Christmas in Africa

It is funny how we all try to create a Christmas that we are used to at home, even when we are overseas in some exotic country. I know that our Antipodean friends have Christmas cards with snow on then, it is the height of their summer for goodness sake, and I have just received a Christmas card from Zimbabwe with a Christmas tree on it – there are no spruces in Zimbabwe.

I have to admit that I have fallen into this category (quite happily), and in particular I remember a Christmas that I had in Zimbabwe, exactly 20 years ago. I had invited nine friends of mine to spend Christmas with me in the African bush. I had a house which could accommodate everyone and we'd all just finished an expedition for Raleigh International. And so we all threw our heart and soul into a British Christmas in Zimbabwe. The fact that we had no Christmas decorations (let alone a Christmas tree), the house had hardly any furniture in it, I had not got enough crockery to feed 10 of us and turkeys were tricky to find, did not deter us. We were all adaptable people, and none of these problems were ever considered an issue.

On the way to my house in the African bush we had stopped off to buy all our provisions for a true British Christmas. However, the shops were not that well-stocked for the items that we were searching for. The year was 1992 and the drought had hit Zimbabwe in a big way, so there were a reduced number of provisions on the shelves and items such as crackers, baubles, tinsel, turkey stuffing and Christmas pudding were nowhere to be seen. We did however manage to buy a turkey, it was one of three turkeys left in the freezer and we were now the proud owners of the largest one. Just enough to feed all 10 of us, well, enough to feed probably 20 but we did all have large appetites.

The journey was a long one, and this was not helped with the numerous police checks along the way and the fact that we were travelling in a vehicle designed for six and our turkey was defrosting quicker than we had anticipated. Arriving at my home in Save Valley Conservancy was a blessed relief.

We then set about getting everything sorted. Some of the guys were on Christmas decoration duty and went out in search of a suitable branch or small tree that remotely resembled a Christmas tree. Others began to fashion Christmas decorations out of tinfoil, ping-pong balls, coloured bits of paper and anything else that we had managed to accumulate on the way. Being a lover of food I set about organising our Christmas dinner.

It was then that I realised my schoolgirl error. The turkey would not fit into my oven, it was too large. My stove was a wood-burning stove, designed for one or two people and not for an enormous turkey. And I was not prepared to hack the turkey into pieces.

So the next best option was to build a big enough oven - obviously!

The hot water for my house was supplied by a Rhodesian boiler. This is an antiquated yet very effective system, where a large oil drum of water is heated up by a log fire that burns beneath it. This is all done in a small brick construction, located outside the house, and often tended by the 'houseboy'. It only takes an hour or so for the water to reach boiling point, which then provides piping hot water in my house. My Rhodesian boiler system was relatively new, the old one still standing but no longer in use. And this is where the plan for a new oven grew from.

I could use the construction from the old Rhodesian boiler, the oil drum had obviously been removed, so there was the oven, and there was plenty of wood to provide the heat. All I needed to do was to block the hole where the oil drum had been taken out, and hey presto, there was my oven. Simpler said than done. An hour later I had fashioned my oven and was calculating a guesstimate for the cooking time. I guessed about three hours cooking time, and the potatoes could possibly go in there as well.

The following morning was Christmas Day and all sorts of preparations were made for our meal. We had gone to town on the foods, we had our turkey which was already cooking in the Rhodesian oven, roast potatoes in the more conventional wood burning stove, vegetables ready to be cooked and even stuffing had been made. The so-called Christmas tree was an old branch decorated in the handmade angels and paper chains. I have to say so myself, it all looked pretty good.

However, the timings of the turkey did not go quite according to plan. I'm sure you would have guessed this by now. It took longer for my 'oven' to heat up and although I could adjust the temperature by the number of burning logs in the fire, it still was not that accurate. We had planned to eat at around 5 o'clock, but by this time the turkey was still a little bit underdone, consider raw being a more applicable description. By 6 o'clock the turkey was looking more like a Christmas turkey, by 7 o'clock I decreed that the turkey might be edible, the potatoes and vegetables certainly were! I was right, 6 hours later the turkey was delicious, albeit a bit singed on the outside.

