What to pack and when for Africa..., then making do!

Almost a year out from a trip to Kruger National Park, I have already decided which camps within the park I am staying at, and for how long at each camp.  As soon as South African National Parks opens bookings for my timeframe I go online and book the best accommodation within each chosen camp that suits my desires.  Most importantly to me is that my accommodations have a bathroom and kitchen within the units and that they are on the perimeter of the camp so I have unimaginable views while cooking and hanging out, with the possibilities of anything happening right before me just outside the camp’s fence lines.  



An amazing stew made from leftovers at Tamboti Camp

Once the accommodations are reserved, I book my flights; a long international flight from Atlanta to Johannesburg then a domestic flight over to Kruger.  With the fundamentals behind me, I then try to forget about the journey that looms way in the distance, seemingly as far away as the moon.  However, I do indeed think about the trip during the many months that pass.  While shopping, I pick up miscellaneous items that I think will be great for the trip – some of which I buy then forget to pack when the time comes.  But I do try to get on with everyday life and let the looming trip lie quietly in my distant future.




A thorn serves as a toothpick!!!

About four weeks from my departure date, the guest bedroom begins to be turn into a staging area.  I start piling things on that bed I don’t want to forget.  The process begins very organically but the pile – once started – quickly grows. 

Some of the first things that seem to be put on the pile are books to read and my spice kit for cooking.  For a recent trip I also included a few things that I can now eliminate knowing the Kruger shops have begun to carry them, like zip lock bags and insulated travel mugs.  I also take a canvas camp chair for maximum comfort during the hours I chill.  Other items that get tossed into the pile are almost assumed; a spotlight, binoculars, cameras, necessary chargers and such.  For monkey protection I throw on the pile rubber snakes and a sling shot (to scare the monkeys and baboons not hurt them – they know the sound of the rubber being snapped taunt and released).




About two weeks from departure date - the pile is so high I begin to wonder how many bags I will need to pack it all then I start making clothing decisions.  Weather in Kruger tends to be unpredictable so I pack everything from flip flops to hiking boots; a fleece jacket to an itty bitty sundress. 

I pack a bag with my personal toiletries and clothing as well as a small bag with items I want access to during the long flight.  Everything else in the growing pile must fit in what I call my supply bag except the chair which I strap, tag and shrink wrap. 



Amazing view from my guest house at Mopani Camp

Finally it’s flight time.  Once I arrive at the airport and check my supply bag and chair and get to the departure gate it’s time for me to get in vacation mode.  The flight, which is sixteen hours, serves a purpose.  Sometime it takes the entire time in air to get me in the right frame of mind; to leave work behind, knowing I have prepped as much as I could for my clients to have their needs attended to during my absence and knowing I left my house and critters in good hands.  By the time the plane lands in Johannesburg I am ready.  I have breathed in then exhaled all the stresses of my life.  The next breath I inhale is pure African chilled magic.  I am ready to truly relax for three solid weeks in a most pristine environment; the great Kruger camps with views to die for. 

Once there, part of the fun is realizing I don’t have everything I might need for whatever the task at hand, instead I improvise with what’s provided, even if the provider is nature.  I have learned that a thorn serves nicely as a toothpick to hold the olives in your Bloody Mary, (nowhere did I say I was roughing it).  A Dutch oven can be made purely of aluminum foil.  A lemon rind can serve as a sink stopper and a towel and spatula make good tools to safely remove a bat from your hut….

Make shift Dutch Oven

About ten days into my three week trip I start shedding.  I leave a shirt and shorts at one camp.  I leave a pair of shoes at the next.  Then at my last camp I leave my leftover food, my insulated mugs and my camp chair as I make room for the African goodies I will take home on my journey back to the States.  All too soon I find myself back on American soil flooded with loud Atlanta city noises and invasive urban smells, quickly missing Kruger.  In a flash I am back home with my cats and back into my routine. 

Today - two months since returning from my last amazing trip to Kruger National Park - I am already thinking about the next time I will step onto African soil.  I am pretty sure I am going back to Kruger.  And although it’s over a year away I have already started thinking about which camps and for how long at each.  It’s too bad it isn’t already time to book the trip…, better yet; it’s too bad it’s not already time to turn my guest bedroom into the staging area.  I’m ready to pack.  I’m ready for the flight.  I am ready to be back in Africa! 

