Richard Satekge(33) is one of six children born to a builder and a housekeeper at the height of the apartheid oppression. He grew up in the small village of Batlokwa (Matoks) a village between Polokwane (Pietersburg) and Louis Trichardt on the Tropic of Capricorn, in the north of South Africa. Richard’s parents had high hopes that their bright son would become a school teacher. But Richard had other ideas -nature conservation was where he was heading.

This is the story of Richard Satekge is a remarkable African tale of a dream that is realized despite the challenges and obstacle faced by poverty, lack of education and oppression. It is a typical South African story of perseverance and triumph.

As Richard witnessed the changing times, he noticed that more opportunities were being opened up for bright young people. His determination instilled in him a sense of hope. During his schooling, Richard recognized that he was most excited by the subject of biology. It didn’t take him long to apply at the Pretoria Technikon (now the Tshwane University of Technology) to pursue studies in nature conservation.

Conquering the challenges: At the end of his first year of studies, Richard was faced with financial challenges and was unable to pay his tuition and so his results were withheld. Just as Richard was about to throw in the towel he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. The department of nature conservation agreed that they would settle Richard’s outstanding tuition, and further agreed to provide him with a bursary to complete his final two years. Overjoyed by the enlightening news, Richard was back on track with his nature conservation goal in sight. He decided to complete his third year and the practical in one go. He started a position with Natal Parks Board to do his practical, but after just 6 months he was told there was no longer sufficient funding for student practicals and that he would need to find an alternative facility that could enable him to complete his practical year as a student nature conservationist.

The detour that landed him his dream: Desperate to continue working in his field and not finding suitable employment, he landed up at the Transvaal Museum in Pretoria doing volunteer work for a year, spending his time analyzing and identifying samples from living mammals.

A year later he was offered a permanent post. It wasn’t Nature Conservation, but it was a paying job. One of his mentors heard that a reserve in the Kalahari Desert was looking for trainee field guides and at his instigation Richard applied and was chosen from a large group of candidates.

Destination Desert: Without a moment’s hesitation, Richard relocated from the bustling city to the serene tranquility of the Kalahari Desert in 2002 to fulfill his dream. After completing his training at the Kalahari reserve he became a guide and spent three years guiding guests from around the world and opening their eyes to the secrets to the Kalahari.

A dream is realized: In December 2004, management at the reserve approached him with an offer to complete his Nature Conservation qualification (for which he would be given a mentorship and financial assistance), after which he would be made conservator of a section reserve that consisted of 25 000 hectares. This was a section of the Kalahari that Richard had come to love and he could finally feel his dreams becoming reality.

In November 2006 Richard Satekge completed his diploma in Nature Conservation and now has a slice of the Kalahari safely in his care. Richard believes that a combination of determination, dreams and hard work makes life very worthwhile, especially when you’re living at in the Kalahari Desert.

A paradise which is the Kalahari: The reserve where Richard is based is situated in the Northern Cape Province of South Africa, covering 100 000 hectares of land on the edge of the mysterious desert wilderness that is the Kalahari. Free from malaria and other tropical diseases, the reserve houses over 70 species of mammal including lion, cheetah, desert black rhino, sable and roan antelope. More than 200 species of bird can also be found in the reserve. Although the reserve facilitates extraordinary luxury facilities, it is the whole-hearted commitment of the staff that gets tourists talking about this paradise which is the Kalahari.

Are you looking for an exceptional and unique holiday experience? Would you like to become one with nature and experience close encounters with wildlife? There is a place in the South African Desert that offers guest’s unforgettable horseback safaris either for the family or as a romantic getaway for two.

Horse rides take place across picturesque grassy plains and rolling Kalahari dunes with views across the desert landscape. Most guests are novice riders, and therefore there are horses that are suitable for riders with no previous riding experience. Children are welcome on all horse rides and this offers a very special African family safari experience. For children and adults alike, there is nothing like seeing animals in the wild or watching the sun set over a never ending horizon. It is truly unforgettable experience to do this on horseback, part of nature and completely out of sight of anything man-made.

Visitors can ride out to the rolling sand dunes and find a beautiful picnic lunch or a splendid candle lit dune dinner awaiting them. A dune dinner is an enchanting experience, offering the vastness of the “diamond studded” Kalahari night sky, Relais & Chateaux rated culinary delights and the sounds of silence penetrated occasionally with the roars and cries of the African bush.

The Kalahari Desert has a variety of horses that includes the following breeds: Percheron X, Boerperd, Boerperd X, Quarter Horse X, Thoroughbred , Appaloosa, and Arab X. An experienced horse guide and backup rider accompany all rides. Horses are schooled in the Western style of reining and trained for trail riding. Riders need only bring jodhpurs or can ride with comfortable trousers. Gloves, boots, hard hats as well as short and long chaps will all be supplied.

Surrounding the rugged Korannaberg Mountains in the Northern Cape Province of South Africa, this Kalahari Desert Reserve covers 1000km2 (100 000 ha) of land on the edge of the mysterious desert wilderness that is the Kalahari. You will be able the find over 70 species of mammal which will include the Kalahari lion, cheetah, and desert black rhino, sable and roan antelope in this Reserve. More than 200 species of bird can also be found.

Horseback riding on safari gives riders an up close and natural experience of timeless Africa. Riders become part of the African landscape, becoming one with nature and their surroundings. On a more conventional vehicle safari you might miss out on some of the wildlife. The game viewing opportunities are unmatched in terms of South African safaris at this Kalahari Desert Reserve. Horse riding across the savannah alongside various wild animals, immersed in the sights, smells and sounds of Africa is a unique experience. Don’t miss out!

Those days, I never realized that Africa was undergoing a humanitarian and environmental crisis. The Africa of my imagination, the exotic Africa, existed only in a handful of wildlife reserves like Masai Mara, Serengeti or Kalahari Desert. The rest was in shambles. Africa, once the cradle of man was now his graveyard. What happened in Africa ages ago, the evolution of man, transformed life on the planet. The dark continent, now lie bleeding at the altar of our indifference. What we witness now in Africa, in my opinion, is a bleak prognostication on the future of the world.

Global recession and escalating food prices have dried up food aid to Africa. Recurring droughts have depleted water resources, withered crops and decimated livestock leaving people hungry and severely malnourished. The stark images of Africa, especially those of photojournalist Kevin Carter who committed suicide unable to face the horrors, are heartrending.