That was a Christmas to remember, although it was slightly quirky!

Happy Christmas everyone, where ever you are.

Yoga Safari to Mozambique....in pictures

Yoga Safari to Mozambique

Your neighbours in Gorongosa

Luxury tented accommodation in Gorongosa

Visitors to Explore Gorongosa

 Yoga on the beach

Your accommodation in Guludo - barefoot luxury

 

Sense Africa for Yourself

Sleeping with Felines....

I am not really a cat person but they do seem to like me.  Normal moggies seem to find my lap attractive, as do the not so normal ones - I have woken up to find a cheetah lying across my legs.  Admittedly it was used to taking advantage of people, being cared for at a cheetah sanctuary, but I had lost the feeling in my legs.  The very same cheetah had licked me on the face the previous night, which was quite painful as their have sandpaper for a tongue.  But my most memorable experience was having a fully grown male caracal curl up and fall asleep in my lap.  Caracals are cats with very pointy ears with black ear tufts, there are 20 different muscles in their ears allowing them to detect prey from all around.

So why  was this rare cat snuggling on my lap without a care in the world?  This particular one had been brought in to be cared for due to an injury it had sustained on the reserve I was working on, and it was going to be released back into the wild when fully healed. I was truly enjoying the novelty factor of zizzing with an African lynx. Caracals are quite large cats to have sitting on your lap, they are commonly known as the Persian Lynx or African Lynx, despite the fact that they not a lynxes at all.  And I came to appreciate the size of it, the longer it sat on my lap. These cats are tenacious hunters and they have been known to bring down an ostrich, the fact that they can keep up with an ostrich is a surprising fact in itself. The caracal mainly hunts rodents, birds (which it can catch in flight by leaping into the air), antelopes, gazelles and rabbits.  But this one was living the life of Riley by being hand fed cubes of impala.

A few days later my new furry friend was put into a large holding cage to allow him to get used to his natural surroundings, rather than a sofa, blanket and prepared steak.  Incredibly after two weeks he had no memory of his past luxurious life and his friend - he hissed threateningly at me from the back of the cage, ears back , tail up and teeth showing.  A week later he was released back into the wild fully recovered, having completely forgotten about impala steaks, a secure bed and about little ol' me.

He might have forgotten me but I certainly won't forget him.

Trapped by African Wildlife

It was a typical morning in Africa with Karen, we had got up early with the sun, been down to check the hippos that Karen was studying and were back at the house by breakfast time. I call her place a 'house', in fact Hippo Haven is more than a house, it is beautiful thatched home on the side of the River Turgwe in Zimbabwe, built and sculpted by herself and her able husband Jean.  There is no glass in any of the windows, just lots of frames of mosquito netting so the house is really cool in the heat of the day and filled with light.

Karen and Jean have a lot of cats, and these are kept inside for most of the time to protect them from the African wildlife.  Domestic cats are high up on the snack stakes and they also do not have much bush sense, being a bit soft around the ears when it comes to surviving in the African wilderness.

So there I was sitting inside with the sun streaming into the sitting room, surrounded by cats and contentedly reading my book. The cats were animated and attentively looking out through the mesh of the front door and playing games with each other, hissing, swiping and cavorting along the window ledges.  Arthur, the very large warthog, had come visiting and was munching through pony nuts outside the back door.  Karen often feeds wildlife that come to visit, and Arthur had a special place in her heart.  He came to the back door and was fed on a regular basis, the back door area was his.  The thing was that only Karen was allowed into Arthur's area, anyone else, including Jean, was charged by him, and that is a pretty scary experience.  A large warthog could break your shins, and Arthur certainly fell into that category!

Living where they do, Karen and Jean have a bathroom in their house - minus a toilet, the actual toilet was still the old long drop from when they had camped in the bush.  They did not want to build a sceptic tank, so the toilet was not part of the house.  And at this point I needed the loo.