Need Some African Chill

Airports, hotels, rental car facilities, hustle and bustle; it’s what one experiences when traveling in the States on a regular basis as I do; sometime week after week.  The frustrations come frequently and the true comforts are rare.  Some weeks it seems everything is a hassle. 

Recently, while rushing around in my rental car in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida I had a memory that made me smile.  It was several years ago.  I had flown from Atlanta, Georgia to Johannesburg, South Africa then got a well needed night’s sleep at a lovely bed and breakfast.  The next day - relaxed and feeling the laid back African way slowly injecting itself into my veins - I arrived back at the Johannesburg airport where I boarded a flight to Nelspruit, South Africa.  From there I was to rent a car and drive into the Kruger National Park.  My South African booking agent had sent me vouchers showing I had prepaid for each activity, accommodation and transportation.   After landing among the lush hills of Nelspruit, I walked from the plane into the quaint airport smelling the recent rains and blooming spring flowers.  I smiled knowing I was another step closer to Kruger. 



Landing at the Nelspruit Airport

Once inside the airport I gathering my backpack from the carousel then passed through the security forces out into the open area of the Nelspruit airport, which reminds me of a train station; a wide and long passageway with tall rounded ceilings housing a couple of shops, restaurants and the rental car windows.  I walked up to my rental car counter and formally greeted the gentleman behind the counter.  (In Africa it is proper to acknowledge and appropriately greet people before proceeding with business.)  I then handed the man my voucher.  He proceeded to punch some information into his computer then made mention that he didn’t show my reservation as prepaid.  My shoulders slumped as my high from being in Nelspruit, so close to Kruger, receded thinking I was about to face a “situation”.   After that comment the man took my driver’s license and punched a few more things into his computer then walked away from the counter.  He came back to the counter with keys which he handed me and said, “Your car is in slot C7.  I hope you will enjoy your stay in South Africa.”  I was kind of stunned.  I said, “What about the fact you don’t show my reservation prepaid?”  The man replied, “Miss Atkinson.  You have given me your voucher.  That concludes your responsibility.   I shall take that matter up with your booking agent.  Your only responsibility now is to relax and enjoy your holiday.”  And with that I was dismissed. 

I stood there for several minutes in complete astonishment; almost let down as I had prepared for a battle that didn’t take place.  I had trained for the marathon I didn’t run.  I had… oh you get the point.  In the States that would have been a “situation” for sure.  In South Africa, it was dealt with in South African fashion.  It’s part of my great love for Africa.  Things are just handled.  Mountains aren’t made of mole hills.  In Africa I am reminded to chill and leave all of my high strung ways of travel far behind and take on my only responsibility while there which is simply to enjoy each day. 

It’s been a long busy year.  Not to worry though, my next African journey has been booked and is looming on the horizon.  I am looking forward to once again being reminded to relax, smell the spring flowers and enjoy my well-earned holiday!

Zimbabwe - A country in transition or turmoil?

Zimbabwe has been a country in transition since Robert Mugabe was elected its leader in 1980.  If I were to have written that statement a few years ago I might have replaced the word transition with turmoil; Zimbabwe has been a country in turmoil since Roberta Mugabe was elected its leader in 1980.  Today I am a less sure and more confused if what has taken place in Zimbabwe is turmoil or transition.  I have visited Zimbabwe on many occasions.  My first visit was in 2002 and my last in 2011 with a couple of visits in between during that nine year span.  I have read article after article, watched countless numbers of documentaries, and had the pleasure of speaking to many of Zimbabwe’s people; black and white.  My opinion usually doesn’t sway like the breeze but it does on the subject of politics in Zimbabwe.

During the 1890’s The British South Africa Company initialized colonization by whites.  Not long after the country was named Rhodesia under the leadership of Cecil Rhodes.  As was the case in many European colonies in Africa, white immigrants took privileged positions in society.  The local white minority entrenched politics as well as enjoyed economic and social dominance.  Most prime farmlands were owned by whites.  Senior positions in public service became reserved for whites and more.  As time passed the situation became more and more unwelcomed and intolerable by the majority ethnic groups.

Like Nelson Mandela, Robert Mugabe spent many years as a political prisoner under Ian Smith’s  (Prime Minister from 1965 – 1979) Rhodesian government of white rule.  Also like Mandela, Mugabe was elected leader of his country.  But that is about where the similarities end.

Victoria Falls

Robert Mugabe, who has degrees in education, economics and law, stayed out of mainstream television news here in the States for much of his early years as Zimbabwe’s leader.  We knew the country as the breadbasket of Africa exporting wheat, tobacco and corn to the rest of the continent and beyond and land of the great Victoria Falls – one of the seven natural wonders of the world – and a destination to go see some of Africa’s greatest wildlife. 