Although my phantasmagoric images of Africa are shattered, although I am not able to contribute much to alleviate its troubles, the appreciation and admiration I feel for those who have been waging a relentless battle against the pervasive despair and starvation in Africa is boundless. I recently came across an article on Dr André Briend, the French pediatric nutritionist who developed Plumpy’nut, a inexpensive peanut based fortified food which can be fed to severely malnourished children. Plumpy’nut, packed with vital nutrients does not require addition of water making it ideal for Africa where clean water is scarce. Another noticeable innovation which addressed Africa’s potable water scarcity was LifeSraw, a portable plastic straw designed by Torben Vestergaard Frandsen which made contaminated water drinkable through effective and instant bacteria removal.

Josette Sheeran, head of the United Nation’s World Food Programme remarked that “the know-how, the tools and the technology to feed the world” is already available. All we need is an acknowledgement of the plight and a desire to mitigate it. To me Africa is a mirror in which each of us shall soon see ourselves if we continue to callously ignore its predicaments.

Show your concern for Africa. Donate to Concern: Link

the bag-carried charms of lonely school-girls

blue crushed dreams drowned at noon-day

vented fortunes melted and re-created

morphed laughters reflected in a magenta pool

shadowy remains of the over-large green lantern

vultured skulls swinging by their guitar strings

music honeyed lions pondering the dancing stars

there a stare – here a smile – everywhere death

paper-thin mannequins feasting on shrimp salads

oceanic largesses buttoned and stored sideways

sun-dried tomatoes drank with overmuch salt

zion led saints proportioning those fairly decked nuns

swing crushed remains – the bread cracks of yore

the vegan induced convulsions of some carnivore

emperor dreamed lords dressed in nakedness

street whispered symphonies overtaken with sun-dried laughters

slithering oysters wrestling with some stranded toe

darling buds gnashing their teeth as they gently kiss those receding winds

suffocated wedding bands recalling past conquests

suffused pleasures desiring a proper vessel

the sweaty palms of boys chained in boarding schools

green sullied roof tops laced in brown jacaranda leaves

death masked violins overran with a craving for strings

there be but a remainder of mats – herded feet whistling their displeasure

overmuch excitement – the sure emblem of lovers at war

gloried bosoms rounder than the fairest august apple

middle apportioned fortunes starved of the seasons fallings

i pose a conundrum – suppose i cared

those circular yearning s teasing the pathetic fortunes of our failings

trombone led bands cowering beneath flute dresses

museum honeyed murals of masters unknown

leather clobbered loins remained upon the chiefest lizard cliffs

shop stewed beans rustling in their metal prisons

willows distantly dancing a fresh of the flowing muds

the punished sounds of choirs hanged at dawn

boot driven passions remained on a plastic plate

a loose lip here – a shoe there – everywhere death

numidian mushrooms sheltered beneath kilimanjaros shoulders

kissed birds overcome with grief

the booked imaginings of shy pupils giggling in rain

pampered lobsters sunbathing in their coffins

oiled thighs standing erect besides michelangelo’s david

yellow scented lusts of husbands given over to theatre

comedy driven longings – the perpendicular stares of wronged lover

the karoo streams – kalahari basins – toureg chants – gorgon encampments

they all be but simple venison servings

table laid charms bottled in salt

how fair are those dancing bears – even the same fur-less devils

suspended aloft that soon disappearing iceberg

night stars rushing purposefully to their deaths

sychellian crustaceans wallowing in grief

the bushveld  tropics leaning gently upon fair mozambique’s cheeks

soon-approaching monsoons announcing their arrival in himalayan chants

train hurried suns murmuring for a lack of attention

the haired touching of lovers stranded at and in the sea

easterly badlands housed in some papal estate

toe-tugged yearnings elegantly decked in straw skirts

of epher’s children – salute them with a gentle tug in either direction

craven red shoes seated upright in some rainy mud hut

of mau mau and his abandoned harlots – whistle only and touch not

burning forests housed wholly in her mouth

olympian straits considered and rejected

righteousness forced upon unwilling saints – they chose sin instead

snow-covered churches overcome with laughter

coat pocketed jealousies of rivals resorting to righteousness – dueling

scorched lands immigrating downward and into hell

cherry scented mustangs awash in fresh aloe

dew carried feet refusing the flung serving of fresh boots

the remaining african horn fed to the nomadics of eritrea

diseased waters bottled and sent to epher’s descendants

soap deprived ankles painted in valley yellow

dark suns prejudiced at the sight of blue oranges

suited bullfrogs desiring an audience with the priest

mournful dirges of some tragic anthem lorded over the plains

serengeti woodlands teaming with overmuch grasshoppers

lateral – dental – palatial

the rice grown hatreds of aphrite’s rude cousins

millet rinsed touchings of loves and lovers clothed in burnings

sight condemned ancients rehearsing their final movements

hurried motionings of sharks harpooned at the high deserts

drunk instructors condemned to the wine cellars

drought moustaches grown arrogant with the occasional brush

ankle dipped hands dancing on freshly painted ceilings

roman centurions sheepishly waiting upon the priests

the back covered lashes of whips crying at dawn

zebra teethed lions lying sideways – the feed was much

meditating monks nightly preaching patience as they doubt its efficacy

rib jointed searchings of parents transfixed upon some tragic statute

guitar stringed understandings of lovers soon to be loosened

hurricane gales refusing freely gifted medications – they instead desire destruction