I am not too sure how I managed to escape near death, but I am alive and kicking today.  As I opened the front door and headed right towards the long drop, my sixth sense kicked in.  I glanced back over my shoulder to the left, and there, only 2m away from me, was a Mozambique spitting cobra.  It was standing at about chest height, its hood was out and it was not best pleased.  All this information I took in at record speed and my brain engaged into retreat mode.  I must have looked like Scooby Doo, I am sure that I retreated in mid air, whilst doing those circular motions with my legs, and I slammed the door shut, making sure that all the cats were safe inside.

"Karen, there is a large snake outside the front door, and its not too happy", I yelled.

I peered out of the front door and the snake was still there, still looking rather hacked off with life.  The cats were not helping the situation by hissing through the netting and agitating the snake into an even worse mood that is already was in. We struggled to keep the cats away from the windows, the cobra may have been able to spit its venom through the netting, who knows, I was not really ready to find out.

It was then that I realised my dilemma, I need the toilet but I could not go to the long drop out of the front door for fear of meeting the cobra (it was a big one) and I could not leave the house by the back door because of Arthur.  I weighed up blindness with broken shins, and came to the conclusion that neither was an attractive option.

I could not really hold on for long, and from past experiences this wildlife situation might be around for a while. I came up with an alternative, it was the only option.

"Karen, I am going to have a pee in your bath."

Hungry Hippos

My first time in the African bush was in Zimbabwe and the whole experience was something never to forget. 

I was staying with my good friend Karen Paolillo, the person who I was to later describe as the Dian Fossey of hippos.  She single handedly saved a pod of hippo during the drought of 1992 in Zimbabwe, as well as countless animals in area, and it was during this time that I met her and had my first 'true bush experience'.  I stayed with her for 5 days, to learn about the bush so that I would be up to speed when I started my job as Ecologist for Raleigh International.

Karen and her husband Jean were working in Save Valley Conservancy and only had a caravan to stay in.  Near the caravan they had erected a small open sided shelter where they had moved their bed and a small table and chairs.  Usually only their cats slept in the caravan, but for the next few nights it was going to be my home too. It would be just too much for me to sleep out in the open this time around!

My first day in the bush was a dramatic one. Karen had identified this pod of hippo that was seriously affected by the drought - they had no water to use during the heat of the day and food was diminishing.  Hippos need a lot of food to sustain them, mainly bulk such as grass, and they also need water to protect their delicate skin from the fierce sun. Some of the hippos had blisters on their backs and many were certainly on the verge of starvation.

In the morning we went to feed a young mother who had moved away from the rest of the pod.  This involved me carrying a large sac of grass and pony nuts, Karen with another one and the two of us walking into the bush.  And there could have been anything in the bush waiting for us, as well as a hungry hippo. After a good half an hour of walking into the middle of nowhere, with Karen using her in-built compass and me totally relying on the fact that Karen knew where she was going, we arrived at a dry river bed. Karen told me to wait where I was, not to move, and she left me guarding the sacs of food. 

I waited, for what seemed like ages.  My mind went wild with the thought of me being watched by beady eyes, eyeing me up for food, with crazy thoughts that Karen would not come back for me and I would have to make my own way out of the bush. My thoughts were interrupted by a large crashing of branches and the sound of a very very large animal coming my way. 

Which way to go?  Which way to go?  I chose neither, stood my ground and waited whilst holding my breath, I was frozen to the spot through fear.  Then there was a deathly silence and, what felt like 20 mins later, Karen appeared.  She was impressed that I had stayed where I was guarding the food - little did she know that it was due to my inability to take any action that I had remained fixed to the spot!

The crashing had been the mother, charging through the bush in order to protect her young calf.  We knew that they were around and left the food on one of the banks, at her normal feeding point, and hastily retreated back to the relative safety of the bush camp. That was task number one done.  Task number two was to feed the rest of the pod.  This was much nearer but more labour intensive as there were more hungry hippos to feed.

Karen had a wonderful method - the hippos were given a giant 'sandwich' of grass, hay, molasses and pony nuts.  Each hippo would stand next to its neighbour and eat downwards through this 'sandwich' getting all the nutrients and bulk that a hungry hippo needs.  As Karen knew all the hippos she knew which hippo was happy eating in a group and which weren't, and where to put the 'sandwiches'.  It was a well thought out process.