That started to change in 2000 when Mugabe ordered white farmers to give up their land.  Then in 2001 he announced a countrywide shift to socialist-styled economy after twelve years of a market-driven one.  In 2002 the EU and the US imposed targeted sanctions on Mugabe and some of the senior political party members after widespread reports of human rights violations. 

My first visit was in January of 2002 – a time when I knew very little of what was going on.  My first questioning moment in Zimbabwe was being told – while visiting Victoria Falls – not to speak of politics.  I was also told there was an “official” exchange rate for your money which was set by the government at thirty-eight Zimbabwean dollars to one US dollar – which was the rate you got if you used a credit card.  But if you went to the underground market you could get a much better exchange rate for your US dollar.  Without going through a mound of journal entries I believe the rate was thirty-eight hundred Zimbabwean dollars to one US dollar; a HUGE difference.  Those two things were my only indications that anything out of my norm was happening in this country.  People seemed happy.  Tourists were a plenty.  Stores were filled with goods.

 I was back again later that same year and noticed a sharp difference.  Stories were circulating like, “If you see Robert Mugabe’s motorcade coming you have to move out of the way as they will just run over you; mow you down.”   Newspaper reporter spoke of his ego getting in the way of his ability to make sound decisions for the country and her people. 

Regardless, in June of 2002 Roberta Mugabe was elected to another six year term as President.  

 There was much debate as to whether the election was fair or not as there have been with every election since; but in each he has won. 

The years of 2003 and 2004 saw white farmers forced off their land.  The country suffered the worst famine in sixty years.  The Human Rights Watch stated that starvation was being used as a tool for the regime’s support among Zimbabweans.  Farm output decreased sharply.  Tourism fell off almost completely; tour companies not willing to risk taking clients there.  In 2005 he ordered a slum clearance operation – basically mowing down informal settlements leaving hundreds of thousands of people homeless; local black people – not whites surprisingly enough.

Robert Mugabe again won elections in 2008 in what was a chaotic turn of events – his opposition dropping out of the race.  He was now on his sixth term as President.  Now though he was suffering from sanctions and stripped honorary degrees and titles.  The world was against him.  His country was also in a state of hyperinflation.  The exchange rate was then four-hundred and seventy-one trillion Zimbabwean dollars to one US dollar.  Yes – trillion.  They were printing trillion dollar bills, but one of those bills couldn’t even buy a loaf of bread!

In 2009 Zimbabwe started using the US dollar as currency.  During my re-introduction to Zimbabwe in 2011 the Zimbabwean mega bills were being sold to tourists on the street as souvenirs, and sold in tourist shops folded into Christmas ornaments, earrings and more.  During that visit it seemed little had happened or changed during the years in-between my visits but much had and many locals - black and white -wanted to discuss the subject. 

I ended up having such a great time in Victoria Falls – with the exception of almost being killed by a hippo on the Zambezi River – that I extended my stay.  And although every local I talked to had varying opinions of what had happened over the prior ten years and of Robert Mugabe himself, the one consistency was a feeling of hope for the future of the country.  The citizens of Zimbabwe seemed to feel they had come through the worst of times.   

Michael & I riding an ele in Vic Falls

Just this month Robert Mugabe was reelected and again the debates raged as to whether the election was fair or not.  And this month I read a supplementary magazine to one of the African political periodicals I subscribe to that focused solely on Zimbabwe.  The magazine confirmed that I am not the only one with swaying opinions.  Seemingly each page differed in views each explaining their view with convincing tone.  The one article that stood out though was an interview with the Minister of Youth Development, Indegenisation and Economic Empowerment.  A gentleman named Saviour Kasukuwere. One of his enlightening statements was, “…remember, success has many fathers, failure is an orphan.” 

I believe – today – that Robert Mugabe meant well in his campaign to turn the tides of land ownership, giving back land and rights to the indigenous peoples of Zimbabwe.   I believe though he didn’t always go about it in a way that was fair to all; sometime even ruthless, causing unnecessary suffering of many of his own people; the very people he was supposedly trying to help.  More importantly, I believe the future for Zimbabwe is bright for all the people there.  As a tourist, I hope to visit again and see more of this beautiful land.

