Okavango Delta - Emerald Soul of Botswana

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Into the Heart of the Delta

I decided that under no circumstances was Nicole going to be last to be ready. After grabbing one of the boys to help me with my tent, I ran over to help Nicole.
“Here, grab my pillows,” she called out from her tent.
“Pillows? As in plural?”
“Yeah, I have three.” She replied laughing at my dropped jaw.
“If you have three, what on earth are you bringing into the delta?” She pointed to her day pack and a large white plastic garbage bag. So much for the ‘only one day pack per person’ rule.

Heading out into the centre of Maun, concrete and steel buildings are slowly growing in the dust. Only one of the ATM’s was working and it was hell bent on only accepting VISA. Damn. I hoped that I had some funds left in my underused Australian account. I did.

Flying into Maun is astronomical. It is the only gateway into the delta and by making it unavailable to the budget traveller protects it from the devastation mass tourism can cause such a fragile ecosystem. Flights, nights, entry fees and guides is enough to break the bank of any backpacker but if you have this chance, it is worth selling a kidney for.

Our scenic flight was on thanks to the lovely Anouk whose main reason for doing it was so that we wouldn’t miss out. And it did not disappoint. Mick was pointing the safety exit of our tiny plane, basically the door next to us and sick bags in the seat in front - which we prematurely scoffed at. ‘We will be doing half turns, as we are no longer permitted to do full turns. We will be quite low and a little bit bumpy. It should take 40min, so enjoy the ride.” As we lined up with the runway, Nicole elbowed me and pointed to the pilot’s open door. I wonder if was planning to do an emergency exit prior to lift off. A kamikaze mission perhaps? When he was given the all clear he closed the door much to our relief.

The Okavango Delta lay beneath us like one giant waterlogged lawn. Its river paths spread across the many shades of green in an intricate capillary system, feeding life into the delta from the Angolan River. Our flight was heaving as we rode the air like waves and to the left, Carlos pointed out a herd of buffalos resting on an island. The herd numbered fifty and to the right a herd of twenty elephants were feasting on the luscious leaves. We turned again and kudus were grazing peacefully amongst the towering trees. Flying low over the islands locked in by a slow river and even slower delta, the antelopes have sanctuary from the predators.

Pools formed by dense vegetation shimmered under a cloudless sky. The different shades of green create giant lily pads of emerald marsh trees against the lighter papyrus reeds. Bright green grass was cut by deep blue veins of water created in the wake of sixty odd buffalos wading through the wetlands. It was a scene worthy of a David Attenborough documentary. From this height, I soaked this wonderful moment in and as we took another half turn, baby elephants were trailing through the delta with ease under the watchful guidance of their mothers.

The lack of air and build up of carbon dioxide made me yawn in such rapid succession, I was lucky not to dislocate my jaw. Looking at my three other companions, everyone was looking a bit green as Mick kept taking tight downward turns. Looks like those sick bags weren’t such a silly idea. Forehead imprints were on each window as we landed on Pom Pom.
“Sorry, I forgot to tell you about the lack of air and if the turns were too tight to tap me on the shoulder,” Mick apologised as we stepped out of the plane.
“That’s okay, it was well worth it!” we agreed, only a shade of green lighter than the delta.
“I was laughing when you told us about the sick bags at first but, I really thought I needed one,” Nicole admitted and I nodded in agreement.

We joined the boys already seated on the open game vehicle which would take us further into the delta where our mekoro’s were waiting. Swaying and bumping along sandy tracks, the vehicle effortlessly crossed small streams and over sunken log bridges. Impalas and giraffes stood and stared at us under the shade of Amarula trees. The enormous termite mounds baked under the dry heat impressed Albert to no end while I attempted to lean across him to take a picture of an elderly she giraffe sunken under her wrinkly skin.