I helped with the laying out of each element of the 'sandwich'.  We were a bit later than expected so we had to work quickly, and I was told to keep any eye out for greedy ones that came early.  I could empathise with this as I was getting hungry too, it been an exhausting day saving hippos. Out of the corner of my eye I sensed a movement, just a slight one, but one that was out of the ordinary.  This sense has developed over the years and has helped me spot wildlife for miles around, and get me out of trouble too.  I turned slowly and there was a hippo approaching the 'sandwich' that I was building.

"Er, Karen, there is a hippo here", I said as calmly as I could.  Adrenalin was pumping through my body as the hippo swung its head from side to side and then locked onto us.

"Move slowly backwards and get into the car" Karen said, and we both carefully walked backwards towards her battered old car.  I was praying that it would start first time this time, it was not that reliable. "If it charges, run."  I didn't need much more telling than that.  And then the hippo started moving forwards, picking up speed and opening its mouth, building up into a full blown charge.

"Run!"

We belted for the car, I leapt into the car and slammed my door shut although I did not really feel that much safer inside the vehicle. Luckily the clapped out car reacted as she should have done, roared into life and Karen reversed it at break neck speed away from the hippo and the 'sandwiches'.  The hippo was having none of this and continued to move faster towards us. Karen could not see the hippo, she was looking behind us to ensure that we did not hit any trees, so I gave her a helpful commentary of how we were doing.

"Faster Karen, faster, its gaining on us, Oh my God, faster, Oh my God!" were my helpful comments as the hippo bumped the car's bonnet. It was far too close for comfort.  Eventually the hippo gave up on its chase and decided that food was a better option. It turned around and lumbered back to its meal, leaving two wide eyed women in a car with hippo saliva on the bonnet.

Karen looked at me, her face must have been a mirror to mine - mouth open and eyes bulging, and we burst into nervous hysterical giggles.

"And that is why hippos can be pretty dangerous", gasped Karen between laughter.  I think I got the message there....

That night I went to sleep to the melodious sound of honking hippos - what an introduction to life in the bush. 

I was going to love it here.

Alternative Top 10 Items to Take on Safari

I am often asked what people should take whilst on safari.  There are the normal things such as mute and natural coloured clothing, sturdy walking boots and decent sunglasses, but there are other things I always take that you might not think of.  So here is a list of my Alternative Top 10 Items to Take on Safari:

1. A Warm Hat. It is often assumed that Africa is always hot, not so. A warm hat is greatly appreciated for those early morning safaris. To get the best game viewing you may find yourself up even before the sun and sitting in the back of a landrover can be a bit of chilly experience!

2. Gifts. A gift of clothes, biros or even a football makes an enormous difference. Giving to the local community benefits them and ensures that you are a special part of that community.  It also breaks the ice and you may even find yourself being invited into a homested.

3. Binoculars. By the end of your trip your binos will be stuck to your eyes! It is better to bring a not so good pair than none at all. You will be amazed at how more rewarding it is having your own pair of binos, and you will probably end up using them to spot all sorts of animals and birds.  Binoculars could add enormous value to your safari.

4. A Decent Camera. If you have a pretty good camera, thing bring it.  So may people ask me whether it is worth bringing a digital camera (and all the lenses) and what the likelihood is of it getting damaged.  Yes, it might get damaged (although this is unlikely), but wouldn't you rather create some incredible memories of your safari than not at all?  It is also a great way of engaging with the local people, showing your pictures of them makes it is easier to strike up a conversation, enriching both yours and their experience. Just make sure that you ask whether you can take a picture of them first.

5. Head Torch. Once used you will never go back. You will never have to put a torch in your mouth again when looking for that essential bit of kit!  A head torch makes life so much simpler.

6.  Copies of Documents.  Having a copy of your passport, insurance certificate and your airline ticket give you a bit of a safety net in the event that your real documents are lost or stolen. It makes life easier when being issued a new one or if you need their details.

