Dear Bull Elephant, Sir.
I am writing following a recent visit to Botswana where I
had the privilege of spending four days in Chobe National Park. The park
exceeded all expectations, the list of wildlife we spotted from Cheetah through
to the humble Dung Beetle was mind boggling and I would like to extend my
thanks to yourself and the entire animal kingdom of Botswana for putting on
such a show. There is however one, small, issue that I would like to resolve to
ensure that it doesn’t remain ‘an elephant in the room’, if you will.
We arrived in Kasane, Botswana via the Kazungula ferry, an
experience in itself. Picture a few pieces of wood tied together supporting a
freight truck, a snazzy hired Land Cruiser and a bunch of foot passengers then
push out across the Zambezi with a propulsion system resembling something from
a science fair and there we were. I decided not to tell Hamish that the ferry
had collapsed last year killing all on board, I didn’t think it was relevant,
plus I really wanted to visit Botswana. Luck was on our side that day and we
made the five-minute crossing unscathed.
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| The Kazungula Ferry crossing the Zambezi between Botswana and Zambia |
Kasane proved to be an odd little tourist trap featuring
little more than a fuel station, several safari lodges, a large supermarket
and, much to my delight and Hamish’s disgust, KFC. We had been tipped off that
the Chobe Safari Lodge, sitting right on the river front, had camping
facilities so in we piled pitching our tents between the ‘beware of crocodiles’
and ‘beware of hippos’ signs. Awareness was one thing, but what we could have
done about them should they have joined us for supper remains a mystery.
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| Hippo's chilling in the Chobe River |
After disturbing the peace of everyone in the vicinity of
the pool we boarded a small boat for an afternoon safari river cruise. Our
travel companions, American’s in khaki with camera lenses bigger than my arm,
had managed to fill the downstairs space of the boat so we were ushered to the
roof, where the views were hot and the sun was hotter. Three hours later we
returned with fantastic shots of hippos, crocs, elephants frolicking in the
water and a touch of sunburn.
Anyway I have digressed, let me get back to the heart of the
issue. It all started when we arrived in Savuti. The combination of a severe
lack of signposting and the worst map in the world didn’t help our situation
and it became obvious that self-drive safaris are neither popular nor
encouraged in this elite neck of the woods. Nevertheless, after a full day
driving through the park spotting hundreds of spectacular birds, but
frustratingly little game, we made it to our campsite just before sundown. Our
campsite pitch was called Paradise, ironic in hindsight, and was in a beautiful
setting among trees right next to a stream – we were the only humans in
residence that night.
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| Paradise, in between elephant visits |
Morning and evening drives are said to be the pinnacle of
game viewing so at 6am we set off, pumped from the previous evening’s game
drive when animals had been out in excess. Five hours and an ever-decreasing
tank of fuel later we had circled the impressive marshes and pans to no avail
and returned to camp. Bored from passing time in the shade of our tent Hamish
and I went exploring the campsite and this is when the aforementioned incident
took place. Between our tent and the ablution block one of your esteemed
relatives, a giant bull elephant, was enjoying a vegetarian brunch. I admit at
this stage the sensible thing to do would have been to quietly continue on our
way, however, as elephant experts after our three days tracking your cousins in
the Indian jungle we decided to stop and film a lip sync for a rap video we
were making. Naturally.
All was going well until things started to go badly. I am
not sure if it was the lyrics of Coolio’s Gangsters Paradise or our offensive dance moves, but one moment the big
chap was happily destroying a tree and the next he was charging towards us,
ears flaring. Hamish took the sensible route and headed for the safety of the
fenced ablution block while muggins here raced further into the campsite to put
a nearby tree between myself and ‘the reason I am now terrified of elephants’.
With Hamish screaming at me to get to safety I whipped off my flipflops (note
this must be why they suggest you wear sensible footwear on safari) and
prepared for the fastest seventy-metre dash that these lanky legs have ever
run. With bleeding feet I evaded Mr Angry’s teasing charge and made it through
the gate.
From this moment a floodgate was opened, elephants wandered
through our camp so regularly that we got the mobilising time from camp chair
to car down to under five seconds. This was more difficult around meal times
when the gas cooker had to be turned off and a boiling pot saved. Sitting in a
roasting hot car, worried that an elephant is going to try to kill you with a
steaming tagine on your lap isn’t ideal I can assure you.
At this stage the campsite also filled up with humans who,
probably naively, made me feel much more safe. I attempted to form a friendship
with some German tourists when a herd of elephants decided to take over our
fire pit just after dark, asking if I could spend the night in their fancy
car-top tent. They laughed thinking I was joking. That night little sleep was
had.
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| Horse play |
We had been treated to a smorgasbord of wildlife and set off
homeward in great spirits. The Chobe riverfront, our last stop before the
border was now pulsing with literally hundreds of your relatives. Blindly we
trundled along, stopping every few minutes to let a herd cross our path en
route to the river, trying not to get to close to upset those with young
calves. Soon we were surrounded by what must be one of the most impressive
populations of elephants in the world. Our close shave had left me absolutely
terrified. Holding back a mouthful of vomit I burst into tears and asked if it
was home time yet. With my eyes closed, praying for a quick death, we dodged
elephants all the way back to the safety of the park gates.
Chobe National Park is described as ‘the land of the Giants’
and it certainly lives up to all the hype. It’s not a cheap place; camping is
50 USD per person, per night with animal visits at no extra charge, but the
experience is priceless. The moral of the story here, Mr Bull Elephant, Sir, is
that you elephants clearly don’t like Coolio, which is perfectly fair. I just
wish someone had warned us. Thanks for having us, please pass on my best wishes
to your extensive family.
Kind regards
Jess Reid – from relatively elephant-free Zambia.
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