Four brown fibreglass mekoros lay moored on the sandy banks of the delta. Our polers stood around waiting for us to slather on the factor 30, except for Victor. “Ask how Victor is?” Derick nudged Nicole.
“How are you?” Nicole asked. He moaned and dropped his head mournfully yet dramatically into his hands. He lifted his head to make sure we were watching he and seeing that we were shook his head in anguish, he is unwell. Very unwell.
“In all the years, I have known him, he has never been well. Never.” Derick replied.
Our supplies went in one mekoro and that left us to divide into threes for the others. Plastic school seats with the metal legs twisted off were placed out evenly to balance the dugouts and sitting in the middle one, I quickly worked out that the recline option has one setting - backwards into Derick’s lap.

Surging forward rhythmically with each timed stroke from Carlos’ wooden pole we entered the green heart of the delta. White and purple water lilies glided by in various stages of bloom. The lily pads dotted randomly across the clear water were an array of autumn colours and fresh green shaped like a painter’s palette. Trailing fingers through the cool water, the ripples rocked the pads gently but held firmly by their reddish stems. Siding up to Mekoro Norwegian, a mottled red reed frog clung to a reed in the middle of the waterhole. Cameras came out as we all stared at it.
“Things have changed since tourism came to the delta,” Derick sighed ruefully on behalf of our poor reed frog.

The waterhole converged into a narrow winding conduit with papyrus reeds arching over us as the mekoro continued to surge through. I felt something tickle at my neck and brushed it away. It was there again, I turned around to see Derick holding a snapped papyrus in his hands pretending poorly that he wasn’t the guilty party. Merely a minute later, squirts of water hit my nape and once again, Derick didn’t try very hard to disguise his innocence holding an angel’s drop in his hand.

The mekoros were staggered to create a pathway to our island for the night. Tents permanently set up to accommodate the regular ins and outs of Drifters groups surrounded the campsite. Trees enclosed us from the remote possibility of anyone else likely to be wandering this island. Everything in the delta must be able to be dismantled within twelve hours. Nothing is permanent. This protects the integrity of the delta as being something truly unspoilt. I’m in love with it already.

Our toilet was a hole in the ground and a dugout seat, our weapons, a shovel and a flatblade machete. For Osama the rouge baboon who was chased to the other end of the island by Carlos and his crew in the last few days. He had tried to attack a girl while she was trying to use the facilities. Our shower was a bucket of Okavango water hanging from a tree and it is only a novelty because we wouldn’t need to use it. After lunch, we picked our tents and Nicole was dismayed that she was only one tent away from me. I gave her a look that suggested that any comments about my snoring again could possibly result in me chasing her with the flatblade machete. And shovel. Albert spent an hour killing spiders with his sandals while Hendrik swept the millions of ants out of his. Screaming rang across the delta.
“What?” Nicole asked as I walked up to Carl and Harald.
“Big rat like animal!!” Harald panted anxiously while Carl danced around the tent flap pointing to the corner.
“Its there! Under the mat.”
I crept into the tent and moved Carl’s sleeping bag. A small dull green frog leapt fearfully away from me and shivered in the corner. Big rat like animal my arse! Where are all the men? “It’s just a frog guys.” Harald lifted up his mat to reveal a giant caterpillar long ago squashed by someone else.
“What about this?! I can’t sleep on this!” he argued with eyes wide open.
“Why? Its underneath, it’s not like you’re sleeping on it,” I reasoned. But there was no reasoning to be had, the boys picked up their belongings and moved to the tent between Nicole and myself.

With time to relax before our sunset mekoro journey, I retreated away from everyone into my tent. The sun sprinkled through the mesh roof as I watched a spider dash across the canvas sides. Tuning out to the conversation outside, I dozed in an out to the tune of insects. The buzzing and humming vibrated through the air are the sounds of the bush which I have been missing for over a year. Both from home and Africa.

Not feeling like trudging through mud in order to have a swim in the occasionally crocodile inhabited waters; the girls left the boys to it. A herd of elephants on a neighbouring island were blissfully unaware of their audience as we crept towards them. Walking towards them, we crouched amongst the bushes and watched the matriarch herd feed on the leaves but all the while keeping an eye on their young calves.