Cats are Cats

In Namibia I had my first close up view of an African wildcat; a species of small wild cat that looks very similar to the domestic tabby that might be in your or your neighbors' window.  I called him Tom-Tom.  Each night when the sun went down Tom-Tom would climb down from the small rocky hill that was just behind our camp and make an appearance before going off to do what wild cats do in the night.  He did not attend to the words, here kitty kitty.  And in fact scrambled when he knew he was spotted.

Domesticated Cat????

Since being owned by a cat..., I mean since owning a cat I have come to realize they are not your typical domesticated pet.  In fact, I firmly believe a house cat has traveled only a short distance down the road of domestication not far from his Namibian cousin Tom-Tom.  House cats are miles, maybe even evolutionary life times, away from true domestication; living - in their minds anyway - like their African cousins.

I have heard it said that you can put a starving dog outside and they will stand at your door and beg to be let in to eat.  Contrarily, you can put a well fed cat outside and if the situation presents itself they will hunt, kill and maybe even eat anything on an opportunistic whim.  I witnessed this myself this weekend. My cat recently began to sit on the railing of the upper deck to stalk the birds that were coming to the bird feeder.  I made her stop sitting up there in fear of the birds' lives. Sunday she was on the floor below the feeder with her head stuck through the bottom of the railing.


Wild Cat????

I heard commotion and before I could react she caught a bird in mid-air with her paws and put it in her mouth then rushed to the door to take it inside.  Luckily, she dropped it on command - or perhaps it was because of my flailing and screaming that she dropped the bird.  Regardless, the bird flew away.  My cat was not hungry.  It was simply her wild, undomesticated side that came out.  She did exactly what Tom-Tom would have done.  I have seen this behavior in Africa's wild cats time and time again.  In Botswana a leopard reacted instinctually when a sand grouse flew over his head; leaping out of the hole he was in to catch the bird.  I've seen lions laying lazily about in the shade - as full of food as a bear at in a trout farm - go into full stalk and kill mode when an impala wandered too close.

I'm not sure how I feel about having such a feral animal in my house.  Okay, she isn't totally feral.  She does cuddle - when she's cold not when I want her to - and she uses a litter box.  But when push comes to shove, she is really no different than Tom-Tom!

Carnage

The other day I watched a bird attack a small lizard just in front of my house.  The lizard tried every trick in his arsenal to get away including detaching his tail which continued to twitch in the road; a failed decoy.  The bird was wise to the little lizards' trick and after great effort, (and my failed attempt to help) the bird killed and ate his prize.  I felt sorry for the lizard.

Saying that, I have to wonder why in Africa on safari seeing a "kill" is the ultimate safari success story.  When people gather around an evening campfire in Africa inevitably they brag about the kills they have seen.

I would drive and see lion stalking a herd of impala and my nerves would stand on end awaiting the successful finale or the not so successful finale if you are the impala.  One night just outside of my tent I heard an awful noise waking me from sleep. The sound was that of terror and death.  The next day I found, just outside of camp, three male lion that had taken down a huge buffalo; no doubt what I heard. I sat for hours watching the lion eat their meal.


One would think a leopard sighting would be enough, but in Botswana I held my breath as the leopard I came upon watched, as still as death, a Frankolin, (a very lound bird belonging to the pheasant family) who was coming - unknowingly - closer and closer to the leopard's awaiting jaws. But the bird flew away as soon as the young leopard made his move.  A big disappointing "ahhhh" came across my mouth as soon as the failed stalk was over.

Let me not forget the time on the Chobe River when I came upon three young male lion that had a lone buffalo surrounded; determined to have buff for dinner.  There was no stalk.  The lion had the buffalo outnumbered and all alone with no backup buffs to help.  Barely breathing, I watched one of the lion take a muscle powered swat at the buffalo's hind leg, breaking it like it was a dead twig. When I realized the leg was broken I was sure I was about to see carnage.  But the buffalo was not about to give up that easily fighting back, threatening the lion with his massive horns.  Not wanting to risk getting hurt the lions backed off.  Sun began to set as the stand off continued and disappointingly I had to get back to camp....


In all my trips to the continent of Africa, (thirteen at last count) I have seen plenty of stalking and plenty of predators eating prey but as of today I have never seen true carnage except for a fish eagle and a kingfisher catch and eat a fish and the bird eat that little lizard in my front yard the other day which made me wonder.  When I do see the kill in Africa - when and not if - am I going to wish I could rescue the prey animal?  Will I fell sorry for the critter?  I hope I get the chance to find out on my upcoming trip!