church chimed machinations – the loud shadows of sarcadortal hems

leather-covered sweaters speaking of soon returning father abraham

marsh covered bibles resurrected to their mournful parents

papered lips pretending to care yet found out

fortuned souls buried in moses’ bosoom

piano starved school children emaciated and in need of fresh cassava

drunk pilgrims desecrating their holy places

curses courtiers given over to overindulgence

pleasured hips forgetting how to dress

earth abused servants despising their hoes

equator neglected bears doubly aggrieved

polluted musics distilled in yellow barley

tomato crushed dreams of lovers separated by war

tributaries of untamed passions spewing from eva’s bosom

tribal instincts of mothers caressing their pops – confused loves

crucified sailors condemned for purity of passions

the yellow ribbons circling about in their blue trousers

bus driven fears of known futures

boiled mannequins cascading in sheltered rage

the oiled ankles of lovers destined to fail

teaming marshes pregnant with the anticipation of your impending hanging

what would shylock do

such purity contained in those unassuming holy loins

not a penny more or less

the weighty pendulums of earthly expectations placed shoulderwise

upon such lowly flesh – pray for his rich poverty

freely consider the run – jonah did

circular chains layered outwardly upon her cheeks

wandering stares of the decomposing tortoise

craged backs of prisoners rejoicing at the sight of a whip

unseemly lovings of the nile priests

snow married rains competing for the mastery

roaming preachers begging for fresh underwear

any recall the simple pleasures of death

hyacinth troubled waters refusing to suffocate

consider the daffodils and their fair cousins – the black mamba

following – continue your runnings

street dancing muses overtaken with giggling willows

haggard poets taking up whistling

layered burnings of victims returned from their nightly flames

the bleached denials of lovers untrained in the art – of lying

caressed lips of saints hanged and burned by the eclipse

green creeks snaking around eva’s proud towers

ever populated with the bagged trifles of smiles sealed and delivered

expected rains falling only the honest sinners

touch not but freely reach

the flasked remains of wars forced upon the innocent

dirt condemned shoulders praying for rain

honeyed nights scribing the moanful chants of reunited lovers

built ruins of some ancient king – god

boot-straped cowboys jeaned and straightwith saddled

onion ringed stairs of pilgrims unfurling their carpets in prayer

stoned devils loosened on an unassuming friday afternoon

the shamelessly chanted charms of choirs rehearsing compassion

free range grains frustrated at the sight of a sickle

garden manufactured sandals covered in cassava peelings

the red vases of fortunes’ train soon approaches

temple plundered riches housed in some temple

boat driven suspenders tugging the wily doe

arabian summers spend it hibernation

square run destinies married to music slithered hands

love-worn seagulls taking up residence on greenland’s beaches

the pilgrim stares of submerged penguins

superfluous gains of tormentors destined to burn

collected unicorns aimlessly peddling their air cycles

terrace covered nakedness of summers spent at the arctic

zerubabel conducted symphonies arrested by the passing eclipse

the retrograde joys of past loves recalled in regret

of pains  known and grown out of – try harder

vase-shaped frustrations – even the same man nurtured

sandals of ambitions dead at birth

any care pass along the rope – how make you a proper noose

how sweet the contradiction daily raping humanity

baleful mourns of innocence hushed in the still of the night

bewildered stares fixed upon the priestly robes of the temple vultures

scavengers given over to overmuch prayer – before consuming their flesh

teeth mapped meats shaking with fear

with love and for love yet always serving self

hades scented saints marching triumphantly towards their sabbath pews

those proper passions gently housed in some harlots bosom

care consider her kind

rude awakenings of skirts hugged one upon another

round fingers – the meandering coins emblazoned with sea fortunes

sword kissed deaths transfixed upon some tragic mount

that they too desire to commune with father moses – any care find him

knee-nursed yearnings of some crawling pop

kettle-whispered lovings of mothers overcome with joy

loves journeyed in darkness only to be condemned by the searching light

some waffled longings of imprisoned cousins – twice removed

fortunes plundered and straightaway surrendered to mightier foes

watched yearnings of those round face anthills

care imitate the socialized hatreds of the sheppard

joyous singings at the news of the stranded winters upon the seas

today be the burial of some tragic figure – some son of three parents

scared remains of lovers burned in love – rather it be love that burned then -

or love caused these burnings – love burned them – in a word: they be dead

the dragon costumes singularly common yet without a mother

companies of soldiers bewailing their blood-muddied swords

pure-bred expectations of fathers married to daily runnings

parisian harlots – even those decadent damsels of notre dame

lamp lighted walkings of some painted corridor

symphonic laughters given over to overmuch prayers

recall the butterfly laced travels of righteous odysseus

the drought peopled apartments quietly screaming for chardonnay

touched purities of priests aggrieved in spirit yet glad in the flesh

palm lined libraries of cairo giddily seated adjacent jerusalem’s famous lamps

summer covered carpets laced with gerbera ferns

nightly runnings of forbidden lovers conspiring their next escapes

apostolic sureties of saint eva – blessed be her musical loins

poems collected in empty wooden wine skins

coerced laughters masked in the lying giggles of the anaconda

prayerful knees of the arabian monk wrestling with an empty sea shell

rehearsed returns of the blue women of the green lagoon

liberian tiles refusing their ordained marriages to cuban cements

any care hear of the loud shrills of the debauched crickets

plimsol expectations of princes ignored in plain sight

the returned piercings of lapped waters dancing in a great danes mouth

restrained sheep recalling their wild histories as dakota mustangs

of sacrifices a dove yet wholly unrepentant

rosy mornings carried in an empty jar

that the sistine chapel was erected by a harlot – aye even eva

that most righteous and upwardly decked saint of the weeping sheets

known of most for her convulsing inducing hands

virgin pilgrims remained upon their store-bought piety

some raisin cured yawns of the whited sepulchers housing her blessed remains

glass layered centuries of accusations returned and loosened

sweet-honeyed chirpings of the wooly mammoth

crane-spoted hyenas jumping rope in the serengeti plains

crowned turtles desiring the company of boiling lobsters

any recall the tearful repentances of proud nabucco

slaves become masters and enslaving their fellow slaves

how that in running – they instead lost themselves

have a care

Castaway Bay ~ 11 am – 6 pm

Menu:
Salad Bar – Garden Salad with all of your favorite toppings and dressings, fresh fruit salad, cranberry and pecan salad, ambrosia salad, potato salad, macaroni salad and mixed cabbage slaw.

Entrées – Maple and honey glazed ham, roasted turkey over traditional stuffing, creamy mashed potaotes and gravy, yams with marshmallows, green bean casserole, dinner rolls, mac and cheese, chicken fingers and mini corn dogs.

Desserts – Assorted cakes, pies and cookies.

Beverages – Fresh brewed coffee, tea, soft drinks and cider.

Price:
Adult: $12.95, Child (5 – 9): $5.95, Children 4 and under are free. Seating is on a first-come, first-served basis. Reservations will not be available.

Great Wolf Lodge ~ 11 am – 7 pm

Menu: 
Appetizers – Garden fresh salad with all the fixin’s, fresh vegetable & cheese display with crackers & grapes, fall squash salad, fresh tri-colored pasta salad, broccoli salad, chilled crab dip, fruit salad with simple syrup, lodge-made cranberry relish, strawberry country applesauce and bakery fresh rolls.

Entrées – Chef carved prime rib au jus, chef carved slow roast turkey, ham with apple cider raisin sauce, classic fettuccini alfredo florentine, fresh sage dressing, mashed potatoes with chef-made gravy, candied sweet potatoes, fresh vegetable medley, sautéed brussels sprouts and macaroni shells & cheese.

Desserts – Chocolate fountain, pumpkin bars and assorted mini desserts.

