Paradise Camp

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Paradise is quiet in the days early light, birds heralding the rising sun as it shines across the tree tops. I am alone in the kitchen, a moment of stillness before the hustle and bustle as each new day begins.

My memories of the camp in Zimbabwe cling to the periphery of my conciousness as dew clings to leaves of grass, bombarded with familiar sounds and smells. The child that I was still stares in wonder at this world, the land humming with life, leaves rustling in a dry breeze, the sweet smell of thatching warmed by the sun. Red earth and thorny trees, laughing doves and the scolding of the Go-Away bird, these I remember. Rotini pasta with cream of mushroom soup and nights cold enough for a down vest are also things of the past. It is summer here and it is hot. Even with layers upon layers of sunscreen and long sleeved shirts I can feel my skin screaming for shade and the cool, glacial waters of Yarrow Creek. The trickles left in these sandy drainages are so hot you could make tea with the water, the only relief coming with a light breeze as we cruise in the land rover. Sweat beads and runs down my face, the seats of the vehicle unbearably hot and sticky.

In the afternoons we return to camp at 2pm and everyone seeks the shade. Its too hot to sleep so we lay on the decks, praying for a little breeze and the sun to set. On the afternoons that Francois takes us out for game drives we gather all of the sunscreen that can be found and pile into Spartacus, the game viewer. There are three rows of seats in the back of the land rover, the very back row has the best views as you are higher up, but it is also the roughest, bumpiest ride. I swear anyone who sits there is an inch shorter after each drive. Balule Nature Reserve has the big five, called such because they are the five most dangerous animals to hunt in Africa. Cape buffalo, elephant, rhino, lion and leopard. Within my second day here I had seen three of the five; two adolescent male lions lounging in the sun; cape buffalo wallowing in a mud hole; a herd of twenty three elephants. Two days ago we caught a leopard napping in the shade, the elusive lone soldier whose tracks we had seen many times, minutes too late. Ironically, the only great beast we have not seen is the one we are here to find and spend hours looking for each morning. The black rhino is a ghost, flitting through the brush, circling us as we wander around listening carefully to the static on our radio. The bleep bleep bleep of the signal sounds like the tick of an electric fence, sometimes its so close you can feel the sound resonating in the air and it seems impossible that we cannot catch a glimpse of this mighty beast.

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