and cool. Yellow billed hornbills on the
deck eating seed. If we are not prompt with putting the seed out they
launch themselves at the windows with an almighty bang. Then they
stare sideways with a bright beady eye.

We finally caught the mouse that has been living in our cupboards for
so long. We watched him licking the peanut butter off the trap the
other night. He seemed invincible. The trap was so sensitive you
couldnt go near it without snapping it on your fingers yet he was able
to move all over it without getting caught.

Last time we returned to Selinda we found he had made a lovely home in
our cutlery drawer, and all the kitchen cupboards were liberally full
of mouse poo and wee. Everything had to be washed and boiled before we
could even have a cup of tea.

Trouble is he was quite cute actually and I feel the inevitable
sadness at his demise. But there is a big world outside the door where
mice can run free and make nests wherever they like. RIP little chap.

We had dinner last night with our friends who run the concession. We
sat out on the deck while intermittently chasing the hyena away. Their
house is a wooden frame with canvas and gauze panels. This hyena has
been known to break into their house from time to time. We heard
elephants screaming and trumpeting on their way to water. Always an
primeval sound in the dark.

We went to the channel yesterday again. The water is racing towards
its final hurdle. There is a big pool to fill and then an uphill slope
before it can connect. Will it make it? It might just.....

We are getting ready to leave again. So although we still have time
here, our heads are halfway between here and there. We are going to
try a different road out of here which will be fun, although there is
a big sand ridge to drive over and that can be slow and tough on the
vehicle.

I am making bread this morning. Our supplies are running low. A
buffalo bull lumbers past slowly walking like an old man with gout in
his ankles. Its awful to leave now. What if we miss the channel
meeting? the change of seasons bringing the elephants back in; a
buffalo herd moving into the palm islands; lions, cheetah, leopard,
wild dogs.. all the activity that will happen while we are away. But
change is not a bad thing and the contrast will make us hurry back.

I started reading a great book - "Home" by Marilynne Robinson. A gift
from my sister and significantly perhaps, a theme of resolving family
issues and 'stuff' carried around. The writing is absorbing and
eloquent, there is a sense of inevitable tragedy alluded to through
everyones pain, and the habit of apologising to each other after every
direct statement. Apology and forgiveness hand in hand. I am hoping to
steal five minutes with this book again sometime today.

This evening we will return to the Spillway for sundowners with our
pals. It is our great addictive soap opera at this stage - speculating
on how far it will have travelled each day and when/if the two arms of
water will meet. Then driving home through evening skies of lilac pink
behind towering palm trees.

Are sundays different? to me there is always a certain peace about
sundays. A justification for stepping back and taking time out -
because its sunday. Wishing happy sundays to you all!

Jump and Spring

I took these photos at the end of the water the other day. Baboons
apparently dont like getting their feet wet. I can understand that
many must get taken by crocodiles while drinking at the waters edge.
Perhaps some even drown when they fall out of overhanging trees. We
had fun watching this group face their fears at this small ribbon of
water in the Spillway. The more experienced ones walked through
carefully holding their tails high. The younger ones delayed the
moment until they were at risk of being left behind by the troop.
This fear was greater than the fear of water and they leapt high -
each with an individual style.

Two days ago we saw a wall of smoke over the north west horizon.  Villages seasonally burn grasses to create more grazing and also to clear lands for planting before the rains.  It was around the time of the full moon traditionally meant to herald a change in the weather. This fire was obviously a long way away but nevertheless, the smoke gave us a fabulous sunset.

Since then a warm soft wind has distributed the smoke haze over the entire landscape and suddenly it feels as though summer is on its way in.  The distant tree line recedes in shades of blue. The sky at the horizon is a soft dove grey fading to blue in the giant bowl above.  The full moon has been true to form again and spring is in the air!

Last night the floodplain was full of kudu, wildebeest, tsessebe, lechwe, and impala - golden in the evening light.  Flocks of waterbirds are arriving on the flooded grasslands and frogs can be heard calling throughout the day.  Also I am wearing about three less layers of clothing!! A change of seasons is always such an exciting time and we are so lucky to be here now with so much going on.

PS A big thank you to all of you who have left your lovely comments on my previous posts. I have been unable to upload my comment form to leave replies but really enjoy reading them all. The fact that we have any kind of IT connection out here is nothing short of amazing to me, but it is sporadic and moody and sometimes will not let me in at all. So thanks for hanging in with me. I have been able to read some of your blogs by downloading and saving to file. When we return to the 'real' world there will be much catching up to do. Blog On!! xxV