Price:
Adult In-House Guest: $21.95, Child (4 – 10) In-House Guest: $9.95,
Adult Out-of-House Guest: $26.95, Child (4 – 10) Out-of-House Guest: $10.95. Children 3 and under are free. 18% service fee and applicable sales tax will be added.

Reservations are recommended – 419.609.6000. Want to make a night out of it? Try the Gobble, Gobble Package!

Kalahari Resort ~ 11:30 am – 6:15 pm

Menu:
Chef Carving Station – Roasted turkey with traditional cranberry stuffing & giblet pan gravy, slow roasted prime rib and brown sugar glazed smoked ham.

Hot Selections – Creamed chicken and wild rice soup, Yukon Gold mashed potatoes, green bean bacon and onion casserole, maple marshmallow candied yams, cauliflower polanaise, toasted almond cranberry rice pilaf, extra sweet golden buttered corn, cider pork loin with apple brandy cream, chicken Louisiana, grilled salmon with sauce bearnaise, seafood newberg over pasta and a variety of home baked breads.

Accompaniments – Italian grilled vegetable salad, garden fresh salad bar, international cheese & sausage display, sliced fresh fruits & berries, jumbo shrimp waterfall, pina colada chicken salad, faralle pasta salad and red skinned twice baked potato salad.

Children’s Selections – PB & J’s, mac & cheese, chicken tenders, smiley fries, mini corn dogs, mini cheeseburgers and corn.

Dessert Extravaganza – Hot apple cobbler, homemade pumpkin and fruit pies and Kalahari chocolate fountain with assorted dippables.

Price:
Adult (13 and over): $22.99, Child (4 – 12): $9.99, Children 3 and under are free. Subject to 19% taxable service charge and applicable sales tax.

Reservations strongly encouraged – 419.433.5543. Looking to stay overnight? Check out the Thanksgiving Stay and Buffet Special.

Mesenburg’s ~ 12 pm, 1:30 pm, 3 pm

Three seatings available, featuring turkey, wood-roasted pork and a variety of sides and desserts.

Reservations are required – 419.433.2954.

Price:
Adult: $18.95, Child (4 – 11): $10.95; children 3 and under are free.

Sawmill Creek Resort ~ 11 am – 3 pm

Traditional Thanksgiving Buffet – Appetizers, salads, entrees, veggies and desserts. Horse drawn carriage rides offered 12 – 4 pm (weather permitting – $10/ride). Also offering Thanksgiving Packages.

Price:
Adult: $20.95, Child (4 – 11): $8.95, Children 3 and under are free.

Clique na imagem e confira!

Expor uma arte, um talento ou  uma virtude…
É criar pontes para que os outros
Possam  atingir suas metas, ou
Agir  como expectadores limitados a apreciação.

Mary Meneses

Author Sian Hall offers her own insights through her extensive study on Africa, the history, the people, the land and the African dogs in her book, “The Dogs of Africa”.

Dogs fit in extremely well with ancient nomadic lifestyles, where great distances were covered in search of game. The dog was involved in the family group and regarded as a permanent member of the camp, vital in driving the herds, guarding the camp and an aid in the hunt. This effect is very evident in some of the African dogs. The Rhodesian Ridgeback, a descendent of the nomadic Khoi dog, regards people as much more important than property. Unlike working breeds, the Ridgeback guards territory because it belongs to his family, not simply because he is territorial.

In contrast, the Canaan Dog of Israel, also from nomadic ancestry, behaves with very different standards. This breed is under the impression that the territory belongs to him together with all the moveable property and humans that come with it. He guards the humans simply because they come with the property. The Canaan Dog also has the ability to turn from domesticated to wild, or vice versa, as the situation dictates, offering him the greater opportunity of returning to the wilds if his home situation in the Bedouin camps became too miserable.

The indigenous Southern Dogs of Africa, with their loyal disposition, will not leave their domestic setting and owner no matter how horribly treated. In between, are the dogs of the Bantu-speakers.  For these dogs, their home ground and property is defended, no matter who inhabits the settlement.

Further south, in the arid searing sands of the Kalahari regions, the egalitarian Bushmen of Africa included their dogs in the Zhavo relationship of gift-sharing. Dogs were warmly welcomed to share the food with their owners around the campfire. Whatever was available in camp was shared equally among members – if the dog’s owners were well fed, so was the dog. The reverse held true as well. When the Bushmen came upon hard times, the dog would suffer just as a member of the band.

The lifestyle of the Bushmen included myths and legends that read like fairy-tales, many featuring animals thought to be people and vice versa. An ideology that helps explain why the dogs of the Bushmen were so well kept and highly integrated into their society. The Bushmen saw a world in which animals lived side by side with humans and other creatures, a world in which there were no class distinctions and all creatures were important in the eye of the maker.

The Dogs of Africa provides a detailed examination of dog breeds that have historic connections to the African continent: the Southern African Dogs, Basenji, Canaan Dog, Rhodesian Ridgeback, Saluki, Azawakh, Sloughi, Podenco Canario, Cirneco Dell’Etna, Pharaoh Hound, Ibizan Hound, Presa Canario, Boerboel, Bichon family, Maltese, Bichon Frise, Coton De Tulear, and the Maltese Poodle. Hall paints vivid word pictures of the physical, cultural and historical environments in which these dogs of Africa evolved. She weaves a breathtaking journey through the vast Serengeti, the searing arid deserts, the towering pyramids of Egypt, the granite boulders of the Zimbabwe and the dense, impenetrable jungles. Find the book at Alpine Publications (www.alpinepub.com).

I know that it’s great to travel to Namibia, Botswana, Mozambique, Lesotho and even Angola, but in these trying financial times, is it totally neccessary to spend the extra on fuel? Can’t we get a similar experience by staying within the borders of South Africa?

Desert regions can be found in the Kalahari, the Tankwa Karoo and other areas of the Northern Cape. The mountainous 4×4 trails of the eastern Freestate are beautiful without having to enter Lesotho. Our own game parks also offer fantastic wildlife and accommodation facilities. The West Coast has a character all of its own, as does KZN, Limpopo and Mpumalanga.

Adventure Tourism is on the increase in all provinces, so there isn’t exactly a shortage of things to do once you arrive at your chosen destination.

With so many people working so hard to promote the tourism opportunities that abound in the rural areas of South Africa, I believe we almost have an obligation to thoroughly explore the hidden gems of our own country. Plus, you wont have as far to drive thus reducing the costs and the travelling time.

The message is simple. Don’t think that due to the current financial climate you have to cancel your annual 4×4 trip to Namibia for example. Investigate where you can go locally and you may be surprised in what rural SA has to offer.

