Monkeying around with Baboons
There\'s a drought on. A farmer complains his neck hurts from looking up, willing clouds to form. But the rains are stubborn, and stay away. We\'re in Maun, Botswana, the hustling southern entrance to Okavango Delta\'s watery wonders. Tomorrow a wooden dugout will launch us on to what are left of its myriad channels for a three-day safari; today we\'re in town dodging dogs and donkeys, killing time. It\'s so hot I can\'t imagine ever feeling cold again. Inexplicably, the supermarket sells hot water bottles. Over cold coffee and warm chips I scan a local weekly, Mmegi. The news is mostly bad, or sad. People are hungry, unemployed, dying of Aids in their thousands. The paper weeps Botswana\'s record as the world\'s worst Aids case - 38 per cent of its people are infected with HIV and already there are 60,000 orphans of the disease. On page two, local children are forced to navigate wild elephants on their daily 10-kilometre walk to school; and last week a young girl was trampled by an irate bull. No giant SUVs here for parents to wrap their kids up in for the daily drive to school. Despite the valiant efforts of Livingstone and his fellow missionaries, superstition is rife. On page 5 a shaman has been stoned to death for making his neighbour\'s penis first shrink, then disappear. My wry favourite is the two expatriates on a mission to save Maun\'s countless starving street donkeys. No-one owns them, feeds or waters them; they scratch a living in the roadside dust and breed, prolifically. Appalled by people\'s indifference, the expat women corralled dozens into a donkey sanctuary on the outskirts of town. Lions and leopards now visit nightly; sanctuary has turned to slaughter. Africa wins again. But we had our own reason not to laugh last night. Feral donkeys are outnumbered only by stray dogs and one thin bitch adopted us. To the disapproving gazes of our neighbours in Audi Camp, we obliged with pot scrapings and a bowl of water. She curled up under our table, claiming us and warning other strays away. Next minute, she\'s up and off, yelping in pain. A man, dark eyes too close, grin too drunk, stood laughing, a slingshot dangling from his hand. Dave bridled. Expletives flew. The man departed to his caravan, muttering at our ungratefulness. "I can\'t abide cruelty to animals," says Dave. It\'s part and parcel of African tourism - travellers come for the animals, to see feral nature at some of its wildest best, but the love is not unconditional. Different values are ascribed to each sighting. Top of the totem are lions and elephants, rhino and leopard; hovering halfway are gnu and water buck, crocodiles and zebra; at the bottom are springbok, warthogs and guinea fowl; and grovelling somewhere in the mud are street donkeys and stray dogs. Thus far, we like all we\'ve seen, the measure of our pleasure determined more by the rarity of the sighting or the quality of the experience than the species itself. But shades of grey and a sense of totem are about to emerge. A few nights later we are in Moremi Game Reserve, an in-your-face park in the south-eastern corner of Okavango Delta. Bad roads and limited petrol supplies keep this park off the beaten tourist trail and it brims with animal encounters. This is wild Africa at your tent flap, no fences, no armed guards between you and the fangs. Each night hyena wander around our tent, scavenging forgotten scraps. Lions roar, oh so close. Yesterday an elephant blocked ingress to the women\'s toilet. This morning, on dawn, a pack of rare African wild dogs loped past our breakfast table, on the hunt for impala, scattering baboons in their path. Every morning dawns clear and sunny in this land desperate for rain. By lunchtime, we and the animals are fading fast. We look for the shade of an acacia, and find it taken by a languid lion and his harem. Out in the sun, a lone lioness stalks a giraffe at the water hole, a treacherous place for this lanky animal. The horizon erupts into dust as she breaks into a run and the giraffe lollops into the forest. As he drags himself reluctantly to his feet to oversee the action, the lion displays the badge of science, a radio collar around his neck. Now, it\'s nearly dusk, and our turn to be preyed upon. While chopping capsicum, Dave is mugged by a seriously fanged alpha male baboon in full aggressive yawn, and he\'s not taking \'shoo\' for an answer. "Hand me a rock, quick," hisses Dave. I\'m stunned into inaction. "Quick, I need a rock," comes Dave\'s rather more urgent command. I\'m rooted to the spot. But the baboon isn\'t. One last flash of his fangs and he\'s off, clutching Dave\'s bag of peanuts. "I can\'t abide cruelty to animals, unless it\'s a baboon nicking my peanuts." We finish the evening supping that African staple, Amarula, watching the flicker of fire flies, and watched in turn by the icy blue eyes of a hyena, blinking just outside the lamp light, testing our comfort zone. The occasional chortle of a hippo erupts into the air, and the whine of mosquitos descends. I belatedly read our safari guidebook, which warns that baboons can eviscerate their opponents more efficiently than any surgeon. The lost peanuts suddenly don\'t seem too high a price for intact guts. This is a land to take things as they come. Where our place is just another rung on the totem pole. And he with the biggest fangs, or the best aim wins. Ends Fact file Words: 307 Getting There Maun is a bustling town at the southern end of the Okavango Delta. These days all roads to Maun are tarred, which is a definite plus. We hired a 4x4 camping car in Windhoek, Namibia (www.campingcarhire.com.na), and drove ourselves, via the Caprivi Strip and Zambia\'s Victoria Falls. Scheduled flights run daily between Johannesburg and Maun. For up to date schedules and fares, check www.flysaa.com. For bus options, the Cardboard Box Travel Agent in Windhoek, Namibia (www.namibian.org), can provide advice and schedules. When to Go Botswana\'s climate is subtropical and semi-arid. Summer is hot (temperatures vary from 18 - 40 deg Celsius) and lasts from September to March. Winter is warm, and spans April to August, shaking the mercury from 5 - 23 deg Celsius. Summer is the rainy time, though rainfall is unpredictable. Botswana is susceptible to both drought and severe flooding. A trick of travel in this neck of Africa is to time your run near the end of the winter dry, when animals gather near the few permanent water holes, but it\'s not yet too hot for humans. Aim between April and October. Top Activities Maun is turning from a tiny village into a bustling tourist hub. A host of trips and safaris are on offer and you can walk, drive, fly or float. A must is a dug-out (mokoro) trip on the Okavango Delta. Maun is also a launch pad for safaris to Chobe, Moremi and Kalahari parks. Audi Camp brokers many of these trips, and works with rural communities to help them set up their own tourism businesses. The hope is that if villagers can earn a living from wildlife and wilderness areas and directly benefit from and manage these resources, they will be less inclined to move toward cattle farming or bring in industrial development. Contact Audi Camp at http://audicamp.bizland.com/maun.html © Marieke Hilhorst/ORIGIN NATURAL HISTORY MEDIA |