A Sea of Sand Dunes in Sossusvlei

I have just got back from leading a trek in the Sahara in Morocco, where it did nothing but blow a gale.  So I spent most of the time with a scarf wrapped around my head and face, sunglasses on and fully covered from head to foot.  An odd experience since I was expecting blue skies, sunny days inducing heat exhaustion and cold nights so I could wear my down jacket.  None of that.  Instead we were against the elements and it was more of an endurance test.

I have spent time in the sand dunes of Sossusvlei in Namibia and these experiences have been the complete opposite to Morocco, it was what I had expected, and much more.  More than I expected as I was spell bound by the sea of sand dunes stretching out before me which constantly change with the winds rolling in from the west.  Dune 45, so called as it is 45km from Sesriem Valley at the park entrance, not very original I know, but even I would struggle to give names to all the dunes in the park, is the classic dune that we all imagine.  Beautifully curved so that the sun rises and sets on either side of its ridge, giving us those sought after photographs that we all want on our wish list.  All that is needed is a gazelle perched on the cusp of the dune, staring into the vast wilderness, to fulfill that ultimate vision.

Morocco was a memorable time, although a far cry from my favourite desert visit, but it will certainly not be the last.  I may just make sure that it is Sossusvlei in Namibia that I go to if I want to see more than 15m in front of me.

African Honey Badger - The Most Ferocious Animal in Africa

I was driving back late last night from a conference when I saw a dead badger on the side of the road.  My heart always sags when I see once of these creatures as a result of road kill.  Having spent many a night following 'Boris' the badger during my radio-tracking days, I feel as if I have a bit of an affinity with them.  Well, I did spent every waking moment (or every night) with 'Boris' for 3 months, and I like to think that I got to know him quite well.  They are very gentle creatures.

This can not be said for their African cousins, the honey badger.  The honey badger is reputed to be, pound for pound, the most ferocious animal in Africa.  I was rather dubious about this wild statement.  They are not that large, seem to look pretty harmless and being quite secretive I suspected that they kept themselves to themselves and were therefore shy and retiring animals.  However, two sightings of these elusive creatures blew that theory out of the water.

The first was in Mana Pools in Zimbabwe, where I saw a pair of these unassuming animals rip through the kitchen of some unsuspecting campers.  The kitchen was an awning on the side of a camper van and these endearing badgers tore open tins of food with their teeth and claws, emptied out the cooler boxes, upturned the table with more food on it and even prised open a few bottles of beer.  I have to say that was rather delighted in their choice of victim to wreak carnage on.  These so called campers had brought a tv, a fridge (which hummed all night) and an enormous radio system into the quiet national park.  These items were no longer of use, the honey badgers had made sure of that, and the African bush was returned to the noise of its own making.

The second time was in Etosha National Park in Namibia.  This time I was travelling by myself.  I had set up camp - there was no one there at all, which in itself was fantastic, however there was no backup for   honey badger confrontation.  I had a succulent steak cooking on the braai (BBQ) and was relishing a cold beer when a honey badger appeared from behind, my steak being the lure.  Now nothing comes between me and my steak and I stood my ground.  But only for a short while until it bared its teeth and I decided it was best to have the car between myself and the badger.  There then ensued a comical 'Tom and Jerry' moment around the car, with me chasing the badger and the badger chasing me before it made off with my baked potato as a consolation prize.  Luckily it was not the steak, that was on still on the braai, but rather over done.

I concede, the honey badger is the most ferocious animal in Africa.

Bone Throwing

I took my shoes off, clapped three times and put a coin on the ground.  I then entered into the gloomy but welcoming coolness of the traditional healer's mud hut.  We all sat down in front of Jeluga, one of the traditional healers of the Shewula community. Nobody said a word - we were rather in awe of the apparition that sat before us.  Jeluga was sitting in his refinery of traditional dress, sporting an incredible head gear of feathers and beads and holding a switch that resembled a zebra tail.  Once I had grown accustomed to the dimly lit interior I began to take in my surroundings; jars of leaves and different coloured concoctions littered the floor, a few skulls of unidentifiable animals were nailed to the wall, bunches of leaves and twigs hung suspended from the ceiling and an enormous python skin circumnavigated the hut, it was an Aladdin's grove of treasures.

Jeluga greeted us, seriously, and we all smiled nervously and fidgeted as we sat down on the grass mats.  He then took some snuff, snorted it, coughed and spluttered and then started to shake a a small purse, which rattled ominously.  We were going to have the bones thrown for us.

It is a privaledge to be invited into a traditional healer's house.  Traditional healers are revered in Swaziland and and 80% of the population will consult a traditional healer as they are considered physicians, herbalists, prophets, priests and diviners, all rolled into one.  They therefore have a a great deal of responsibility within the community.  Most locals will choose to pay for a traditional healer before consulting a doctor.  So traditional healers are often very busy people and I was grateful that Jeluga had put time aside for our visit.