Currently, there are four indoor waterparks in the area: Castaway Bay, Great Wolf Lodge, Kalahari Resort and Rain.

Castaway Bay, affiliated with Cedar Point Amusement Park, features 237 hotel rooms and suites including family-oriented units, an indoor waterpark loaded with water activities for all ages, a day spa, fitness center, state-of-the-art arcade, restaurants, retail shops, adjacent marina and space for meetings, group events and birthday parties. The 38,000-square-foot, tropical Caribbean themed indoor waterpark features Rendezvous Run water coaster, a 100,000-gallon wave pool, three 35-foot-tall body slides, Lookout Lagoon Family Funhouse, Toddler’s Tide Pool and an 80,000-gallon activity pool.

Great Wolf Lodge is an all-suites, full-service, family destination indoor waterpark resort designed to deliver a memorable, high quality family vacation experience. It is a place where uninterrupted family time is spent and lifelong traditions are created. Every aspect of the property – from the comfortable, Northwoods atmosphere to the family-friendly amenities – is designed with one goal in mind: “Creating Family Traditions, One Family at a Time”. The comprehensive package of resort amenities includes a 41,000 square-foot indoor entertainment area featuring a grand scale waterpark, spacious outdoor pool, arcade with ticket redemption, fitness room, a dedicated arts and crafts center for kids, family restaurants, a confectionary, meeting space, gift shop and a performing Great Clock Tower.

At Kalahari Resort – America’s Largest Indoor Waterpark – you’re in for the time of your life with everything under one roof. Surf indoors 365 days a year, take on the uphill water rollercoaster, catch some rays under the Texlon transparent roof while enjoying the 12,000 square foot wavepool, experience Rippling Rhino and Victoria Falls raft rides, lazy river, swim up bar and much more. Don’t forget to check out Spa Kalahari, Kahunaville Restaurant & Bar, Pottery Pizzazz, Candy Hut, Ivory Coast Lounge, Great Karoo Marketplace Restaurant, Zakanaka Kids, Safari Adventures, Madagascar Indoor Mini Golf and more during your visit. No matter what the weather is outside, you can splish-splash all day long indoors at Kalahari. Catch some rays at Kalahari’s outdoor pool complex from Memorial Day to Labor Day.

Rain indoor waterpark, in the Quality Inn & Suites, offers a smaller, affordable setting with thrill slides and water play, featuring a 50 foot tower with two giant slides, 275 foot and 251 foot in length and a play structure with additional water activities and outdoor pool. As its name insinuates, guests of the waterpark are frequently showered with rain. The complex also includes a 32-lane state-of-the-art bowling center, laser tag, an arcade and great eats and gambling in the exciting atmosphere of off-track horse racing at the Thirsty Pony. In all, Rain features over 35,000 square feet of affordable family fun – all under one roof.

Tswalu Residents

Who They Are

Tswalu Kalahari, owned by the Oppenheimer family of Anglo American fame, is South Africa’s largest private game reserve. Located in the Northern Cape at the foot of the Korannaberg mountains, it covers over 100,000 hectares of Kalahari wilderness. There are only two lodges on the reserve – the Motse and Tarkuni.

Private Deck, The Motse

Each provides the ultimate in barefoot luxury. The Motse -  Tswana for ‘village’ – consists of 8 individual stone-walled, thatched legae (small houses or suites), while Tarkuni is a private villa set amid rolling hills, offering the ultimate in luxury and personalized service for families and small groups of up to ten guests.

What They Are Doing

Tswalu is driven by two ambitions: to create 1) an inspirational experience for its guests and 2) a conservation vision to restore the Kalahari. This vast area is a haven for many endangered and rare species. Conservation, socioeconomic development, tourism, and responsible environmental management are the four legs upon which Tswalu has been developed. To fund this vision, the Tswalu Foundation was started in 2008.

Conservation

Home to some 70 species of mammals and over 230 species of birds, Tswalu has embarked on a program to breed certain rare species for distribution to other game ranches and reserves and to establish viable wild populations as a contribution to ensuring their survival.

Kalahari Dinner

Eight adult desert black rhino were translocated from Etosha National Park in Namibia to Tswalu in 1995. They adapted to their new home and were monitored regularly by the Tswalu team. Tswalu today has approximately one third of the country’s population. There is an agreement with South African National Parks to exchange animals in order to ensure adequate gene flow through this fragmented population. Tswalu recently purchased four more rhino from Namibia, to supplement the genetic diversity of the population. Other animal breeding programs on the property include the sable and endangered roan antelopes.

At any given time there are some two dozen research projects being carried out at Tswalu, be it in the study of cheetah, raptors, mountain zebra, insects, or plantlife.

A Meal in the Boma

Community

Of the resident local community of about 400, at least one member of every family works for Tswalu.

A clinic on the property provides free primary health care for residents of Tswalu and neighboring farms. It also runs an extensive HIV/AIDS awareness program, as well as the WARMTH program (WAR against Malnutrition, Tuberculosis and Hunger).  A free preschool for children has been established in conjunction with a literacy program, aiming to address the high illiteracy levels in the area. As literacy rates increase, staff also benefit from new opportunities.

In 2008, Tswalu embarked on the development of a new centralized staff housing complex allowing staff easier access to the clinic, creche, and sports facilities.  The houses were designed on environmentally friendly principles, with particular attention paid to insulation, the planting of indigenous trees, reduction in energy consumption through solar power and water preservation. The second phase of 40 houses is due for completion in November 2009.

Other

Tswalu's Bottled Water

Since May this year Tswalu has been bottling its own mineral water on site, rather than driving its supply 1500 kilometers from Johannesburg. The Classic Crystal water system is a seven-stage filtration process that ensures the lightest, freshest-tasting water without stripping it of the necessary calcium and magnesium minerals. As a result, Tswalu always has ice-cold still and sparkling water on tap and has reduced its carbon emissions. The classy Tswalu glass bottles cut down on recycling and garner a lot of positive attention.

Solar power is already used extensively throughout Tswalu, whether it is for electric fencing, pumps, geysers, or lighting. In June Tswalu started using lightweight, portable solar stoves for cooking meals and even breads and desserts. The plan is to use them as much as possible for meals in the bush, boma dinners, and sleep-outs. Tswalu also hopes to soon have its staff using solar cookers throughout the reserve.

Os voy a poner otra de monos…

Pero es que este video tiene mucha chicha.

Lo primero, ese regusto a documental antiguo que nos trae recuerdos de la infancia a los que llevamos ya unos años siendo jóvenes.

Os cuento lo que pasa.

El agua escasea.