Leaving them to their feast we continued further into the delta. Marabou storks perched itself on top of the trees wielding its neck in our direction before taking off with its long white legs dangling behind. Banging the pole on the side of the mekoro, Carlos gave the known hippo hole fair warning that we were heading towards them. Deserted and safe we passed through and banked to explore the island. Carlos led us single file amongst the amarula trees and bushes filled with purpose. They were very very special he would tell us. Anaesthetic, toothpaste, teas and toothbrushes from one plant alone.
Patting the amarula, he found some fallen fruit for us to taste. Sweet and fleshy, I can see why they were the Elephants’ candy of choice and Carl was grateful that he had moved away from his tent underneath the amarula tree. Back at the mekoros, Derick had cracked open the red wine and filling tumblers for us ready for the sunset.
“Drink, Rebekah?”
“Sure, Frederick.” How posh were we?

Turning the mekoro around in the open water full of closed lilies, the sun began to set its orange rays across long fluffy clouds. The water rippled gently against the mekoro and the reeds swayed almost silently amongst itself. Water skimmers skipped mutely across the water and over lily pads. Every one of us was in our own private space of awe and contemplation. Leaving the sun to glide behind the distant trees, we coasted back to our camp. With a tumbler of red wine in him, Carlos’ poling became slightly more erratic and at times astray into the papyrus.

Night Sounds of the Delta

Fire became our major light source as the gas canister ran on empty. Eating by the fire, we wondered if the elephant herd we saw earlier would be visiting our campsite tonight. Derick told wonderful stories of past encounters with the large mammals while Carl became a bit on edge. A night in the African wild is nothing without the sounds of animals far and near. We listen to the crack of elephants stripping bark and tried to guess how far they were. A faint grunt of hippos perhaps a mile away infrequently drifted through the air. Moths the size of baby’s hand slapped against the torch left on by the drying dishes and furry grey caterpillars crawled around the giant log.
“There’s a bug on your shoe,” Derick warned Carl.
“Where?” he asked looking down at his sneakers.
“The other one,” Derick pointed to a bug he could not see.
“What? Where? What kind?!” Carl shot rapidly, turning his feet every which way.
“That grey furry caterpillar that was crawling around in front before,”
“What?!” He screamed leaping to his feet and dancing around to see if it would shake loose.
“I think it’s crawled up your pant leg,”
“What? Fuck!” And with that he dropped his cargos down to his ankles and patted down his boxer and then peered all down his legs till he was satisfied, before pulling them back up. We were in stitches.
“You better not be lying! I’ll kick you man, I swear it!” he threatened as he grabbed Derick in a headlock.
“I’m not, I’m serious! There it is,” he laughed, pointing at Carl’s right ankle. Sure enough our poor traumatised furry friend was clinging onto dear life as Carl did the pantless dance of terror. In the process, his waistband button had been ripped off and his pants were now hanging down his ankles. Pawing through the dirt we found the button and handed it back to a very relieved Carl.
“I’m not going to sleep tonight,” Carl stated firmly. “If the elephants are coming, I am jumping straight into your tent,” he said pointing at Derick. I don’t doubt that for a second.

There are times in your life that you just want to freeze. Those moments where you feel at peace, contented and happy that nothing could bring you down. So far away from stress, no thoughts on what to do next week, not even a hint of thinking about debts and or career. Things just feel perfect.

“FUCK!!!! ARGH!! FIR FUCK’s SAKE!” Hendrik was not having a perfect moment.
“What?!” we all yelled (minus Derick who was already passed out in his tent.
“I think he’s been bit by a mosquito,” Nicole yelled back. Where are all the men?

No one had left their tents when I woke up. My breath frosted from the cool air, I grabbed the toilet equipment and headed to the dugout. Not paying too much attention, I plunked myself down and almost lost it down the hole. Overnight he hole became slightly wider than the chair and there was no amount of positioning that could actually make it work. So rather than hovering over a precariously perched seat with a hole cut out it, just went behind the bush. Simplicity works.

