Animal kingdom

Maun, Botswana
Sept. 19, 2008

(with photos of a lion visit to the game truck and Ngorongoro Crater, Tanzania)

What’s the first animal tourists want to see when they come to Botswana?

In my experience, it is a lion. Oh, how the Italians yearn to see a “leee-o-neee,” followed closely by a “leeee-eh-pahhhh-doe,” and not just the tail, thank you very much; we paid too see the WHOLE leopard. (Made me giggle when those words were actually uttered.)

That’s why I gather so many of the guides I’ve met never pick the lion as their favorite animal. Lions laze around for hours. They hide out in the bush sleeping. And the more adamant guests are about finding them, the more often lions seem to take a holiday. The guides are left frantically following tracks and feeling the hot breath of exasperated guests on their necks: “Vee MUST find zee lion before vee fly away!!!”

Guides have their favorite animals, and they list a variety: impala, elephant, wild dogs, leopard, zebra. I haven’t met a guide yet who named a lion.

I’ve tried to identify my favorite, and I cannot do it to any lasting effect. One day it is the elephant, so close to me at the fence at Savute I could look into that soulful eye of his beneath the long eyelashes and imagine that he and I understood each other. Another day it is the zebra, a playful creature of brilliant markings that comprise solely its own calligraphic pattern. Against the pale green grass of Savute Marsh after the rains, a herd of zebra is artistically stunning. Of course, after my encounter with the leopard on my balcony, the leopard jumped to the top of my list. And there was the week in Savute when I had three encounters with wild dogs; that week they were my favorite.

But I am never without reverence for the other creatures I have seen, save the mosquito. One night a lodge manager aimed a torch on the path to the guest chalets. I peered into the dark and saw a shrub that was about knee-height. My glory. It wasn’t a shrub. It was a porcupine – a huge one. All these years I had thought porcupines were small, of hedgehog size. That enormous mass of needles from which a wary eye watched us was a heart-stopping sight.

On another day, the tiny Scops Owl that blended into the nook of a tree, its feathers camouflaged as bark, left me smiling on my way out of Savute.

One night I heard evil growling sounds from what seemed to be under my bed -- or at least under the floor of my chalet -- and the high-pitched shrieks of a dying animal. The sound of hell – truly the scariest sound I’ve ever heard from an animal – went on for the longest time. At daybreak I saw the broad-shouldered culprit muscle its way along the sandy path from my chalet: it was the honey badger. If Hollywood needs sound effects for its latest horror flicks, the honey badger, with its gut-ripping grunts and growls, is the animal for the job. When two honey badgers showed up at the door at dinner last month and looked as if they were going to walk right up to my chair, I instinctively lifted my legs straight in front of me, off the floor, and warned guest to look out! I don’t want to meet a honey badger up close anywhere. It will never make my favorites list, but it has earned my respect, and it has left me with the ability to mimic its horrifying sounds ,to the delight of friends and guests. I’ll entertain you with that newfound skill when I return to the States. (rrrr-eeek-eeek!)

I still like lions, too, despite all the hand-wringing hoopla from guests about ticking them off their game lists. (here's how to be sure to tick them off your list: Go to a zoo.)

I wrote recently about how I encountered lions while I was on foot. A few days later I was seeing lions again, at Ngorongoro Crater in Tanzania. The game drive vehicle allowed us to stand up with our heads sticking outside the roof. That’s how we were standing when these three lions in the photos came calling. When the biggest of three walked straight toward the vehicle, it occurred to me she might leap onto the hood. I sat down in the blink of an eye, which told me I would have run if I had been on foot. Not the response you want around lions. Lucky for Kelly and me and our driver, the lions paraded past, with one hugging my side of the vehicle. The big one you see came so close that she stopped inches from the back tire and looked up at me. (I was standing up again by this time and leaning over the top of the vehicle.) The photo just missed that nanosecond when her face turned upward toward me. Look at her reflection in the window. She is close!

All this to say I remain fascinated by lions and all of the animals I have seen in Botswana and Tanzania, from hippos to crocodiles to bush babies. I don’t have a favorite. I guess I never will.

If the shoe fits...

Maun, Botswana
September 13, 2008
(with accompanying photos continued in the blog entry below)


With all of my travels in the past few weeks, my blog will be certain to consist of dispatches out of chronological order. No matter. As I settle back into my cottage, I’ll work my way through tales as they strike my fancy.

Today is the day to remember the shoe.

If you look at the Sebego in the photo, you’ll see the ink purported to have launched a movement in Zanzibar’s Stone Town, a warren of ancient buildings with narrow alleyways and artistically carved wooden doors. Think of it as Zanzibar’s French Quarter, only with a Moorish architectural style.

“Obama for President” is written on the shoe. And thus one fan with a single pair of shoes began a chorus of “Yes, we can,” and the establishment of a public patch of ground devoted to Barack Obama.

“If Obama can, we all can!” says the shoe’s owner, 25-year-old Masoud Salim, whose business card says, “VOLUNTEER ALSO EXPERT TOUR GUIDE.”

What a scene. There are two oil (maybe acrylic?maybe tempura?) portraits of the Democratic nominee hanging from a tree. A news article rests underneath one of the paintings. An Obama game board with bottle caps for checkers is painted on the concrete ledge. There are bumper stickers, T-shirts and carved key rings in the shape of the island. Zanzibar is burned in wood on one side; Obama ’08 is on the other. (I couldn’t resist buying the unusual trinket. I figure it’s got historical value, and it’s practical, too, since I now have wheels, praise be.)

Wherever I go I continue to be astonished by the reaction that Obama inspires in Africa. White, black, Methodist, Catholic, Zion Christian Church member, wealthy, poor, Muslim, mixed-race, baggage handler, security company owner, game tracker, government official – whether from Botswana, Tanzania, South Africa, Zimbabwe, Malawai, Kenya, Uganda – you name it, this part of the world is awash in Obama fans. (On the plane back to Maun from Joburg the other day, the flight attendant on Air Botswana pointed to the in-flight magazine in front of me and whispered, proudly, “I’m a supporter of Obama. And that’s OUR Obama.” The magazine cover shot was of Botswana’s new president, Ian Khama, son of a black tribal chief and a white British insurance employee from London. The Oxford-educated chief went on to become Botswana’s first president, Sir Seretse Khama, in 1966.)

Last month Masoud spoke at a gathering of 150 people in Stone Town, a group that included tourists from America who he says changed their support from McCain to Obama after Masoud himself spoke. His take: Obama offers “the great message of hope and change….(His) achievement is that he can inspire change in Africa.”

Masoud said Africans like the fact that Obama’s father was Kenyan, from the country next door. “But that’s not the main thing.” Hope is, he says. “My father insisted on honesty, sincerity and respect. I see that Obama embodies all those things my parents taught me.”

I and my friend Kelly Swift, formerly of The Sacramento Bee and with whom I traveled in Tanzania, got a kick out of the enthusiasm, not only in Stone Town but on the way to the Ngorongoro Crater on Tanzania’s mainland. In Karatu we stopped to take photos of enterprising entrepreneurs who dolled up their curio stands with political slogans. I’m not sure if the Obama stands are helping sell any additional wooden giraffes or beaded necklaces, but I have to believe people like us will keep stopping for the political photo op of the season. Dare I say of the century?

Tanzania

Need I say more about the Ngorongoro Crater area of Tanzania?