El tipo sabe que el mono es capaz de encontrar agua en sitios insospechados.

Ahora hay que convencer al mono para que nos lo cuente…

Primer paso, atraparle.

Nuestro amigo hace un agujero y echa un poco de comida… asegurándose de que el curioso mono está mirando.

El mono intrigado mete la mano en el agujero, cierra el puño… pero al intentar sacar la mano, no puede hacerlo por haber cerrado el puño.

No se da cuenta de la gracia… y se queda ahí muerto de miedo, jugándose la vida por no dejar escapar un puñado de “golosinas”… ¿Os recuerda a alguien?

El video ya es curioso hasta aquí… es una manera interesante de cazar monos.

Pero el colega no quería zamparse al mono, quería que le llevase a su suministro de agua.

Así que le ata, y le da un poco de sal. Gracioso ver cómo al mono se le pasan todos los males y se queda tan agustito.

Le dejará toda la noche atado sin beber…

Y, claro, cuando le suelta por la mañana… sale disparado a su lugar de aprovisionamiento sin preocuparse de que le siga nuestro héroe…

Cómo mola.

Dos soluciones ingeniosas y sencillas para dos problemas bien gordos (cazar y conseguir agua)

Creo que el tipo es un bosquimano, pero agradeceré comentarios que nos aseguren o corrijan.

Person: Woman in a sweater

Place: Kalahari desert

Thing: Water bottle

Martinssonpaketet kom idag! Så nu ligger nedanstående i en prydlig trave och väntar på att få plats på någon hylla – och på att bli lästa/omlästa:

Det tusen dikternas bok
Nässlorna blomma
Vägen till Klockrike
Dikter 1929-1953, 1958-1973
Vägen ut
Aniara: En revy om människan
Dikter 1929-1945
Dikter 1953-1973
Resor utan mål/Kap farväl

Några av böckerna är så fina med vackra omslag. I min iver har jag överdrivit beställningen av diktsamlingarna – men det blir bra presenter!
Det är så lustfyllt att packa upp nya böcker.

I samma paket några andra som jag ser fram emot att läsa:

Lasse Berg, Gryning över Kalahari och Björn Larsson, Den keltiska ringen. Kalahariboken för att jag lyssnade på Lasse i “Sommar” i somras och Keltiska ringen för att jag har en italiensk nätvän som höjer Björn Larssons böcker till skyarna. Litet märkligt med en författare som har så enorma framgångar utomlands men knappt recenseras här hemma. ?

Sunset beach towel design created to be sold at Kalahari Water Park Resort in Sandusky, OH.

From “The Economist,” who goes a bit overboard on how different the ways of the Bushmen (known also as the San, or Basarwa in Tswana) are, but gets the larger injustice across:

When Botswana’s High Court ruled three years ago that the country’s Bushmen (also known as the San) should be allowed to live and hunt in their ancestral territories in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve (CKGR), it seemed a comprehensive victory for some of the world’s last desert hunter-gatherers. But since then the authorities have issued no licences. In fact, none has been given out since 2001. And a recent court case does not inspire much hope for the Bushmen.

Relocated in the 1990s and earlier this decade, only a few Bushmen have been able to return to the empty scrubland of the central Kalahari since the 2006 ruling. Scores have been arrested for hunting without permits, according to Survival International, a charity that helps indigenous peoples trying to preserve their traditional way of life. This week, for the first time, six Bushmen, including at least one of the plaintiffs in the 2006 case, Tshetha Ntwatamogala, were convicted of illegally hunting gemsbok and eland in the reserve.

After a fortnight behind bars they were all cautioned and freed following the intervention of Gordon Bennett, a British barrister who had previously argued the High Court case. Still, their conviction is a setback. As one of the judges in the 2006 case put it, letting people back into the reserve without letting them hunt is “tantamount to condemning the remaining residents of the CKGR to death by starvation”.

The government has long argued that hunting in the reserve must remain illegal to protect the wildlife, even though the Bushmen, who hunt with spears, bows and arrows, have a relatively small effect on the animals. Clifford Maribe, spokesman for Botswana’s foreign ministry, says that the authorities are acting in the Bushmen’s own interests, pointing out that permanent structures such as clinics and schools cannot be built inside the reserve. “Living inside the game reserve limits their livelihood opportunities,” he says. “Their standard of living cannot be improved.”

The government may have other motives. Botswana is arguably Africa’s biggest all-round success. It is lucky enough to have a lot of diamonds, a tiny population (of less than 2m), an income per head (around $6,000) far above the continental average despite the ravages of HIV/AIDS, and a decent record of government. But some Botswanans are embarrassed by some of their compatriots living much as they did a thousand years ago. Add to that the cattle-herder’s traditional disdain for hunter-gatherers.

Mr Bennett also argues that Botswana’s role as a front-line state against apartheid in neighbouring South Africa has left its own special legacy. “[Botswanans] have allowed themselves to believe that having a separate ethnic group without contact with the outside world is effectively apartheid and they shouldn’t have it.”

(Source: http://www.cantonrep.com/ohio/x2015100803/Boy-3-drowns-at-Kalahari-waterpark) A three year old toddler drowned at Kalahari Waterpark in Sanduski, Ohio on Sunday (8/2).  Apparently, the indoor waterpark which had opened in May 2005 was declared “not safe” because inspectors from the Amusement Ride Safety Division reported that the park had fewer lifeguards than expected and that the rides were operated in a “careless and unsafe manner”.  The state of Ohio has taken disciplinary action against the park five times since the park’s 2005 opening.

shot of the Kalahari Waterpark

Seis bosquimanos del Kalahari, en Botsuana, han sido detenidos y encarcelados acusados de cazar dentro de la Reserva de Caza del Kalahari Central.

Está previsto que el tribunal de Molepolole se pronuncie sobre dichas acusaciones el próximo lunes. El caso gira entorno a dos incidentes distintos: uno que se produjo a principios de este año y otro en 2007.

El Gobierno de Botsuana no ha concedido ni una licencia de caza en la reserva desde 2001, a pesar de que el Tribunal Supremo dictaminara que la prohibición de la caza era ilegal e inconstitucional.

Al menos 75 bosquimanos han solicitado licencia.

Muchos bosquimanos han regresado a su hogar desde el fallo judicial de 2006, pero muchos aún siguen atrapados en campos de reasentamiento, a los que se refieren como “campos de la muerte”. El Gobierno ha ignorado durante mucho tiempo la sentencia del Tribunal Supremo, y sigue negando a los bosquimanos el acceso al agua y el permiso para cazar.