No elephants raided the campsite to my disappointment and Carl’s relief. “I had the worse night’s sleep ever last night. I kept waking up at the sound of everything. At one point I thought I heard a hippo and woke up Harald. But it was just you snoring,” he said to me.
“Oh! I am so sorry,” I tried to be apologetic but secretly I was laughing.
“It’s okay,” he patted me on the head. “We had a little laugh and went back to sleep.”
“And what happened to you last night?” I asked Hendrik.
“I was bit by a spider. There was something on my leg and I brushed it and it didn’t go away. So I brushed it again and then felt something bite me. It was a spider. See, my pinkie has swollen,” He lifted up his right pinkie finger which did not look swollen at all. I raised my eyebrows. “It was really painful last night, and it was swollen!” he argued.
“Sure.”

Carlos took us for another walk around the island. He pointed to plants again, this time used as toilet paper and putting out fire. He climbed up a tree gashed by the tusk of an elephant and began stripping bark from a tree, spitting, rolling, chewing and some more rolling, produced a thin piece of twine. Picking a thin flexible sapling, he turned it into a snare. I can just imagine a guinea fowl clucking around it, stepping into it and flung metres into the air ala Loony Tunes.

Back at camp, Victor was going through our cooler for anything we may not need. His eyes widened at the sight of left over meat. “Victor’s always sick unless he sees meat,” Derick remarked, “Oy, Victor, you can’t take the meat. Put it back. Look at him, all smiles.” Victor grinning, he held the meat for a little bit longer before putting it back into the cooler. Suddenly, he felt ill again and had to sit down on the cooler lid.

Ready to coast back in our mekoro, Carlos pushed off. “Wait! Where are the keys?” Derick asked. What keys? “The keys to the open vehicle,” he looked at Carlos. “It’s with the bar tent keys.” Carlos replied.
“Oh, then its still hanging on the bar tent. I didn’t realise that they were together,” he apologised as Carlos ran to get them. I tried to make myself comfortable when I saw a little webbed foot sticking from underneath my school seat. I lifted it up to see a reed frog squashed by my seat and the weight of my bum. I killed part of the delta. Not good.
“I killed the frog!”
“I can’t believe you sat on the frog!” Nicole squealed.
“I didn’t see it! It was under the seat!” I protested weakly.
“I can’t believe you killed it,” Derick said not looking up from his FHM.
“Oy, you killed a hornbill.” I retorted. He didn’t look up from the FHM.

Vervet monkeys scrambled into the dense trees as we packed our belongings into the open vehicle as we said goodbye to the delta. Driving back through the waters, sandy tracks and to the landing strip we passed the more luxurious lodges. Despite its comforts, they still have to be dismantled in twelve hours. Hate to be there on delta spot check day.

Our plane was larger and flying directly back, there were zero problems with motion sickness. Baby elephants were circling there mothers and trying to pull down branches to get to the leaves. They faded away beneath us and the slow flowing delta that once filled Lake Makigadikgadi is laid flush below. People milled around Maun airport and chatter filled the air as people moved bags, trolleys and themselves around. It didn’t matter what we were doing today or this moment, I walked through it in motion, my soul was somewhere else. The whole Okavango experience, the vivid greens, the brilliant lily pads, clear water, humming insects and cracking of branches snapped by elephants; deserves to be boxed. So that one day when I am older I can show my grandchildren and inspire them to find their idea of beauty.

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Photos

Lilly Pads
The autumn coloured lily pads floating on the clearest filtered Angolan waters

Okavango Delta
High above - the giant emerald lily pads of the delta

Kamakazie Flight
Er... you forgot to close the door!

Waterholes of the Delta
Home to elephants and buffalos, so David Attenborough

Veins of the Delta
Tracks created by herds of buffalos and trailing elephants

Giraffes of the Delta
If I stand very still they won't notice me.

Face Lift?
Hiding under the wrinkly skin of age - a she giraffes worse nightmare, photographed by tourist

African Fairy?
It wasn't me! (after been squirted by water from an angel drop)

Archway of Papyrus
Poling underneath the towering papyrus.

Delta Dip
The boys enjoyed the water as we stood guard from crocs and hippos

Elephant Watch
If we were lucky, they would visit us tonight.

Marabou
The Scavenging Marabou Storks

Amarula Candy
The Amarula trees - candy to the elephants.

Okavango Sunset
Metal tumblers of wine, a sundowner to remember.