The bones were thrown on the mat and we all leaned forward in anticipation - not that we could 'read' the bones, but curiosity had over powered us.  There on the mat were a couple of die, two dominoes, an assortment of vertebrae with different coloured wire around them, cowrie shells, toe bones complete with claws, some coins, glass beads, feathers and more bones of indiscriminate origin.  Jeluga then moved some of the bones around, studied them and then communed with his ancestors for advice.

What was he saying?  Who knows, but it was an experience of a life time and an opportunity not to be missed.

A Sting in the Tail

Last night I watched the beginning of 'Die Another Day', the one where Pierce Brosnan is captured in Korea and imprisoned for 14 months in an unknown facility. His torture regime consisted of being stung by scorpions.  Now I can relate to this, not the torture bit, but the part where he is stung by a scorpion.

My first job after graduating from Leeds University was in Zimbabwe, where I worked in Save Valley Conservancy.  A lot of my time was spent camping out in the bush and I had my own rondavel, a mud hut, where I slept many a nervous night expecting every animal in the immediate vicinity to join me - there was no door, just a wide gap saying 'come in here and make yourself at home'.  Needless to say, only the creepy crawlies came to stay, and luckily not the resident leopard that I would hear coughing in the bush nearby each night.  Unfortunately, one over friendly scorpion made his way into my sleeping bag and and as I rolled on top of him, he responded, rightly so, with a sting. 

You can tell the potency of a scorpion sting by the size of its pincers which are disproportionate to its sting.  Large pincered scorpions have small stings as they can grapple easily with prey, relying on their size to secure their food.  Small pincered scorpions have large stings and they rely on a quick, potent sting and then wait for their prey to die before beginning to dine.  Luckily for me, my bedfellow was in the former category.

It has been 18 years since I was stung, and I still remember the pain, it was like having a red hot knitting needle relentlessly poking me.  What I learnt is to make sure my mozzie net is tucked in when I lie on the floor of a mud hut in the middle of the African bush.  Or alternatively, sleep in a bed - my more favoured option.

The 'Stench of Death'

This morning I was looking though the Wildlife Photographer of the Year Portfolio, marveling at how some of the pictures had been achieved.  The overall winner is a photo of a wolf caught jumping mid-flight over an old rickety gate into a farmer's enclosure.  The patience that the photographer, Jose Luis Rodriguez, must have had to capture this ultimate shot is astounding.

But the photograph that really captured me is one of a lion, its whole head caked in blood, full to the brim with buffalo and staring straight down the lens and into the photo.  I love the comment about the 'stench of death' which came from the carcass every time the lions moved it.  It really brings it alive.  The photo is captivating as the lion is looking into your soul - and seeing you as a chop as Alex the Lion saw is friend Marty the Zebra in the film Madagascar.  It transported me back to the plains of Africa.

I have been lucky to see a lion kill, watch the pride descend on the carcass to devour it, the snarling and growling as the choice pieces are fought over and to smell the 'stench of death' as lionesses emerge from inside the body cavity of an antelope.  It is a privilege to watch nature where life and death is often rolled into one.  It is the raw nature of Africa and a fascinating spectacle to watch.

The Hippo is no longer the most dangerous mammal in Africa

Most wildlife buffs and pub quiz bores will tell you that the hippopotamus is the most dangerous mammal in Africa. I would put myself in that category, not the bore bit, just the knowledge.

The lion has knocked the hippo of its perch for being the most dangerous mammal in Africa. Between 1990 and 2005 lions have been responsible for 563 deaths in Tanzania alone. However the data is a bit skewed as Tanzania has a very high population of lions and therefore maybe not be true for the rest of Africa. I would challenge this data.

Although hippos do not look that dangerous they have reportedly been responsible for a larger number of deaths in Africa. The reason for this is that during the day they spend most of the time in the safety of the water, but at night they come out to feed on grass. This is when the trouble begins. More often than not, locals will walk along riverside paths on their way back home at night. By doing this, they are putting themselves between the hippo and its safe haven, the water. The hippo feels threatened with this and charges back to the water, trampling anyone who happens to be in the way. And it is difficult to see a hippo in the dark!

From my experiences in Africa I can certainly say that the hippo is a pretty formidable animal, I have had the experience of being charged by one. I was working in Zimbabwe and I was helping a friend of mine called Karen Paolillo, who had single handedly saved a pod of hippo in the Save Valley Conservancy during the drought of 1992. She had been feeding the hippos and I was helping her at the time to put some food out for the hippo. Unfortunately, the hippos came early that day, and we were still putting food out. As 'Roberta' quickened her pace over to us we belted into the car and as we were reversing Roberta was head butting the front of the car. My eyes were the size of dinner plates, it was only my fourth day, ever, in the African bush!

And to this day, the melodious sound of a honking hippo represents Africa to me. I love it.

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