Fuentes internas a Survival han manifestado al respecto: “Encarcelar a seis bosquimanos por cazar es un increíble acto de hipocresía por parte del Gobierno de Botsuana, que aún se sigue negando a respetar la sentencia del Tribunal Supremo de su propio país, que determina que se debe permitir a los bosquimanos vivir libremente en su tierra. Es ilegal que les prohíban cazar para alimentarse.”

 Más información en: Survival International

Forty years ago today Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin landed on the moon, and I arrived in Namibia for the first time. It was a memorable day for me, and it often makes me think of what the late sixties were like.

I had left Johannesburg at 2:00 pm the previous day with my friend Dave de Beer in my clapped out Peugeot 403 station wagon, which had lost its radiator cap in Ladysmith the day before that, and had an improvised one made of mutton cloth and a piece of plastic tied on with string. We drove west through Schweizer Reineke, and Vryburg, which we reached at sunset, where we bought frikadels (something like a hamburger patty) and chips for supper, and saved a few to eat along the way. And litre bottles of Coke, which were a novelty in those days. They had screw-on caps and could be resealed, so you didn’t have to drink them all at once. We took Coke mainly for the caffeine content, to keep us awake driving through the night.

In Kuruman we saw a small sign saying “SWA”, so we followed the road it pointed to, not realising that it took us in a direction 90 degrees out of our intended course, which was via Upington and Keetmanshoop, where the road was tarred and we could be reasonably sure of getting petrol in the middle of the night. After 30 miles we ended up at a crossroads, and realized we were miles out of our route. To the right was Hotazel, so we took the left-hand one, hoping it would get us back onto the Upington road. It was a gravel road, and the car’s windscreen wipers suddenly started up, and would not stop until we removed a fuse from the fuse box. We came to another crossroads, marked “Deben”, which wasn’t on our map. To the right was Dikhatlong, which seemed to be halfway to the Botswana border. Straight ahead was “Vanzylsrust & SWA”. We could not find Vanzylsrust on our map either, but took that road anyway.

Which way? At a crossroads somewhere in the Northern Cape

We listened to tapes of records as we went, to keep us awake. Cassette tape recorders were also a novelty in 1969, and we had recorded some of our friends’ records before leaving, different tracks mixed up. Bill Cosby’s “There’s a fellow by the name of Noah, he built an ark”. “Doctor Do Good” and “It’s a long days flight till tomorrow” by the Electric Prunes, and a few other things, like The Byrds and The Beatles, an eclectic mixture. The gravel road was straight, and seemed to be going perpetually downhill as we drove through the endless desert night. It was a long night’s drive to tomorrow. We passed a turnoff to the left, and stopped and reversed to look at the sign to see where it went. It was 11:40 pm, and there were no light, no houses anywhere, and three people suddenly appeared out of the darkness and said “Is julle verdwaal?” (Are you lost?) We said we were, and they said it was straight on to Vanzylsrust. Could we get petrol there in the middle of the night? They weren’t too sure about that. What was the name of this place? “Sonstraal” they said — sunbeam. It was the first time in my life I had ever heard black people speaking Afrikaans, and it sounded very strange indeed. Elliot Mngadi, a friend in Ladysmith, Natal, who was a member of the Liberal Party, once told me he refused to learn or speak Afrikaans. Someone, somewhere, had said that “the language of the oppressor in the mouth of the oppressed is the language of slaves”, and it seemed to me that were passing through, and going to, a land of slavery.

We reached Vanzylsrust at midnight, and there was not a light in the place. We found a petrol station, all in darkness. Suddenly more people emerged from the dark, and someone went to call the petrol station attendant. A generator started, and a few dim lights appeared, growing brighter as the generator picked up speed. We filled up with petrol and went on our way. The next town was Askham, 95 miles way, but the road was no longer straight, but winding and surrounded by trees. We could not go more than 30 miles an hour, with the unpredictable twists and turns. There were also lots of ups and downs. Later I passed that way in daylight, and could then see that the road followed the course of the Kuruman river, and kept dipping down into the riverbed, and crossing to the other side. On this trip it was midwinter, and the river bed was dry, so we had no idea why the road twisted and turned like that.

Midnight 19/20 July 1969 - Vanzylsrust, Northern Cape

Somewhere along the way we stopped to piss. All the Coke we were drinking had to go somewhere. We looked up at the frosty stars shining down on the cold winter desert night and thought about the Americans on their way to the moon, and wondered if they would manage to land there. We reached Askham three hours after leaving Vanzylsrust and 13 hours after leaving Johannesburg. To the right was the Kalahari Gemsbok Park, or we could go via Aroab. The former route looked shorter, so we turned that way, and at 4:00 am came to a gate, with a sign on it saying that the park only opened at 7:00. So we ate our cold frikadels, which tasted delicious, and drank some Lion Lager we had bought in Harrismith while waiting for a puncture to be repaired, and then settled down to sleep in the car, which was rapidly cooling now that the engine was no longer running and the heater was not working.

At 6:00 I was so cold I could no longer sleep, and at 7:45 a generator started and lights began to come on. We had to pay R3.00 to enter the park, and at seven thirty went though the gates. There were not many varieties of animals in the park – just buck that looked like impala, but were smaller, with shorter horns, that we thought might be gemsbok, and some bigger ones that, but for their horns, looked and ran like horses. Both were incredibly graceful beasts. City slickers that we were, we failed to realise that the smaller animals were springbok, and the bigger ones were gemsbok, the first time it had ever seen either in the wild. And when one saw the gemsbok from the side, so that their two horns looked like a single one, it seemed that that could have given rise to the legend of the unicorn.

It was seventy-five miles through the park, and we had a speed limit of 25 miles per hour, so it was after ten by the time we reached the other gate, where we again filled up with petrol, and crossed the border into South West. It was the only country that I could then visit without a passport, as it was then ruled by South Africa, which was trying to incorporate it. I had returned from two years of study in the UK a year earlier, on 19 July 1968, and my passport had been confiscated by the Security Police within a month. Seven years later there would be another country I could visit without a passport, when the Transkei became “independent”.

The South Africa--Namibia border at Mata Mata in the Kalahari Gemsbok Park 20 July 1969

We drove along a dirt road through very barren desert country for ages, at the bottom of a valley most of the time, so there was an oppressive hemmed in feeling. We passed a town called Gochas, built on a hill, away from the crossroads, so we only saw it at a distance, and Stampriet – two garages, a general store, and a police station. If the people on the Vanzylsrust road seemed remote, how much more so were these? And yet it didn’t feel as remote. It was remote in the middle rather than remote at the edge, and that seems different, somehow. About a year later I was working as a proofreader on the Windhoek Advertiser, which published a news item to the effect that a ladies hairdresser in Gochas was going to Stampriet once a fortnight to ply her trade in the hotel there, so that the ladies of Stampriet didn’t have to travel to Gochas to get their hair done.