7. A Bird Identification Book. You may think that you are not a twitcher, but after visiting Africa you may want to rethink this!  There is no way that anyone can ignore the fact that the birds in Africa are much more colourful, more dynamic and have fascinating and quirky habits.  By the end of the holiday you will be using your binoculars to spot yet another bird. Twitchers unite!

8. Hand Gel.  Hand gel is a great invention and handy to have when out and about in Africa.  Using hand gel before eating helps to seriously reduce the risk of you catching something whilst on safari and potentially putting you out of action for a few days. Better to be safe than sorry.

9.  A Good Book.  There is always time for relaxing and taking time out and reading a book by a waterhole, it is a small pleasure in life. You may even need two, or three...

10.  A Small Day Sac.  To put all the above in!

Sahara Trekking - more than I had anticipated for

I love the desert, the large wide open spaces where the distance never seems to end and the heat on my face warms my soul.  I love it how the warmth bounces up from the hot sand and makes my skin prickle from the sweat and the smell of dust and sand is intoxicating to me.  That was what I was looking forward to in my Sahara trek, travelling through one of the last true wildernesses of the world.  Little did I know that I was going to get more than I had bargained for, much more.

I was leading a group of people, for Across the Divide, on a five day trek through the desert, a maze of golden sand dunes, rocky valleys and wide wide open spaces which could take a day to cross.  I arrived a day earlier than the group in order to meet the in-country agents and ensure that everything was arranged correctly.  The group was made up of 42 people, so I had to get it right.  The route was in order and all the right food and provisions had been packed away.  It was all looking ship shape.

Our first day involved a journey in a dilapidated truck that would take us from the outskirts of the desert into the dunes of the Sahara.  The general consensus was that the Sahara was a sea of dunes, how wrong we were.

The Sahara is one of the hottest, driest and most inhospitable places on earth, and covers an area larger than the USA. It is made up of sand dunes but also boulder strewn plains where ceaseless winds and ferocious sandstorms have weathered rocks into weird sculptures.  There are rocky plateaus, canyons and dried up river beds and small oases with date palms giving a minimal amount of shade.  It is not a place for the faint hearted.

We had two good days of walking before the Sahara showed her true force, and there was nothing that we could have prepared ourselves for it.  A wall of sand bore down on us in the middle of day three and remained with us for a gruelling 36 hours.  Luckily we had all bought local scarfs and these were tied around our faces and over our noses so that only our eyes showed - from behind sunglasses.  Our sunglasses took a real hit and have never really been the same since!

I made sure that everyone knew who was in front of them and if they lost sight of them then they should not move until the people behind had all caught up. The local agents were brilliant and we kept everyone in a tight group - I was not going to loose anyone in this storm!  With myself at the back I would be sure that everyone was in front of me - although I could only see three people at any one time, the rest had been swallowed up by the sand storm. It was very disconcerting not being able to see the whole group but I trusted that they were all sensible and would follow my instructions.

The wind whistled by us, tearing at our clothes and blasting sand at us.  At times the sheer force of the sand being thrown at us was very painful.  The worst thing was when you opened your mouth to talk, and if your face was not well protected there was a mouthful of grit that played havoc with your teeth - akin to having your nails scratched down a blackboard.

Fours hours of purgatory later we found our campsite, all ready for us, and everyone spent the rest of the evening in their tents to escape the wrath of the desert.  One tent blew down so we had to dig in every tent to ensure that it did not happen again.  There was sand every where, even in my mint tea - how did it get there? Showers are not common in the desert, water being a rather valued commodity, so baby wipes were the order of the day.  Never have so many baby wipes been used on an expedition.  I needed five just to clean my face!

The wind was relentless through the night but in the early hours of the morning its tirade on us dissipated and it disappeared to persecute some other poor unsuspecting souls. The quietness was deafening. What a memorable experience, seeing the true soul of the desert.  Despite this, I still loved her.

Back in England I discovered the Sahara in all sorts of places; my sleeping bag, my boots (although I could have sworn that I had cleaned them out), my toothpaste (?!) and there was still mementos coming out of my ears and nose.

I will never underestimate the Sahara. And I would go again, even if it was for a repeat of the same experience. Wonderful.