Dave de Beer at the Namibia-SA border

As we drove, Dave told me about some of the people I would meet in Windhoek. I was going there to see if I could work for the Anglican Church there. I had been fired six weeks earlier by the Anglican bishop of Natal for organising a psychedelic service at a parish church in Durban, and had taken refuge in the Orthodox Church, and might have joined it then had not Dave de Beer brought a message from Colin Winter, the Anglican bishop in Namibia, to go and see him about the possibility of working there. I eventually did join the Orthodox Church about 15 years later, but I think God wanted me to experience more of the variety of southern Africa before I did so.

Ikon magazine cover, designed by Hugh Pawsey, my fellow student at St Chad's College

It was the period of hippies, war protests, and the underground press. A friend in England had sent me a radical Christian magazine, The Catonsville Roadrunner, which was named for the Catonsville Nine, a group of Americans who had been jailed for protesting against the Vietnam War by burning military conscription records. In another blog post I mentioned Jim Forest, the bosser up of the Orthodox Peace Fellowship, who, at the very time we were barrelling through the Kalahari, was in jail in Wisconsin for similar activity — he was a member of the Milwaukee 14. I was involved with a youth group of the Christian Institute in Durban, and we decided to produce a similar magazine in South Africa, called Ikon. My cousin Jenny Aitchison and her husband John were also involved in it, though John’s participation had to be kept secret, as he was banned, and forbidden to have anything to do with preparing any material for publication, and could go to jail if the police found out. Ikon proved to be too radical for the Christian Institute, which disowned it, and we had decided to produce it independently. Dave de Beer had just joined the editorial board of Ikon.

We linked Ikon to the Cosmic Circuit — which was described by its organiser, Muz Murray (editor of  Gandalf’s Garden), as an exchange of “underground, upground and overground publications”. Ikon was something of all three. As a result of the exchange we received all kinds of publications from all over the world. The Underground Press was flourishing in the USA, with newspapers printed in all colours of the rainbow giving news of the youth counterculture and attempts to create an alternative society, and above all anti-war. The “overground” section was spiritual, some Christian, like The Catonsville Roadrunner and some Jesus Freak publications, some aligned aligned to the New Age movement of the Age of Aquarius, and a few belonged to the newly-emerging neopagan movement. The variety was enormous, and we were to see it all in the rather staid and conservative colonial outpost of Windhoek, where safari-suited South African bureaucrats were to perceive our activities as an extreme danger (“uiterse gevaar”, the words of one secret government report) to the security of the state.

We reached Mariental at about 2:30 pm, 24 hours after leaving Johannesburg, but it seemed like much longer. We bought petrol there, and there were two refrigerators for cold drinks, one marked “blankes” (whites) and the other “nie-blankes” (non-whites). The one for “nie-blankes” was empty. From there we had a tarred road again – the first since Hotazel, 400 miles ago – and the journey seemed to go more quickly. The car flew along until we had just passed Rehoboth, about fifty miles south of Windhoek, where there was an end of the desert, and a beginning of mountains and lowveld scrub. And there, going uphill at 75 miles an hour, the car blew off its plastic radiator cap, which had held for a thousand miles. We made a new cap, and then found the bonnet would not close, as the bar holding the catch had rusted away, and so we had to tie it down with wire. Then we went on to Windhoek, travelling more slowly, and the country became more and more hilly, rather like the Magaliesberg, and then, over the last hill, we came to Windhoek, which itself looked rather like a mini-Pretoria. A very verkramp place, says Dave. It was rumoured that at a confirmation in the Lutheran Church many of the candidates were presented with copies of Mein Kampf, though another version of the story said it was pictures of Adolf Hitler.

Colin O'Brien Winter, Anglican Bishop of Damaraland (Namibia), July 1969

I met Colin Winter, the Anglican Bishop of Damaraland, a couple of days later, and decided to go and work there as a self-supporting deacon (though I had no idea what my means of support would be). Colin Winter, Dave de Beer and I were deported from Namibia two and a half years later, but I’ve already told that story elsewhere. So 20 July 1969 was a significant day in my life. It felt a bit like Allen Ginsberg’s poem Howl!, driving cross-country for 72 hours to see if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out eternity. And we did learn from the newspapers that the Americans had reached the moon, and a few weeks later pictures of the moon landing appeared in Scope, a magazine that in those days was the would-be arbiter of South African culture. We showed it to another deacon, 90-year-old Petrus Nghandi from Ovamboland, who was also visiting Windhoek for the first time, and for him his first visit was a new experience in a different way. It was the first time in his life he had ever tasted ice cream.

Oh no! I started a new knit and I haven’t even finsihed my log cabin! Slap me on the hands, PLEASE! I so want to wear the log cabin next weekend though, we are going to Lofoten, Norway and it would be so warm and cozy… I shall get a hold on meself and finish what I started before starting new things… but the yarn I purchased was screaming to be tested IMMEDIATELY: you see here? Gorgeus!

Our stay in beautiful South Africa has ended.  We are taken north by bus and dropped off in the Central Kalahari Game Reserve.  This reserve is in, you guessed it, the Kalahari desert of Botswana.

It is arranged that we meet a San bushman to guide us through this arid region.  The San are expert survivors in this area and rarely drink water.  They gain most of their water intake from melons and tubers they find.  However, the Botswanan government has tried to relocate the Bushmen from the reserve claiming it is a drain on financial resources despite revenues increasing by tourism to the reserve.  Sadly, after several rounds of relocation, only about 250 San remain in the reserve.

San Bushman

We pass a salt pan river bed where many fossils have been found, but our cursory glance discovers none.  Reaching a stretch of dry grass, we spot a group of meerkats.  Their heads comically perk up, probably when they hear us approaching.  A few seconds later and they have all retreated to their burrow.

Hartebeest

The reserve boasts several antelope species, including eland, gemsbok, springbok, hartebeest, steenbok, kudu, and duiker.  Our guide points out several of these, as they are abundant in the reserve.  Although their numbers are still strong outside of the park, they are decreasing slowly due to deforestation and hunting.

During the dusk, we see a girafe shilloetted by the setting sun; hyenas cackle in the dark: a fitting ending to a day in the desert.  Sitting around the fire, we reflect about how hard life must be here, and how some animals, and people, manage to flourish.